#bad things happen bingo: worked themselves to exhaustion

[mtap-comics]

Welcome back to my Bad Things Happen Bingo!

Fandom: My time at Portia

Pairing: Arlo x Female Builder

Summary: Elenya was tired. No, scratch that. Elenya was exhausted. She didn't think she'd ever been as exhausted as she was at that moment.

Word count: 6'581

Prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Author’s note: I'm not really sure what I have to say to this one. I had these three scenes in my head and tried to tie them into one story. Not sure I managed that that well, but I hope you enjoy this anyway!

Oh, and I'm sorry for the rushed end, but I saw how many words I had already written again and needed to stop myself.^^

Warnings: Fainting, Crying, Lots of comfort, Migraines

Read on AO3: Link

Drained by Duty

Elenya was tired. No, scratch that. Elenya was exhausted. She didn't think she'd ever been as exhausted as she was at that moment. A bad migraine had been throbbing behind her temples for hours, every muscle in her body ached, and she wasn't sure how she was even standing upright.

The last few days, or rather the last few weeks - since Ursula arrived in their little town, to be precise - had been the most exhausting she had ever experienced. 

It all started five weeks ago when Ursula hired them to build a bridge into Somber Marsh. Or rather, two bridges, as she couldn't resist building the more difficult route and leaving the easier one to Higgins.

The entire operation had cost her three weeks of continuous work, and that in winter, which this year was only reluctantly giving way to spring. So she spent most of her time either in the mines, replenishing the iron ore that was constantly running out, or behind the tree farm, assembling the parts of the bridge that had already been completed.

Alone the way from her workshop to there cost her more than an hour every day, time that she could otherwise use much more usefully. For example, to complete all the other open commissions she still had.

Every night she woke up after only a few hours of sleep - if she managed to fall asleep at all - feeling guilty that she was taking much longer than usual to complete the villagers' commissions. Just because she had a little more work to do than usual didn't mean she could leave the others in the cold!

Arlo had tried to convince her to give the urgent things to other builders, but that felt even more like failure to her than anything else. She had promised to help the people, and she would!

So every night she had slipped out of Arlo's arms to do as many commissions as she could out in the cold and sparse light of her work table.

At the thought of Arlo, a small part of her tension disappeared and her heart filled with warmth. Without him, she would probably have collapsed days ago.

They had only been married for two months, but in that short time Arlo had become an integral part of her life. And she never thought she could fall even more for this wonderful, selfless and kind man than she already did.

Every day he had made sure she ate at least two full meals a day and had at least tried to get her to sleep. And this despite the fact that he himself had a lot of extra patrols and other work imposed on him by Ursula.

She knew how concerned he was about her, that he had noticed how little she slept and how much she was exhausting herself. Knowing that had only stressed her more over the last few days, as she didn't want to add to Arlo's workload by making him look after her, but she didn't knew what to do about that. The only thing her brain was still functioning in was 'work'.

Even now she could feel his piercing, worried gaze at her back.

They were currently standing together with Ursula and Mayor Gale in the latter's office, discussing the next steps regarding All Source. Arlo stood much closer behind her than he usually did in Ursula's presence, as if he was afraid she was going to collapse at any moment, and if she was honest, he probably wasn't that far off. 

Just an hour earlier, Elenya had installed the fan that was supposed to remove the toxic gases from the ruin where the final key was located. And if she was honest, she couldn't even remember how she'd managed to do that, let alone make it back to the mayor's office. Somewhere on her way back, Arlo had picked her up and led her somewhere, no doubt very worried at her lack of response. It wasn't until Ursula showed up at the office that Elenya realised where she was.

Something about the woman's aura always made Elenya afraid to show the slightest weakness. So she stood up as straight as she could, ignoring her aching body, and tried to follow the conversation. But that quickly proved to be a futile effort. 

The migraine reared its ugly head, making it impossible for Elenya to form a single clear thought. The roaring in her ears drowned out every sound around her, and her vision kept blurring.

What was being said? She didn't know. She was sure that if Ursula hadn't been standing two metres away from her, she would have lost the strength to fight against her protesting body. It took all her willpower to keep herself upright.

How she would have liked to just lie down. Closing her eyes against her headache for just a brief moment.

Blurredly she could see how Gale apparently nodded in conclusion, as if they had come to an agreement with the plan, and shortly after Ursula's outline disappeared from her field of vision.

The click of the door echoed through the room and, like a signal to her body, the last of the strength she could muster for the meeting dissipated. The roaring in her ears took over, her eyes closed and her legs gave way. She could faintly feel strong arms catching her, but then everything went black.

~~~~~~

"Damn, I should have taken better care of her. Should have insisted on taking a break."

"This isn’t your fault Arlo. I should have done something. Especially about Ursula."

Two familiar voices filtered through to Elenya. One as warm as a roaring fire and the other full of fatherly warmth. But both full of deep concern.

What had happened?

A splitting headache kept her from focusing. It settled over her thoughts like a fog, and the two voices around her vanished into it.

She tried to turn her head in the direction of the voices, but a heavy blanket of lead lay over her, preventing her from moving a single aching muscle. For a moment, her awareness slipped away.

Then, as if out of nowhere, a soothing, cool hand touched her forehead, bringing some relief from her raging headache. The fog that clouded her thoughts lifted just a fraction.

A curse echoed beside her and more confusion spread through her. What was going on?

"Sorry about that, boss. But damn, I think she's got a decent fever too." The hand on her forehead stroked down to her cheek, and she would have liked to lean into the familiar, loving gesture, but not a muscle would stir.

"There's nothing to apologise for, Arlo. If there's a time to curse, it's at a time like this." There was a brief pause, during which the thumb on her cheek drew gentle circles in her skin. "Shall I send for Dr. Xu? I'm really worried about her."

There was another pause as the now warm hand moved back to her forehead and then gently stroked through her hair.

"No... I think she just needs a lot of rest. Dr. Xu won't be able to do much for her. I'll take care of her. Like I should have been doing for the past few days..." At the guilt-soaked words, an instinct stirred in Elenya that had become ingrained over the past few years.

What was Arlo blaming himself for again, and what could she do about it?

With difficulty, she finally managed to open her eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling appeared above her and a confused sound escaped her.

Immediately, the voices that had been talking stopped and familiar blue eyes entered her field of vision.

"Elenya! Thank God you're awake. How are you feeling?" Full of deep concern, Arlo's eyes darted over her face as a second head slid into her field of vision, which she recognised as Mayor Gale's.

So she was still in his office. Probably lying on one of the sofas against the back wall. 

"Sweetheart?" Gently, the big, rough hand went back to her cheek and turned her gaze back to Arlo. Only then did it occur to her that she had probably been staring dumbly at the mayor instead of thinking about Arlo's question. 

She struggled to find the right words, to tell him how much her head hurt and how exhausted she was, but it was difficult to form even a single clear thought. What finally escaped her lips was not at all what she had in mind.

"Cold..." 

And it was only as the word slipped from her lips that she realised it was true. A chill had taken hold of her limbs, and with the last energy her body could muster, she began to shiver.

Confused, Arlo looked at her for a moment. He probably hadn't expected to hear those words any more than she had, but then he jumped up and began to take off his jacket and then the grey sweater he was wearing underneath.

He held the sweater out to Gale.

"Can you help me dress her in this?" 

"Of course."

Confused, Elenya watched the two of them. She just couldn't follow their quick movements.

Then Arlo knelt beside her again and slid his left arm under her back. Slowly he lifted her into a sitting position, but her aching head didn't like the movement at all and she let it fall weakly against his shoulder. Soothingly, Arlo stroked her hair with his free hand.

Then a second pair of hands joined in, manoeuvring her arms into the sleeves of the sweater, and a moment later the soft, warm fabric was pulled over her head. She would have liked to help, but her muscles just wouldn't move when she told them to.

"There, now you should be warmer." Lovingly, Arlo whispered these words into her ear, and soon the warmth of the sweater reached her and mixed with his familiar, wonderful scent, a calm spread through her, causing her eyes to close.

Completely exhausted, she collapsed further into Arlo's arms, burying her face in his shoulder. More of his scent rose to her nose and she felt sleep trying to take her.

The arm around her shoulders tightened and she had expected Arlo to urge her to stay awake. Instead, warm lips pressed against her forehead and equally warm words filled her ears.

"That's it. Get some rest, darling. I'll take you home." A second arm slipped under her knees and a moment later she was in the air, pressed tightly against Arlo's chest. Unfortunately, the movement caused her head to fall off his shoulder, hanging uncomfortably backwards, but she had no strength to lift it back up.

Fortunately, she didn't have to stay like that for long, because two smaller, but just as careful hands came to the back of her head and guided it back to Arlo's shoulder. With a grateful sigh, she curled up even closer to the warm chest and let the fog in her head take over. The two voices around her blended together and soon everything went black.

~~~~~~

Elenya awoke sluggishly. She felt as if she had slept too much and too little at the same time. Her limbs were heavy, her thoughts emerged from sleep only with difficulty, and for a moment she simply lay motionless in bed.

How had she gotten here? She couldn't remember getting into bed. And where was Arlo?

Searching, she opened her eyes. The space beside her was empty. Confused, her eyes continued to wander to the clock on the wall.

10:30, it read.

For a moment she stared at the hands of the clock until the information finally reached her brain. Startled, her eyes widened.

Oh no, it was already so late! Why hadn't Arlo woken her up!? What if Ursula needed her help again? Or someone else? And what about all her open commissions?

Without her realising it, she shot up in bed, her chest heaving up and down in panic. If she hurried, maybe she could still get everything done!

Quickly, she threw off her covers and jumped out of bed. With quick steps she hurried to the door of their bedroom, but before she could reach it, a terrible pain stabbed through her head and she became dizzy. Desperately, she tried to hold on to the chair by the door, but she lost her balance more and more, and with a loud crash, the chair fell to the floor with her.

Completely disoriented, she was left on the floor. Her head was pounding like a jackhammer, and the vibrations from the hurried footsteps rushing towards her didn't help. The door to the bedroom burst open and a frantic Arlo stood in the doorway.

"Elenya!" Horrified, he threw himself on the floor in front of her and helped her to sit up. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" Full of concern, his eyes wandered over her body, but Elenya had no time for such questions.

She had to get up again!

Desperately, she tried to get her legs under her so that she could stand up, but her muscles began to shake and her dizziness returned, causing her to fall back to the ground. Arlo's strong arms caught her before she could hit the ground again.

"Whoa, hey! Slow down! Easy! What's going on? Elenya, calm down, please!" Panic welled up in Arlo's voice as he tried to stop her next attempt to get up. Firmly gripping both her wrists with one hand, he placed the other against her cheek, gently guiding her gaze to him.

Firmly he held her gaze.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Talk to me, please."

For a moment she could only stare back. Her chest was still rising and falling in panic and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. 

"I... I'm way too late. I have to... I have so much to do... And wha... what if Ursula needs me? I... I can't rest now..." Stuttering and desperate, she managed to get the words out as tears welled up in her eyes.

She couldn't take it anymore. She could feel her body reaching its limit, every single muscle aching, but she couldn't give in now. Portia still needed her.

Arlo's expression in front of her became incredibly sad and suddenly she found herself in his arms. They were still sitting on the floor, but now she was sitting sideways between his legs, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her upper body.

"Oh, sweetheart... Everything's alright. You can rest. You don't have to do anything for the next few days."

Full of sadness and love, Arlo spoke the words against her head, his cheek pressed firmly against her mop of hair and his arms tightening around her body.

She... she could rest? She didn't have to work?

An incredible relief released all the tension in her body and with it the last chance to hold back her tears. Incessantly they flowed from her eyes and seeking shelter she buried her face in Arlo's chest.

"Shh, everything is alright. You are okay. I got you." Arlo whispered softly into her ear, his strong arms keeping her from falling apart. And so she let out all the pent-up emotions and stress of the last few weeks. Cried against his chest for minutes until not a single tear was left.

In the end, her head hurt even more and exhausted she slumped in his arms. Soothingly, Arlo stroked her hair before stopping suddenly and placing his hand against her forehead.

"Oh sweetheart, I think your fever is even higher than it was yesterday. Come on, back to bed with you." Arlo pulled away from her, stood up and gently lifted her into his arms. Unfortunately, her head didn't like that at all and, overcome by terrible pain and dizziness, she buried her head in Arlo's neck with a whimper.

Immediately, Arlo stiffened beneath her and the arms around her body tightened.

"Oh no, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Full of concern, Arlo's voice filtered through to her through the static in her ears, but she couldn't answer. Even in the darkness of Arlo's neck, it felt like the world was spinning around her and her stomach began to churn.

With another whimper, her hand that held Arlo's T-shirt tightened.

Oh God, please don't throw up... please don't.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Come on, talk to me." Desperately, Arlo tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she didn't dare move a muscle. Thankfully, Arlo didn't seem to dare move her either, and after a seemingly endless minute, the world finally stopped spinning and her stomach settled.

Completely exhausted, she went limp in Arlo's strong arms, knowing that he would never let her fall. The world blurred around her and for a moment the only thing that existed was the incredible pain in her head.

Only when she suddenly felt a soft mattress and pillows beneath her did she realise that Arlo had been trying to get her attention. Full of worry and almost panicking, he leaned over her, his left hand gently rubbing her cheek. Trembling, she reached for that very hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Immediately, Arlo's shoulders slumped in relief.

"Oh, thank God. What happened? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

"No... My head... I think..." It took her a moment to find the right word through the pain. "Migraine."

The panic disappeared from Arlo's eyes, instead the worry deepened and he sank down on the bed beside her.

"Oh no, my poor darling. How bad is it?" He lowered his voice to a low rumble, for which she was grateful. It wasn't until there were no more loud noises that she realised how much they had hurt her head.

"Bad. Really bad." She rarely got migraines, but this one topped all the others she'd had. The vision in front of her right eye kept blurring, the soft light shining through the curtains stung her head, and she just wanted to curl up into a ball to hide from the world and the pain.

Arlo let go of the hand she was still clutching and stood up. "I don't like the sound of that. I'll just get you a cold cloth and then see if we have anything else for the pain, okay? I'll be right back." Still keeping his voice low, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Elenya let her eyes fall shut. How she would have loved to just go back to sleep, to sleep away the pain, but it was that very pain that kept her from doing so. It kept penetrating her head and she felt a new flood of tears leaking from her eyes, making everything worse. But she couldn't stop them. She didn't have the strength anymore.

A soft sob broke from her throat and she heard muffled, rapid footsteps hurrying towards her. Moments later, the bed beside her lowered again and a familiar, rough hand gently wiped away her tears.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's all right. We'll fix you up." Like a warm breath, Arlo's voice brushed over her, comforting her and letting her relax a little.

"Hurts..."

"I know, darling, I know. Here, this should help a bit." Something wonderfully cold settled over her hot forehead and eyes, and almost instantly the pounding in her head calmed a little. Quivering, she took a deep breath.

"That's it. Try to breathe nice and easy. I'll just see if we have any more of Dr. Xu's medicine for your migraine, okay?"

The edge of the bed beside her rose again and Elenya tried to follow Arlo's advice. As best she could, she breathed deeply in and out, trying her best to fight the pain.

The cold cloth on her face felt wonderful, especially as it blocked the last bit of light from her eyes. Together with the controlled breathing, she actually managed to doze off and forget the pain for a moment.

Only a gentle touch to her hand brought her out of her light sleep and with a questioning sound she turned her head slightly to the left.

"Here, sweetie, this should help." The washcloth on her face was removed and for a moment she wondered how that was supposed to help, but then an arm slipped under her shoulders and slowly pulled her up. 

She was about to open her eyes when Arlo stopped her gently. "Shh, keep your eyes closed. I'll help you." Another questioning sound escaped her, but then she felt something being held to her lips. Judging by its shape, it was a small vial, and after a moment's hesitation, she opened her mouth slightly.

She knew what Arlo wanted to give her. A mixture from Dr. Xu that worked wonders for her migraines, but unfortunately tasted disgusting. According to the doctor, adding honey would counteract the effect, so there was nothing he could do about the taste.

Arlo slowly poured the liquid into her mouth, and as soon as it touched her tongue, she cringed in disgust. The taste was nearly impossible to describe. Bitter and sour at the same time. To top it off, it tasted like three day old socks smelled.

Simply disgusting. But it helped, so she forced herself to swallow the liquid and then slumped exhausted against Arlo's chest as soon as the bottle was empty.

"That's it. You'll feel better soon. Here, I've also brought you a glass of water." After a brief clinking of glasses, something new was held to her lips and she drank the refreshing water greedily. 

Relieved, she noticed that the water both washed the horrible taste out of her mouth and calmed her stomach a little at the same time.

"There you go. Drink it all down. You've been asleep for almost 16 hours, you really need to drink something. I'd prefer you to eat something too, but we'll have to wait for the painkiller to kick in first, won't we?" Still whispering softly, Arlo's words brushed gently over her.

Elenya found it difficult to follow his words. Dr. Xu's medicine had a habit of making her tired within seconds, and combined with her ongoing exhaustion and the pain in her head, the world around her began to blur.

A brief jolt ran through her body as she perceived the words "slept for 16 hours", but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Instead, she snuggled closer to Arlo's strong chest, who was still holding her upright with one arm, and let out a sleepy murmur.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'll make you something to eat later. Get some rest." Gently she was laid back into the pillows and after a brief splash of water the washcloth, now wonderfully cool again, was placed back on her forehead. The last thing she noticed before falling into another deep sleep was a long, tender kiss against her temple.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Arlo's heart ached as he looked down at his sleeping Elenya. The pale cheeks and deep shadows under her eyes, which he knew were hidden beneath the washcloth, were so unlike the otherwise vibrant, happy woman he had married so recently. Her desperate sobs still rang in his ears, and the memory of her collapsing in front of him would haunt him for a long time.

If only he had taken better care of her.

He knew how much she had built, farmed and fought over the last few weeks, and that she had barely slept at night, but he simply didn't knew how to help her. He couldn't do the building for her, nor all the tasks Ursula had given her. Not that he didn't try, but he quickly realised that Ursula was not to be trifled with.

Gale also felt that there was something wrong with this woman, but neither of them could put their finger on it, so they decided to play along for the time being. With whatever it was.

The only thing he could do for Elenya was to make her eat breakfast and dinner and pull her into bed with him late at night, even if he woke up alone in it in the morning.

But now, thanks to Gale, they had three days of undisturbed time in which he could nurse his little builder back to health. Never again would he allow her to work herself to exhaustion. No matter who he had to fight.

With one last lingering kiss to her temple, he left the bedroom as quietly as he could, picking up the overturned chair as he went, and retreated to their kitchen. He would have felt much better if Elenya had eaten something now, but he also knew how nauseous her migraine made her, and she wouldn't have been able to keep anything down anyway. So he settled for preparing her a sustaining soup for later and hoping that she would be able to keep it down.

And so the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon passed very slowly for him. He tried to distract himself with paperwork, but his anxious thoughts kept wandering back to his sick builder and eventually he gave up and slipped back into the bedroom.

Elenya was still lying there as he had left her, which was just further proof of her exhaustion. She hadn't even turned her head, so the washcloth was still untouched on her forehead and eyes. By now it was completely warmed by her feverish forehead, so he filled the basin he had left on her bedside table with fresh, cold water, pulled the chair to the edge of the bed and then dipped the warm washcloth into the cool water.

Wringing out the excess water, he gently wiped Elenya's face with it before placing it back on her forehead. A soft sigh escaped her lips and with a gentle smile, Arlo watched her sleep. He regularly dipped the washcloth back into the cold water as soon as it got too warm, and each time Elenya relaxed more.

He would have to take her temperature later when she was awake. The cold washcloth seemed to help her, but if it was too high, he would have to resort to one of Dr. Xu's tinctures. Too high a fever would only prevent her from getting the rest she needed.

He didn't know how long he sat there like that, watching over her sleep, but just as he had freshly soaked the washcloth and then gently clasped her hand in his, it twitched in his and a soft moan escaped her. Instantly he straightened up more and watched her face intently.

"Elenya, sweetheart, are you awake?" Tense, he watched as her eyelids fluttered a few times before her eyes opened completely. Confused, she looked up at the ceiling and Arlo hurried to stand up and lean over her.

As soon as her eyes caught his, a slight smile formed on her lips, easing a small part of his worry.

Her smile always managed to put him at ease.

"Hey." Tenderly, he returned her smile. "How are you feeling? How's your head?"

Her attempt to answer him came only as a croak from her throat and he quickly reached for the glass of water he had already refilled and placed on the bedside table. Gently, he lifted her head slightly and held the glass to her lips. 

The glass emptied quickly and, pleased that Elenya had drunk so much again, he put it back and then looked at her expectantly.

After a quiet clearing of her throat, her soft voice finally sounded. "As if I'd been run over by a dee dee. But my head is better. It's just everything else that hurts now."

"That must be the fever. You've really overexerted yourself. But don't worry, I'll take care of you." Arlo's heart swelled with love and concern as he watched Elenya struggle with her weakened state. Gently, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard, sweetheart," he said, his voice filled with concern. "I know how much you care about the town and its people, but you can't help anyone if you don't take care of yourself."

Elenya managed a weak smile as she looked up at him. "I just... didn't want to let anyone down."

Arlo leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "You could never let anyone down, Elenya. You're Portia's heart and soul. But you have to promise me that you'll take it easy from now on."

She nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I promise."

Gratefully, he kissed her softly on the lips and then moved on to something else that was just as important to him.

"I have made some soup for you. Would you like some? You haven't eaten for almost 24 hours and I'm sure you'll feel better with something in your stomach." He watched Elenya carefully, hoping that her nausea had passed and she would agree. And to his relief, she did.

With a grateful smile, she nodded at him and then tried to sit up, as if she wanted to get up. But her attempt to push herself up with her arms didn't go well and halfway through her muscles gave way.

"Woah hey, what are you doing?"

Arlo quickly caught her and looked down at her with concern.

"Getting up." Came as a hoarse, quiet reply while she leaned her head exhaustedly against his chest.

"Oh no, you're not. You stay nice and comfy in bed and rest. Here." With one arm holding Elenya tightly against his chest, he used his free hand to reach for his own blanket and puff it up behind Elenya so she could lean against it. With ease he pulled her up a little higher until she could sit comfortably.

Satisfied with his work, he straightened up and laughed softly at the pout that had formed on Elenya's lips.

"There, you stay here and I'll heat up some soup for you, okay?" Arlo pulled Elenya's blanket back up to her shoulders when he saw that she was shivering slightly and pressed a gentle kiss against her warm forehead to placate her a little.

With a surrendering sigh, Elenya nodded and snuggled a little deeper into the blankets surrounding her.

Glad that Elenya was willing to listen to him, he quickly made his way to the kitchen to heat up a plate of soup for her. He also filled a glass with juice, hoping the extra vitamins would help her get back on her feet more quickly. Loading everything onto a tray, he brought the items to Elenya and placed it on her lap.

"Here, sweetheart, this should make you feel better. Do you need help eating?" Tenderly, he met her indignant gaze at his words, but it soon became apparent that they were not unfounded.

Determined, she reached for the spoon and dipped it into the soup, but her whole arm shook so much that the soup fell right back into the plate. He let her try three times, her expression growing increasingly frustrated, before he stopped her.

Gently, Arlo grabbed the hand holding the spoon and took it from her.

"Let me help you, sweetheart. Please." He looked at her as gently and openly as he could, reassuring her that he didn't think she was weak, and after a while she finally complied.

"Okay."

"Thank you." 

Pleased that she was letting him help, he pulled the chair a little closer to the bed, sat down and began to feed Elenya the soup spoon by spoon. It wasn't long before both the plate and the glass of juice were empty, and satisfied that she had eaten so much, Arlo set the tray down on the floor.

Elenya's eyes were already closed again when he turned back, and he hurried to remove the blanket from behind her back and gently lay her back down into the pillows. He had just sat down again when her eyes half opened again and looked at him tiredly.

"Thank you, Arlo." Coupled with her warm smile, those words filled him with love and he couldn't help but press another long kiss to her lips.

"Anytime. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too." With a happy smile, her eyes closed again, but it seemed she couldn't find rest. Worried, Arlo put his hand to her forehead to see if her fever had risen any further, but as far as he could tell it was unchanged.

Her eyes struggled to open at his touch and he looked at her with concern.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Do you need anything else? Do you have a headache again?"

"No, it's just... can you hold me for a while, please? I'm really not feeling well." Tears welled back up in her eyes and Arlo's heart broke again at the sight.

"Of course, darling."

He quickly stripped off his uncomfortable jeans and joined her in bed. Carefully, so as not to hurt her, he pulled her towards him until her head rested on his chest, just above his heart. He wrapped his arms tightly around her upper body and intertwined his legs with hers, hoping to give her a sense of security. As long as she was in his arms, nothing could happen to her.

And indeed, it didn't take long after that for Elenya's breathing to slow down. Relieved that she was now getting some more sleep, he enjoyed the feel of Elenya's small body in his arms and, to his surprise, dozed off for a few hours himself.

~~~~~~

It was already dark when Arlo awoke from his light sleep. By the looks of it, he too had needed a few hours of extra rest.

Elenya was still sleeping peacefully in his arms, her head still directly over his heart, and for a while he watched her tenderly. Unfortunately, his bladder soon made its presence known, so he carefully pulled away from her and slid out of bed.

As Arlo moved around the room, he couldn't help but cast a loving glance back at Elenya, asleep and peaceful. He knew she needed this rest and it eased his worries about her health.

He quickly did his business in the bathroom, put on an old pair of sweatpants so he wouldn't have to walk around in his underwear, and then went into their living room.

However, just as he was about to step into the kitchen to prepare some herbal tea, a sudden, heart-wrenching scream that sounded a lot like his name pierced the silence of the evening. Arlo's heart leaped into his throat, and he rushed back to the bedside, nearly stumbling in his haste.

"Elenya! Sweetheart, wake up!" Arlo called out, his voice filled with panic. He gently shook her shoulder, trying to rouse her from the nightmare.

Elenya's eyes snapped open, and she gasped for breath, her body trembling with fear. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she clung desperately to Arlo, as if he were her lifeline.

"Shh, it's okay," Arlo whispered, his voice soothing. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as she continued to tremble. "It was just a dream, Elenya. I'm right here. You're safe."

It took a while for Elenya's sobs to subside, her emotions still fragile from the stress of the past weeks. Arlo held her through it all, murmuring comforting words and pressing kisses to her forehead.

Once she had calmed down, Elenya buried her face in Arlo's chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. "I... I dreamt that you were gone," she whispered, her voice quivering.

Arlo's heart ached at her words, and he tightened his embrace. "I'm right here, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment he wondered if the sudden lack of his heartbeat under her ear was the cause of her nightmare, but decided not to think about it any further. That would not help him right now.

Elenya was still clinging desperately to him and isolated sobs escaped her. "There... there was so much blood and... that awful laugh..." Her voice broke with every other word and Arlo was afraid she was going to cry again.

"Shh, it's alright. I'm here. It was just a dream." Gently he rocked her back and forth, but she wasn't finished yet.

"It was him... That mysterious knight... He... he killed you."

At those words, everything inside Arlo tightened painfully. Subconsciously, he tightened his arms around Elenya even more and curled around her, shielding her from the world.

The mysterious knight had been a looming threat in their lives, a shadow that refused to leave, and he knew how much she feared him. Ever since their first encounter a few months ago and the realisation that neither of them could really do anything to counter him. And he didn't blame her. If he was honest, he was also afraid of the next encounter. 

But unlike him, she was still primarily a builder, not a fighter. Of course, she could easily keep up with them in combat, but that didn't mean her heart could. 

In all the years he had been fighting for the Civil Corps, he had seen and experienced quite a bit, and he was glad that his sweet, loving Elenya had been spared this so far. But now such things hit her all the harder, and he wished nothing more than to be able to protect her from all the evil in the world.

He pulled her a tiny bit closer to him until there was not a bit of air left between them and pressed a long kiss to the mop of her hair.

"It was only a dream. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right. We'll get through this. Together."

He didn't know how long they sat there like that, ignoring the cramp in his back from his twisted position and just concentrating on holding Elenya tightly in his arms. She was still trembling slightly and her tight grip on his t-shirt had not yet loosened, so he continued to rock her gently from side to side and whisper comforting words into her ear.

Eventually, though, her tense posture relaxed and she sagged in his arms. A low murmur sounded against his chest, but the words were too faint to make out, so he pushed Elenya slightly away from him and gently lifted her face.

Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, dark shadows still under them, and yet his heart swelled with adoration at the sight of her. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Thank you Arlo and... sorry. I didn't mean to..." A soft hiccup interrupted her and he hurried to immediately dispel her thoughts.

"Hey shh, there's nothing to apologise for. I'm always here for you, just like you're always there for me." Arlo kissed her again, gently, but with a promise to always support her. Only when they needed to catch their breath did he pull away, gently wiping away the last traces of her tears.

With a happy sigh, she leaned into his gentle touch, her eyes only half open again, her emotional outburst taking its toll on what little energy she had managed to replenish.

"Everything will be alright. I know it."

[alpaca-clouds]

In Sickness and In Health [Hector/Isaac]

And the last chapter for In Sickness and In Health is online, though it is more of an epilogue than a last chapter. It is based on the prompt: Worked Themselves To Exhaustion.

But it finishes up the next Bingo for my @badthingshappenbingo! :D Yay. (Yes, I am filling out the entire card!)

[bullet-prooflove]

Christmas Bingo Card 2024: Mistletoe - Douglas Hamilton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @lucymalfoy18 @ashrionest @mimi-8793

Companion piece to:

Mississippi Meanders - Douglas doesn’t expect to meet the love of his life.

Pedestal - Douglas puts you on a pedestal, much to his detriment.

Your first kiss with Douglas takes place underneath the mistletoe at City Hall. He doesn’t intend for it to happen because he doesn’t intend to run into you. You’re there to file some permits for a public installation in the park by the museum and he’s returning from yet another Christmas event. There’s been a plethora of them since the season started and Douglas is already fatigued. He thinks you must see that in him when you bump into each other, it’s in the way you take his hands in yours, clasping them tightly.

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch date at the museum and despite the fact he would very much like to take you out, Martha seems to have jam packed his schedule with events. There’s no room for you right now, he’s not sure with his obligations that there ever will be.

“You’re not taking care of yourself.” You say softly after he’s sent his security team to interest themselves in other things.

You are the only person who sees this in him, his physical exhaustion, the depletion of his mental bandwidth. He’s spent days like an automaton, shaking hands, smiling before heading to the next event and then the next. Everything is a blur of Christmas carols, candy canes and gift wrap, he doesn’t remember the last time he had a moment to himself.

“It’s the season.” He states as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his tan overcoat. “It’s always busy.”

“Ok.” You say quietly and he knows your reconciling that information with the fact he hasn’t called again.

“It’s not you.” He finds himself blurting out because he can’t stand the idea of you thinking that. “The job… there’s not much room for a personal life.”

“I understand.” You say and he can see that you’re disappointed.

He is too. He’d hoped that things would be different with you but his life, it doesn’t work like that. His phone chimes in his pocket, another interruption, another example of just how bad he’d be for you.

“Douglas.” You murmur and he looks up just as you kiss his mouth.

It’s nothing more than a soft brush of the lips, but there’s a tenderness in it that’s he’s  never felt. The women before you, they were rough, passionate, they weren’t like this. They didn’t pour their love into their kiss, their affection, not the way that you do.

When you draw away, he feels the loss acutely. You smile sadly before pointing up at the ceiling.

“Mistletoe.” You say and he follows your gaze to see there is indeed a sprig of mistletoe hanging overhead.

“Helene...” He murmurs turning his attention back to you, but you’re already walking away.

“Take care of yourself Douglas.” You call back before you push open the door and step right out of his life.

Love Douglas? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[s-sputnik-k]

Fox | Worked Themselves to Exhaustion (Bad Things Happen Bingo)

Ao3: How Commander Fox unveiled the sith plot (with not enough caf, if you ask him)

Fox is smart, he'll say so himself. And his methods are ingenious--he'll tell you that himself as well. For a commander of the Coruscant guard, all of this should point in the direction of success. Of weeding out evil and corruption, of finding the root of this wretched war, and at last uncovering the sith plot. However, Fox is also deeply, incurably tired. Somehow, the circumstances align for him anyway.

Warnings: Vomit

Card from @badthingshappenbingo

[vampire-bite]

In an incredible turn of events, I have finally finished part two of this fic. Its been so long i lost the little "completed" stamp i used last time, but this is for "get it over with" from bad things happen bingo.

Dear God I Hope This Is Decent. If you prefer reading on AO3, its over here.

Sam was beginning to feel a bit like he was the parent of two particularly unruly children—unruly, hurting children, that he was consistently failing to help.

Mercifully, both newborns slept through most of the day. He supposed they were probably exhausted—with a helpful dose of daze from their body trying to heal, in Bright’s case—from the emotions of the day. But even with the free time he had due to their exhaustion, he couldn’t bring himself to do much. 

It hadn't seemed like much of a break from their usual routine. At first, at least. Bright got themselves into trouble. Frederick cared about them beyond reason. And Sam was left cleaning up their mess. But now, even thinking of it like that made guilt settle in his stomach. Any attempt to brush it off as just troublemaking just brought back the images of them covered in blood, crying. 

“Why don’t you just kill me already, since that’s clearly what you want?”

They flinched when he reached for them.

He couldn’t stop himself from picturing a version of himself, now long gone, who would've reacted the same way. Then, similarly, from imagining himself newly turned. Angry at the world that had taken his humanity from him. 

The bitter, almost cruel part of him that reared its ugly head so often when it came to them had finally fallen silent. All he had now was the other half, the one that still hurt. That yearned to be himself again.

It felt like a mirror being held up, leaving him face to face with his own reflection, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.

He needed a drink. One that would actually work. The hangover would be nothing compared to how sick he felt right now. 

In the end, that was what brought him to the chair across from the couch Bright was still asleep on. If he didn't have something to focus on, he was certain he'd do something he'd regret. Concern—unusually, for them, rather than just about—was, shockingly, easier.

They looked so young now. Buried in his jacket and a few blankets he’d thrown over them when he noticed them shivering, a trail of drool running down their chin as small snores left them. A scar on their eyebrow—no doubt from their youthful recklessness. A problem child. But still a child, and one he was starting to realize he’d mistreated. 

He reached for their cheek to wipe dried blood off of a cut, an unfamiliar gentleness in his touch, and their eyes opened just slightly. There was a brief moment of drowsy confusion before he could practically see their walls go back up.

“....Hi,”  They said, their voice slow, tone questioning as they eyed him with something like suspicion, and never one to mince their words, they were as blunt as always, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” He rolled his eyes, but fought back a remark about how they didn’t look much better. It seemed insensitive, given everything that had happened. Like salt in their wounds, which despite his best efforts were still numerous.

They were still regarding him with suspicion—almost aggression—that they didn’t even bother to hide, but he found that it was oddly comforting, that there was something normal about all of this. That, and the look on their face left him unable to fight his mind away from how similar they seemed to the reckless wolf that had captured his attention.

Blankets fell to the ground as they sat up, retreating and curling up into themselves against the opposite side of the couch, like they were trying to get as far from him as possible, “You don’t need to watch me sleep. Creep.” Despite the harsh words, their voice wasn’t angry, just resigned. 

“There’s clean clothes on the table,” He nodded his head towards the coffee table, but they didn’t say anything. Their eyes just barely flickered down, but though they looked surprised by the gesture, they didn’t move to go change.

He wanted to leave them alone, leave the discomfort the conversation would bring for another day and run from his troubles. But he knew that if he didn’t say things now, he’d talk himself out of it before he could.

“We need to talk,” He said. Their body tensed and they moved to get off the couch, but he moved closer, reaching out to put a hand on their shoulder and hold them still. 

They recoiled slightly, but didn't push him away. “Can you just get it over with?” They asked, the hostility in their voice not quite managing to mask the soft pain beneath it, “So I can get out of here before the sun comes back up?”

The words made him stop. He thought over them for a moment, brows furrowing, and though he opened his mouth to respond no words came out. Nothing that he could say would explain the depth of his confusion, so he ended up just staring at them in bewilderment. They sighed. Heavy, angry, and melting into a few grumbled words.

“I know you’ve wanted me gone this whole time. Just get it over with. Like a bandaid.” Resigned, they stared down at their lap, seeming to almost shrink in on themselves as they spoke.

Really, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. Their statement took him aback, but he figured that it probably shouldn’t have. If anything had become clear due to their earlier breakdown, it was that they thought very little of him. But he couldn't say it was surprising, or that he blamed them. 

Maybe the worst part of that realization was he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't blamed them for something. 

It was obvious that they thought he was going to kick them out, and he could barely hold back a laugh at the thought. Admittedly, the idea that he didn’t want to be responsible for them had briefly crossed his mind a few times, though the memory now made him feel guilty.

Even still, he’d never seriously considered it. Besides the fact of how many people it would put at risk, besides the fact that Frederick would hate him, no matter how severely the two were at odds…. Even with his mind clouded with disdain, he couldn’t justify that to himself. They were just a kid. Sometimes he’d thought they were more trouble than they were worth, but that didn’t change the fact of it. 

He wondered how he’d missed it. Wondered how, with all that pain he’d felt through his bond with Frederick, it never crossed his mind that some of it was from them as well. They were the same, freshly turned, young newborns, who’s hunger for normalcy and comfort rivaled their thirst for blood.

They were just a kid. 

“I helped look for you while Frederick was driving himself insane with worry. Why in hell would I do all that just to send you away?” He blurted out the words before he could stop himself, but he knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to say.

Bright stiffened immediately, shoving his hand off of their shoulder, eyes lighting up in a glare as they got to their feet. “I don’t believe you,” They said, voice defiant, gaze angry, “He doesn’t care about me anymore. And you never did.”

The idea of Frederick not caring about them managed to get a laugh out of him. His concern was red hot and burning just like Sam’s own anger, the two too tied together to differentiate sometimes. It contrasted with the damp, subdued pain of both of their sadness, so they were easier to pick out. Easier to focus on. They scowled when he laughed, their fists tightly gripping the sides of his jacket, pulling it around themselves. 

“Don’t do that,” They forced out through grit teeth, making his laughter die instantly,  “Don’t mock me.”

“Do you have to assume the absolute worst of me?”

 Long, cutting silence followed his words. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe he hadn’t given them a good reason to assume anything else, after all, he had a tendency to do the exact same thing to them. Still, a heavy sigh left him as he watched them roll their eyes.  

They were tense, but they didn't seem to be in pain. It was a small mercy, he supposed. At the very least, their usual scowl had returned. He didn't think he'd ever miss it, but he found it was much better than their tears.

“I was laughing because he cares about you more than he cares about himself most of the time,” He responded, the words coming out with a tinge of bitterness that he'd tried to keep out of them. Bitterness for the self destruction he’d witnessed from both of them. Bitterness for his own inability to help.

Bright's face fell for a moment, their composed anger cracking just slightly, but they were quick to put their mask back up.

“He has a hell of a way of showing it,” They grumbled, playing at uncaring but falling short, a sharp edge to their voice. Tension was thick in the air around them.

His gaze followed them as they paced around the living room, trying to force himself to care less than he did about how they saw Frederick. Protective instinct had flared inside of him and he was helpless to resist following it. “He cares about you beyond any goddamn reason, no matter how much I've told him he shouldn't!” 

Their face dropped and he winced as he realized what he'd said. 

He took his eyes off of them for only a moment, putting his face in his hands and groaning as he tried to think of a way to backtrack.

That was all it took. The moment his eyes were off of them, they bolted, making a run for the front door. “Bright!” He shouted after them, but they didn’t even spare a glance back in his direction. He cursed under his breath, chasing after them.. It was easy enough to catch up to them, the way they had to fumble with the locked door bought enough time that he was right behind them by the time they got outside. 

He wrapped his arms around their waist as they stepped off the porch, and they screamed, thrashing in his hold in an attempt to get free.  They fought against him and twisted in his arms, but he held on tight so they couldn’t run. He wasn’t convinced he’d ever see them again if they managed to take off.

“Let go of me!” They shrieked, hitting his chest with every ounce of strength they could manage. It only succeeded in making him wince, not loosen his grip.

All he could do was hold on stubbornly tight as their fist pounded back against his chest.

“I hate you!” They screamed and continued to hit at his chest, tears streaming down their face while they tried to shove him away even as he held them firmly, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” He was sure they did. He couldn’t blame them.

“I know,” He tried to soothe them—tried to soothe his own guilt and the sinking feeling that he could never make things right. Of course, he knew that it went much deeper than just a feeling, “I know, I'm sorry.”

He felt the fight leave their body. It was a slow process. 

First, the screaming quieted down, being replaced with small, gasping sobs, verging on hyperventilation. Then their entire form shook violently as the hits to his chest slowed and then gradually stopped. Finally, they went limp. The only movement remaining was them trembling in his arms.

Their hands were still against his chest, now gripping his shirt rather than hitting him. The cries that were still leaving them drowned out their words as they gasped, desperately trying to get words out.

“You're both the same…” They choked out finally, “Neither of you will just let me go.”

 They didn't need to spell it out for him to know what they were talking about. He remembered the desperation in Frederick’s eyes when he'd turned them. 

It was easy to get caught up with his own progeny and forget that they didn’t have a maker who could help them. For all their anger, they were just a kid. A scared, lost child who he’d never bothered to treat as such.

“I hate you…” They sobbed, each repetition sounding closer and closer to breaking completely as they got weaker. His arms were still around their waist, their feet off the ground though he’d moved back so that they weren’t hanging off the side of the porch.

Once they fell completely silent, they more resembled a puppet with its strings cut than a person. They collapsed against him finally, head falling back onto his shoulder. “If I put you down, are you gonna try to run again?” He muttered, turning to go back inside. All they did was stiffly shake their head, not bothering to try and pull away on their own.

They stayed limp in his arms as he carried them back inside which made it easy to set them back down on the couch. Luckily, they didn’t let themselves fall over, sitting up and returning to the corner of the couch they’d been in after waking up. Both of them just stared at each other for a long moment.

Consciously making an effort to go slow so he didn't startle them, he sat beside them on the couch. He took their hands into his, gently squeezing them, and their gaze lifted just slightly so they could meet his eyes.

“Listen to me,” He said, his tone softening to the point it was unfamiliar to his own ears, “I know that I ain’t….. Good at all of this,” They snorted as they laughed, shaking their head and muttering something that seemed to be calling his words an understatement, “But… I wanna help and try to be better. I ain’t gonna promise I’ll be perfect at it, but if someone, or something, is bothering you…”

He trailed off, but it seemed to be enough. They closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay,” Their voice was quiet, weak, “Okay. What do you want to know?”

About a thousand questions flashed in his mind, but he decided he’d been forceful enough, so he just shook his head. “Anything. What do you want to talk about?” They opened their mouth to speak but hesitated. Their head fell back against the back of the couch so they were staring up at the ceiling for a moment before squeezing their eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if he was making it up, but he could’ve sworn tears began to gather in them.

“I died too, you know?” They said finally, their voice cracking halfway through. Pain had fully overtaken the aggression they wore like armor.  

He swallowed down guilt and it burnt in his throat. “I get it.” 

“No,” The response came almost immediately, following a laugh lacking in humor, “You don't. I hear how—how people talk about you and Fred. And I-I hear how they talk about me, too. People think you're so…. So talented. So admirable and you're mysterious but not like you're suspicious. Like you're an isolated artist. And they feel bad for you for having to deal with me. Like you're a saint for letting me stick around.”

He wanted to tell them that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t.

“And I keep hearing how bad everyone feels for him,” Their voice raised in volume, and he could practically feel their anger like it was his own, “How tragic it is, what happened to him. Like—like it didn't happen to both of us. And if you're both so great, and you both hate me…. What does that make me?” 

Their face crumpled and then they were crying again. He gently squeezed their hand, but they pulled him closer, hugging him tightly and burying his face into his neck.

Wrapping his arms around them still felt wrong in a way, but it came more naturally than it had that morning. Whereas the first time had been desperation, barely thought through, this was far more intentional. It took him a few moments before he reacted, but when he finally held them, the twisted, ugly feeling in his stomach began to subside.

 “Kid…” He managed to get out, but one of Bright’s hands came around to clamp over his mouth to stop him from talking. They kept their face buried into the crook of his neck, and he decided that it was obvious they just needed to be held in that moment, so he stayed quiet.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long they stayed like that, but he found he didn’t care too much. They didn’t seem angry anymore, just hurt. Fingers curled around the back of his shirt, gripping it like they just needed something to hold onto. Shaking, uneasy breaths hit his skin.

Even once their tears had dried up, they stayed attached to him, though they moved their hand off of his face, so he took the chance to speak. “If anyone bothers you again,” He muttered, resting his head on top of theirs, “Tell me. I won’t let them hurt you.” 

It was exactly reassuring them that he didn’t hate them, like he had before, but he felt like it meant more.

 “I’m sorry,” They whispered against his neck, their body trembling against his.

“No,” He shook his head, pulling away to look them in the eyes, “I’m sorry.”

They just nodded, managing a small smile. He realized he wasn’t sure when the last time he’d seen them smile genuinely was. 

Before either of them could say anything, there was the sound of a door opening down the hall and Bright’s head snapped up. He barely had enough time to react when they took off down the hall—thankfully, away from the door rather than towards it.

He heard Frederick gasp and call out Bright’s name, followed by a thud and a small yelp and then laughter. He couldn’t fight away a smile.

Even as he rounded the corner to find the two teenagers locked together in a hug, he knew that there would be more for all three of them to figure out with each other. The strain of Bright and Frederick’s relationship wouldn’t be so easily undone. It wasn’t perfect. But in that moment, it was enough.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

The Phantom of Shinomori Prefecture

Part 1 of The Phantom of Shinomori Prefecture Series

Words: 3407 (AO3)

Summary:

Officer Tamakawa Sansa is not a traffic cop. This should be noted before he starts complaining about the case he's been stuck on for the past month, which all started because he volunteered to temporarily act as a traffic cop to process holiday lawbreaking on the roads.

My nineteenth bad things happen bingo entry! Prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Sansa is, in a word, exhausted.

He and Naomasa have been spending ages trying to investigate anything and everything to do with the League of Villains, even if he doesn't officially know anything about some of the stuff that's for Naomasa's eyes only. He's his best friend, they don't tend to keep secrets.

For security purposes, Naomasa's cases are his alone, as are Sansa's; in practice, however, two heads are better than one and sometimes they both need someone else's eye on something.

For instance, there's the case that was handed over by traffic police about a month ago, one that wouldn't normally be of much concern and wouldn't have been noted at all if it weren't a holiday weekend- Sansa hadn't been too busy, and he'd volunteered to help out in processing drunk drivers and monitoring traffic cameras. There had been one, just before three that morning, that had piqued his interest.

For starters, it was a bright red Lamborghini, one that he would bet most of his paycheck didn't have so much as a scratch on it. It was dark, so he didn't get a good look at the driver, but the hands on the wheel were thin and pale. It had been caught on a speed radar as going nearly twice the speed limit, but the officer on the scene didn't pursue because he'd caught sight of another driver who was clearly intoxicated, and booked him instead.

The first officer hadn't pursued, anyway; the second through fifth, however, did.

The way that they'd managed to escape the officers' attention, lose them so completely on such empty roads in such a bright car, was nothing short of beautiful. He'd seen the footage there was from the squad cars, and seen such a mastery of the vehicle that he'd had to respect it.

The driver got away, clearly, but since he'd been the one to alert the others to it running a red light a few moments before the first officer saw it barreling down the way, it was technically his case. Only technically, because the others suspected that they already knew who it was.

The Phantom of Shinomori Prefecture.

Always in a different car, always in the early hours of the morning, always going speeds that were well past what any sane driver would risk. The driver is known to be the same between the cases because of the sheer skill in handling these cars at such high speeds, a talent that few others hold; in addition, though no other physical details have been established, it is known that the hands of this driver are pale and thin, as noted by eyewitnesses and traffic cameras alike.

They know that they have some kind of puncture quirk or something similar, because one evening an officer got too close to the car that they were driving, and the Phantom reached out of their window and made a throwing motion- a few moments later, the officer had had to call for backup due to a flat tire. No evidence was found of what could have been used to puncture the tire, besides a small pool of cool water.

The only reason that Sansa's still stuck on the case is because he was unlucky enough to manage to catch a frame of footage where the license plate was readable enough to scan, and when it did, the results were anything but pretty.

He hadn't guessed that Endeavor, of all people, would drive a car as flashy as that, not least because he's never been seen in it, but sure enough- the car was, without a doubt, his. Considering that the hands of the driver were obviously not Endeavor's, the second he scanned that plate the case was forcibly jumped ahead in priority.

All of that was discovered a month ago. Since then, it's been nothing but chaos with regards to this damned case, his phone's ringing so much it may blow its own speakers out, and there's nothing that even leads to the idea that the car was stolen in the first place.

Sansa drinks his black coffee, cursing his quirk the whole time. He can't taste sweet things, hasn't been able to since before his quirk fully manifested, and that makes coffee or any other kind of energy drink an absolute last resort.

Unfortunately, that last resort is necessary today.

He's got a ton of things on his plate, files and forms that he told Naomasa he'd take care of if he went home, because he's pretty sure the man had been here for three days straight, in addition to his own work that he's only somewhat behind on, and of course Endeavor calling him at all hours of the day over his car.

To be fair, it's not like he's too unjustified, since there were no signs of a break-in to the garage where the car is kept, which is attached to the house where he and his civilian daughter live. He'd be concerned about it too, if someone could get in and out of somewhere without a trace, especially if it were his kid on the line.

Sansa drains his cup and checks the time, seeing that it's nearly seven in the morning. He hadn't meant to stay here all night, but he had at least had the foresight to tell his wife not to wait up for him.

He groans as the clock ticks to the top of the hour, and Naomasa walks in at seven on the dot. He'd taken care of about half of the paperwork he'd politely stolen, in addition to some of the more pressing concerns of his own, so at least the night was productive, even if he's about to have stones thrown at him from Naomasa's glass house.

"Not a word, Naomasa."

His partner just sends him a smug little smirk over the top of his takeout cup. "So long as you don't make it a habit." He parrots Sansa's own words from last night back at him, eliciting a growl that's much more catlike than he'd intended it to be.

Just at that moment, his phone starts blaring again, no doubt Endeavor calling and asking for any kind of update, as though there's been a massive breakthrough in the twelve hours since the last time he called. His temper must show on his face, because Naomasa leans over the desk and grabs the phone for him, answering with a much more civil greeting than Sansa would have been willing to give.

There's the expected raging on the other end of the line, which is loud enough that he can immediately identify Endeavor as the caller, as suspected. Naomasa waits until he's worn himself out, before saying, "I'd like to call your daughter in for another interview, we believe we've got something that she may know about."

Naomasa rolls his eyes privately over at Sansa, who has no idea what he's trying to do. Make more work? Make Endeavor angrier? There's nothing productive that he can think of coming from this conversation.

The phone call ends in short order, and Naomasa immediately explains, "I never interviewed the daughter with my quirk, and there's something fishy about her story, anyway. The sooner we get this case dealt with, the sooner you can go back to being only somewhat overworked."

Sansa sighs, and says, "Yeah, you're right. Too much of my time is being taken up by Endeavor, of all people, and he's..."

"A dick?"

"I was going to say loud and obnoxious, but that's more fitting. When's that interview?"

"She'll be here in half an hour, he said. Didn't even ask her."

"Sounds typical. Let me file some of this stuff before she gets here..."

Naomasa nods and heads to his desk to drop his stuff off, while Sansa grabs some scattered paperwork and goes to file it. Todoroki Fuyumi's story about where she was on the night in question was a little fishy, now he thinks on it- she claims that she was awake and calling her brother in college, which would've been believable if she hadn't been asked about her whereabouts at three in the morning, specifically.

Twenty minutes later, Sansa walks back to his desk and glances out the window to see a little blue Kia that wasn't there before, with Todoroki herself climbing out of the driver's seat. She locks the car and starts toward the building, and Sansa raps twice on the corner of his desk closest to Naomasa's. He jerks to face Sansa, and then it obviously clicks from looking at his expression.

Naomasa stands and moves towards the low-security block of interrogation rooms, for suspects and individuals who seem like they will cooperate, have relatively weak quirks, or both. Sansa vaguely remembers Todoroki's quirk being something related to ice, but nothing more specific than that.

He greets her at the door, and leads her to the room where Naomasa is already waiting, already giving the necessary niceties to make sure she doesn't start acting rash like some witnesses do. She seems as nice and agreeable as she did last time they'd met, and she doesn't seem at all inconvenienced by being sent to the police station before eight in the morning on a Saturday.

She sits across from Naomasa, while Sansa stands behind the one-way mirror in the next room. He's got his laptop with him, pulled up to the files related to this car case, in addition to some of the footage of the Phantom.

Naomasa is giving Todoroki the rundown of the interview process, and she agrees to be questioned by Naomasa, even knowing his quirk. It's not long before he starts asking the important questions.

"Do you remember what you were doing at three in the morning on the night in question?"

Todoroki nods, and replies, "I was talking with my brother Natsuo."

"You mentioned that he goes to university in Tokyo. Was he at his dorm for the holiday weekend, or had he come home?"

"He'd come home for the weekend, yes, but he left the next morning anyway. He and Dad got into a fight like they always do..."

Todoroki looks down at her hands that she's wringing together. She's fallen silent, and Naomasa has allowed her a moment before continuing.

"And you said that you were talking to him via phone call?"

"Oh, yes, I was. I'd gone out for some air. I don't like it when they fight, and sometimes Dad can get loud enough to wake me up, so I went out for a little while."

"Did you see anything suspicious while you were outside?"

"No. No, I didn't. I apologize, Detective Tsukauchi, but I was never exactly informed of why exactly I'm being questioned? I know something happened that night, but no one ever told me what..."

Sansa's breath hitches in surprise- he'd figured that Endeavor would have told her why she was being questioned and what had happened, and when he'd been questioning her the first time around he was more concerned with getting her out of there so that she could get out of the path of her terrifying and enraged father.

Naomasa's quirk must ping that as the truth, because he barely hesitates before explaining- "Your father's car was stolen and taken for a joyride that night by an unknown individual, and we want to know if you may know anything about it."

Todoroki gasps and puts her hands up to her mouth, before asking, "Which car? I didn't notice any missing last time I looked, but..."

"A red Lamborghini."

Todoroki now seems quietly confused. "That's still in the garage, though, I'm sure of it. I saw it this morning."

Naomasa sighs, reflecting only some of the exhaustion that Sansa feels. "That's exactly the issue. The criminal took it out of the garage and returned it to where it was exactly, with no signs of forced entry or anything at all."

Todoroki suddenly pales, and then immediately flushes, leaving her face a patchy mess of clear embarrassment. She stutters out a simple, "I- I think there might have been a misunderstanding..."

Naomasa leans forward, and though Sansa can't see the expression on his face, he would bet that it's intrigued. "Oh? How so?"

"I, um. When I was younger, my siblings and I were told that any of us who has a driver's license can drive any of Dad's cars, as long as we agree to pay the repair costs if we were irresponsible with them. A lot of those cars were given to him by brands looking for a sponsorship deal or something, I don't exactly know how Hero brand deals work, but a lot of car companies wanted to be associated with Endeavor, hence the full garage of luxury cars that he doesn't drive. I don't drive them often, either, just when he gets in a fight with somebody, usually Natsuo, after everybody's stopped arguing I take one for a drive out in Shinomori."

"... You took the Lamborghini that night, didn't you?"

Todoroki nods sheepishly, then cries out, "I'm so sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you! Oh, I'd been wondering when the ticket for the red light camera was going to show up..."

Naomasa sighs, and stands up. "I'm sure that Endeavor will be happy to hear that his home hadn't been broken into after all. You'll be glad he's not so on edge anymore, at least?"

Todoroki lets out a nervous laugh, and Naomasa leaves the room, heading over to Sansa's side.

"She's telling the truth. Seems like this is just one big embarrassment for Endeavor."

Sansa scoffs. "Serves him right. He's been hounding me all month, implying the whole department's full of lazy idiots. He deserves a little egg on his face, since he can't even seem to communicate with his own daughter."

"So the theories about her being the Phantom of Shinomori Prefecture..."

"Honestly, I'd believe it. Seeing that driving skill in the Lamborghini, there's no doubt it's the same person, especially since she's referred to there being other luxury cars that she's driven around."

Naomasa sips his coffee, and asks, "Are you going to say anything? It's your case, after all."

Sansa thinks on it, turns it over in his mind, and ultimately shakes his head. "No, I don't think I will. There's not enough evidence to arrest her for all of it, and she seems to be aware enough of what she's doing behind the wheel not to be as dangerous as the speeding teens she shares the road with. I'd give her a warning for this incident in particular, but I think this scared her enough."

Naomasa nods. "I'll let her know she's free to go."

Sansa nods too, and shuts his laptop. "Honestly, I kind of want to know who taught her to drive like that. Couldn't have been Endeavor, I know that."

"Doesn't he drive like an old woman?"

Sansa huffs out a laugh, and goes, "Yeah, he drives slower than he flies."

Naomasa shakes his head in amusement, then goes back into the interrogation room with Todoroki. They make small talk on their way out, while Sansa dials Endeavor and tells him the good news.

About an hour later, Sansa's back at his desk doing other things for other cases, and Naomasa's just gone to the coffeepot to fill his thermos. When he comes back, he leans on the edge of Sansa's desk instead of sitting at his own.

"Apparently her brother taught her."

"... Her younger brother?"

"No, no, apparently she had a twin brother who'd been having problems as a kid. Their mother taught him to drive early, in an attempt to cheer him up. He later taught her."

"So the mother is the one that drives like that?"

"I'm told that she's a first-generation Russian immigrant."

Sansa thinks on that for a few minutes, and replies, "That makes more sense than you'd think it does."

Naomasa seems to think on it, too, before going, "Yeah, it really does."

Naomasa pushes himself off Sansa's desk and makes to leave, but before he does, Sansa asks, "So do we have any more Phantoms to worry about, or is it just her?"

Naomasa laughs, and replies, "She complained at length about her youngest brother, the one at UA, and how he doesn't want to learn how to drive at all. She claims she's slowly wearing him down about it, and that she'll win one day, but those both pinged as lies. She's also working on trying to get the brother in university to learn to drive a car, but he's only got a motorcycle license and refuses to give up his bike, so she's admitted to losing that particular battle."

"... Seems like you got a lot of Endeavor family gossip."

"Honestly, I'm more surprised that his only daughter is also the only gearhead. She apparently modified the engine of that Kia she drives."

"She didn't tell you how, though."

"She's not stupid, no."

Sansa offers a laugh of his own, and Naomasa finally starts the walk back to his desk. Sansa opens his laptop back up, needing to look up the details of a case he's working on, when he realizes he's still got footage of the Phantom up.

He starts closing out tabs, but then he sees one that's been flagged- apparently, there was camera footage of a passenger in the car, which had only happened once. There's very little light in the image, but he bets he could clean it up pretty easily, if he puts in the effort.

He thinks on it for a few minutes, and even though he's fairly sure it's her brother, the adult one, there's every chance that it's her teenaged brother- and if it is, then they'll have to keep an eye on her in the future, considering that this behavior toes the line of child endangerment.

It takes a few minutes to clean it up to a reasonable degree, though the image is still grainy and low-quality through the traffic camera it was taken from. The passenger seems on the smaller side, so not the brother in university, who Sansa had seen a picture of- physically, Todoroki Natsuo is his father in all but hair and coloring. It's also, interestingly enough, probably not the kid brother in UA, who's a bit stockier in build than the mysterious passenger.

Curious, now, Sansa tries to find another image taken the same night, or something else that shows the passenger in more detail. After half an hour, he finds it- still grainy, still low-quality, but with enough definition to immediately show the near-glowing greenish blue of the passenger's eyes, even without editing or cleanup.

There are also pinpricks of light within the passenger's face, as well as on the hand that's visible to the camera. There's something odd about the tone of their skin, with some parts registering as darker than others, but he's sure that it's a trick of the light that'll go away once he cleans and maybe colorizes the picture.

Another half hour later, after several attempts to clean the image and summarily discarding the results, he's forced to accept the truth: whoever the hell Todoroki Fuyumi is driving around, they bear too much of a resemblance to the villain Dabi for it not to be worthy of investigation.

He won't go so far as to say that it is Dabi, though- there are certain advantages to being the kid of the Number One Hero, one of which being that many won't believe that you're in association with the League of Villains, for a multitude of reasons, not least of which being that Endeavor must notice if something suspicious is happening right under his own nose.

He looks at the damning image, and decides that now's the time to bite the bullet. The note on the image in the file is already on display, "Phantom of Shinomori Prefecture with Unidentified Passenger" in big, bold letters across the top. He sighs, and calls Naomasa over to his desk while he stares at the picture.

In a few moments, he hears footsteps approaching, and feels a presence behind him. Naomasa leans down over his shoulder to look at what's on his computer screen, and then says the words that perfectly describe how Sansa himself is feeling on this far-too-stressful-for-a-Saturday morning.

"Oh, shit."

[ashadowfaerie]

@badthingshappenbingo

Title: Worked to Exhaustion

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Ishida Uryuu, Ishida Ryuuken, Kurosaki Karin

Rating: Gen

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: Uryuu collapsed at work

Words: 746

prompt fill: worked themselves to exhaustion

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37695853

[meantforinfinitesadness]

Exhausted

For the square Worked Themselves to Exhaustion on my bingo card!

Anakin sighed as he glanced at his former Master. The battle had been difficult and they lost a lot of good men. They were, however, lucky that there were more wounded than there were dead. 

The Medics were hard at work, but even they could only do so much for the men. 

That’s what led Anakin to sigh at his Master. 

Obi-Wan did what he could during battles to keep his men safe. He didn’t like that the Clones only saw themselves as things. He didn’t like that they compared themselves to old toys that got thrown out after living out their usefulness. 

So, Obi-Wan always did what he could. If that meant putting himself in the middle of everything, then that’s what he did. He worked himself harder during each battle. It’s what’s caused Anakin to gain a surge of protectiveness and concern for him.

Here they were. After the battle. So many wounded men that weren’t sure if they were going to make it through the night. Of course, that’s where Obi-Wan stepped in. 

Obi-Wan’s skill in healing wasn’t great. It wasn’t as strong as trained Force Healers, but he had some skill. 

It was here that he put his skill to use. 

He poured what he could into each man that drifted closer to death. He didn’t stop to eat or sleep. He didn’t stop to drink or rest. 

It’s no surprise that Anakin sees it happen. 

Obi-Wan sways in his seated position next to one of his men. His skin is pale and his eyes are glazed. His eyelids flutter and his head seems to have difficulty staying up by itself. His hands shake at their placement on the Clones chest. 

Finally, hours after he had started, Obi-Wan stops. Anakin is too far away to catch him, and he’s not thinking clearly enough to use the Force to stop or even slow his fall.

He’s happy, then, that Commander Cody was nearby. 

As Obi-Wan’s body tips backward and his eyes roll in their sockets, Cody is there to catch him. Anakin can’t see Cody’s lips moving. He doesn’t have his bucket on, but he’s not facing the other General. However, Anakin knows Cody is whispering softly to his General because Obi-Wan takes a shaky breath and nods. 

Anakin pretends to not notice the soft kiss Cody places on Obi-Wan’s forehead. 

[queenmevesknickers]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gascon Brossard/Meve/Reynard Odo Characters: Meve (The Witcher), Gascon Brossard, Reynard Odo, Isbel aep Muir Moss Additional Tags: Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, post Red Lobinden, Illnesses, Working Themselves to Exhaustion, Pre-Relationship Summary:

“Reynard.” She fought to keep the frustration from her voice. “Are you unwell?”

 “Of course not –” The lie was interrupted by a coughing fit, much longer and distinctly wetter-sounding than those before; she realised suddenly he must have been trying to hold it back. “It’s nothing,” he continued, once he’d caught his breath. “Just – just something caught in my throat, Your Grace –”

 “That didn’t sound like nothing,” remarked Gascon. “Reynard, you look like a walking corpse.”

Reynard would do anything to win his queen's trust back. When he takes it too far, all three are left to work out where they stand with each other.

My second work for the @badthingshappenbingo​ !

Fandom: Thronebreaker - The Witcher Tales

Characters/Pairing: Meve/Reynard Odo/Gascon Brossard

Prompt: Worked themselves to exhaustion

[mkayswritings]

Prompt #19 from my bingo card for @badthingshappenbingo​ has been posted! Hope you enjoy be loved in house i do fans!

[set-phasers-to-whump]

can’t eat, can’t sleep, running on empty

hello!! i am back with bthb and kurt whump! this fic is set sometime after s1, kurt has gone back to work at the police. the title is from cheap beer and nicotine by littleDEATH. hope u enjoy!!!!

It is one in the morning, and Kurt Wallander is at work. He hasn’t moved in hours. His eyes are glued to a case file open on his computer screen. An almost-empty coffee mug sits beside his elbow. It’s been filled and emptied five or six times tonight already, its contents being the only thing Kurt has ingested for quite some time. 

Kurt tears his eyes away from the screen for a moment and yawns. When he looks back at his file, he discovers that his eyes are refusing to focus on the words. He reaches for his coffee, drains the last of it, then slowly shuffles over to the coffee pot to pour himself a new cup. 

This case is important, which is why he’s at work so late. It’s his first case since coming back to the police, the first case he’s been put on, rather than unwillingly shoved into. He has to do a good job, has to prove himself. Hence why he’s surviving on bad coffee and staying at work long past midnight, coming in (if he bothers to leave at all) by six every morning. 

By the time he feels like he’s finished with the file for the night, it’s no longer night, but instead five in the morning. No point going home, he figures, getting up to put on a new pot of coffee. 

With nothing else to do, Kurt sinks into his chair, thinking he can maybe catch a bit of sleep. But it’s no use. He’s too worked up from thinking about the case to sleep, or maybe just too caffeinated. Whatever the reason, his body refuses to rest, which he thinks is probably for the best. He doesn’t fancy having a nightmare in front of the night shift, and lately, it seems like nightmares are the only thing he gets when he closes his eyes. Just another reason to work late, he figures. You can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep. 

Kurt sits there, letting his thoughts wander about aimlessly, until he’s jolted back into reality by a tap on his shoulder. He startles and whips around, blinking as the action makes his head swim.

“Early start today?” Rask asks. Kurt nods. 

“Nice initiative,” she tells him, then drops a stack of papers onto his desk. “We’re going to speak to witnesses after lunch today. Until then, paperwork.”

Kurt groans inwardly. He hates paperwork, especially lately. It takes up too much valuable focus, focus that could otherwise be directed towards solving this case. Not to mention the fact that his hands are shaking in a way that is definitely going to be noticeable in his handwriting. 

He can’t just not do the paperwork, though. So he resigns himself to the task, pouring yet another cup of coffee, barely cognizant of the gnawing feeling of hunger in the pit of his stomach and the back of his throat. 

Six hours later, Kurt has finally finished the paperwork. He would’ve finished it sooner, most likely, but his vision had kept going blurry, and no amount of coffee had been able to fix it. Plus, at some point, his thoughts had started to really wander, and he’d found himself incapable of making them stop. He’d think of Reza, finally moving up to Major Crimes next week. Then he’d think of Mona, currently in Stockholm with Gustav Munck for a charity event. Then he’d think of explosions and smoke and blood. Then he’d snap out of his thoughts and focus back on the paperwork in front of him. Then he’d think of Reza...

He is relieved when 12:30 rolls around and Rask comes up to his desk. She gives it a sharp tap, pulling Kurt out of another thought loop. “Are you ready to go?” she asks, though it’s not a question. 

Kurt nods anyway, then stands, balancing himself for a moment against his desk when the world tilts slightly. He follows Rask out to the parking lot wordlessly, sinking gratefully into the passenger seat of the car. 

Neither of them says a thing for several minutes. Kurt stares out the window, trying his best to keep his eyes open, ignoring the now more pronounced aching in his stomach and throat. He’s fine. He slept a few days ago, probably. He’s had plenty of coffee. He’s fine.

Rask finally breaks the silence when Kurt fails to stifle a yawn. “Are you alright? You seem a little...off.”

Kurt nods. “I’m fine,” he says, reflexively.

“Good. I need you focused and alert for this.”

Kurt nods again. This is a vital part of the case. He knows that. Without these witnesses, there’s little hope of catching their suspect. If they don’t catch their suspect, then he’ll have failed. Again. They have to catch the suspect. This is important. He can’t fuck it up.

--

“That was an incredibly important part of the investigation, and you completely fucked it up!”

Kurt winces. He knows. He hadn’t asked a single useful question. He hadn’t been able to answer the questions that the witnesses had asked him. He’d barely spoken at all, as a matter of fact. He just hadn’t been capable - words would enter his brain and then leave immediately, like water through a strainer. He hadn’t been able to focus on a single thought for long enough to formulate a sentence. And he’d been growing steadily more nauseous, so that even if he had managed to come up with something coherent to say, he wouldn’t have wanted to open his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing he can say. “I didn’t…” he trails off, eyes drifting closed for a second before he forces them back open. 

Rask drives back to the police headquarters silently. Kurt doesn’t even have to look at her to know she’s fuming. He deserves it, he knows. He’d slipped. Badly. He just hopes she won’t kick him off the case, kick him out of Major Crimes. He’s put everything he’s got, and more that he really hasn’t got, into this. He needs it. 

The second they’re back in the building, Rask is pulling him into her office and closing the door. She pushes him towards a small couch in the corner. “Sit,” she says, and Kurt complies, swallowing nervously. He has a feeling he’s about to get very harshly yelled at.

So he’s understandably surprised when, instead of towering over him and chewing his head off, Rask sits down next to him and asks, in the softest voice he’s ever heard her use, “when was the last time you slept?”

He very nearly starts crying right then and there. Not just because of the sheer concern that’s laced into her voice, but also because he really does not know. Maybe he’d fallen asleep for a few moments this morning. It’s possible he slept a couple days ago. He knows he slept at some point before Mona had gone to Stockholm eight days ago.

“I don’t know,” he confesses, feeling vaguely ashamed. 

“You’re exhausted,” Rask supplies. “What else?”

Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s not okay. He stubbornly wipes a tear away from under his eye. He can still be fine.

Rask sighs from beside him, and Kurt thinks for a moment that she is going to leave. He can’t decide whether or not he wants her to. 

She doesn’t leave. Instead, she places a hand on his shoulder and asks, “when was the last time you ate?”

He thinks of the copious amounts of coffee he’s had over the past several days, and realizes he’s had little else. The thought makes him feel faintly sick, and he swallows harshly before saying, again, “I don’t know.”

Rask does leave then, and for a few moments Kurt sits alone on her couch, willing himself not to cry, to be fine, to get up and go back to his desk, back to work. But it’s no use. He can’t force his exhausted body to move an inch. 

His eyes fly open as the door to the office opens and then closes, quietly. Rask is back, and she has things in her arms which his eyes are stubbornly refusing to focus on enough to figure out what they are. Something lumpy, he thinks. Something vaguely round, possibly.

She sits back down next to him and hands him one of the items she’s brought. He stares at it for a moment, trying futilely to think of what it might be.

“It’s a sandwich,” Rask supplies, pulling some of the paper away from it. 

Kurt tries to hand it back. Some part of him recognizes the fact that he’s desperately hungry, but a larger part of him insists that he shouldn’t eat it. That he’s fine. Or, at any rate, too nauseous to eat anything.

“You need to eat something,” Rask insists. “You’re not going to feel any better until you do.”

Sensing that there’s little point in trying to argue, Kurt takes a small bite of the sandwich. It’s not very good, but the second he swallows it he’s taking another, more out of instinct than a true desire to keep eating. 

Rask pulls the sandwich away from him when he’s eaten about half of it. “Slow down,” she tells him. “This is the first real food you’ve had in a while. Don’t overdo it.”

Kurt nods distractedly, finding himself thinking again of Mona, and sandwiches, and the rain, and the question when was the last time you ate? and his answer amounting again to much the same - that he wasn’t sure. 

“Drink this,” Rask instructs him, pulling him back into the present. She’s holding out a bottle of water. Kurt accepts it, somewhat reluctantly, and drinks a small amount. It feels much nicer than coffee as it goes down his throat, and it doesn’t settle so heavily in his stomach. He drinks a little more. 

Eventually, Rask gently pulls the bottle away from his hands and sets it aside. Her hand once again comes to rest on his shoulder, and he slowly turns his face to look at her. 

“I told you not to destroy yourself,” she says. “I told you you were too young to have your world turn to shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, because he can think of nothing else to say. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry.” 

A tear slides down his cheek before he can stop it, and then another follows it, and then another. He tries to turn away, to hide himself, to cling desperately to the notion that he is okay, in some shape or form. But something deep within him, something still soft and hurting and aching to be held, stops him from shutting everything out. He looks helplessly at Rask instead, and for a second, a similar helpless look ghosts across her face, like she isn’t quite sure what to do, like she’s broken too, but then it goes away and she pulls him close to her and holds on.

It should be weird. It should be really fucking weird. Rask is his boss. She’s tough and talented and in charge of him and she is holding him and he is crying. He should be embarrassed, uncomfortable, pulling away. But she’s holding onto him and saying something about this kind of thing happening to basically everyone in this job, and her shoulder is really soft, and the couch is surprisingly nice, and he finds that all he really wants to do is stay.

Rask, for her part, doesn’t pull away. She lets him cry for an indefinite amount of time - he can’t be sure how long. All he knows is that, eventually, the tears stop rolling down his face, and he feels the familiar wave of exhaustion roll back over him. God, he’s tired.

As though she’s a mind reader, Rask says, “why don’t you try to get some sleep, Kurt. There’s not much left to do today, anyway.”

That sounds good, he decides, for once not thinking of nightmares. And before he can do any further thinking on the matter, his eyes are slipping closed. He feels himself sink into the couch, face pressed into the cushion. Someone removes his jacket and his shoes. A soft blanket is draped over him. And for the first time in several days, Kurt lets himself fall asleep.

aaaaa thanks sm for reading this!!!! im not sure if they might have been ooc but hopefully not! i hope u enjoyed and please let me know what you think!

[soniabigcheese]

Worked Themselves to Exhaustion - Gordon

This is for @misssquidtracy​ and for @badthingshappenbingo​

Reposting this one because I want it to look official

Fandom: Thunderbirds are Go

Characters: Gordon Tracy and Lady Penelope  Guest appearances: Parker, Virgil Tracy and Scott Tracy Prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

No whump, but a little fluff

Ask ... and you shall receive Under the cut ... for length, because this one ... started out as a stroll and ended up a marathon.

Five more minutes ... that should do it. And his guess was spot on. The nanocrete plugged the cracks no problem, the spill should be properly contained until the right authorities dealt with that decrepit old tanker.

Brains was a genius, inventing that stuff. It could air dry in minutes and did very well underwater too. He supposed it would also work well in deep space. Meh, but that’s not really his level of expertise.

He looked at his watch.

Ah crap. He was running late, he checked the map, double checked his location. Yep, he was cutting it fine here. He really needed a time machine right about now and the thought of asking Brains to build one did actually jump into his mind...

... albeit briefly.

Yeah, he’d seen too many movies to know how time travel and it’s consequences panned out.

So, he was going to be a little late ...

Lady Penelope was expecting him in half an hour. If he grabbed a quick shower (and hoped that Virgil hadn’t bloody well rigged it like the last time -  the not so ‘little’ shit) then he’d be ready in five minutes ... tops. That would give him ... 20 minutes to catnap.

Hey, no problem.

They hadn’t anticipated just how long this would have taken. Yeah sure, it was a pet project of his - helping to conserve the environment. But he’d been up and about earlier that morning on a rescue. This ... was a favour for a friend ... or a few friends. A group of fellow oceanographers, determined to keep the oceans as clean as possible.

His stomach rumbled so he fussed around the cockpit of Thunderbird Four, hoping to grab one of his stash of celery crunch bars. But in his haste to be out and about, he forgot to stock up.

Never mind. There’s always the fancy buffet at Lady Penelope’s charity event. The thing that he’d promised faithfully to attend, even though they’d often had to cancel at the last minute.

Because ... damn ... curse those random rescues that seem to pop up everywhere. They always seem to get in the way.

Thunderbird Two landed, letting Gordon jump out and run to the waiting FAB1 and Parker, who managed to look disapproving 24/7.

Gordon, called it ‘Parker’s resting bitch face’. Although not within the old man’s earshot.

If he’d let Virgil take him there, it would have taken right into the middle of next week (slight exaggeration, I know, but that’s Gordon for you) and he didn’t fancy THAT grand an entrance.

Because right now, despite the shower, quick change and slick of hair gel - borrowed from Virgil’s collection, sitting in the back of the rather comfortable pink Rolls Royce ...

... Gordon could feel fatigue creeping in.

Oh, he could easily fall asleep. But nope, he didn’t want to see the first impression from his Lady love to be disappointment as she saw him snoring in the back seat, drool sliding down his jaw and dripping onto the expensive suit he was wearing.

Parker checked on him via the mirror, noticing the dark circles developing, and frowned.

“You sure h’about this, Mister Gordon .. sir? You look worn out.”

Gordon blinked at the old chauffeur’s concern. Was he being ... nice here?

“No ... no .. I’m good, thanks.’

He was betrayed by a yawn that came from nowhere. The old man’s lips thinned. Obviously he wasn’t buying that lie, and pressed the button for the air conditioning. The icy blast blew into Gordon’s face and he jerked, snorting loudly. He was answered with a harrumph from Parker.

Damn, that was close, he swore he’d only closed his eyes for a brief second.

“Sorry ... sorry ...” “Five minutes Mister Gordon, sir. We’ll be h’arriving h’in five minutes.”

Geez, he could do with a pair of matchsticks to keep his eyes open ... or a hit of very strong coffee ...

... or two, or three.

Heck, a gallon would do, but knowing Lady Penelope. The drinks being served at this ‘do’, would be the alcoholic kind. And a drunk Gordon Tracy ... was worse than a normal one.

The air conditioning wasn’t helping, so he cranked down the window, and was instantly slapped in the face by a leaf.

Huh, Fall was here. Of course, Penny would argue that it was to be called Autumn. But hey, she’s entitled to her little ‘quirks’ too.

The car pulled up and Gordon spotted Penny hovering nervously at the front entrance. Her lips were a little rosier than normal, but not because she’d changed the colour of her lipstick. She’d been nervously chewing at her bottom lip.

Aww ... she was worried. Ah crap, I should have let her know beforehand.

He felt tempted to rip the rule book up on etiquette right there and run up those steps, grab her by the waist, lift her off her feet and swing her around with a passionate kiss.

But nope. That would be too embarrassing. For her and for him too. He didn’t want to crease that lovely gown of hers. So he went for a simple ..

“Hi.”

Her smile just melted him into a puddle. But then she frowned, studying his face.

“You look tired,” she said, taking his hand.

His heart leaped.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that a few times today.”

He let her lead him into the grand reception area, where the rest of the guests were gathered. Their idle chatter burned into his skull, giving him a nasty headache.

Great ... not what he needed right now.

But she kept going, threading her way through the crowds and further into her ancestral home. He was puzzled. Wasn’t this the part where the hostess would introduce him to everyone? Where they’d do the whole ‘grip and grin’ thing? Look slightly interested before moving onto the next person?

He stopped dead in his tracks, she turned, feeling the resistance in her arm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Gordon dear,” she explained, “you just look like hell, that’s all.”

She guided him to a quiet little corner and sat him down.

“I’ll get Parker to bring you some coffee. Then we’ll introduce you to everyone.”

She turned and looked at the other room, loud guffaws were heard, as well as raucous laughter. The Master of ceremonies was in the house and grabbing everyone’s attention.

Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.

“Trust me, you won’t be missed,” she said, adjusting her bustiere a little, “old Cedric Compton-Smythe is here. The old windbag. He’ll keep them busy all night.”

Another kiss.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She threw him a sympathetic, almost apologetic smile as she walked back into that crowded room. Oh man ... she was a rare treasure. Parker appeared, rolling out a trolley with coffee and a few sandwiches.

... and a blanket.

“What’s that for? It’s not cold.”

Parker said nothing, just pulled the curtain across a little bit, and left.

Huh, what a weird old man.

He poured himself coffee and stuffed his face with a couple of sandwiches. Then relaxed, rolled the blanket up and stuffed it behind his head ...

... and fell fast asleep. His body finally caving in.

When Penny popped her head in a little later, she smiled at the snoring young man before her. Yes, he was weird as hell, his fashion sense needed some major work ...

... but he was her weird little man.

She flipped her comm-pact and Scott appeared.

“Package has arrived and is safe now.”

Spinning the device around, she let Scott see for himself. Virgil popped into view with a wicked grin on his face.

“Take a picture,” he suggested, then shrugged as Scott glowered at him, “well .. you know ... for posterity. That’s all. Good night Penelope.”

“Good night Virgil, night Scott.”

You know ... that wasn’t such a bad idea at all. After all, it was a rare moment to see the eternally energetic Gordon Tracy, fast asleep in her home.

A very rare moment indeed.

[palmettofoxesthings]

Get Some Sleep

Link here

Alex was a workaholic. He could, mostly, happily admit that he liked work. He liked the way it could distract him from everything else in his life, ranging from that time he was made to fake a friendship with the now love of his life to the Queen’s current disapproval of him and everything about him and the fact that Henry has been in London for three days now. And he got to learn how to help people while he did it. It really was a win-win. Until it wasn’t.

[mrmustachious]

Here’s some more links to my @badthingshappenbingo prompts that I’ve filled out!

Worked Themselves to Exhaustion: Sometimes taking a break is not so easy. (Scott) AO3 // FF.net

Over-the-Shoulder Carry: Gordon’s an idiot, but what’s new? (Gordon & Virgil) AO3 // FF.net

Buried in Rubble: All the bros! AO3 // FF.net

Slammed into a Wall: Superhero AU (Gordon) AO3 // FF.net

[kayura-sanada]

Almost There (TerraVen, One-Shot)

Title: Almost There Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Pairing: TerraVen Rating: T Words: ~3100

Summary: Terra’s writing his thesis and wearing himself out in the process. But don’t worry! Ven’s here to help. A bit crack-ish. Fills the “Worked Themselves to Exhaustion” space in my Bad Things Happen bingo card.

Done for @astroaethrae’s prompt in response to a terraven hater. Remember to thank the haters, everybody! XD

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Terra groaned. He leaned back, away from the computer, and scrubbed at his eyes. They felt like, if he blinked, his eyelids might just crack apart. His head throbbed. His eye had started twitching a couple of hours ago, so that was fun to deal with, too.

He pushed back from the computer desk, his head spinning so badly he feared he might fall off the chair. Maybe he should take another nap? But he’d already lost three hours that way, and he still had another eight hundred or so words to go.

“How goes it?” Ven asked. He stepped into the room, the office door creaking open behind him. Terra sent Ven a squinted look.

“I’m not even done the third chapter,” he moaned. “I haven’t even started the conclusion. I have about two days left.”

Ven held out a cup of coffee. Terra slurped at it greedily. “The third chapter’s just about the different woodworking tools between the pre-Dark Ages era and ours, right?”

Terra sucked on the last vestiges of the coffee and set the cup aside. Ven picked it up without a word. “It’s not like the tools have really changed, and there’s not enough left for us to properly examine. Why did I ever choose this topic again?”

“Because you wanted to write about it and not many people choose to talk about wood over stone in the art world,” Ven answered easily. Almost as if Terra had spoken excitedly about it before the time crunch had started catching up with him. Ven patted his head. “I’ll grab another cup.”

“Thank you,” Terra said, scrubbing at his eyes again. His left eye would not stop twitching.

He leaned back in, his back twitching in protest as he started typing… only to stop and look back over his notes. He heard Ven moving around in the kitchen; they lived in a tiny, shared flat, having moved out together once Ven turned eighteen. It had been on Ven’s insistence; Ven had wanted to move forward in their relationship, and without the ‘you’re still in high school!’ excuse Terra had been using, there hadn’t been anything to stop them.

He thought back on the move as he threw a quote he liked into the rampant mix of bull he was trying to turn into logic on his computer screen. Ven hadn’t taken his hesitation for an answer, not once. Maybe it was because he always had this shining will within him – the same strength of will that was leading him to a social worker’s degree while Terra played around with woodworking like the sad artist trope he was. The thought made him smile. The retorts that he was going to be a moocher had made Ven laugh. “How can you mooch off me when you’re trying so hard?” Or when Terra had feared Ven being too young. “How can I be too young when you’re just as much a novice as I am?”

Terra rubbed his temples. He needed to focus.

Ven returned with the same cup, beautiful brown liquid sloshing once again inside. He took more care this time, simply sipping the coffee, finally giving himself enough time to actually taste it. He smiled. As usual, Ven had made it perfectly. “Your homework?” he asked, his brain finally kicking on again.

“I have a couple of chapters to read and an essay due in two weeks.” Ven leaned down and kissed Terra’s forehead. “I’ll be fine. It’s only one class.”

“Just focus on your work before anything else,” Terra said. Ven rolled his eyes.

“Yes, mom.”

Terra wrinkled his nose. “Okay, hold on.” He reached out. Ven paused, then politely stepped into Terra’s flailing arm so he could grab him. He pulled Ven down for a kiss. Ven obliged, fitting their lips together and licking at Terra’s tongue before laughing and pulling away.

“You taste like coffee.” Ven pecked his lips again. “Probably for the best. Have you brushed your teeth recently?”

Terra grimaced again. “Get.”

Ven laughed all the way out of the room.

Terra smiled. All right. Time to keep typing. He could do this.

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“Ven! I give up. It’s too much.”

He heard footsteps coming from the living room, then got to see Ven’s laughing face poke around the door. “Too much computer and too little wood?”

Terra scowled, then flopped dramatically in the chair. It squeaked in protest. “They had less tools than previous eras. It should be easier.”

Ven laughed. He shuffled in, his gaze flickering to the computer, then to the window and the setting sun. Less than two days, now. Terra was horribly aware of the passage of time. “You’re the one who wanted to focus on how they chose what they did and how that altered woodworking into a prosperous commodity.”

Terra groaned. “I know. I’m an idiot.”

Ven laughed again.

Without bothering to wait for Terra to get around to asking, Ven came in and draped himself over Terra’s back. “Progress?” Ven whispered. The word ghosted over Terra’s ear. He shivered.

“I’m almost done the third chapter. Just about two or three more paragraphs? Then it’s on to the conclusion.”

“So you have one and a half days to write the conclusion and possibly look over the intro.” Ven patted his chest. “Finish the third chapter, then come to bed.”

“I have to work,” Terra said immediately.

“I’ll give you something else to focus on instead.” Ven kissed his cheek, adding an unnecessary lick of tongue. Terra’s stomach flipped. Ven left.

Terra stared at the computer screen. “Darn it, Ven, now I can’t concentrate at all!”

For someone who had better be just as suddenly frustrated as Terra, Ven sure sounded like he found the whole thing hilarious.

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Terra cracked his eyes open.

It was still dark out, but only barely. His heart flipped at the pre-gray of dawn. He scrambled up, shoving the bedding off. Ven made a very loud, very incoherent protest. Terra climbed over him and out of the bed.

“Terra?” Ven blinked his eyes open. “Wha…?”

“Oh, no.” He stared at the digital clock as if it had chosen to betray him. “It’s already five-thirty.” He ran from the room.

“‘Already?’ Jesus.” Ven rolled around and went back to sleep.

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He still had his entire conclusion to finish, and then he needed to revise the introduction. He had so much to wrap up and so little time. He ran a hand through his hair, only to make a face at the clumpy feel of it. Shower. He needed a shower.

Later.

The conclusion was supposed to focus on all of the points he’d made, but when he tried to condense it, all he could think about was more things he’d have liked to talk about. Then there were the quotes – thankfully, he didn’t need as many here as in the intro, which with its word count limit looked like the quotes were going to drown out any chance in hell of him getting a word in edgewise. He noted a single journal entry’s quip about the logging industry affecting the need for carpentry as an occupational medium and chugged out a couple more sentences on the change from multiple large-scale tools to predominantly small-scale. Then he thunked his head on his desk and considered diving out of the window.

Ven got up eventually, and he once again brought Terra coffee, since he’d forgotten to so much as eat. With one look at him, Ven rolled his eyes and came back again with a sandwich. “I thought about making you breakfast,” Ven said when Terra raised a brow, “but I knew that anything that involved actually stopping for a second would just go cold.”

Terra grimaced. True. “Thank you,” he said. Ven just huffed at him and kissed him on the brow again. “No better kisses until you eat and brush your teeth.” Ven wrinkled his nose. “And shower.”

Terra grinned. “Not a grunge fan?”

“Not when I’m clean and you’re not.”

Terra took that one on the chin. Still, he reached out and grabbed Ven’s hand again as he made to leave. “Seriously,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Ugh.” Ven shoved at Terra’s shoulder. “You’re such a sap.” He hesitated. “I’m rooting for you. You can do this. When I come home, we can celebrate you getting your conclusion done.”

It was clearly a ‘focus and get your work done’ thing. Terra mimicked Ven’s words in a high-pitched voice as Ven left the room again. He grumbled and glared at the computer screen. It was just the conclusion. He could do this.

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Ven walked through the door. “How far are you?”

Terra groaned. “Just let me die.”

Ven laughed. “Is the conclusion done?”

Terra glared at the screen. “Maybe?”

Ven rounded the corner into the room, already tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Either you’re done or you’re not, Terra.” It didn’t hold any bite to it. Terra looked over his shoulder to see Ven’s smile disappear underneath his shirt. Ven tugged it off and threw it over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Terra asked, unable to help staring at those abs.

“Taking a shower.”

Terra frowned. “You already took one this morning?” He looked outside. “Is it that hot? Did your class go outside today for some reason?”

“Why on earth would a psychology class go outside?” Ven chuckled. “No. You and I are taking a shower.”

“But – But I just said I wasn’t done the conclusion?”

“No, you said you might be done with the conclusion. Which means you’ve been staring at it so long you’ve forgotten what words look like.”

Okay, that was accurate, but he didn’t have to say it out loud. “I still haven’t revised the intro. And this is just the first draft.”

“Which is all that’s due tomorrow. The final draft is due two weeks from tomorrow. Come here.”

Terra looked back at his computer screen, wondering once again if he should keep that quote in or substitute it for another that, while from a journal essay he’d referenced three times before already, was a better choice. “Terra!”

He looked back to see Ven nearly completely undressed. He fumbled to his feet. “I’m coming!”

“Not yet, you’re not.”

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The shower felt like heaven. Terra hadn’t known how gross he felt until he was actually getting himself clean. The warm water also helped to wake him up; he felt like it was soaking into his pores, revitalizing him. Ven’s fingers on the jut of his hips helped, too.

“So you only have the intro left, and then the draft is off to the professor for some last-minute revisions, right?”

“I’m still not sure about the last paragraph.”

Ven slid water-slick fingers down Terra’s legs and yanked at his thighs. Terra stumbled into Ven. “Only the intro.”

He cleared his throat. Ven’s lips moved over his collarbone. “Yup.”

“And revisions can wait until the day after tomorrow, because the professor will need time to read your paper.”

He jerked. “You want me to waste the whole day?!”

“It’s Sunday and I won’t have any summer classes to go to.” Ven nipped at his skin. “So yes, we are taking the day off.”

We. That was right; Terra may have been the one writing the thesis, but Ven was the one helping him with food and laundry and taking care of himself every day beyond that. Terra’s frustration and stress must have been eating away at Ven, too. Walking into the house from class was probably like walking into a field of lasers. Had Terra eaten? Had he gotten dressed? Was he surrounded by books and papers again? Was he at the end of his rope?

He looked at Ven, at the long, wiry frame that Ven had grown into past his high school years. His hair was matted to his skull as the water sluiced over him. Instead of complaining about it, Ven had simply done what he could to help Terra out.

Terra nuzzled Ven’s face. He pressed kisses into Ven’s neck until he got the choked, ticklish laugh he’d been looking for. “Agh! What’s this about?”

“Yes,” he said. He pulled back up and grinned down at his best friend and lover. “I’ll check over the intro this evening, turn the rough draft in, and hang out with you tomorrow.”

Ven grinned. He pressed Terra up against the wall. Water patted against their sides, nearly getting in their eyes. Well. Ven’s eyes. Terra was too tall for that. “Sounds good. Want an intro to what we’d be doing?” Ven pressed closer. Terra could feel just how interested Ven was. Nearly as interested as him. He nodded. Ven leaned his lips close, right to the point where Terra’s jaw met his ear. “Then…” He backed away. “Finish doing your hair and your intro, and I’ll show you in bed.” Ven whirled around and got out of the shower.

Terra groaned.

“Better hurry up, there, Terra!”

He cursed. Hurry up his foot. It was gonna take a couple of minutes for him to be able to concentrate on anything other than what Ven had left him with. “I’ll get you back for this!” he called out.

Ven just laughed at him. “Good luck with that!”

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Intros sucked.

There was a word count limit on the entire thesis, the intro demanded an overview of everything, and a ridiculous number of sources were expected to be used in it. All that, and he was still supposed to get his own opinions crammed in there somewhere. By the time he was done, the sun had once again beaten a hasty retreat, the clock on the computer was mocking him with quadruple digits, and he was ready to gouge his brain out with a spork. Still, it was done. Well. The rough draft was done.

“Good enough,” he muttered, so done with the entire thing he was willing to burn it to the ground. He saved his progress, backed it up on a flash drive – nothing like his computer crashing his first year into his master’s for him to learn paranoia habits – and scooted the hell out of the chair. He stood and stretched his back. It made far too many old man popping sounds for his liking.

“Ven!” he called. “I’m done!” He walked out of the room to find the lights off. Oh, shit. He’d taken long enough that Ven had fallen asleep. He walked into the living room, intent on grabbing a drink from the fridge, only to stop. Ven’s books sat on the coffee table. They were scattered everywhere, little notes in the margins, as usual, his notebooks out. He must have been studying. Terra looked over the notes. His brows rose. Ven hadn’t mentioned a test – or an essay.

Clearly, Ven had been keeping the harder parts of his schoolwork to himself to keep Terra from worrying. He rubbed his eyes. Great. Now he felt like a heel.

He went to grab his drink, his mind on how to make up for the past few weeks, only to stop again. The refrigerator light shone out into the darkness, nearly blinding him. The moment his eyes adjusted, however, he saw the very obvious form of a plate in the middle of the top shelf. Aluminum foil shone blindingly against the fluorescent lighting. An energy drink sat beside it.

He smiled. He had to be the luckiest man in the world.

Terra took out the food and, with eating and sleeping the only things on his mind, slapped it into the microwave.

Thirty seconds later he was punching the microwave door open and throwing a cup of water on the flaming aluminum foil. Maybe he should just focus on sleeping first.

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Ven just kept laughing. Tears leaked out of his eyes onto the pillow. Terra puffed out his cheeks. “It’s not that funny! It scared me to death. I thought I’d burned the house down!”

“God, Terra! Just. God.”

Terra rubbed the back of his head. The house still smelled like burned plastic. The food hadn’t been salvageable, and worse, even though he’d thrown the windows wide open, he’d started the fire alarm. Every single one of their neighbors probably hated him right now, and he’d ended up waking Ven in a panic.

He pouted. “Sorry, Ven.” He poked Ven’s side. It only made Ven laugh harder, though he did try a little to slap Terra’s hand away. “This is not how I wanted to start our day off.”

Ven peeked one teary eye open, only to laugh all over again. “It’s perfect.” Still laughing, Ven sat up in bed and wiped his eyes. “You’re such an idiot sometimes. God, I love you.” Terra had no idea how to respond to that, but he accepted Ven’s kiss easily enough. It was wet. Ven wiped the dampness from Terra’s lips as he pulled away. “I say we use this chance to go out somewhere, maybe get you some real food.”

Terra gave Ven a wobbly smile. “I would love to. But if I drive, I’m going to crash us into a curb.”

Ven hummed, thinking it over for a bit. “Then how about I give you something else to snack on?”

Terra flushed. “Ven–”

“Here, I’ll whip up another sandwich.” And Ven rolled out of bed. Terra’s jaw dropped. Ven made it all the way to the kitchen before he burst out laughing.

“You…!” He surged up from the bed. “You smart-A!”

Ven cackled. “Just cuss already!”

Terra grabbed a pillow and stomped out of the room, ready to smother his lover. “I’m gonna do much worse than cuss!”

“Oh, no,” Ven mocked. “Whatever shall I do.”

In fact, he did not have to do much of anything. Terra was awake enough to take care of things all on his own.

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“Agh! Someone just murder me!” He slammed his hands on the keyboard – then carefully deleted the garbled message and glared at his word count again.

“If someone murders you, then we can’t have sex after you finally accept that you’re done and turn in the final draft!”

“Who says I’m done!” he grumbled, carefully deleting and then typing in the exact same word in that exact same space.

“I do.” Ven entered the room with a spoon in one hand. He shoved it into Terra’s mouth, then used his distraction to save the file and shut it down. Terra frowned at the taste before grabbing the spoon handle and pulling it out. Terra opened his mouth to give a critique, only to find Ven’s lips on his, his tongue already chasing after the taste. When Ven pulled away, Terra nearly forgot how to spell ‘chili.’ Ven grinned in triumph. “Now come out here and save this dinner before I ruin it completely.”

Terra grinned back, stood, and stretched. His thesis was finally done. It was time to finally put his next project into motion.

He wondered how Ven would feel about a winter wedding.