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lunar-wandering · 3 years ago

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petals for two

finally, here it is. the Shadowpeach non-fatal Hanahaki AU the people have been waiting for.

Word Count: 13k

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Bajie and Wujing found Wukong kneeling down by the river.

Again.

For the third day in a row.

"...Elder brother?" Wujing asked, watching how Wukong's back and tail stiffened. "Are you...okay?"

"...Just peachy..." Wukong said, but the way he said it was quiet, wheezy, and entirely unconvincing. Bajie quirked an eyebrow.

"Really? Because that's what you've said the last two times now." He said, crossing his arms with a healthy dose of suspicion on his face. "That last fight was pretty bad- y'know it would be pretty unwise of the 'Intelligent Stone Monkey' to be hiding an injury-"

"I said I'm fine!" Wukong snapped, turning around to glare at them with firey red eyes, his fur bristling with anger.

There was a pause, Bajie and Wujing both falling silent as Wukong continued to glare at them-

And then Wukong's hand flew to his mouth, as he turned back around to face the river, his body shaking with muffled coughs. Both Wujing and Bajie rushed to his side, concerned-

Only to freeze as they saw the purple petals slipping through Wukong's fingers, falling into the river and floating downstream. There was a moment of silence, broken only by Wukong's wheezing breaths.

And then they were both kneeling beside him, Wujing rubbing comforting circles on Wukong's back, while Bajie pulled the Monkey King's hand away from his mouth, letting the petals fall freely.

Wukong, surprisingly enough, let them do this, and the three of them quietly watched the petals float away, vanishing as they went around the riverbend.

If Wujing and Bajie noticed the tears running down Wukong's face, they didn't comment on it.

"...I'm sorry." Is what Wujing chose to say, in a soft murmur.

"It's fine, I'm fine." Wukong whispered, for a whisper was all his throat could manage at the time. "I'll be okay."

They all knew he was trying to reassure himself with his words more so than them.

When the three of them returned to their makeshift camp with an apology and a half-baked excuse, Tripitaka barely batted an eye.

Bai Longma, however, stared at a stray petal clinging to Wukong's outfit with a look of knowing.

Miles away, in a cave hidden by shadows, a figure leaned against the cave wall, one hand steadying himself while the other covered the fresh wound to his eye, petals falling out of his mouth as he cursed whoever decided that love could be unrequited.

Hanahaki. The disease of unrequited love.

Or, well, as it was known nowadays, the disease of pining.

Originally, when people were first discovering the disease, they thought it to be only born out of feelings that could never be reciprocated.

As it turns out, that simply wasn't the entire truth.

Overall, about 20% of Hanahaki cases reported end up being due to unrequited love.

The other 80% are due to people who simply, for one reason or another, refuse to confess.

As was recently discovered, about a century or so ago, the one true cure for Hanahaki is to look your beloved in the eyes, and say; "I love you."

As you can imagine, not many people have the courage to do that.

Luckily, the disease has never truly been fatal more than it was a slight hindrance. There even exists some medicines and teas that can reduce the effects of the flowers, although using them comes with its own ballpark of side effects.

Anyways, to make a long story short, MK wasn't surprised to end up meeting someone currently suffering from Hanahaki.

He just hadn't been expecting it to have been the Monkey King.

It hadn't really been obvious at first. Hanahaki will sometimes wither slightly when distanced from whoever the afflicted person has a crush on, but it never really takes much to send the flowers into full bloom again.

MK didn't actually hand out with Wukong a lot, and even when he did, it was only for training, something Mk restlessly focused on in the hopes of getting better at being, well, the Monkey King's successor.

Which was why, when during one of their rare breaks, Wukong froze in shock when MK actually asked him a question (one that, for once, wasn't about training).

"...Monkey King? Do you have any friends?" MK asked.

"Sure I do!" Wukong lied, "Why do you ask?"

"Ah- well-" MK stuttered, staring down at the ground in front of him as he seemed to ponder how to phrase his next sentence. "You just seemed... lonely, I guess."

"Well, I'm not, since I do, in fact, have friends, so. Yeah." Wukong said, crossing his arms as his tail slowly swung back and forth nervously.

"Are your friends from now or before?" MK asked, tilting his head in curiosity. "Actually, did you even have friends before?"

"...Before?"

"Before the Journey to the West." MK elaborated.

"Psh, of course I did!" Wukong said, "Y'know, I was even friends with Demon Bull King back then- you wouldn't believe some of the stories I have about him..."

MK had, in fact, already known about Wukong and Demon Bull King having been friends. Tang had been more than happy to bring that up, multiple times.

But what MK really wanted to know was-

"Was there anybody else?" He asked.

"Of course there was! For example, M-" Wukong started, but very quickly cut himself off, the light in his eyes dulling slightly. MK winced, sensing that he'd somehow stumbled upon a sensitive subject.

Before he could apologize though, Wukong suddenly tensed, before turning and starting to walk away.

"Uh, I'll be right back, I just need to check on the younger monkeys for a moment, okay?" He said. It was an excuse that was easily seen through, but MK couldn't bring himself to mention it.

Similar situations kept happening.

Sometimes it was understandable, like when Wukong would take a second or so to throw a smile back on his face (a smile MK was starting to recognize as fake) whenever MK brought up the subject of the Journey to the West.

Other times, however, it was a little confusing. Like, for example, when after an unspoken kitchen incident, MK had worn a purple jacket to training. (Mei had let him borrow it from her, since his yellow jacket was still in the wash, due to the Kitchen Incident That Shall Not Be Named).

As soon as Wukong had seen the purple jacket, he'd froze, before hastily turning away and running back inside his little house, claiming to have forgotten something.

MK had taken the jacket off and stuffed it into his bag by the time Wukong returned.

It was only after the Macaque fight that things became clear.

They'd been silent, watching the sunrise, and MK had started to doze off, leaning on his mentor's shoulder as he slowly started to fall asleep.

...Only to be jostled back into awareness as Wukong's shoulders shook with barely muffled coughs.

"Are you okay?" MK asked, lifting his head off of Wukong's shoulder and staring at the Monkey King with thinly veiled worry. Wukong leaned away from MK's gaze, a hand still covering his mouth.

He was too busy coughing to give a good response.

"If you broke a rib or something and didn't tell me I'm not going to be very impressed." MK deadpanned. Wukong shook his head 'no' in response, hand still over his mouth despite the fact his coughing fit had already died down. "Well, what is it then?"

MK waited as Wukong seemed to internally debate with himself.

And then the Monkey King slowly removed his hand from his mouth, revealing the petals that he had confined within his palm.

"Oh. Oh!" MK said, realization striking him as the dots connected in his mind. "Oh, you have terrible taste."

"I know..." Wukong groaned, placing his head in his hands, not caring about how this caused some of the petals to stick to his face and fur. MK giggled a little over how silly his mentor looked, Wukong glaring at him and sticking one of the petals onto his successor's cheek in response. MK made a noise of disgust as he wiped the petal off of his face.

Far away from the two of them, Macaque stumbled back into his dojo, nursing a new injury, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and holding crushed flower petals in his fist.

Well. Wukong could officially say that he'd never been in a situation like this before.

Tangled up and dangling from the Spider Queen's spiderweb, Wukong tried to distract himself from the feeling of being trapped, unable to move.... by doing his best to observe his surroundings.

There... sure were a lot of other demons here. He couldn't figure out if it was good or bad that he didn't recognize most of them.

Wait.

Wukong looked around the room again with narrowed eyes.

Could Spider Queen have also taken-

No.

Wukong couldn't see him anywhere, not to mention that the other monkey had always been concerned with his own safety first and foremost. He'd probably scrambled to get out of town at the first sign of trouble. Wukong wasn't going to find Macaque in here.

He wasn't sure why he'd even looked.

...And there was that warm, tickly feeling in the back of his throat again.

Wukong squirmed, trying to ignore the sensation for as long as possible. He even started humming, his go to method for repressing the petals, but it barely worked, and a small dose of panic started to overtake him. He had no way of covering up the petals that would come, his arms and hands pinned at his sides.

He would not let Spider Queen or the rest of her crew find out about this, not to mention....her.

(If the Lady Bone Demon found out about his Hanahaki... well, she already has enough leverage as it is. Wukong isn't about to hand over any more.)

And then there was Demon Bull King. Wukong wasn't entirely sure how his old friend, (ex-friend, he reminded himself), would react, and honestly he wasn't too keen on finding out.

Still though.

The flowers always win in the end.

Wukong did his best to duck his head into his shoulder, and hoped it would be enough as his chest was wracked with coughs.

The Demon Bull King was many things, but he was not, in fact, stupid.

He had been quick to notice the growing panic on Wukong's face, (really, the monkey hadn't even tried to hide it, either due to being lost in thought or because he thought nobody was paying close enough attention to notice), and had decided to watch and see what the Monkey King would do next.

He hadn't expected Wukong to turn his head to the side, doing his upmost best to silence his coughing fit.

He'd expected the flower petals even less.

"You, of all people, haven't gathered up the strength to confess?" Demon Bull King asked, startling Wukong right out of his coughing fit. "I did not take you to be a coward."

"I take offense to that." Wukong wheezed, a few more petals falling from his mouth as he spoke. "Besides, I remember you taking forever to confess to Princess Iron Fan-"

"I'm not the one who held my words in long enough for them to take root and bloom." Demon Bull King said, "Who is the object your affections anyways?"

"None of your business." Wukong said, once again squirming within the confines of the webs. Demon Bull King raised an eyebrow, before glancing down at the petals now littering the floor. The flowers typically would hint at who the afflicted had a crush on, but Demon Bull King was too far away to be able to tell what flowers the petals belonged to.

If he were to hazard a guess though...

"The Six Eared Macaque?" He asked, proceeding to find great amusement in how Wukong's fur stood on end, panic flashing on his face. "Ah, so I'm right then-"

"Shut up." Wukong hissed, his eyes flashing red. "Seriously, shut up. You can't tell anyone else about this-"

"Tell someone- I see flowers aren't the only nonsense your mouth spits out." Demon Bull King said. The red glow faded slightly from Wukong's eyes, as his expression shifted to confusion, with a small dash of hope.

"You... aren't going to tell anyone?" Wukong asked.

"And loose the precious blackmail material you have graced me with? Of course not!" Demon Bull King laughed, and Wukong sighed, sensing that somehow this would come back to bite him later.

Wukong forced his suitcase shut, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of guilt as MK stared at him, unimpressed. Okay, so maybe 'going on a vacation' wasn't the best excuse to use, but Wukong couldn't afford to waste any time coming up with a better one.

He was ready for MK to be worried about training.

He wasn't ready for Mk to be worried about him.

"...Will you be okay?" MK asked, "I mean, you seem to not want anyone to know about your Hanahaki, but if you're with friends then you'll be surrounded by other people at all times, so-"

"Oh, it'll be fine." Wukong said, waving MK's concerns away. "Besides, if the flowers act up, I'll just rip out my lungs."

"Please do not do that!" MK said, the horrified look on his face making Wukong chuckle.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad." He said, "I've done it before."

"That does not make it better!" MK said, looking like he was about to start ranting, and Wukong took that as his cue that it was time to go.

MK pushed the exit door open, stumbling a little as he rushed into the alley way.

"Ugh- why did you do-.....that......" He said, voice trailing off as he registered that the alley way was empty.

Well. Seemingly empty.

One quick check with his true sight later, (he wasn't going to be falling for any tricks again), and MK was holding a dumpster over his head, revealing the shadow monkey that had been crouched down, hiding behind it. Macaque glanced up, his scarf covering his mouth and his fur bristling in shock as MK set the dumpster off to the side.

"So much for you having been a great warrior, huh?" MK said, crossing his arms and staring down at Macaque with an unimpressed expression.

"Uh- ah, so you figured that out, did you? Maybe you aren't as dense as you look." Macaque said, voice slightly raspy, as he stood up, trying to pretend he wasn't just hiding behind a dumpster-

Only for his scarf to slip down a little, allowing some golden flower petals to fall out. Macaque made quick work of snatching them out of the air, crushing them in his grip as he hid them behind his back, tail swishing nervously, but it was too late.

MK had seen.

"...Oh. Oh!" MK said, feeling torn between screaming in frustration or laughing in amusement over what had just been revealed to him. "Oh, you have terrible taste."

"...I have no idea what you're talking about." Macaque said, sighing and breathing out a few more golden petals as he did so, completely unaware of how much this revelation had shaken MK's already very delicate mental state. "Seriously. I don't even know where you got the idea that I'm in love with someone or something like that, because I'm definitely not."

"I never said anything about you being in love." MK said, starting to lean more towards being amused at this entire situation as Macaque stiffened, his tail stilling. "I just said you had terrible taste- maybe I was implying your whole 'performance' with the shadow play back in the theatre was simply lackluster."

"I take offense to that." Macaque hissed, his shadow growing slightly bigger as his tail once again started to thrash back and forth, this time in anger. MK ignored this obvious attempt at intimidation for another question that was on his mind, a much more pressing one, in his opinion.

"You still haven't answered my question from earlier, why did you do that?" He asked, watching as Macaque took a minute to process the question, having not expected the sudden subject change.

"....Why did I do what- Oh! Why did I break the lantern, you mean?" Macaque said, suddenly avoiding eye contact, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab hold of the edge of his scarf as he chewed on the corner of his lip, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. "Well, I was going to do the whole 'watch the hero get tormented by their inner demons and insecurities' thing like all the other villains, but you seem to already be doing that to yourself so- yeah. Didn't want to bother using my own expansive list of abilities when I could just lay back and watch the show you were already putting on for me."

"But I thought you wanted to be center stage, not in the audience. Y'know, because you want to steal the spotlight from Monkey King." MK said, raising an eyebrow as Macaque's hand finally grabbed the edge of his scarf, and he started fiddling with it nervously. "Or well, either that or you want to share a stage with him."

Something must have been brought to the forefront of Macaque's mind when MK said that, as suddenly he was turning away, using his scarf to cover his mouth as he coughed. MK remained standing in front of him, arms crossed, waiting patiently for the shadow monkey's response.

"I- I have no intention of shar- sharing a stage." Macaque eventually wheezed, pulling his scarf back down as he spoke so that he could be heard clearly. MK amusedly noted that he could see some golden petals peeking out from within the confines of the red cloth. "Not now, not before, and not ever."

"Ah, sure, keep telling yourself that." Mk said, staring pointedly at the flower petals.

Macaque flicked him on the forehead.

"Ow!" MK said, recoiling, a hand going to his forehead to try and numb the sting, his eyes closing reflexively as he leaned back. "Why would you do that for-"

MK paused, blinking bewilderedly, as he realized Macaque was no longer in front of him, seemingly having vanished entirely, having used MK's momentary distraction to fade away into the shadows, only a single left behind flower petal revealing that he had ever actually been there.

If MK had used his true sight again then and there, he would've found that Macaque was now resting on top of one of the nearby rooftops.

As it was though, his friends burst through into the alley way, prepped with questions he wasn't ready to answer.

(Later, Macaque would severely regret failing to remember to warn MK of the danger that was approaching him. But that would be later, and now he fully intended on sneaking back into the theatre to retrieve his shadow lantern...)

Life on the ship honestly wasn't all that bad. Sure, MK had lost all of his powers, and there was the ever looming threat of the Lady Bone Demon, but ignoring all of that important stuff?

Life on the ship was actually rather nice.

"You know what? I think I could actually get used to living like this." MK said, leaning against the railing of the ship, letting the wind rustle his hair. Wukong hummed in agreement, sitting on the railing beside his successor.

"...When all this is said and done, we should take a vacation." He said, "A real vacation. Together this time."

"Can I bring my friends with me?" MK wasn't so sure he could handle leaving the others behind after everything that had happened.

"Sure, go right ahead, if that's what you want." Wukong said, shrugging. MK visibly brightened, and an idea struck him.

"Oh- and you could bring your friends along too, you know, the ones I haven't met yet!" He said, and Wukong stiffened.

"....Uh.... about that..." He started, and MK's smile fell, replaced with a mixture of disappointment and concern.

"...You lied about the whole 'having other friends' thing, didn't you." He said, looking his mentor up and down before rolling out another accusation. "You're far lonelier that I thought you were."

"...Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be, Kid." Wukong said, a sad, half-hearted smile on his face. MK tried to come up with a response, either a joke or maybe some comforting words (how do you even comfort an immortal, who has been through so much and had probably heard everything you could possibly say?)-

Only to be completely distracted as the ship was heavily rocked by something crashing into it. MK's grip tightened around the steel railing, steadying himself as he heard the others rush up to the deck, shouting in confusion. Out of the corner of his eye, MK could see Wukong scramble to keep himself from falling over the side of the ship. (Which MK had to admit was... strange. Wukong had his whole cloud sail thing, he could fly, why would he be concerned about falling off?)

The rocking stopped, the ship steadying itself, and MK could smell smoke. Cautiously and slowly, he turned around, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of an attack, brought about by the Lady Bone Demon or one of her 'followers' (demons, that she had entranced to think that they were getting a good deal out of this, when in reality all she was doing was using them, with the full intent to throw them aside once they had served their purpose).

MK expected the broken bits and pieces of another, smaller ship, some parts still burning (and really, they should deal with those fire before they became a bigger problem. Sandy seemed to be running to get the fire extinguisher, so hopefully there wouldn't be any fire induced explosions today).

What he hadn't been expecting (but in hindsight, really should have been), was to see Red Son, standing in the center of the debris, nervously dusting the dirt off of his jacket, with Macaque laying face down on the deck behind him.

Red Son was having a very long day. Or, well, it had been about three days, really, but that wasn't the point here.

He brushed the remaining ship debris off of himself, making himself more 'presentable' while also purposefully prolonging the amount of time he could go without meeting the questioning gazes of MK and his friends.

Catching sight of the monkey still laying on the ground behind him, he turned and nudged Macaque with his foot.

"You really aren't making a good impression here." Red Son hissed, under his breath, knowing that the other's exceptional hearing meant that he could easily hear him.

"There truthfully isn't a good impression to be made." Macaque said, voice muffled by both the deck and his scarf, as he continued to lay face down, making no move to get up. "Not to mention, I'm feeling a little... singed, at the moment. Not everyone is as fire proof as you are, you- you hot headed fool."

The shadow monkey had, overall, been a great help in escaping from the Lady Bone Demon's dungeons, but Red Son wasn't past the point of kicking him in the side. Hard.

Macaque yelped in pain, curling up a little as though to shield himself, but continued to not even try to get up.

Red Son was unfortunately stopped from kicking the monkey again as he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, he found himself face to face with MK and Mei, their expressions completely neutral.

"Ah- Hello, Noodle Boy, Dragon Girl." Red Son said, politely nodding to each of them, trying to ignore his own nervousness (he did not feel like getting thrown off a ship today, thank you very much). MK and Mei said nothing, and Red Son began to wonder for a moment if crashing into their ship twice was somehow crossing a line.

But then both of them smiled, and Red Son braced himself just in time as Mei tackle-hugged him, MK laughing as he watched her do so.

"Wow, you really don't have much luck with vehicles and driving, on the ground or in the air, huh?" MK said, pushing a piece of debris from the miniature ship Red Son had flown in to the side with his foot. "Seriously, it's a wonder you ever managed to pass a driving test with skills like this."

"A driving what?" Red Son asked, immediately regretting it as both MK and Mei fixed him with a look of complete and utter horror.

"Oh heavens." Mei breathed, her grip on Red Son's shoulders growing almost uncomfortably tight. "You entered a race without knowing how to drive."

Too loud.

It was far, far too loud.

Still though, it was much better than being trapped down in the Lady Bone Demon's cold, dark, and desolate dungeons.

Or, at least, that is what Macaque thought to himself, even as he subtly pulled his scarf up over his ears, trying and failing miserably to block out the rumble of the engine, the hiss of the fires from the remains of their ship, the hushed whispers from Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy, and the trio's argument about Red Son's apparently non-existent drivers license.

(If he had known Red Son had never really, truly learned how to drive, Macaque wouldn't have let him pilot their escape ship.

...Albeit, Macaque himself wasn't all that much better, having had no idea as to what over half of the buttons in the ship were actually for.

Still though, he would have at least tried to land a perfect landing, instead of going all out on making sure they, quote, 'crashed in style', like what a certain hot tempered demon did.

Seriously Red Son. What the fuck.)

It took a few more minutes of laying there, trying to block everything out, before he realized that, over the roar of the engines and the trio's arguing, he couldn't hear where Wukong was.

...Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Macaque stiffened as a warm hand landed on his shoulder, its grip alternating between being soothing soft and threateningly tight.

"...Macaque?" Wukong's voice asked, and Macaque felt the unfortunately all too familiar twinge in both his chest and throat.

Ah. It was definitely a bad thing then.

Wukong pulled his hand back as Macaque abruptly stood up, stumbling away from him and towards the side of the ship. For a moment, Wukong genuinely wondered if Macaque planned to just jump off the ship, despite the fact that they were thousands of miles above ground.

But Macaque simply grabbed hold of the railing, leaning slightly over it, his shoulders shaking.

"What's the matter, are you sea sick already?" Mei asked, noticing Macaque's movement. "Or, wait, would it be air sick? Meh, it's probably the same thing..."

Macaque gave no response other than raising his hand to flip her off, which simply made her cackle like a mad man. Wukong would've walked right on over to him and smacked the shadow monkey for the rude gesture-

That is, if he hadn't been already preoccupied with covering up the petals his concern for the other had caused him to start coughing up.

Unseen by either of them, MK glanced back and forth between the two monkeys, seeing how Wukong tucked the petals into the pocket of his shirt, and spotting a few golden ones fluttering away from Macaque, carried by the wind. MK sighed, ignoring how Mei and Red Son, the two closest to him who had noticed his reaction, looked at him in confusion.

It was going to be a really long trip.

Macaque stirred a bowl full of cake mix, deeply lost in his thoughts.

You see, being stuck in a ship, thousands of miles up in the air, surrounded by people, especially MK and the others, was a very stressful situation to be in. And unlike back at his dojo, Macaque didn't exactly have any training dummies to take said stress out on.

So, he naturally defaulted to another, less violent technique.

Stress baking.

Macaque had waited patiently in the shadows until Pigsy had left the kitchen to join the others up on the deck, and then had promptly taken over the entire room.

...He wasn't sure why he decided to make a chocolate cake though. He had really just been going through the motions, using the first thing he saw or what was directly in front of him, not feeling like putting in the effort to really search for anything else.

Well, at least thus far only MK had stumbled upon him like this, and the Monkey King's successor had been easily chased away by a purple glare and a hissed threat.

'...Although...' Macaque thought, stirring slowing down slightly as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway, approaching him. 'Maybe saying that I was poisoning everything in the kitchen wasn't the best choice of threat.'

He very nearly dropped the bowl when Wukong entered the room.

"So." Wukong said, leaping up onto the counter and sitting down, cross-legged. "Poison, huh?"

Well. He might as well go along with it. No use in changing his excuse now.

"Yep." Macaque said, taking the spoon out of the bowl as he gestured at the room. "I'm so one hundred percent done with all of you, so I have decided to poison all of you. Finally get rid of the noise, have a bit of peace, you know?"

As he said this, he made the mistake of putting the spoon within Wukong's reach.

The Monkey King, spurred by nothing but his own impulsivity, leaned forwards and casually licked the edge of the spoon.

Macaque pulled the utensil back at record breaking speeds (he avoided putting it back into the bowl, he knew far better than to do that) and proceeded to stare at Wukong with the most offended expression he could manage.

Wukong completely ignored it.

"Your 'poison' happens to taste an awful lot like chocolate." He said, taking a glance around the kitchen, noting all the ingredients on the kitchen island, before looking Macaque up and down. "...Stress baking?"

"Poison." Macaque corrected, glaring at the other as he got a new spoon to stir with. "I'm making poison."

"...Poison for yourself, maybe." Wukong said, looking thoughtful, "If I remember right, you can't eat chocolate, can you?"

Macaque didn't bother to grace him with a response, instead turning his back to the other monkey, continuing to mix more ingredients into the bowl. It was blessedly silent for a while, but-

With Wukong sitting right behind him, watching his every move, even stress baking wasn't able to help Macaque relax.

Not to mention the flowers in his chest that were once again begging to make themselves known.

Macaque forced the flurry of emotions and petals back down as much as he could. He flicked an ear, listening behind him.

Wukong was still there. Why was he still there-

Macaque slammed the bowl down on the kitchen island, barely avoiding chipping it, and taking brief pleasure in how he could hear the Wukong's breath catch, before the Monkey King descended into a small coughing fit, probably from surprise at the shadow monkey's sudden movements. Macaque turned back around to face Wukong, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so.

"What do you want from me?" He hissed, his tail swishing back and forth from agitation. Wukong's tail swished too, but Macaque could tell that his was a sign of nervousness.

"Ah, oh nothing." Wukong said, his hands behind his back as his legs swayed back and forth over the counter. "Just making sure you don't actually decide to poison anything."

"If I had poison, you and I both know that I would have used it already." Macaque said, "I don't even think there's anything I could even use as poison on this ship."

"...Point taken." Wukong said, leaning forwards and resting his chin on his right hand.

(He kept his other hand tucked in behind his back. Macaque did pick up on Wukong seemingly acting suspicious, but was far too focused on trying to get the Monkey King out of the kitchen to actually think much of it.

Something that Wukong was extremely grateful for, as it gave him the time to actually hide the crushed flower petals in his palm within one of his pockets.)

"Um, so uh, how do you know if the kid and the others are all okay?" Macaque asked, deciding to try a new tactic of getting Wukong out of the kitchen, hoping that the Monkey King's stupid over-protectiveness would prompt him to leave the room, which would let Macaque finally bake in peace.

"Oh, I left a hair clone with them." Wukong said, and Macaque slumped, his hopes dashed. "...Say, on a different subject, how do you know if it tastes good?"

"Huh?" Macaque asked, befuddled for a moment before remembering the cake bowl on the table behind him. "Oh- the cake? Well, I don't know really, usually I just sell it or something... Not that I really do this often, mind you! This isn't- I don't- I'm- wait. You want to taste test it more, to get free samples, don't you?"

Wukong simply gave a non-commital shrug, but the smirk on his face gave his intentions away. Macaque sighed wearily, before pulling a smaller spoon out of a nearby drawer with his tail, scooping a bit of cake batter into it, and tossing the spoon at Wukong, mentally willing the utensil to hit the Monkey King smack dab on the forehead.

The utensil, unfortunately, did not, in fact, obey Macaque's wills, as Wukong caught it with ease, and started licking the cake batter off of it, his tail wagging happily.

Macaque bit the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood as he used the pain to push the flowers in his throat back down, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he realized just how... cute the other looked in the current moment.

...No, nope, absolutely not-

Macaque spun back around, throwing himself entirely into the task of mixing the last of the ingredients together, and doing his upmost best to ignore the monkey sitting behind him.

Wukong's incessant humming was absolutely not helping in any way shape or form.

Things continued on, Macaque making the cake and occasionally tossing a batter covered spoon over his shoulder so that Wukong could taste it.

(Macaque silently told himself that he was doing it in the hopes that Wukong would become satisfied and leave, already-

But, deep down, he knew it was just because he liked seeing the other monkey happy.)

Macaque dumped the cake batter into a pan, setting the now empty mixing bowl off to the side before shoving the pan into the oven, and setting a small timer.

When he looked back over to where he had placed the mixing bowl, fully intent on washing it and proceeding to use it to make some icing, the bowl was gone.

"What the-" He started, looking around bewildered, before realizing what must have happened.

Sure enough, Wukong had the bowl on his lap, and was using a spoon to scrape the remaining cake batter out of it, to eat.

"...It's not like you were gonna use it anymore... right?" Wukong asked, almost looking sheepish as he realized Macaque was staring at him, and he curled around the bowl protectively.

Macaque glared at him, using his magic to make his eyes flash purple and make the room grow slightly darker.

"Get out of my kitchen before I retract my truce card and cash in on punching you in the face." He threatened.

Although the threat didn't hold much weight (Macaque would probably end up breaking his hand punching Wukong before he could ever hope to actually injure the other) Wukong still scrambled to get out of the room, taking the bowl and spoon with him as he went.

As Wukong rushed pass Macaque in his haste to leave, their tails lightly brushed together.

And that was the last straw for Macaque, who, once he was sure the other was gone, hurried to turn on the sink to cover up the sound of his coughing.

'..........Stupid monkey....' Macaque thought, leaning over the sink and watching flour and flowers go down the drain.

MK found Wukong in the hallway, with petals falling out of both the Monkey King's pocket and his mouth. He seemed to be spacing out, lost within his own thoughts.

He was still carrying the mixing bowl.

"...So I take it you didn't confess to Macaque?" MK asked, sounding almost disappointed.

"What- no- why on Earth would I confess?" Wukong asked, snapping out of his reverie. MK merely shrugged in response, but mentally he cursed.

'I was so sure that baking together would settle this whole mess once and for all.' He thought, watching as Wukong balance his bowl in one hand and softly rubbed a spot on his tail with the other. 'I guess it's back to the drawing board...

....Maybe the others would have some ideas?'

"How to get someone with Hanahaki to confess?" Tang asked, setting his book to the side. "MK, you know that's not really a thing you can force, I mean, look at how long it took Pigsy and I-"

"I know, I know, the both of you have told me about your confession, and how long it took to get there, multiple times." MK said, rolling his eyes. "But like, this is worse than you guys, which honestly, before now I didn't think it was possible, but. This has been going on for centuries."

"...I feel like there's a majorly important piece of information I'm missing here." Tang said, leaning forwards with renewed interest. "Who, exactly, has Hanahaki?"

MK paused, debating for a moment on whether or not he should actually tell him.

But, well, it was kind of obvious, and he seriously needed help getting the two of them together, so-

"Monkey King and Macaque." MK said, before adding, for clarification; "Both of them have it. For each other."

"Oh. Oh, that makes so much sense." Tang said, sounding as though pieces of a centuries old puzzle had magically connected right before his eyes. "...I'm sorry though, I can't help you."

"...Oh. Okay, I'll just ask someone else then-"

"However. I am not opposed to starting a betting pool."

"Hanahaki? Why would I know anything about Hanahaki?" Red Son asked, sounding oddly nervous as MK stood in the door way to his room. "...Why are you even asking me about it anyways?"

"Because Monkey King and Macaque have been pining for centuries, even back during the Journey to the West if the stories from Mei's great grandfather are to be believed, and while I've only been witness to a small portion of it, and I guess it's kinda been amusing, I am so done with it, like-" MK waved his hands around in frustration. "Why won't they just confess already?!"

"...I'm....sure they have their reasons." Red Son said, "What... did Mei say, about this, exactly?"

"Oh, she just laughed when I told her about it, and then cemented her place in the betting pool." MK said.

"There's a betting- Noodle Boy, why didn't you start with the betting pool?!"

Red Son had, in fact, already known about Macaque's Hanahaki.

That kind of thing was a little hard to miss when you're locked up in a cell with someone for an extended period of time.

Finding out Wukong also had Hanahaki came as a little bit of a surprise (though, really, now that he knew about it, it was kind of obvious, but as they say, 20/20 hindsight-).

Outside of making bets though, Red Son was mostly content to just sit back and watch the two monkeys stumble around each other. Sure, he did think their inability to confess made them cowards, but.

At least MK was too wrapped up in his frustration over the monkeys drama to notice the fire demon coughing up smoke and petals behind him.

Wukong slowly sneaked into the room, as quietly as he possibly could. Staying low to the ground, he tip toed over to the shelf, cautiously reaching up-

Only for someone to grab a hold of his hand, stopping him from reaching his prize. A nearby lamp flicked on, and Wukong looked up to see Sandy intently staring down at him.

"...Hi." Wukong said, laughing nervously as he slipped his hand out of Sandy's grip. "Um. I totally wasn't sneaking around or anything, I was just... sleep walking?"

"...I see." Sandy said, reaching over and taking one of the tea tins off of the shelf. "In that case, this one right here will do wonders to improve your sleep-"

"Ah, oh, no thank you, it's fine, I can handle it." Wukong said, subtly scanning the shelf of teas, slumping slightly when he couldn't seem to find the one that he wanted. Upon seeing the monkey's dejected face, Sandy sighed.

"Is this what you were looking for?" He asked, pulling a tin of tea out from behind his back. Wukong looked at it in shock.

"How'd you-" He started.

"It was just a lucky guess." Sandy said, setting the tin in Wukong's waiting hands. "Use it sparingly though, I'm running a little low on supplies right now. Oh, and be careful with the side effects, okay? Stop taking it if anything seriously bad starts to happen."

"...Thank you." Wukong said, pocketing the tea tin and turning to leave Sandy's room.

"Oh, one more thing." Sandy said, causing Wukong to pause mid-step. "The next time you try sneaking around in the dark, use a stronger glamour over your eyes. The glow seriously gives you away."

"...Duly noted."

It smelled like smoke.

That was the first thing Macaque noticed as he stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the storage room. Immediately, he tensed up, his fur standing on end. After all, where there was smoke, there was usually fire as well. And although Macaque would never, never admit it... he wasn't exactly the most... fond of fire.

(A capture hero, trapped and unaware.

A burning mountain, the air choked by smoke.

And an abandoned warrior, trying desperately to escape the mountain's flames.)

But... Macaque couldn't hear any of the noises that usually accompanied something burning. Instead all he could hear was someone's slightly irregular heart beat, and their wheezing breaths.

Macaque forced himself to walk forwards, curiosity starting to over power his caution.

He rounded the shelf of boxes just in time to see Red Son cough out more smoke, along with a few burnt petals.

Macaque paused, knowing the other had yet to actually see him, as he pondered what to do next. His hands twitched towards the edge of his scarf, but he kept himself frozen.

On the one hand, he could just turn around and leave before Red Son could even notice him. As was said before, Macaque was truly not very fond of fire, and despite having spent at least two days trapped with the fire demon, Macaque hadn't really gotten over his general...wariness of him.

On the other hand though, now that he'd seen the other demon, Macaque's curiosity was peaked.

...Well, they say curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so-

"Who's it for?" Macaque asked, chuckling a little to himself as Red Son startled, finally noticing the other's presence.

"What?" He asked, looking at the shadow monkey in shock and confusion.

"Your Hanahaki." Macaque elaborated, "Who is it for, Mei or MK?"

Red Son remained silent for another moment, blinking in confusion, before the question, along with what was currently happening, seemed to register within his brain, and a furious blush over took his face, a few sparks flying off of him.

(At the sight of said sparks, Macaque took a hesitant step back, glancing around for anything that was possibly flammable.

Red Son was far too wrapped up within his own emotions to notice the monkey's anxiety.)

He sputtered for a moment, struggling and failing to come up with a proper response.

"...Both. It's, It's both of them." He eventually muttered under his breath, avoiding eye contact with Macaque as he shyly rubbed his arm.

"What was that? Sorry, I didn't hear you the first time, could you say that again?" Macaque said, not at all surprised by this new development and instantly deciding that now was the perfect opportunity to mess with the fire demon.

"You damn well did hear me and we both know it." Red Son said, shifting from flustered to angry in the blink of an eye.

...Macaque outright laughed at hm.

"Oh, oh, like you're one to laugh." Red Son said, "I know all about your thing for Monkey King. You're in the same boat as I am, both literally and figuratively."

"...Okay, first of all, we are in an airship, not a boat." Macaque said, leaning 'casually' against a wall of supply boxes. "Secondly- I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Why haven't you confessed yet?" Red Son said, moving on with his line of thinking and completely ignoring the shadow monkey's denial.

"Conf- I, I could ask you the exact same question!" Macaque said, caught off guard before pulling himself together and recovering. "Why haven't you confessed?"

"I, am simply waiting for the right time. I'm planning a big romantic gesture, I'll have you know." Red Son said, "You, on the other hand, are simply being a pining idiot."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Macaque denied yet again, a slight growl making it's way into his voice as his eyes flashed purple.

Red Son wasn't impressed.

"Your pitiful attempts at denial and intimidation have little to no effect on me." He said, "Seriously, just admit that you're in love with Monkey King already. Pretty much everyone else already knows about it."

"...I won't say I'm in love."

"Do not start the random musical numbers again, you already did it far too many times when we were trapped together in that cell, and if I have to bear one more minute of it I will not hesitate to toss you overboard."

The tea was bitter.

Very bitter.

Still though, it tasted leagues better than weed killer, which had been a not very well though through experience that Wukong never ever wanted to repeat.

And the tea worked better too, repressing, the flowers better than humming or the previously stated weed killer ever could.

Still though, there was a reason as to why Wukong had never opted to try this method before.

Said reason, of course, being the side effects.

He sighed, staring at how there were now purple flecks within his red eyes. Nothing that his usual glamours couldn't cover, but his magic was dwindling fast. He would have to start cutting a few corners soon if he didn't want to end up completely and utterly powerless, and the glamours concealing his height and eye colour would probably end up having to be the first ones to go.

Other than that though, it was concerning that the eye colour change was happening so soon, not to mention the speed at which it was progressing. A change in eye colour was the most common starting side effect of repressing Hanahaki, after that... things start to tend to become strange and rather unpredictable. The list of side effects caused by repressing Hanahaki was miles long, and was always having new things added to it- the reaction seemed to always depend on the person.

Basically, Wukong had literally no idea of what the side effect would be for him, nor how he could prepare for them.

And, of course, this meant he wouldn't be able to know how to hide them either.

When Wukong woke up the next morning and found that his eyes had already turned fully purple, a faint sense of unease settled itself over him like how a morning mist settles in a forest. He supposed he should've expected this to happen quick, he was repressing thousands of years of pining after all, but still, he hadn't been expecting it to progress this fast....

He felt fine though, nothing different than usual. (He did feel a bit weaker, but that had already been happening before the tea. No, that was something else.) For a moment he wondered if his immortality had made him completely immune to any possible side effects, but immediately shot that idea down, as if that had been the case, his eyes wouldn't have changed colour at all.

Wukong exited his room, throwing his usual glamours back on just in case, and made his way to the ship's kitchen as quietly as possible, he'd awoken a bit earlier than usual this morning, and didn't want to accidentally wake any of the others up.

Warming up the kettle and taking the tea tin out of the pocket (he sadly noted that it was almost empty already), he carefully followed the instructions on the side of the tin, not wanting to mess anything up and risk the tea not working.

A few minutes later, and Wukong sat at the kitchen table, spacing out a little as he slowly sipped his Hanahaki Repressing Tea.

He was starting to almost fall asleep in his chair when Pigsy entered the kitchen.

"Morning." Pigsy greeted, looking Wukong up and down with a mix of worry and suspicion. "You're not usually up this early, is something wrong?"

'No, I'm fine, perfectly fine.' Was what Wukong wanted to say.

Instead though, no sound left his mouth at all.

Oh.

Oh shit.

It wasn't every day that someone say Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, speechless.

Today, however, seemed to be one of the days where he was.

Pigsy watched as Wukong's mouth clicked shut, panic briefly flashing across his face before being replaced with an easily recognizable nervous smile as the monkey drew his tea cup closer to himself, as though to hide it. Pigsy rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Wukong, immediately noticing how the monkey avoided eye contact entirely.

"Experiencing the side effects, huh?" Pigsy asked, "Don't give me that surprised look. Even if Sandy hadn't told me about you taking the tea, you're being rather obvious right now."

Wukong visibly winced at that, sipping his tea again.

"How exactly do you plan to get through the day without being able to talk huh?" Pigsy asked, leaning forwards slightly. "Surely you must have some plan prepared."

Wukong started to shake his head no, to show that he didn't, in fact, have any plan here, but then he paused, looking thoughtful.

A sudden pang ran through Pigsy's mind, and he gripped the sides of his head, looking down at the table as he winced, trying to collect himself, feeling as though he'd been set off balance.

"-an you hear me?" Wukong's voice was faint and echoey, before growing stronger. "Can you hear me? Hello-"

"Yes I can fucking hear you." Pigsy said, looking back up, and proceeding to be almost shocked (but at the same time really not) to find that there were now two Wukong's sitting across from him. The new Wukong was obviously Wukong's golden astral projection form, as it perfectly matched how MK had described it.

Or well, it almost matched perfectly...

"Oh, good." Wukong said, via astral connection, "I wasn't sure this would work, but since it does I can just talk to the others like this-"

"Does this form of yours normally look like.... well, that?" Pigsy asked, interrupting.

"...What?" Wukong took a moment to analyze his astral form.

Unlike MK's description of it being 'Monkey King but in gold, like a shiny pokemon', Wukong currently had three tails, one pink, one red, and one purple. Said colours were also splashed all over his astral body, almost giving him a sunset-like appearance.

"...Huh. That's new." Wukong said, "I guess the side effects go deeper than I thought."

"Is this something we should be more concerned about?" Pigsy asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, no, it's fine. At least, it's far better compared to everything else. Maybe. Probably." Wukong said, the nervous smile on both his real self and his astral self growing slightly bigger.

"...Everything else? Probably?" Pigsy questioned, sitting up straighter with worry.

"...Ah, you weren't meant to hear that part." Wukong said, wincing. "Which I suppose that means it's time for me to go-"

"Hey, wait-" Pigsy started, but didn't manage to get any words out as Wukong abruptly closed the astral connection, before standing up and leaving the room faster than the other could ever hope to follow. Pigsy sighed as he caught the barest glimpse of Wukong's tail going out the door.

That damn monkey was definitely going to need a serious intervention one of these days.

"Monkey King this is an intervention." MK said, crossing his arms as he tried to do his best impersonation of one of Tang's infamous glares. He assumed he failed miserably, given Mei's muffled snickering, but Wukong at least shrunk down sheepishly, so he must've been doing something right.

MK sighed as a pang ran through his head, having expected it- before blinking in shock at the astral image that now stood before him.

"Why do I need an intervention? I'm perfectly fine." Wukong said, both his real self and his astral self smiling nervously- and the three other astral copies of him mimicked the motion. One was pink, one was purple, and one was red. They were each surrounded by a faint golden glow, and were each connected to the main golden astral version of Wukong by their tails.

"You- you are definitely not fine!" MK shouted, still having not recovered from the shock, and wasn't given any more time to try and process what he was seeing as the three bonus Wukong's started speaking.

"Shit." The red one hissed, frustration in his voice. "Fuck." (MK blinks, shocked to hear any version of his mentor swear, and immediately decides to smack Wukong on the arm the next time his mentor tries to reprimand him for swearing.)

"At least he's learning how to read people better, now he won't get tricked as easily." The pink one said, sounding almost....proud?

"I won't be able to trick him anymore either- He's catching on. He's starting to catch on now-" The purple one said, panicked. "I need to lie, lie lie lie-"

"Once again, I don't know what you're talking about." The golden, normal Wukong insisted, seemingly ignorant to the existence of the others.

MK had, of course, set up this intervention to talk about how Wukong tended to repress his emotions, (specifically those concerning a certain shadow monkey), but he definitely hadn't been prepared for... whatever all this is.

"Are you fucking seeing this?" He asked Mei.

"I'm not seeing shit." Mei said, wrapping her arm around MK's shoulder and lightly knocking their heads together, as though doing so would transfer the images that MK was seeing into her own brain.

"Language." All four astral Wukong's said, in perfect unison, and MK reached over and smacked the real Wukong on the arm for his hypocrisy.

The hastily put together intervention steadily went downhill from that point forwards, Mei complaining about not having been let in to the Astral Connection, and Wukong closing said connection the instant that MK had revealed the existence of the astral copies to him. The Monkey King had left the room rather swiftly after that, and MK sighed, for what seemed to be the millionth time since he'd found out about his mentor's Hanahaki.

He would have to do a much better, and much more well put together intervention next time.

Wukong ended up running out of tea the next day.

On the one hand, this was a good thing, as it meant he would only have to wait a day or so for the side effects to finally wear off, and he could go back to actually speaking again.

But on the other hand, this meant that he'd be back to coughing up flowers again, much, much sooner than he would like.

Wukong sighed, leaning against the railing of the ship, watching the sunset. He could probably jump off the ship and find the materials needed to make the tea himself, but without his cloud sail, it would certainly cost him precious time.

Time that he currently absolutely could not waste.

So he resigned himself to what would have to happen, and tried to mentally prepare himself for the flowers that would return within the next twenty four hours.

.....For some reason, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched....

In his many years of having known Wukong, Macaque had never seen him be quiet.

But he sure was quiet now, leaning against the ship railing, peacefully watching the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

(The fading colours of the sun reflected perfectly off of Wukong's fur, covering the other in golds, red, purples, and pinks, and overall making him look really pre-

No, nope, Macaque absolutely could not think about that right now, if he started coughing up flowers here and now it was sure to be noticed, and he absolutely couldn't have that happen.)

Macaque really wanted to consider the silence a blessing, finally, a break from the seemingly endless amount of chitter-chatter-

But instead, he couldn't help but feel worried.

Sliding back down to hide behind the crate he'd been sitting on before Wukong had come out onto the deck twenty minutes ago, Macaque lightly chewed on the edge of his scarf, thinking.

Option one: he waltzes over there, throws on a Perfect Smile, and asks Wukong what's wrong. Maybe he could even throw in a jab or two, or say it sarcastically in order to hide his very real concern.

Option two: he sneaks past Wukong, reenters the ship, and hides out inside of his room until he feels confident enough that these stupid emotions have passed.

Macaque was just deciding on option two- when the shadows surrounding him shifted.

Glancing up, he found that Wukong was now holding the crate the shadow monkey had been hiding behind over his head, and was staring down at him, unimpressed.

"...Hi?" Macaque said, letting the edge of his scarf fall out of his mouth and glamouring away any sign that he'd been chewing on it in the first place. "Um. Fancy meeting you here?"

If possible, Wukong's unimpressed look deepened.

"I was- I was here first, I'll have you know." Macaque said, hurriedly standing up, brushing non-existent dirt off of his clothes. "I don't really appreciate you encroaching on my personal space."

Wukong's expression did not waver, but he did set the crate down to the side, so at least Macaque no longer had to worry about having it be thrown at him. Still though, Wukong continued to stare, so maybe he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"So uh, what's with the whole silent act, huh?" Macaque asked, trying his best to be nonchalant about it. He hoped the response would be something meaningless, like a silly little bet or something along those lines.

He didn't expect to receive no verbal response at all, with Wukong's expression shifting away from unimpressed to something Macaque immediately identified as nervous.

Which....probably meant that this really was something to be concerned about.

Which probably also meant that asking any more about it would eventually result in some kind of long, emotional talk, which absolutely was not Macaque's forte.

...Well, he'd been planning to go with option number two from the beginning, so-

"Welp, this was a nice talk." Macaque said, "But, unfortunately, I have some other stuff that need to be tended to so.... bye!"

And with that, Macaque awkwardly flashed a peace sign, before falling down into the shadows, reappearing within the comforts of his own room. Deciding that he'd definitely had enough for one day, he crawled into his bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying his best to banish any thoughts of Wukong from his mind as he fell asleep.

He'd tried to sleep.

Really, he'd tried.

But after his third petal coughing fit of the night (courtesy of his brain refusing to forget how beautiful Wukong looked in the light of the sunset), Macaque gave up.

Which was why he was currently sitting on the couch, staring at the shadows on the wall, letting his mind play tricks on himself, making it seem like the darkness was moving.

He startled when he heard the sound of someone walking down the hallway.

Macaque wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been up for, but something told him that it was still far too early for even the early-risers to be up and about.

It was at the exact moment that someone sluggishly entered the room that Macaque remembered his glamours were down, and he tensed, knowing it was far too late and that he was far too tired to throw them on now.

He relaxed ever so slightly once he realized that the one who had entered the room had seen him glamourless multiple times before.

...Still though. What was Wukong doing up so late?

"...Got nightmares? I hope they're all about me." Macaque said, almost instantly cringing at the words coming out of his mouth, wanting to take them back and shove them into whatever sleep deprived corner of his mind they had come from.

Funnily enough though, Wukong didn't react at all, there wasn't even a small twitch of the ear or tilt of the head to even indicate that the other had even heard him.

There was a beat of silence, and Macaque chewed on the edge of his scarf, distracting himself from the awkwardness of it all by focusing on the sounds of the ship at night.

The beeping of the autopilot, the whir of the engines, the quiet sleeping sounds of the others, Wukong's steady, slow heart beat...

His.... slow heart beat...

"Oh" Macaque breathed, his voice partially muffled as he still had part of his scarf in his mouth. "You're sleep walking."

A contradictory mixture of concern and relief flooded through him at this realization. For a moment he just sat there, watching as Wukong continued to sluggishly make his way around the room.

And then Wukong bumped into the edge of the coffee table, and Macaque got up in record time, ready to catch the other if he fell-

Only to pull himself back as Wukong righted himself, still fast asleep. Macaque sighed, sitting back down on the couch. Why had he even been worried? There was literally nothing to worry about here, Wukong was literally invulnerable, he'd be fine. This was fine.

He rescinded that thought when Wukong suddenly turned, slowly but surely making his way towards Macaque. The shadow monkey watched the other's approach warily, stiffening when Wukog clumsily crawled onto the couch beside him.

Macaque stayed as still as possible, practically frozen, and partially hoping Wukong would get back up and sleep walk his way back to his own bed.

That, of course, didn't happen, and Macaque barely bit back a gasp, the edge of his scarf falling from his mouth to rest on his lap, as Wukong's tail found and curled around Macaque's own.

'Okay.' Macaque thought, feeling the flowers surge within his chest, as well as a faint tingling sensation covering most of his body (it had been a while, since he'd had any positive affection). 'Okay. I can handle this.'

And then Wukong leaned against him, his head resting on Macaque's shoulder.

'I can not handle this.'

When Wukong woke up in the early morning, the first thing he noticed was that he was not, in fact, in his bedroom.

'Ah. I slept walked again.' He thought, wincing, slowly pushing himself up. '...At least I didn't collapse in the middle of the hallway or inside of MK's room this time...'

The second thing he noticed was fabric sliding off of him, landing in a pool on the floor.

Leaning over and picking it up, he instantly identified it as Macaque's scarf.

He'd. Been sleeping while curled around Macaque's scarf.....

Almost immediately, he started coughing, purple petals falling from his mouth.

'Well. There goes the last effects of the tea.'

(When Macaque opened his door later on in the after noon, he would find his scarf sitting on the floor in front of him, perfectly folded.

He would find a singular purple petal within it upon unfolding it, but immediately dismiss it as being unimportant.)

"Why is it a forest, why did the engine need to malfunction and land us in a forest." Macaque complained, laying in the shadow of a tree, staring up into the branches as though the tree would give him an answer.

"Hey, it's better than a mountain." Wukong said, setting down a glass of lemonade beside the other monkey, before turning to hand another one off to Tang. (Pigsy had, for reasons unknown, made Wukong act as his waiter for the day. Nobody was quite sure why, and from the way Wukong glared whenever the subject was brought up, they figured it was best not to ask). "Can you hear how MK and the others are doing though, they've been gone for a while..."

"Why don't you just use your cloud to go check on them?" Macaque groaned, but still did what had been asked of him, tilting his head to the side, listening intently. After a moment, he was able to pin point the trio's voices. As for what they were saying....

Macaque smirked.

"They're fine." He said, "Although, they might be another few minutes before they come back."

When the trio came out of the forest wearing flower crowns, Macaque mentally cheered.

(After somebody with Hanahaki confesses, the flowers need somewhere to go. Usually they simply pop out of the ground around the person who has confessed.

It was a popular tradition to make and wear flower crowns using said flowers if your love was reciprocated.)

"Oh, did Red Son finally confess?" Tang asked, "We've been waiting on that for like. Ever."

"Oh heavens- Was I the only one who didn't know?" MK said, hiding his face in his hands.

"Oh no, I don't think Monkey King here knew either." Sandy said, lightly patting Wukong on the head. Wukong had been adorned with a look of utter shock since the trio had returned, but now he finally broke out of his surprise, and before the trio could even think to move, Wukong had grabbed hold of them, lifting them up a little in an excited hug.

"Oh my gosh- I'm so happy for you!" He said, only putting them down as Red Son started struggling. "We've- we've gotta throw a party- Pigsy can we throw a party-"

Macaque rolled his eyes, blocking out the current party planning, going back to staring at the sky through the tree branches.

"...Macaque."

Macaque looked over to see Red Son standing beside him.

"...Yes?" Macaque asked.

"...I'm braver than you are."

"What the fuck does that mean-"

Of course, Wukong had ended up deciding that they couldn't have the party on the ship. For some reason or another, he was utterly convinced that this party had to be big, which, of course, meant that there had to be a large space to hold it in.

...Had the situation been different, he would've brought everyone to Flower Fruit Mountain.

As it was, he found the next best thing.

"How the fuck did you know about my family hide out?" Red Son asked, watched as Wukong knocked three times on the door.

"You forget I was friends with your father, Red Boy." Wukong said, sending Red Son a smirk. "Oh, and watch your language."

The rest of the group stood slightly behind them, some of them prepared to run away if, somehow, this went awry.

Luckily enough, they didn't have to worry. Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan took the fact that Red Son was now dating his former enemies surprisingly well, and were fully willing to let them use the base to hold a party.

Wukong, surprisingly enough, ended up being the one to regret the decision to come here, the realization that maybe he had made a mistake hitting when Demon Bull King grabbed him by the back of his scarf, lifting him into the air. Wukong went slack immediately, knowing that struggling would be futile.

"The rest of you can keep sorting things out." Demon Bull King said, "I would like to have a few.... words with the simian."

And with that he turned, walking out of the room and bringing Wukong with him.

Demon Bull King entered a smaller room, reaching and closing the door behind him as he did so. Unceremoniously, he let go of Wukong's scarf and let the monkey drop down to the floor. Wukong let out an 'oof' as he hit the solid concrete.

"Ow." He hissed, glaring up at Demon Bull King. "Ya could have been a little more gentle there, Bull King."

"You can handle it." Demon Bull King said, "Now, onto the real matter of business. You haven't confessed yet, have you."

"What? Oh, is that what this is all about- I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about." Wukong said, laughing nervously. Demon Bull King stared down at him, unimpressed.

"So I'm right, you really still haven't confessed." Demon Bull King sighed, "Really, I expected better from you. Oh well, I suppose it is a good thing that my son is braver than you, not that that's very hard."

"Ouch." Wukong said, slightly jokingly. "You...really aren't pulling back your punches today huh."

"You trapped me under a mountain. I can be permitted to throw a few heavy hits." Demon Bull King said, "As it is though, if you do not confess sooner rather than later, you may miss your chance."

"Huh?"

"Do not make me out to be a fool, Sun Wukong. I can see the way your body grows weaker." Demon Bull King stared pointedly at a scrape Wukong had gotten on his hand when he'd been dropped onto the floor. Wukong, following the other's gaze, hid it behind his back. "You can't hide it from me. A month ago that fall would've been nothing to you. The Lady Bone Demon has affected you more than you're letting on."

"...So what if she has?" Wukong asked, "It's fine, it doesn't really mean anything, my powers will come back to their full strength sooner or later, you know."

"When I carried you, you weighed a little heavier than you used to."

"Hey now, don't go making comments about my weight!" Wukong said, letting the glamour on his eyes drop so that he could give Demon Bull King the red-eyed glare. "Seriously, I don't know what you think you've figured out, but just, drop it, okay?"

"...If that is what you wish." Demon Bull King sighed, opening the door and standing slightly to the side in order to let Wukong through first. "Promise me one thing though, for the sake of our old friendship."

"...Of course."

"Please confess before the time runs out."

"I'll... I'll try."

The party had been great.

In fact, the party had been spectacular.

Which was why, of course, that merely a week after the party, their luck seemingly ran out.

One of the Lady Bone Demon's 'followers' attacked the group during a supply run. Somehow, someway, Wukong and Macaque had managed to draw it away from the others, giving the rest of the group ample time to get the ship loaded and get everyone to a safe place.

Now all the two monkeys had to do was find a way for themselves to escape.

Macaque ducked under a wave of magic, glancing over at Wukong, hoping that the other would have some kind of plan.

He could immediately tell from the look on the other's face that he did not, in fact, have any sort of plan.

Macaque kept dodging as he watched Wukong impulsively take the offensive, sliding under a wave of magic, running up and jumping to kick the demon in the face- Only for the demon to catch him by the foot, spinning him around and tossing him. Wukong's back slammed against the mountain they'd ended up fighting beside, and he fell onto one knee for a moment.

And then he slowly stood back up, his fur messed up. He used his sleeve to wipe some blood away from the corner of his mouth, his eyes burning red and oh-

Oh, that was kinda hot-

Macaque immediately cursed letting himself get distracted, as the flowers grew in his chest, and he stumbled, wheezing as a few golden petals fell out of his mouth.

A wave of magic hit him from behind, knocking him to the ground and sending him skidding over to where Wukong now stood.

"Shit- are you okay?" Wukong asked, keeping one eye on the demon, who simply watched them in slight amusement, as he helped the shadow monkey back to his feet. Macaque glanced between the demon and Wukong, feeling the flowers in both his throat and his mouth.

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to win this fight if he stayed like this, in this state.

...Which only left him one option.

Taking only the barest of seconds to prepare himself, Macaque grabbed a hold of both side of Wukong's face, ignoring the monkey's confused squeak as he made sure their eyes met.

"I love you." Macaque said, a single petal falling out of his mouth.

"...I love you too?" Wukong said, confusion and shock filling his face.

"Wait, what?" Macaque asked, but was given no time to question it as the demon seemingly had enough of waiting, and threw a whip of magic at them, the two monkeys having to separate from each other and leap to different sides in order to avoid the attack. As the dust from the attack settled, Macaque locked eyes with Wukong again, the Monkey King's face coloured with a blush, looking shocked, and Macaque was sure the expression was reflected on his own face.

"You love me too?!" He asked, sliding to the side, to avoid another attack.

"Yes!" Wukong shouted, backflipping out of the way of a burst of flame.

"Then why did you say it as a question?!" Macaque asked, slowly making his way back over to the other monkey while avoiding the demon's attempts to hit him at the same time.

"I don't know, why did you confess in the middle of a fight!?" Wukong asked, mirroring the other monkey's movements.

"It seemed like the best option!" Macaque said, leaping over top of another magic whip, spinning around and finding himself back to back with Wukong. "I- I didn't really think it through."

"And people say that I'm the impulsive one." Wukong muttered, deflecting a beam of magic away from them with his wrist.

"I heard that." Macaque hissed, turning ever so slightly to glare at him.

"I know." Wukong said- before turning and knocking Macaque to the ground, just in time for a blade to go sailing over top of them. "When did he get a scythe?!"

"How should I know?!" Macaque asked- before his ear twitched, and he grabbed Wukong's shoulders, rolling the both of over to the right, swapping their positions as the ground where they had previously been suddenly broke apart, a spike rising out of it. Both of them stared at it in shock, before glancing back at each other.

"Well, there's one thing that I think we both know." Wukong said, as Macaque stood up, pulling Wukong to his feet along with him. They both turned to glare at the demon. "And it's that we're starting to get real sick of this guy."

"...You know, I hear that there's a solar eclipse coming up." Macaque said, and Wukong immediately smirked.

The demon sent another blast of magic, and, still holding hands, the two of them stepped to the side, Macaque even taking things one step further, twirling Wukong as they dodged the blast, before pulling away, giving the Monkey King a small bow before falling down into the shadows. Wukong, smirk still wide on his face, turned to face the demon with a determined look.

Running forwards, swiftly moving left and right to stay out of the way of the demon's attacks, Wukong got himself right up in the demon's face. Jumping, he flipped backwards, hitting the demon in the chin with his foot as he did so, before landing on his feet slightly further back than he'd been before.

The demon rubbed his chin, eyes blazing with anger, and Wukong laughed.

"C'mon, is this the best you can throw at me?" He taunted, practically dancing out of the way of the spikes that shot out of the ground at him. "Surely you can do better than this!"

The demon growled, not seeing the trap for what it was, summoning his scythe and charging forwards. Wukong stayed where he was, smirk still firm in place on his face.

When the blade was almost close enough for Wukong to taste the tang of the metal, the shadows in front of him shifted.

Macaque shot up from the shadows, with a spear made out of the darkness, easily blocking the demon's attack, his eyes glowing purple as he stepped forwards, shadows still trailing and swirling around his feet as he forced the demon to take a step back.

The demon grit his teeth, so focused in trying to keep Macaque advancing any further- that he failed to notice as Wukong slid beside him, his eyes glowing red as he took power away from his glamours and channeled it into making sure this punch was the last one.

The strike hit, and Macaque stepped back, his fur rustled by the wind as the demon was sent flying past him, slamming into the mountain, hard.

The two monkeys stood there for a moment, panting, staring at the demon's prone form.

A minute passed, and that was all it took for the two of them to confirm that the demon was not going to be getting back up.

A sigh of relief left the two of them, Wukong falling down to sit on the ground, while Macaque slumped, leaning against his spear as the two of them took a moment to finally relax.

Only to jump as a field of yellow chrysanthemums and purple, flowering wisterias appeared around them.

The two of them stared around themselves in shock for a moment, Macaque dispelling his spear as he sank down to the ground beside Wukong. A breeze flew by, knocking loose a few petals, mixing yellow and purple together.

"...You know, I can't decide if these flowers are hilariously late or perfectly on time." Macaque said, and Wukong laughed.

"Say, who do you think has more flowers for them?" He asked, and the both of them took a second to think about it, looking out over the field. Wukong abruptly stood up. "Why don't we make some clones to help and find out?"

Macaque laughed, standing up and summoning his own shadow clones as Wukong blew on a few of his hairs, and they went to work, counting flowers.

...In the end, they ended up giving up after the third recount also ended up in a tie.

When the two of them finally returned to the ship, adorn in matching flower crowns, MK took one look at them, a brief expression of shock flickering on his face, before he fell backwards onto the couch, a strangled laugh escaping him.

"Fucking finally!"

#Monkie Kid #shadowpeach #fanfic #my writing #non fatal hanahaki au #this took forever

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

Note

You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

#replies tag #dc comics #superman #clark kent #superheroes #comic books #nicholas cage

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didnt-want-to-be-a-halfblood · 4 years ago

Text

Kitten Me This

Heyyyy, so I know some people that have weak wifi connection and can’t access Ao3 so I decided to post my fic here, too.

Summary: "No, no, you don't understand. Lou..." Will took a deep breath, petting the cat gingerly as if afraid it would suddenly shatter in his hands. "This is Nico."

"Nico... di Angelo? Your boyfriend, Nico? Son of Hades? That Nico?"

"Yes! That Nico! He's been turned into a cat!"

***

"Lou! LOUUU!" Shouted Will as he practically broke down the door to the Hecate cabin.

"What??" Lou Ellen opened the door, irritation evident on her face. Her dark hair was rumpled, and her winged eyeliner was slightly smudged on one side as if she'd just woken up from a mid-afternoon nap. "You do realize that this cabin is built with magical stones? If you dislodged one with all your yelling and banging-"

"Yes, I could explode or turn into a tree- That's not important!" He moved past her and collapsed dramatically onto the nearest bed. "This is an emergency! Look!" He lifted up a small bundle of black fur.

"What's that?" Lou Ellen stepped closer to examine the bundle. The fur twitched and two brown eyes looked back at her. "A kitten? Did you bother me during meditation-"

"You weren't meditating, you were sleeping-"

"-To try and get me to take care of this scruffy thing? Will, my cabin is too dangerous to house an animal like this. It'd be getting into potions, ruining spells, and my younger siblings will try and do transformation experiments on it. Leave it here and it'll be a piglet by tomorrow."

"No, no, you don't understand. Lou..." Will took a deep breath, petting the cat gingerly as if afraid it would suddenly shatter in his hands. "This is Nico."

"Nico... di Angelo? Your boyfriend, Nico? Son of Hades? That Nico?"

"Yes! That Nico! He's been turned into a cat!" Will set the kitten on the bed, and the little guy stretched before laying down, curling up into a perfect little fuzzy black circle. It was admittedly a super cute cat.

"Are you sure that's Nico?" Lou Ellen hesitantly reached out to pet the kitten. Immediately, the cat perked its head up and hissed at her. It wasn't particularly scary, but she got the message: No touching.

"It's okay, Nico." Will cooed. "This is Lou Ellen? Remember her? She's our friend." He gently ran his fingers through its fur and cat-Nico began to purr softly.

"Okay, maybe he is Nico." She admitted. "What happened, exactly?"

Will shrugged, "We were sitting by the campfire, just talking! And I was like 'Oh, by the way I was thinking instead of going to normal lunch today maybe we could go someplace special to celebrate our anniversary.' And I searched through my bag to find my coupons for 'Benedetta's Pasta' which is this Italian pasta place in New York, and okay yeah it's not the fanciest pasta place in the world, but they do have a guy who knows how to play Taylor Swift songs on accordion and-"

"William. Focus." Lou Ellen snapped her fingers. "The longer this takes the harder it could be to transform him back."

"RIght! Uh, and when I looked up Nico was gone! And this little guy was sitting on the log, just staring at me!"

"You didn't see anything else?"

"No, I was looking for coupons."

"No magic sparks or incantations or flashes of light?"

"No, I was busy looking for coupons!!"

"Will, there's only so much I can do if I don't know how he turned into a cat. He needs the same kind of magic used to transform him into this to transform him back."

"Oh gods." Will put his head in his hands. "You're the most powerful, talented sorcerer we have at camp. If you can't do it then it's hopeless." Will sniffed as if beginning to cry.

Lou Ellen sighed. "You really think I'm the most powerful?"

"And smart, too." Will pouted up at her, hitting her with puppy-dog eyes. "If anyone can figure out how to save Nico, it's you."

"Ugh, fine. Alright. Let's talk to the satyrs and nymphs. They can talk to animals. Maybe Nico himself can tell us what happened."

So, the daughter of Hecate and the son of Apollo walked through the forest until they wound up by the riverbank. All things considered, it was a beautiful day. Hopefully the day was perfect enough that all the nymphs would be in a good mood and willing to help. Will stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Hi! Hello! Um, I was wondering if someone could help us? We're trying to communicate with this cat." Will lifted the black kitten above his head like baby Simba in the Lion King movie.

No response.

"Please?" Will tried again. "He's actually my boyfriend and I'd really like him to not be a cat anymore by the end of the day, y'know? Isn't there anyone here who knows what it's like to be in love? To have that love taken away from you?"

No response. No movement. The trees and bushes and plant life didn't say a word.

Lou Ellen put a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Why don't you let me try?"

"Sure."

"Hey!" Lou Ellen shouted harshly. "Listen up! This here is a child of Apollo! If someone doesn't give us five minutes of their time then he's going to start reciting some of his dad's greatest poems of the 20th century! And Apollo wrote a lot of haikus in the 80s." It was definitely spoken as a threat.

The trees and bushes began to rustle as if talking with one another. Will nodded to Lou Ellen in approval. They waited for about two minutes before she spoke again.

"Okay, Will! That's it! From the top, the poetry reading begins now! Don't say I didn't warn you all-"

"Wait!" Juniper hastily walked toward them. "I'm here! It's okay, everyone. I'm here now!"

"Hey, Juniper!" Will smiled, happy to see a friendly face. "What's up?"

"Will." She smiled back. "I was just out talking to Rosemary. She needed relationship advice." Then her voice dropped to a whisper. "A lot of shrubs are envious of my stable relationship with Grover. They find most satyrs to be... unreliable in showing consistent affection. Grover and I? We're the satyr-nymph power couple. I'm kind of like the local marriage counselor nowadays."

"And I'm sure you're wonderful at it." Will said sincerely. "Can you talk to cats?"

"Hmm, well, my feline might be a little rusty. We mostly get squirrels and birds out here, but I'll see what I can do!"

"That's all I ask." Will leaned down and carefully set cat-Nico on the ground. The kitten curiously sniffed at the grass.

"Cute little guy." Juniper grinned. "Tell me little one, what's your name? How did you come to be like this?" The cat gave a little meow-squeak in response. "I see..."

"What?" Will looked back and forth between Juniper and his feline boyfriend. "Does he not remember who he is?"

"They go by the title 'The Ruler of All Darkness.' Claims to have come to the mortal realm to 'incite fear into my enemies.'"

"Nico is always so dramatic..."

"You're one to talk." Lou Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Juniper, can you ask him if he remembers me?"

Juniper asked.

"'Yes, the one who smells of sunshine. Indeed, he is tolerable.' And... something about being worried you're going to abandon it?"

"What, just because he's a cat now? Nico, I would never!" Will leaned down and let the kitten nuzzle his hand. "Neeks, we're going to change you back. And- and if for some reason we can't, that's... that's okay. Alright? You'll stay with me, you'll be the most pampered and taken care of cat in the whole world. You..." Will got choked up at this point. "So what if the love of my life is a cat now? So what if... if... We can't do any of the things we planned to do together? So what if at the most you'll only live to be another twenty years?" Will started actively sobbing. "I won't abandon you. Ever. I'm sorry, Neeks. I should've payed attention. I should've stopped this from happening. I should've-"

"It's okay, WIll." Lou Ellen hugged him. "Shh, it's okay. Maybe we still don't know how to change him back yet, but we will. I promise."

Will leaned into her and cried. "This is all my fault."

Juniper joined in on the hug. "I can ask around and see if any of the nymphs saw what happened. We have eyes and ears everywhere, surely someone saw something..."

And who knows how long Will would've kept crying when suddenly they all froze at the sound of a familiar voice.

"There you are!" Nico's voice rang out from behind them. "Will, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

They turned slowly to face a very human, very not-a-cat Nico di Angelo. He was dressed in a nicely tailored suit and his hair had been neatly brushed. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, but they were beginning to wilt as Nico's anxiousness caused them to decay.

"Why... why is everyone crying?" Nico awkwardly tugged on his suit. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Nico! You're- you're human!" Will stood up, glancing down at the kitten.

"How nice of you to notice." Nico said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I mean..." Will frantically looked to Juniper. "But he said 'Ruler of All Darkness.'"

"Hmm... To be fair, most cats talk that way."

"She said." Lou Ellen corrected, examining the cat, much to the kitten's displeasure.

"What?" Will asked.

"She. This cat is female. Animal transformations can sometimes change the sex of the person in question, but not usually. That's, like, basic shapeshifting 101."

"I..."

"Can someone explain to me what's going on?" Nico crossed his arms. "Will, I thought you wanted to go out for lunch? We're going to be late."

"Uhh." Will took the cat from Lou Ellen. "I got us this cat for our anniversary!" The black kitten stared at Nico and gave a pitiful meow.

"You what?" Nico sighed. "I tell you 'Hey, babe, give me five minutes and I'll shadow-travel to Italy to find us a real Italian restaurant for lunch.' And I come back to find this?"

"Ohh, is that what you said? I didn't hear you exactly because I was... busy looking for coupons." Will sheepishly avoided eye-contact with Lou Ellen. Still, he could feel her death glare.

"Will, I love you, but you are not using coupons at a restaurant for our anniversary. I'm rich. Just let me pay." Nico walked up to Will and traded him the flowers for the kitten. "Where did you even find this thing?"

"Uhh..."

The kitten reached out a paw and booped Nico on the nose. It gave another soft meow.

"Oh,' Juniper giggled. "She said, 'You smell like death. Perhaps we shall form an alliance, bathe in the blood of our enemies. Together, we can destroy them all.'"

"You got us a homicidal kitten?" Nico laughed. Gods Will loves it when Nico laughs.

"Only the best for you, babe." Will casually winked, ignoring his eyes were slightly swollen from crying.

Lou Ellen huffed. "I'm going back to bed. Will, you useless homosexual, you owe me." She marched away. Juniper politely nodded to Will and Nico before following suit. She probably had more couples counseling to do.

"C'mon, Solace. Let's get you dressed. We can go shopping for our newest little family member after lunch." Nico cooed at the kitten and she snuggled up against him. "Or maybe we can sneak her into the restaurant. Would you like that, piccolina?" Nico proceeded to call her a series of cutesy names that Will didn't understand.

"Nico?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"Interesting. You know what, Will?"

"What?"

"I love you, too." Nico gave him a peck on the cheek. "C'mon, let's go..." They walked together in silence for a moment. "So, you thought I turned into a cat, huh?"

"Okay, in my defense, weirder things have happened!! It was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to come to, alright!! You absolutely would've done the same thing-"

"Ha! Yeah, right-"

"You totally would have! Look, I'm just saying-"

The End.

#my fic #solangelo #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #lou ellen blackstone #juniper #pjo #toa #hoo

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glynnisi · 4 years ago

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ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020 FOR @ava-rosier

At Ao3: Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :) But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange. I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier . I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED. Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy. He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday. That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it. Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it. Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other. They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more. Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust. Darcy closed her eyes. It was futile. Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year. In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind? Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What? You okay?”

Darcy nodded. “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don��t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Fin

#glynnisi #shieldshock holiday fic exchange 2020 #avarosier #mcgregorswench #shieldshockficchallenges #shieldshockfanfic #darcy lewis x steve rogers #avengers au #thor #captain america #darcy lewis is a queen and don't you forget it #christmas shieldshock #starcy #ava-rosier

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chronicallylatetotheparty · 4 years ago

Text

Scarlet Fever Ch.15 Emily Agreste (Part 1)

Summary: Endings and Beginnings.

Notes: Boy those were a lot of loose ends to tie up.

Ah, Emilie does Not make an appearance. It's more because she represents family.

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

"I didn't realize you felt so overwhelmed until Princess Justice pointed it out."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize how much you were struggling until I found out who you were."

"It's not like I would have let you in even if you asked."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask."

"You were just following the rules."

"Lot of good that did, huh?"

"... I hate how much I failed you with the Snake."

"I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"I didn't say no."

"Adrien, if you showed up and said you trusted me with a Miraculous I would've jumped for joy!"

"Believe me. I was tempted."

"I never should've let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"From what I remember you usually didn't have much say."

"Exactly! You got hit because I couldn't get out of the way in time!"

"That's not how I see it."

"You getting hit was never okay."

"Better than the alternative."

"Not to me."

Adrien stared at the ceiling that still felt too close as the dream, or memories rather, faded. As tempting as it was to stay in bed and go back to sleep the blinds were pulled and sunlight was streaming in. And he was cursed, as his friends put it, with being a morning person.

Making his way to the restroom Adrien splashed water on his face and ran his wet hands through his hair to fix his bedhead. Combing it into his usual style. He paused, staring at his reflection in the mirror... At the model perfect look Gabriel had insisted on for years... Adrien ran his fingers through it, ruining it. Letting his locks fall in a decidedly Chat Noir-ish manner.

A knock on the bathroom door pulled Adrien out of his thoughts. "Bro, breakfast!" Nino called.

"Be right out!" Adrien hurried through the rest of his routine. His hair the only significant difference.

Plagg phased through the wall. "I dunno, Adrien," he started without preamble. "Turtle boy's kid brother is quite a handful."

Adrien smiled, scratching at the kwami's chin. "You're a handful too, Plagg."

"Yeah, but it's different when I do it!"

Chuckling, Adrien offered his pocket and Plagg flew in. Grumbling about tiny humans.

"Sleeping Beauty!" Nino exclaimed as Adrien sat next to him.

Pressing his lips together Adrien gave his best friend a mock glare. "That is not catching on."

"Oh, yes it is dude!" Nino stuffed his grinning mouth with baghrir. Butter and syrup almost dripping onto him.

Lips twitching into a smile despite himself Adrien reached for his own. "Where's Noël?"

"Folks took him to school," Nino replied around a mouthful.

"Yes!" Plagg flew out of Adrien's pocket and made a beeline for the fridge. "Camembert here I come!"

Shaking his head in fond exasperation Adrien ran a finger absentmindedly along the rim of his plate. M. and Mme. Lahiffe were kind enough to offer their home and let Nino take a few days off school. Nino insisted he think of it as an extended sleepover but... "I wanted to thank them for-"

Suddenly, Nino was leaning against him and wrapping an arm around Adrien's neck, pulling him close. "Dude, that's the fifth time you've said that."

"I'm just really grateful!" Adrien insisted, pushing him off.

"Believe me. They know."

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat. The Lahiffe household was more than he could've hoped for. Especially with everything on the news. Gazing at Nino, the memory of a glowing purple butterfly came to the forefront. "To you too. For what you did."

Eyes widening for a moment Nino adjusted his cap, cheeks darkening. "What're best friends for?"

Adrien smiled softly. Tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "You are the best. Y'know that, right?"

Nino wrapped his arms around Adrien in a proper hug. "Back atcha, bro."

Returning the gesture, Adrien held him tight as his heartbeat spiked. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Flatterer," Nino scoffed.

"Always."

Clearing his throat, Nino removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Eat up, dude! Don't want to keep the Gorilla waiting. We got a big day ahead."

"...Yeah," Adrien agreed. "We do."

----------

"Don't be bemused! It's just the news! The trial of the century is coming to a close. Disgraced fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, who's terrorized Paris as the supervillain Papillon for the past two years, will finally face justice. The crown court is expected to reach their verdict later today. His son, fifteen year old Adrien Agreste, could not be reached for comment-"

Marinette pressed mute and turned away from the living room television. She hated that they had to mention Adrien like that. Like being Gabriel's son was the only description that mattered. Still, maybe she should bake Nadja some pastries as a thank you for pushing back against the idiots who wanted to lump Adrien in with Gabriel.

As a parent, as a reporter, Nadja had torn into anyone that even suggested Adrien was anything except a victim of his own father. On live television no less!

Just the memory of the press conference Ladybug called for the specific purpose of vouching for Adrien made her blood boil. If only they knew. Ungrateful jerks.

Tikki looked up from her place on the table, brow furrowing at her holder's tension. "Are you alright, Marinette?"

Sighing, Marinette glanced back at the screen. Slowly unclenching her fists. They were showing footage of his testimony again. "I'm worried about Adrien."

"Of course you are." Sabine set a plate of macarons next to Tikki. Who took the liberty of grabbing one. "That young man is going through something terrible very publicly. No wonder you're worried about him."

"Maman!" Marinette covered her face with her hands. "Saying it out loud doesn't make it better!"

Sabine gave her daughter a bittersweet smile. "Beating around the bush won't help."

Marinette groaned into her palms.

"But," Sabine continued, placing her hands on Marinette's, "you and all his other friends are making sure Adrien doesn't go through it alone."

Lowering her arms, Marinette looked down. "I... haven't been doing much, really."

"Marinette!" Tikki scolded. "What you've done for Adrien isn't nothing! You've talked to him, listened to him, been there for him. You're doing everything you can, Marinette!"

Sabine nodded, taking a seat next to her daughter. Holding their hands in her lap. "Even Ladybug has limits."

Marinette's mouth twisted ruefully. "I know."

"You know it here." Sabine tapped Marinette's forehead. "But here," Sabine pointed at Marinette's heart, "still has to catch up."

Her eyes stung as Marinette let herself fall into her maman's embrace. "I wish I could do more."

"Oh, honey." Sabine kissed her forehead. "I am so proud of the compassionate young woman you are. But you can't fix everything. More importantly it isn't your responsibility to fix everything."

Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Sabine laid a finger on her lips.

"She's right, Marinette." Tikki floated up to nuzzle against her holder's cheek. "What you're doing is already enough. More than enough. You're so kind to everyone else. Be kind to yourself."

Marinette didn't know when her tears fell but it didn't matter. For the first time since she donned the mantle of Ladybug, Marinette let herself be a girl crying into her mother's arms.

----------

"Marinette!" Alya almost knocked them both over as she squeezed a little too tightly. "It's been forever, girl!" Noticing the red in Marinette's eyes she frowned. "You okay?"

Marinette nodded. "I'm fine," And it didn't feel like a lie. She smiled at Alya's familiar worry. "It's only been a day."

"Like I said, forever."

Tikki poked her head out of Marinette's purse. "Good morning, Alya."

Eyes sparkling, Alya restrained herself from gushing. "Tikki!" she whisper-shouted. Mostly. "Good to see you. Any chance we'll be meeting your friends again?"

All things considered Alya had taken Marinette being Ladybug rather well. She had been more concerned with why Marinette was akumatized and how she could help. It was a relief, really. That Marinette didn't need to lie to her best friend anymore.

"I'm sure Trixx would be happy to." Tikki smiled at Alya's enthusiasm.

"If Fu ever lets go of that box again," Sabine muttered. She waved goodbye to Tom who was left in charge of the bakery.

"Maman!" Despite weeks of her mother being very vocal about Master Fu's flaws Marinette was still scandalized by her critique of the Guardian.

"Don't 'maman' me. You know it's true. The only reason he didn't take back all of his fancy jewelry is because Oblivio helped us out." Sabine smiled at Alya.

Cheeks darkening, Alya smiled back. It felt odd to be praised for something she used to be ashamed of.

Marinette gently squeezed her arm. "Thanks for that."

"Hey, you used the Butterfly. Me and Nino just aimed." Alya wasn't sure how hard it was to tweak Oblivio's power so they could target specific memories instead of erasing everything at once. But she wouldn't have wanted anyone besides Marinette on the other side of the telepathic link.

There were a lot more people that needed their memories adjusted than Alya thought. Sure, Gabriel and Nathalie needed to forget who Ladybug and Chat Noir were. But there was also everyone in the locker room when the akuma swarm came.

Marinette bumped playfully into Alya, lips twitching into a smile. "Never thought I'd be glad to see Oblivio again."

Alya wrinkled her nose. "That makes three of us." Looking from right to left to make sure no one was in hearing range Alya leaned in close. "I can't believe you have a superhero therapist!"

"Eh, not the weirdest thing to happen this month." Marinette was just glad she didn't need to keep Ladybug a secret from someone else.

"Did you, y'know, use Ladybug for that?"

"Actually, it was Adrien that got us an interview with her in the first place."

Before Alya could respond Kagami's car turned the corner. The door opening for them as the driverless vehicle pulled up to the curb.

"Marinette, Alya, Sabine," Kagami greeted as they all piled in. "And Tikki," she added as the kwami floated out of Marinette's purse. "...Where is Anansi?"

"Kicking butt. She's a kickboxer," Alya elaborated at Kagami's confused look. "Can't reschedule this time. Has to fight or she forfeits."

Kagami nodded in understanding. "Your sister is smart enough to know that one does not back down without giving it your all."

Marinette straightened as Kagami's eyes landed on her. She thought that might be referring to something besides fighting but it was hard to tell. Reading Kagami was always difficult.

"I can't believe I'm finally going to meet the Guardian!" Alya exclaimed. Sabine's sentiments barely putting a dent in her enthusiasm. "You think he's up for answering a few thousand questions?"

Kagami smiled despite herself. Her phone chimed and she frowned at the text. "We have to make a stop first."

----------

Nino hugged Alya and fist bumped Kagami. His eyes were tense despite the smile he gave them. "Hey, Mari."

Marinette's brow furrowed. "Nino." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Is he...?"

Nino nodded, pointing his thumb behind his back. "Up ahead."

Taking a deep breath Marinette stepped into the cemetery proper.

The Gorilla was standing guard as usual. Spotting her, he gave Marinette a nod and let her pass. Walking further away to give them some privacy.

Adrien was standing rigidly in front of Emilie's grave.

What should she say? What could she say? Marinette cleared her throat. "Nino says you didn't want to have a funeral?"

Adrien shook his head, the first sign that he noticed her presence. "We- I already buried her once. Mourned her once. It's... not exactly easy the second time but..." He took a breath. It was shaky. "Um, the lawyer read me her will." His voice shook too. "M-maman didn't want- Sh-she didn't want..." Tears built up in his eyes. "What Gabriel did to her!" They flowed freely down his face. "Maman wanted to rest."

Marinette rushed forward and pulled Adrien close, letting him bury his face in her shoulder.

"Sh-she wanted to rest!" His voice broke as he breathed out the words.

Pushing down the disgust she felt towards Gabriel, Marinette focused on the boy in her arms. Rubbing circles into his shaking back. Soothing him, being there for him. Letting him spill his tears without comment. His breathing slowly evening out.

Sooner than she expected Adrien straightened, wiping at his eyes. "Thanks, I... I needed that."

Marinette swallowed. "A-anytime."

Adrien had cried more in the past few weeks than he had in the past year... That probably wasn't healthy. Something else to tell his therapist. "God. One of these days I'm going to stop crying on you!"

"I hope not," Marinette's mouth said before her brain could overanalyze it. Her eyes widened. "I mean- I don't want you to keep crying! That is- You can cry however much you want! Wait, no, I mean-"

Adrien smiled fondly at the familiar sound. The vise in his chest loosening its hold.

"Don't laugh at me!" Marinette pouted.

That only made his gaze soften further. "I missed you."

Pink dusting her cheeks, Marinette turned to avoid looking at him directly. "I missed you, too."

"I've just been so busy," he began.

"With the trial," she nodded.

"And therapy."

"And figuring out the next step with Master Fu."

"And it felt awkward, y'know?" Adrien gestured vaguely.

"To text or something," Marinette agreed.

Adrien blinked as he realized something. "Has it really been a week since we saw each other?"

"Eleven days," Marinette responded immediately. "But! Uh, who's counting?"

"It's odd not fighting akuma with you." Adrien fiddled with his ring.

Marinette's hand instinctively went to one of her earrings. "Not as odd as you being out of school for so long."

Adrien gazed up at the sky, thoughtful.

"... Are you coming back?"

"... Yes." The decision came to him easily. "All of you guys are there. My therapist thinks it's a good idea to be close to my support network. And Chloe's already offered to pull some strings so I'm not swarmed by paparazzi every day."

"So weird for Chloe to use her evil powers for good," Marinette muttered.

Adrien's lips twitched. "I'll be sure to tell her you said that."

"She probably wants to attach a helicopter pad to the school roof," Marinette joked.

"I talked her out of it."

Marinette choked a bit at that. Glancing at Adrien, she could see the tension he had when she first walked up to him was all but gone. His smile came easier. But... "If you needed to come here you could've said so. You made Nino worry."

"Ah." Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't know I needed to until this morning."

Ignoring the little voice in her head that panicked at the thought, Marinette grabbed Adrien's hand. His fingers curling around hers. "So you're not just avoiding the meeting we have with the Guardian?"

"Well," he finally grinned. "That too."

"He's not going to take Plagg away, you know. Maman won't let him."

"Ha! No, I don't think she would." Adrien gazed at Emilie's name carved in stone. "... You go ahead. I'll catch up."

Reluctantly, Marinette squeezed his hand before letting go. There was something else she wanted to say. But the words wouldn't come. Not taking her eyes off him until she passed the Gorilla.

Adrien turned back to his mother's grave with a bittersweet smile. "That's her. Ladybug. She's incredible, you'd like her. Stubborn, driven, intelligent. Couldn't ask for a better partner..." He placed a hand on the stone. "I wish you could've met her."

Floating out of Adrien's pocket Plagg laid his paw on top of the boy's hand.

"This is Plagg. He's a smug little troublemaker but that's part of his charm."

Plagg might've commented on Adrien's own troublemaking tendencies if this were any other circumstance. As it was Plagg just nuzzled against Adrien's hand.

A thought took root in Adrien's mind. "...Plagg?"

Ears twitching, Plagg looked up at his kid.

"Can... Can she hear me?"

Oh. Oh.

Plagg hated that question. The answer was never enough. Never as simple as yes or no. Over the centuries he'd lied through his teeth to ease his holders' burdens.

Adrien waited for his answer with trusting, patient eyes.

He swallowed the easy falsehood, burning his throat as it went. "I'll make sure she gets your messages," Plagg promised, ears drooping.

And for the first time in ten thousand years Plagg's holder simply nodded. "Thank you."

"...C'mon, kid," Plagg urged when Adrien didn't say any more. "They're waiting for you."

Sniffling, Adrien rubbed his eyes. "Y-yeah. Right."

Nino hugged Adrien tightly, practically squeezing the air out of his lungs. Kagami was little better. It was impressive how threatening she sounded while prompting Adrien to take care of his mental health. Sabine, by comparison, gave soft hugs and gentle encouragement.

Adrien loved all of it.

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

#ml fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug

17 notes · View notes

lu-undy · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering, how about sniperspy version of "seduce me" hehehe

Alright, this took me ages and I hope I met your expectations! I had great fun with this one and I hope I’ll give the same smiles I had on my face as when I wrote it.

"So, what is it you seek with me?"

Sniper was standing awkwardly in Spy's suite. He was nervously fiddling with his hat between his fingers in front of the Frenchman who looked, on the other hand, as if he couldn't possibly be more comfortable.

"I uh, I'd like some advice."

"And you decided that of all the people you could ask, I would be best?" Spy raised an eyebrow.

Sniper sighed and nodded.

"Pray take a seat."

Spy extended an inviting hand and Sniper obliged, albeit on the edge of the armchair. The Frenchman, who wasn't wearing his jacket or vest but only his shirt and tie, took a seat opposite him, on the other armchair. The coffee table separating them as well as the fireplace on Sniper's left, or Spy's right.

"So, how may I help?"

He gathered his fingertips and elegantly put a leg on the other.

"I uh… Well, there's this… person."

Spy hid his surprise.

"I… I like them… I'd like to know them better and I don't really know how to, y'know, approach them and start the whole thing."

"Ah, I see."

Spy nodded slowly.

"So yeah, that's my problem."

"And you are asking me because…?"

"Cause I know you're good with this stuff. And I…"

"And?" Spy repeated.

"And I hoped you wouldn't make fun of me."

Spy smiled but not in an arrogant way, non, not when his colleague had made the effort to come out of his den of a van and be honest with him.

"I will help you."

Sniper raised his eyes to his masked friend.

"But you need to know that there is no way to do this without getting out of your comfort zone." The Frenchman said.

"Yeah…"

"I am serious, Sniper, I know you adore your solitude in that van of yours but if you really want to approach someone, you will have to come out of your shell quite a bit. Are you sure that it is what you want?"

Sniper looked left and right.

"I uh, I'll try."

"That will not do." Spy answered and the Aussie lowered his head, frowning.

"You need not to try, but to succeed; if you really want that person, that is."

Spy paused before he added:

"Do you?"

The silence lasted for half a minute or so but for Sniper it was eternity and it weighed on his entire being. He closed his eyes.

"Spy, I-" Sniper's breath cut on its own. Spy watched with attention. The tension on his colleague's body was visible. “Yeah. I want to."

"Bien, in this case, I first need an idea of what I am working with."

[Good.]

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow. His eyes met with the Frenchman's ice blue ones.

"Show me what you can do."

"What d'you mean?" Sniper asked.

"Seduce me."

Sniper gulped down hard and he felt himself sweat.

"W-what?"

"Seduce me." The Frenchman repeated as he moved to sit on the sofa.

"Alroight."

Sniper stood up and adjusted the collar of his red polo shirt. He made sure it was tucked in his trousers and rolled up his sleeves.

"Roight." He took a deep breath and approached the Frenchman whose eyes were locked on the fireplace. Sniper sat next to his friend, but not too close.

"Hey."

Spy turned his head to him.

"How're you doin'?"

"Not too bad. Yourself?"

"Yeah, I-I'm alroight… I think… Uh…" Sniper put a hand behind his neck.

"You think?"

"Y-yeah, well, nah, I'm-I'm fine."

Spy smiled. He knew his colleague wasn't very good with social interactions but he hadn't imagined he would be at a loss that much.

"You can ask me what I do for work if you don't know it, or what I do outside of work." The Frenchman suggested.

"Ah, yeah, that's a good idea. So uh, what do you do outside o'work? Got any hobbies?"

"I collect short blades. I have about three hundred of them. Some I like for personal reasons, others because their fabrication was a work of art in itself. I also like to read."

"Oh, cool, that's nice, I like knives but I don't know much about them. I just look at them like paintings, I suppose."

Spy was surprised but didn't let it show. Sniper had continued on the conversation as if collecting hundreds of knives was ordinary.

"And uh…" The Aussie continued. "What d'you like to read?"

"French literature. Mainly 19th century authors. I find contemporary authors quite empty and arrogant. I much prefer the man who wrote without knowing that he would be famous hundreds of years after his death."

Sniper had drank his colleague's words like a priceless wine.

"Oh, wow… That's quite poetic, the way you put it, eh?"

Spy smiled.

"I do like it that way, don't you?"

Sniper blushed and looked away as Spy's eyes were too sharp.

"Part of me does."

"And the other part?"

"Tries to hide it."

"Why?"

"Because… I don't think that's what people like in general, eh. Can't be a hunter and a poet. People think huntin' is barbaric but that's because they never tried."

Spy raised an eyebrow and listened as Sniper's eyes locked on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"Hunting can be complicated and takes ages. It's not just point and shoot. First you want to attract your target's attention, you want to know it well, understand its behaviour, the patterns painted on its soul. And when you decide to approach, it is to get it but you mustn't do it too soon, eh."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise the target just runs away and you don't want that… Also, when you take your aim and decide that it's the right moment to shoot, your entire body is focused on that one particular target. You hold your breath to steady your aim, your eyes see nothing but the target, your mind think about nothing but the target. Only the target exists."

Spy tilted his head on the side and the corner of his lips pursed up in a smile.

"And then you shoot. In a split second, you have taken the target from this life to the next. And God forbid you ever have to shoot twice. Hunting isn't a game and you must treat the target with the utmost respect. There's no point in making it suffer. You want to kill it as cleanly as possible."

"Tell me, Sniper..." Spy pulled his friend out of his almost monologue.

"Yeah?"

"You said that you were ready to make outstanding efforts to get that person, oui?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Sniper's eyes lowered slowly.

"H-they're… special."

"How so?"

"They… count a lot to me." Sniper took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "First, they're gorgeous. They're absolutely stunnin'. I look at them and I can feel my eyes burn when I do, because that's how hard their image gets imprinted in my head."

"Hm." Spy nodded to show he was following.

"And then they're… They're just perfect… Yeah, well, ok, I don't think we go well together and I don't have much hope they'll accept to spend more time with me."

"But?"

"But I have to do it."

"Why?"

"Because I can't think about any bloody one else! I wake up and they're the first image that comes to my mind. I work and I can see them in my head all the time, and when I go to bed, I… I just wish they were with me."

The Aussie sighed.

"Tssk it's ridiculous. I know it won't work."

"What?" Spy asked.

"I'm givin' myself false hopes. I-I'm hoping they could like me but I know they don't and they won't."

"Sniper."

He raised his eyes to his friend's.

"Tell me more about them."

"What do you want to know?"

"When you see them, what do you think?"

"I can't."

"Well if you want me to help you, you will have to help me with that!"

"No, you don't get it."

Spy raised a curious eyebrow. He noticed Sniper was tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor.

"I can't think when I see them is what I mean. I… I just don't know anything anymore. They're… I'd kill to just have an evening more with them."

Spy's eyebrow twitched at the "more".

"And in fact, that's what I do everyday. I kill and kill, hoping they would, y'know, maybe pay a bit of attention to me…"

Sniper took a deep breath and sighed.

"Sniper, what do you feel for them?"

Spy's voice was delightfully calm.

"He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. He's gorgeous." Sniper lowered his face and hid it in his hands. "When I see him, nothin' else matters anymore, I just become obsessed, and-and stupid I s'ppose."

"Have you tried talking to him before?"

"Once."

"How did it go?"

Sniper raised his head again.

"There wasn't a second that I didn't appreciate. I sat next to him and… It's like I could feel the heat of his body even though I wasn't touching it. I felt hot and sweated b-but I'm so bad with words, Spy, why does it have to be so hard?"

Spy looked at his friend and smiled.

"Ah but that is what I meant when I said that you would have to come out of your shell. Engaging with someone is exhausting in truth."

"Even fer you?" Sniper looked him in the eyes briefly.

Spy chuckled.

"Oui, even for me. But if you feel so strongly for them, I can only understand the torture that is going on inside of you, the constant indecision. Should I, or should I not? Will that get me closer to him, or push me farther? Besides, I did not know you could enjoy the company of men."

Sniper realised only then that he had been using "he" and "him" the whole time. He blushed so hard he might have blown up.

"Ahem, well, I mean uh…"

"But don't get me wrong, mon ami, far from me the idea to judge. I can appreciate a man's company too."

[My friend]

"Oh, really?"

"Oui. And, if it is confession time, I will add that there is one that my heart is not insensitive to."

"Oh…"

"Let me tell you more, it might help you…"

Spy adjusted himself on his seat and cleared his throat.

"I don't recall how I started getting interested in him and I must admit that it surprised me when I realised that I did. You see, I am no stranger to romantic stories and am well versed in it all. Also, rarely have I faced rejection."

"But?" Sniper half guessed.

"But that man is different. He is so different that I genuinely do not know how to approach him."

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow.

"Oui, even I don't know so who will? But one thing is for sure, you would never think I could fall for such a man. He is my polar opposite in all aspects and all ways possible and I fear that if I did as much as talk to him, I might ruin it all."

"Did you try and talk to him or…?"

"Oui, once. We had a long conversation. Oddly enough, it happened in this very room. I was sitting here and him, more or less where you are now."

Spy sighed but his lips were pursed in a genuine smile and his eyes were dreamy.

"We had a chat that I wished could last forever. His voice is such a delight to my ears. He doesn't use it often, but when he does, it is such a sweet melody…"

Sniper blushed seeing how Spy felt. He had never imagined the Frenchman could tell him something that personal, and he seemed honest about it too…!

"Sniper, if I had to describe him, I would say that yes indeed, no one would imagine him and me together. And believe me, it is very hard for me too. I cannot imagine for a second that he would want it either. Of course I do guess that he is not insensitive to my charms but I think that I am lacking what he might be looking for in someone else."

"D'you know if he's into blokes?"

"Well I did my fair share of research on the man and came to learn very recently that yes, he does not exclude that possibility. What about you?"

"Yeah, same."

"We are fortunate then."

"And cowards." Sniper added and Spy's eyebrows jumped. "Cause we're talkin' here on your sofa and not really amounting to much, are we?"

"Would you be achieving more anywhere else?" Spy asked.

"N-no, not really, that's true."

"Then I suppose we are not so cowardly."

"I guess so… But, Spook, uhm, d-do you… I mean I can't imagine you do eh, but, do you feel like you're dumb when you're around him? I mean I lose my words and-and I stutter a lot more than usual and…"

"Ah, I see what you mean. I might feel so but I have long learned how to control my emotions, so it doesn't really show. Although I feel the soft tingling in my insides, the electricity in the air and in me when my eyes meet his. His eyes are blue, but very different from mine."

"Ah, same for me. I just have blue eyes but his are… My God, they're somethin' else, when he looks at me I'm so scared that he might see that-"

"That you love him?"

"Y-yeah… His eyes are so piercing he might as well see through me and behind, as if I was transparent."

“You are fairly easy to read, Sniper.”

“Huh?” He sweated more heavily, feeling put on the spot. “What d’you mean?”

“Let me explain. I think you have said a lot about that man, almost enough for me to know who he is.” Spy grinned smugly.

“W-what? N-no, how?!”

“Correct me if I am wrong.” Spy closed his fist and opened his thumb. “First, the person is a man.”

Sniper nodded.

“Then,” Spy extended his index finger. “You know what job he has.”

The Aussie’s eyes snapped wide.

“How did you know?”

“You didn’t ask for his job, but his hobbies.”

“Ah, y-yeah.”

“There is also the fact that he knows that you are a hunter at least.”

Sniper lowered his head.

“Add to that the fact that you never go anywhere near people and I do imagine this is your first time out of your beloved Australia, the man you have your thoughts on is in this base or the other one.”

The Aussie’s knee bounced faster up and down.

“Now, I know your professionalism and I do believe he isn’t one of the enemy, which then means that he is in our team, is he?”

Sniper hid his face in his hands and shyly nodded.

“Interesting. The man I have my thoughts on is also in this team.”

The Aussie’s face flashed up to his colleague.

“W-what?”

Spy wasn’t sure if he saw surprise or disappointment.

“I love him, Sniper. What you describe about the heat of his body, ah… I can only dream about letting my fingers trail his cheeks and entire body, and I did. How many times? Bah, not enough times for me, and sure too many for you who are listening to me. But what else can I do? As you know, I am used to romance but he is so different, so special. I cannot invite him to a restaurant, I cannot take him out for a ride, I… I am condemned to enjoy him like I would a priceless work of art, from a distance, and without doing more than just watching.”

Spy sighed.

“Maybe I am asking too much, maybe I should just content myself with what I have but… My thoughts are stuck on him, his tall and slim silhouette, his beautiful eyes, there is something wild and primitive about him that burns my insides, Sniper…”

“W-wait, he’s on the team and he’s tall and slim. So… That’s not Engie, Heavy, Pyro, Soldier or Scout. You’re taller than them and Heavy’s not slim. That leaves Demo and Medic. But I can’t see how Medic could have something wild about him. Oh bloody hell, it’s Demo?!”

Spy chuckled.

“I also forgot to say that he is adorably selfless. His smile is rare but when I see it, I can feel flutters everywhere in my chest, as if it contained butterflies that had been kept dormant for too long. Only he can make me feel those things, only the sight of him can do hat. Well, not only the sight. When he blesses me with his voice and his attention, very few words can describe what that generates.”

Spy turned to Sniper.

“It’s Demo, isn’t it…?” The Aussie repeated, with a disgruntled sigh.

“You sound disappointed.”

“N-no, I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

Spy spotted the bad lie as easily as an elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Sniper?”

“Hm…”

“Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Non, in my eyes.”

Sniper took a deep breath and raised his defeated eyes to the Frenchman.

“You forgot someone in the team.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“Who? Miss Pauling! She isn’t a man, is she?”

Spy chuckled and moved closer to his friend on the sofa.

“Indeed she is not.”

“So it’s not her?”

“Non, it is not.”

“Then who?”

“Look in this very room, do you not see anyone else?”

“Y-you? You can’t be lovin’ yourself, I mean, you can’t find yerself wild, can you? If anything I live in a van and all, so I’m wilder than you and-?”

Spy had nodded which cut Sniper short.

“W-what?”

“You have finally found him.”

“W-wait, who?”

Sniper was sweating bullets as he saw Spy’s gloved fingers rise and soon he felt the velvet against his cheek.

“Toi.”

[You.]

Spy’s dreamy eyes were a sight to behold. He looked in love indeed but the Australian couldn’t believe it, so he refused to and frowned.

“I understand I might not be the one that you put in your heart Sniper, and I respect that.” The Frenchman removed his hand from Sniper’s cheek. “I will not trouble you with my feelings again and shall help you talk to whoever you want.”

Spy was annoyed, that was clear enough in his slightly clenched jaw and furrowed brow. But if Sniper needed help, he would oblige.

“So, who is it?”

Sniper’s jaw had dropped and for seconds that felt like eternity for them both, he was incapable of producing any sounds, let alone words.

“Sniper?”

“You love me?” He finally asked.

“I do. Now, can we not dwell on this, as you are obviously looking for someone else.”

Irritated, Spy took his cigarette case out and opened it. He was about to take one when-

“I love you too.”

“What?” Spy’s cigarette case fell off his hands. He stopped sharp and looked up at the Aussie. “You cannot change your feelings that fast. You can fake it, oui, but you cannot enter this room with someone in your heart and exit with someone else.”

“Ya wanker, it’s you I was talking about since the beginning!”

Spy’s eyes flashed with the flames that they reflected from the fireplace.

“You lie very poorly.”

“Oh that’s rich... “ Sniper spat. “One, you’re the bloody Spy here and two, look at me!”

Spy had been busy picking up his cigarette case from his lap and collecting the cigarettes scattered there. He stopped to look at the Aussie.

“I… I…”

“Pathetic. You lie so poorly that you cannot even say it.”

Spy felt his feelings flip like a wave crashing. He went from head over heels for the man to furious, fuming with rage. He clenched his teeth.

“I LOVE YOU!” Sniper shouted and his roar was so powerful, that it startled the Frenchman on his seat, tipping over his cigarette case again. He blushed intensely seeing the Aussie get that loud for the first ever time. His voice had projected so powerfully, he worried that the entire base had heard it.

“I love you, alroight?” Sniper repeated with his usual calm voice this time. “I came here to ask you how I could… Talk to you… And spend more time with you. Yeah, as you said, I don’t do fancy dinners and all that but I love you. I can’t not think about you. So I thought of this to spend more time with you. I don’t know what you like, posh stuff I guess, so that was the only way.”

Spy’s eyes were riveted on his spilled cigarette case again on his lap but when his friend finished, he raised his eyes to him.

“And you were ready to help me get with someone else?” Sniper asked.

“Oui.”

“Why?”

“I want to see you smile, even if I am not the reason for it.”

And Sniper obliged. His face radiated with an innocent, almost naive grin, which Spy reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I’m bad with words…”

“Don’t be, it makes you more charming.”

And with that, Spy leaned on Sniper’s shoulder. They found each other’s hands and slid their fingers through without a word. They couldn’t hear the fire crackle, their heartbeats were too loud.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

69 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 20: Good Intentions (that backfire horribly in one way or another)

TFW you say something horribly rude and almost immediately feel bad about it but you're also absolutely right and feel like being petty so you're still a little bit of an asshole about it and basically you're sorry but you're not SORRY, y'know what I'm saying?

Also, 'fuck' is a Galra swear because I can do what I want

TRIGGER WARNING(S): -Use of the word 'rape' -Implications of hypothetical physical violence

First Previous Next

As they approach the castle, Adam is waiting for them, tablet in hand and looking quite stressed. “Prince Yorak, where have you been?”

“Out.” He doesn’t feel like talking. He's tired after the long day.

“Prince Yorak, King Alfor has been anxiously awaiting your return. He wishes to speak with you. Come quickly.”

“Actually,” Keith says, vaulting from the shreika. Lance takes its reins without a second’s hesitation, back unusually stiff, fluid grace abandoned. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Please excuse me.”

Keith walks off in the direction of the hole in the wall, suddenly unwilling to return to his prison just yet. Perhaps he only just remembered it was a prison.

“And what do you expect me to tell him, your Majesty?!” Adam calls, voice pitched higher with stress. Keith finds he barely cares. “I’m not a magic spell!”

“Tell him whatever you like! I’m sure you can come up with something sufficiently endearing, shy, and benign!”

"You forgot demure! Could you at least try to take this seriously?!" Adam howls as Keith slips away into the dark.

Keith knows that this won’t be the end of it, but he’s not sure what else to do. He’s in no mood to speak to Alfor after hearing what he’s been doing to Lance. And what might Lance do, given enough time, enough pressure? The prince has little control, but he's a powerful alchemist. With enough focus, Lance probably could do whatever he wanted to Keith. Keith could put up a fight, but then he’d end up executed for treason or some other such nonsense.

No, Lance would never do that. Keith trusts Lance.

All the same, he’s trapped. He’s also not behaving as an adult but that’s just the problem: he’s not an adult. But the royals wouldn’t wait a damn decaphoeb or find somebody else and now here he is trapped in a marriage among a species that only cares about how quickly they can continue the line of succession.

What an utter mess. But he’s not sure what to do, so he slips through the gap in the wall and sits beside a stream he found only yesterday. He sighs, pulling on the end of his braid as he contemplates having never felt safe in his life. When he was little, his father had promised that one day, they'd take Krolia and wander the stars, discover new worlds. Akira had wanted to take him to a place called Earth, to meet the people who gave him his name. The knowledge of how to find this 'Earth' -the planet with the least-inspired name ever- had died with his father. He couldn't go if he'd wanted to.

He'll likely be on Altea for the rest of his life. What a depressing thought.

“Thought I might find you out here.” Keith leaps to his feet, expecting to see Lance, but finding Alfor instead. "I heard you found a way to sneak out. The wall exit is the easiest to find."

Keith hisses, ears pinned back against his head. He reaches for his blade as the king merely raises an eyebrow. Alfor raises his hands, doesn’t move from his spot by the stream. “You can relax, Keith. It’s Keith, isn’t it? My son has mentioned that’s what you like to be called.”

Keith relaxes, but only slightly. King Alfor is exactly who he doesn’t want to see. “What do you want?”

The king regards him, eyes strikingly tired. “Walk with me.”

Keith follows Alfor, rolling his eyes once the king’s back is turned. “What do you want?”

“What do you think of me?” Keith snorts, keeps his mouth shut. “No really, I want to know.”

“Not, you don’t. You want me to kiss your ass.”

“I have my ass kissed every day, Keith. If I wanted more of that I'd join you and Lance in court. Go ahead. I can take it.”

“Fine. You’re an arrogant bastard, a shitty father, and fucking awful person.”

“What is ‘fucking’? It sounds delightfully vulgar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Keith narrows his eyes, takes a deep breath. It's too tempting. This man has tried to use and abuse and manipulate him since he got here and now, being invited to speak his mind for the first time since he was appointed a lord on Daibazaal, he can't resist.

“Gladly. You presume to know the wants and needs of your people while you play warrior king in your study. You look down on your son with disdain and do little to encourage or speed his progress. You seem largely indifferent when it comes to his life, interests, happiness, and general well-being, and worst of all, you’ve been harassing him this entire time trying to convince him to rape me!” Keith pauses, waits to see if he’s committed enough treason yet.

“Continue.” Well, he must do as his liege commands. Besides, it feels amazing.

“You’re disgusting! I am a kit! Your son holds onto his morals while you tell him to abandon his basic principles, pin me down, and fuck me while every instinct in my body screams at me to fight him until my last breath! If my people knew, they’d go to war over me! If your people knew, you’d be overthrown in a day! Rumors run rampant in your court and spread anxiety among the people; your method of rule is archaic; your laws are outdated, convoluted, and contradictory; your infrastructure is weak and crumbling while Lance attempts to hold it together with glue, a wish, and a prayer to your ancestors!"

Keith's voice gets higher and higher, louder and louder as four phoeb's worth of frustration makes its presence known. Granted he's not speaking about Daibazaal's state, but he'll scream about that next time he sees Zarkon. “This entire place is pathetic and you clearly know far more of centuries of slaughter and promoting sexual assault than you do of actually running a kingdom!" Keith glares. "Coran seems pretty okay, though.”

“Yes, Coran is quite wonderful, isn’t he?”

Keith snarls, claws digging into his fists. “That’s all you have to say?”

“All of what you said is true.”

“I agree- Wait. What?”

“I am an alchemist and a soldier, not a leader.” Alfor sighs. “You’re a kit and clearly you’re more capable than I am.”

“I still hate you… Why the fuck are you a king?”

“I married a princess, as was prearranged from the moment of my birth.”

“Try and put my kits into an arranged marriage. I dare you,” Keith hisses, choosing to make this clear now as opposed to later. “I fucking dare you! You do this to them and I will fuck you up!”

“The kits you’re currently incapable of bearing?” Keith’s ears stiffen. He keeps his teeth bared, the ruff along his back tingling as the fur rises. “I’ll commit that to memory.”

“You do that! And I’m so sorry my being a kit is an inconvenience to you.”

Alfor sighs, stops. “No, my people’s culture is a danger to us all. An Altean marriage is not considered official until consummated. Technically speaking, you and Lance are not married, which makes this entire alliance extremely delicate.”

“Perhaps you should have found a way to sort your shit out without trading your children like fucking livestock,” Keith hisses.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I should have done a lot of things. Like appointed a regent, or spent more time with my son.”

“For a start. I’m not backing down on the arranged marriage thing, just so we're clear. Why be a king if you’re not at all competent?”

“My children. When Melinor died, we were still at war. There had already been an attempt on Melinor’s life while she was with child, which ultimately succeeded. We managed to prolong her life until Lancel could survive outside the womb. Then Coran, with the help of our surgeon, removed my premature infant from his mother before he could die with her. I feared that the moment I abdicated, my children and my lover would be slaughtered. Only the royal family and staff are permitted to live inside the castle walls. Once we left, it would only have been a matter of time. I’ve since done the best I can for my people, but like I said…”

Keith took a deep breath, swallowed. This had taken an unnecessarily dark turn. He felt a little bad. But only a little. “Alchemist and soldier. A scholar with a sword. Also, selfish.”

Lance would have done better, made a stronger decision, one that kept both the kingdom and his family alive.

“It is a pretty cool sword though. And so is this.” Alfor steps aside, revealing a crack in a rock face.

Stepping through the crack in the rocks, the only thing Keith can think is that he’s likely to be murdered here. A single chirp echoes through the dark. Keith clamps his jaw shut, reaches for his blade just in case. It’s a grotto, water bubbling up, pooling from beneath the ground, flowing from the walls. Vegetation clings to the walls with roots like spindly fingers. The air is cool and moist, but not overly so.

Alfor sighs, sits on the ground, legs straight out in front of him. “This is one of only three above-ground water sources on Altea, and the largest. There are organisms in this grotto that are found nowhere else in the universe. It is also where I taught both my children to swim.”

“You brought small children to a tiny, isolated ecosystem to teach them to swim.” It must be nice, abusing power. Though Alfor was likely just peering into a microscope, periodically glancing up to make sure his children hadn't drowned.

“Yes. It’s one of the few solid memories I have of myself with my children.”

Keith steps forward, cautious, takes a seat on the ground cover vegetation a few dashes from the Altean. He lays his blade in his lap.

“I did everything I could. I dreamed of learning, excelling, leading my people to some golden future, the king that never should have been, but was. Sometimes, that’s simply not how it happens. And it became clear that while I am a soldier, I cannot lead my people to victory against the Galra. So I sought out other solutions.

“Look at this grotto. Even on a planet without rain, there is still water, still life. In here, there are lives so unique they cannot exist anywhere else. The organisms in this pool will die if I bring them even a spot beyond that little crack in the rocks. When I wed my daughter to Prince Lotor, when she walked hand-in-hand with him, hand-in-hand with Romelle onto that imperial ship, I thought she too might cease to thrive. Imagine my selfish bitterness when I find that she has blossomed into something even more beautiful, that she, her husband, and her lover are growing closer and that perhaps I, in my desire to keep my children as safe as possible, have smothered them.

“In trying to protect them, I have constrained them. I have made them restless, frustrated, and useless. Now, my daughter concerns herself with bringing constructive leisure to your people with the benefit of lowering minor crime and I’m fairly certain my son is steadily worming his way into every nook and cranny of the entire planet and gradually tweaking laws while hoping, for some obscure reason that I won’t notice that he’s finally given up the pretense of not giving a quiznak.”

“You know it’s a pretense?” Keith asks, reluctantly curious.

“Of course I know it’s a pretense. People don’t just suddenly, magically care. When I made a tiny comment that perhaps implied I would perhaps like more support in my research of interstellar tardigrades and Coran showed up the next day with a comprehensive tablet of everything my people know about the little delights, do you think it is because he suddenly became deeply invested in what technologies might be inspired from pseudo-extremophiles? Of course not. Which is why he did not assist me in my research.”

“I… don’t follow,” Keith mumbles.

“He made a one-time effort to prove that he cares, not about tardigrades, but about me. I have not heard a word from him since aside from asking how my research is going when I seem particularly happy or particularly tired. Lance, however, has gotten married and now mysteriously shows up to hold court on the regular, sober and accompanied occasionally by you instead of a different prostitute each movement. I’ve even heard a rumor he’s even finally bothered to learn what taxes are.”

Alfor chuckles, and all Keith can think of is how unbelievably sad that laugh sounds. “I’ve no idea what he’s up to, but my son is far, far smarter than I ever gave him credit for.”

It’s Keith’s turn to laugh, quietly because he hasn’t laughed out loud since he was very small, but it’s a genuine laugh all the same. “You really want to know what he's up to?”

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“He wants…” Keith sighs, smiles. “...to be a hero. Loved and admired and adored as the beautiful, young king who guided his people into that golden era.”

“So you think my son is beautiful?”

“What?! No, that’s not what I-”

“That’s what I heard.”

Keith can hear the taunts in the king’s voice. “Well I don’t know what you heard but-”

“That’s fine. I know what I heard.”

“Did you miss the part where I can’t currently be attracted to anyone including your son?”

“No, no. I got that. But I still think you like him and I still think you find him pretty. Everyone does. Unless of course you wish to tell me that you don’t find my son pretty, in which case you have found the line. Insulting my entire person is fine, but telling me you don’t find my son beautiful? Unacceptable.” Alfor wags a finger at him, grinning.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Fine. I like him. He's a likeable person. Don't expect anything more than that.”

“That’s fine. I’d just like for the two of you to be friends.”

“I’ve… never had a friend before,” Keith whispers, tail thumping on the ground. “Maybe Shiro, my adoptive brother, but that’s it. I like being Lance’s friend. He's... good. I feel like with people in this circle that's not as common as it should be. It makes life harder.”

Keith says nothing about the rumors Lord Lanval spoke of. He’s Lance’s spouse.

“Lance is… He’s a good kid, I think. At least, he wants to be good. I can see that now. I see this burning desire to prove himself and make a difference. I admire his idealism, even if it’s unrealistic.”

“He is making a difference. It’s already started. The alchemy will take more time, since his heart is so distracted, but I can teach him how to use a sword, help him fulfill that silly dream or at least feel like he is. You’ve got your men fighting robots-”

“Fewer injuries. Theoretically.”

“It’s close, but not as good. You’d do better employing imitation weapons. All people think differently, at different speeds, and have different styles of fighting. Fighting a robot doesn’t tell you that your opponent broke their leg as a child and never had it set properly. It limits learning. I can help.”

“Anything else?”

“For tonight?” Keith squeezes the handle of his blade, watches it extend into a sword, inspects himself in it. He looks different, now. Not just healthy, but pampered and soft. Like the overbred little whore his mother told him about. He pushes a lock of hair out of his face. “Your gate should make a noise when it opens. For security. A silent gate means all someone has to do is take out your guards and they just just walk right in without alerting the castle.”

“You say that like taking out guards is easy.”

“It is. Silently and one at a time.”

“Understood. I’ll get it fixed. Now, we should get back, before Lance decides to tear the castle apart looking for us. But one more thing.” Keith looks up at the Altean. "I understand that you despise me, but do try not to ruin what little relationship I have left with my son."

"I won't," Keith whispers. He hates this man and finds him grossly incompetent, but has a begrudging respect for his efforts and devotion to his family. If, gods forbid, it ever came down to the lives of his own children and Lance were gone, he'd likely do the exact same thing. No. He wouldn't have to. He'd call Shiro. “Does he know? How his mother died, I mean.”

“No. We told him she died when he was three. He’s formed memories, based around images of her. He swears they once played in the valley while the juniberries were in bloom… He doesn’t need to know. Melinor chose between herself and him, and he doesn't need to know that.”

Keith says nothing. Lance seems very much unlike the person to manufacture memories of a deceased mother when he has two fathers, but what would he know? It’s not like said fathers have been particularly active in his life. Who knows? Maybe Keith has false memories of his own parents.

His thoughts come grinding to halt as a burning rock falls to his feet in front of him. “Uh… Alfor?”

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #galra keith #altean lance #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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argonaut--keene · 5 years ago

Note

28 with Lup & Lucretia, please!! :')

28: “Girls night in?”

Word count: 1,817

Warnings: Death mention, survivor’s guilt, grief, alcohol (y’know, normal Stolen Century shenanigans)

Summary: In which Lucretia has had a difficult few years and Lup is determined not to let her be sad all by herself.

Send me more of these?

__________________________________

It had been…a rough couple of cycles.

Two years ago, Davenport and Barry and Lup had all been killed in a negotiation for the light gone very poorly. Taako and Magnus stormed in the next day and took the light by force. “Should have just let them all die, those assholes,” Taako muttered that night as they fled the city to hide out in a remote forest until the year was over. Merle gently reminded him that not everyone on the plane was such an asshole and they did not deserve to die just because some of their leaders were terrible. Lucretia sat in the corner quietly, hiding the tears that dripped down her cheeks by letting her hair fall in front of her face.

In the next cycle, the light had been relatively easy to find. Lucretia had left most of the team on the Starblaster to do their research, and had taken Magnus with her on a months-long voyage through the culturally rich civilization. She had befriended their guides, a couple of kindly tieflings, and had been truly enjoying the journey when they were attacked by bandits. Both of the tieflings and Magnus were killed. Lucretia returned to the ship alone. She had a hard time writing anything down the rest of the year–it was too difficult to see the pages past the blur of her tears.

Nobody had died so far this cycle, but Lucretia was tired of being on such high alert. She was tired of spending her time grieving because every new person she met would be gone forever from her life within a year. Becoming even more quiet around her family, Lucretia withdrew from everything and tried to sketch every person she remembered meeting from the past five years. Two of those cycles, they had failed to get the light. Most of the people Lucretia was drawing were dead.

One evening, there was a knock at her door. “Do you need something?” Lucretia called distractedly. She couldn’t remember if the child she was sketching from one of the failed cycles was an elf or a human. How could she not remember something like that? All she could recall was that he had a freckle on the tip of his nose and he wore a purple stone on a string around his neck.

“Luuuuucy. Can I come in?” It was Lup. She didn’t sound urgent, but she did sound determined. And when Lup was determined, there was no point in trying to resist.

“Alright.” Lucretia closed her sketchbook as Lup bounded into the room.

“Listen, Luce, you know I love you to pieces, right? So please don’t get snippy when I tell you that you absolutely gotta stop hiding in your room all the time. It’s not healthy, babes,” Lup told her. “I know you’re an introvert, but this isn’t that. You’ve been avoiding us.”

Straight to the point then. I should have expected that. Keeping her expression neutral, Lucretia said, “I haven’t been avoiding anyone. I’ve just been busy with my work.”

“Your work, huh? Can I see it?” Lup hopped up to sit on Lucretia’s desk. She didn’t look like she had any intention of moving anytime soon.

Lucretia didn’t really want to explain what she had been doing. Lup might not understand why she needed to do this; and besides, Lucretia had a feeling that she would start to cry if she tried to talk about it. And she was just so tired of crying. She said nothing. However, she didn’t stop Lup from taking the sketchbook from her hands and flipping through the pages.

“These are nice,” Lup said softly. “Are these people you met during the cycles, Luce?”

Clearing her throat, Lucretia nodded.

“Who was this?” asked Lup. She pointed to a sketch of an older elf woman wearing a scarf on her head.

“I don’t know. I never asked her name. She was at a church I visited three cycles ago. She took care of the children who had been orphaned because of the illness that year.”

Lup’s ears positioned themselves slightly downwards as she frowned. “We didn’t get the light that cycle.”

“I know.”

There was a minute of silence as Lup turned more pages. Lucretia heard a quiet sniff when Lup saw the sketch of the young boy that wasn’t quite finished yet. Placing the sketchbook down carefully on the desk, Lup wiped her eyes and reached out to tilt Lucretia’s chin up. “You’re right, you have been busy,” she allowed. “That’s important stuff.”

“I don’t want us to forget them,” Lucretia stated simply.

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. But, Lucy. You can’t isolate yourself, okay? Even if you’re sad, even if you’re having a hard time. Actually, especially if you’re having a hard time.” Lup smiled sadly. “Okay?”

Lucretia looked down at her hands and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, um, how’s this? I’m not gonna let you isolate yourself anymore,” Lup let her know. “We’re all hanging out tonight, I’m taking you out to the common room to have dinner and a fun night together.”

With a weary sigh, Lucretia said, “I’m sorry, Lup, I’m just…not up for that.”

Lup nodded thoughtfully. “Gotcha. Okay. I know exactly what we’re gonna do, then.”

“And what’s that?” Lucretia said.

“Well, if you’re okay with it, which I think you will be.”

“Lup.”

“Girls night in?” suggested Lup. “C'mon, just you and me, chillin’ in here and talking and hanging out. We can do whatever you want. I’ll make Koko bring us snacks and drinks.” She gave Lucretia a winning smile. “Whaddya say?”

“I say, I probably don’t have a choice in the matter,” Lucretia said, pretending to give in grudgingly. But really, that didn’t sound too bad. Lup could be loud and rambunctious when she wanted to be, but she was just as capable of being quiet and understanding, and she seemed to know instinctively when a person needed each type of affection.

“That’s my girl,” Lup said happily. She patted Lucretia’s cheek. “Now, I’m gonna be right back. Put on some PJs.”

Lucretia obliged, and put on her most comfortable pajamas of a t-shirt and flannel pants while she waited for Lup to return.

“You decent?” Lup barely waited for the answer before she walked right in, wearing a tank top and shorts and carrying several blankets and multiple bags of candy and chips.

“I try not to have food in my bedroom,” Lucretia said helplessly.

“I’ll clean up any mess, I promise. Now, I sent Taako to bring us hot chocolate and wine, ‘cause I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what kinda night we’re gonna be having. But uh, both? Both sounds good.” Lup was already setting up a blanket fort on Lucretia’s bed. “And I told him that he’s not allowed to have any, 'cause it’s girls night. I said that if he’s lonely without me, he can go cuddle up with Magnus. He flipped me off, but he is getting those drinks, so I think we’re good.”

Lucretia couldn’t help but smile as Lup chattered. She had to admit, the company was nice. She didn’t feel as trapped inside her memories anymore. And when Taako knocked on the door, saying that he was leaving the drinks outside and that he hoped Lucretia knew that he was definitely, absolutely furious that she was hogging Lup for the night, he was laughing the whole time and ended the speech with a “Have fun, you two,” so Lucretia figured that he wasn’t actually angry.

Lup pulled her into the blanket fort and handed her a hot chocolate. “We’ll switch to wine later. So…wanna talk about anything?”

“I…” Lucretia shook her head. She drank some of her hot chocolate. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, babes, anything?”

“I’m just, um, tired,” Lucretia admitted.

Lup flicked her ears. “Would you rather just go to sleep?”

“No, I meant…in general. I’m just tired. I feel like I can’t stop moving. I’m not…caught up with the rest of you, if that makes sense? I’m still stuck somewhere behind everyone else. It’s why I’m trying to draw everyone, because…if I can record everything that’s happened so far, I might be able to keep moving.”

Lup hummed understandingly. She gave Lucretia’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I get it, honey. I’ve had that feeling some cycles, too. It’s not easy to just keep leaving everyone behind, huh?”

“No. No, it’s not easy,” said Lucretia. “And it’s exhausting.”

“It definitely is that,” Lup replied. She paused for a second, then reached for the bottle of wine. “Time to switch drinks, I think. Hey, Luce? Get your sketchbook. We’re gonna sit and remember everyone we left behind and toast to them until we feel better.”

Lucretia didn’t argue with that.

A few hours later, they had gone through every single page in the sketchbook. Lup even remembered the names of a few more of the people in the drawings, and Lucretia penciled them in. Both of them were crying a little by the end. Lucretia decided that she didn’t want any more wine and curled up against Lup’s side with her sketchbook clutched to her chest.

“I’ve gotcha.” Lup sniffled. “Are you, um, feeling better?”

That’s a complicated question. “I think I will be,” she murmured. “I don’t feel…great, right now, but I do feel…lighter? That doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry.”

“It does make sense, I totally get it. Ohhhhkay, I think I’ve had enough wine. Hey, hey, c'n I like…stay here tonight?” Lup asked.

“Definitely.” Lucretia was glad that Lup had suggested it, because she probably wouldn’t have asked her to stay and she didn’t really want to be alone.

“Mind if I deconstruct the blanket fort? I’m not super chill with enclosed spaces,” added Lup.

“You built it!” Lucretia said, managing a quiet giggle. “But yes, of course.”

Lup laughed as well. She pulled the fort down and covered the two of them in the blankets. She put her arms around Lucretia’s waist and snuggled her close. “Thank you for saying yes to this,” she said softly. “I know I said we were doing it to stop you from isolating, but, y'know what? I kinda missed ya. I feel like we haven’t spent much time together over the past few cycles.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucretia whispered.

“Not your fault, babes. We get busy, life gets hard. Sometimes we die.” Lup chuckled. “Gods, what a weird thing to say so casually.”

“Pretty weird,” agreed Lucretia. She yawned.

Lup turned the lights off. She hugged Lucretia closer. “This was nice,” she said after a few minutes. She sounded sleepy. “Let’s do it again. Make girls night in a regular thing. Maybe not always with the crying part, but, y'know, sometimes we just need that.”

“I’d like that,” Lucretia said, closing her eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Night-night, Lucy.”

#my writing #taz fic #taz lup #taz lucretia #the adventure zone balance fic

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oohh-honey-honey · 5 years ago

Text

All’s well that ends well- Chapter One: In which Eden has no plans, nor ever will

Summary: “Without a ruler,” Eden had once said, “The word turns to anarchy.” What he failed to mention, is what happens if the rulers are the cause.

Ao3

The story in which everyone dies, a revolution fails, and it all turns out okay.

Ships: Eventual roceit, background moxiety

Chapter warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive, mentions of murder, general fear of the king, falling off high structures, mention of shooting someone, anger at the main character, accidental misgendering, a character is picked up without consent but he’s alright with it

Word Count: 2076

@wingedsoulmatedreamer

They all die in the end- though we cant say if it was their true demise. Not by sword fights, hungry land whales, the unfortunate number of tall structures people seem to fall off of, or the tyrant king's guards. No, all in this story are united and destroyed by one factor alone, and nothing else; The idiocy of Eden Viper Anwir. This is, of course, how Eden survives it all.

Many scholars debate exactly when people began using bovine as a somewhat more polite synonym for stupid, though it's widely agreed that it was within the years of Eden Viper Anwir's life. Before that, they might have used dense, simple minded, dull, but it was when the shepherds son fell out his window that the population really began to relate those of small minds to cattle. Ironic, considering Eden did fall into a heard of cattle. Or, perhaps, where cattle had been. A truer statement would be he fell into a herd of cattle dropping. This was not recorded, though the way a passerby cackled and shouted, "Look at that idiot! Bovine and dumb, 'e must be!" was (It was one of the most reference accounts in determining the time frame of the word). To which they received a rather rude gesture from Eden. He stood, brushing off the manure and looking cruelly up to the window (that seemed to stare just as cruelly back) at which he had just fallen out of. Eden was acutely aware he could have used the door of his house, though that small thought was diminished as he remembered his father working at his desk, who would surely have seen him leaving had he not gone out the window.

Of course next time he might want a better way to get back in. Future-Eden would likely love to shoot Past-Eden for the trouble. Although guns did not exist yet, nor did Future-Eden. (Scholars often reported the invention of guns was in the 10th century in China, although it had actually been in the lost city of Atlantis roughly ten years prior. However, it was exactly then which the city sank and thus their invention was never brought to light.)

The bar was a hole-in-the wall place in every sense of the word, to the point that the only way to enter is was to quite literally climb through a hole in where the old food cellar had once been. It still would be a cellar, had the owners not been taken and murdered by the king. No one had taken the offer to buy it, so the building was covered and ignored until Patton Arrows had found it. Soon enough, it became a safe haven for anyone in need. The homeless, the cursed, fugitives of the crown. It was a nice spot, if you knew where to look. Not many did.

All the patrons glanced over warily as Eden entered. There was always a worry of the kings guard finding the bar. There was a collective sigh as they all returned to what they had been doing. Or, should I say, all but one. A person made of fire who stormed over, lighting at their feet as they faced Eden, "You bastard!" "Lovely to see you, too, Virgil," Eden dried off his coat, hanging it on the back of an unoccupied chair. He stepped over to the counter and jumped to the other side. Grabbing a bottle and leaving a few coins, he turned back to the fuming Virgil.

"You bovine, unbearable, bastard!" Perhaps a bit more than fuming, "Where were you the past four nights? We've been worried sick!"

"I see you've found a thesaurus," Eden took a sip from the bottle, savoring the bitter taste for a moment. The person across from him placed their head into their hands. There was no time to question it before arms were picking Eden up in a hug,

"Eden! We've missed you!" Patton's joyful voice boomed from behind. The hug squeezed him tighter than seemed altogether necessary, sending him into a coughing fit,

"Binder, Patton, let go" Eden sputtered out. He was quickly dropped by Patton, who stepped back meekly,

"Oop! Sorry, kiddo! Forgot about that little thing," He still smiled just as bright, helping Eden to his feet. Patton 'tsk'ed at the bottle Eden had been holding, swiping it away from him before he could grab it again. Eden hissed and grabbed for it to no avail. Patton towered over him, anyway.

Patton poured a glass for himself and Eden and got water for Virgil, who didn't drink despite spending the better part of their days in a bar. He sat back onto a stool. Eden's eyes flickered with curiosity,

"How do you both feel about murder?"

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, "As in, would we like to commit it or die from it?" they paused, "Yes to both, why?"

"No!" Patton grabbed Virgil reflexively, "If you die, I will, too."

"If?"

"Yes."

Eden coughed to bring back their attention, "I mean to kill the king,"

The group all stopped. Virgil and Patton glanced between each other. Eden's eyebrows twitched, curious to their hesitance.

"You don't think we should? He's been less a monarch and more a tyrant over this land for--"

"Yeah, yeah, save your lecture. I agree just... Do you have a plan?" Virgil questioned,"

"Well I--"

"Any means to get into the castle?"

"Maybe I-"

"Anyone else in on this?"

"That's exactly it!" Eden spoke through clenched teeth. "I need your help! Come on, Patton?"

The bartender stepped back, "Well, I- uh... Y'know, I think it's a good idea!" He curled into himself, "But I think it's just that: an idea."

The world froze for Eden. He glanced with ice in his veins to the two in front of him,

"You're kidding." There was no answer, which only helped to raise the goosebumps on his arms, "You have to be kidding! You can't- So, what, you plan to just-" Air thawed around him as Eden huffed and grabbed his jacket. He began to storm out, "Fine! If you want to live complacent with this life, be my guest!" If there was a door he would have slammed it.

A fair was going on. Something was always going on. A fair, a festival, a parade. It was a good distraction to the public, albeit an annoyance to those not as pleased with the sounds and lights. Eden found himself biting at ravens wings, leaning passive-aggressively against a withered tree,

"Do you plan to lean passive-aggressively against that tree, or socialize like a normal person?" A sultry voice asked beside him. Eden moved the hood of his cloak just enough to see a handsome stranger just at his left. He stared with amber eyes into Eden with a strange sort of purpose. The man seemed to be looking into him, opposed to the more common way of simply looking at a person. It unnerved him,

"Oh! How could I have been so foolish?" Eden faked a gasp, "Because of course I like to busy myself with the events of a normal person,"

The stranger offered a hand to shake but not a name,

"Well then, could you at least give me something to call you?"

Eden didn't shake it, "I like to keep it for myself, actually."

They laughed, "Oh, I just might like you, sir no-name,"

"But is that feeling mutual, Mr...?"

"Mx. Roman, actually,"

Eden smiled. Now the handsome stranger had a name, he turned ever so slightly to face them, "No last name?"

"I can hardly guarantee you a first," They grinned, clapping their hands together, "Now! You finally decided to look at me,"

Eden scoffed, "Trust me, Roman, I've seen you this whole time. With a face like that, you're hard to ignore."

Romans face reddened, hidden by the orange firelight, "Oh," they chuckled a bit, "You jest, of course."

Eden sighed, "If that's how you would like to take it, then sure."

"Do you ever say something without an aura of vague-ness, lies and dolls?"

(Scholars were long confused by this, before remembering the age-old fairytale of pies and dolls, popular in the 1360's.)

"That truly depends on who you ask,"

Roman sighed, "I'll assume a no."

Without much hesitation, Roman pulled Eden from the ground into his arms bridal-style (Although, scholars might say that style of carry was made much later. Humans, however, are well aware that style of carry has long existed prior to the dates given. Hence why scholars are often wrong.) much to the man's surprise. He jumped, hanging on to Roman's neck and squirming,

"Have anywhere to be, tonight?" they never let go.

"Yes, Of course I--"

Roman saw through the lie, "Like the man who decided socializing was too good for him has many plans." They hummed, all together too happy, "So unless the king has a bounty on you, I'm taking you to Thomas'."

He couldn't argue. The only place Eden would have to go is back home, and current-Eden regretfully remembered past-Eden deciding to leave the problem of getting inside up to him. He would shoot that guy, if he could. There was no choice but to let Roman do as they pleased.

No that he particularly disliked the idea.

As it turned out, "Thomas'" Was an animal sanctuary. That "take in creatures unfit for the wild and give them a home!" the brochure said in a far to happy tone.

"Thomas and I go way back- He was a castle guard when I was just a kid, y'know." Roman explained, "But later he decided to open this sanctuary."

Eden nodded, taking in the sight of the place. It wasn't in the worst of shape by any means, although it wasn't in the best, either. Eden traced his hand over the cracks in the plaster, grimacing at the dust that settle on the tips of his fingers, "Definitely seems to follow health codes,"

Roman laughed without humor, "Yeah, well, the king doesn't seem to think this place deserves funding," They held bitterness in their voice, beginning to lead Eden through, "Doesn't stop people from doing what they can to keep this place going. Gosh, don't know where they'd go. All the animals, I mean. The wolves and land whales and dragons and all--"

"Whales?" (Although it was never acknowledged by scholars, Eden's phobia of whales existed at age seven and well into adulthood. The scholars deemed this an unimportant, and this is why you do not trust scholars.)

Roman nodded, seemingly confused at the reaction. Eden, who suddenly decided he didn't particularly fancy being around such horrid creatures as land whales, pulled back. Roman looked oddly to him, stepping towards Eden. They held up his hands, "You won't even see them, fibber on the roof." Their voice assured, "And, trust me, you're going to want to come with me."

"Because you think I fancy being fed to the whales?" Eden hissed in response. He stepped back again. Roman sighed,

"Just trust me."

Ah, yeah, trust a person he just met and was abducted by. sounds great.

A door behind them opened. Someone stepped out, lighting up seeing the pair,

"Roman!" He grinned, "And who's this?"

There was a beat of silence. Roman probably expected Eden to introduce himself.

He didn't.

"A... friend! He's a friend of mine,"

"Oh!" There was a strained sort of hesitance in the mans voice, "Are you sure he... Oh, well I mean does he support...?"

He gestured vaguely. Roman nodded,

"I'm quite sure he does! And have I ever brought an untrustworthy friend before?"

"Seven times, Roman," The man deadpanned. His smile returned, opening his door wider and beckoning them both inside the room.

It was dark. No windows, the only source or light being a fair few candles set on a table. It was small. Seven people could fit, though only five stood there now, including Eden and Roman. The table held papers covered in illegible notes and scribbles and unsightly doodles at the corners. If you took more than a look at the place, it would bring a vague feeling of fear that Eden had long ago grown accustomed to.

He briefly wondered exactly what he was doing here with a crowd of strangers. The man seemed to read his mind. He stuck out a hand for Eden to shake,

"I'm Thomas Sanders!" He grinned,

"We're planning a revolution."

#deceit sanders #ts deceit #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #roceit #moxiety

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eryiss · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter One - Meeting

Summary: Laxus Dreyar, prince of Fiore, has been trapped in the town of Magnolia for months by order of his grandfather. After a failed attempt at leaving ends up with the prince injured, his grandfather punishes him by adding a new guard to his retainer team. An arrogant, up-tight, overly confident, handsome bastard named Freed Justine. [Fraxus | Fantasy AU]

This was originally written as a one shot for Fraxus day, but it got a little out of hand so here we are. It’s inspired by the Fire Emblem games, but I don’t know enough about the games to really call it an official AU, so I thought it best to just call it a fantasy AU. But if you know the series, you might catch some references.

You can read this on FanFiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. You can find the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy it ^.^

Chapter One: Meeting

"This is bullshit."

Laxus' words were practically spat out. The prince was sitting atop his bed, bandages wrapped around his otherwise bare torso, essentially pouting as he was forced to maintain direct eye contact with one of his retainers; Bickslow. He was vaguely aware that, leaning against the wall of his chambers, Evergreen was watching both men with an expression that would probably be equal parts patronising and amused. It made Laxus' annoyance at the situation worse.

He had been forced to chambers by his grandfather – and king – while the older man 'decided what to do with him.' Bickslow and Evergreen had been allowed to keep him company, and Bickslow had decided he would try to heal Laxus' injuries while they had nothing better to do. Hence why the two men were holding such intense eye contact.

Apparently Bickslow's magic worked better that way. Laxus didn't understand why, and Bickslow only explained by saying the eyes were the windows to the soul.

His injuries came from his own stupidity; he was mature enough to admit that. For the past few months, he hadn't been allowed out of the town that his castle looked over, and he had been getting somewhat stir crazy. Multiple times he had found himself in his grandfather's office, asking for permission to leave the bounds of Magnolia to do something – anything – in a place where it wasn't immediately obvious that he was royalty. Each time – even when the requests were rational such as when he wanted to camp for a weekend in a forest a half-hour's walk away from the city boarders – he was turned down under the excuse that it was best for his safety if he stayed. Every time, Laxus had felt his anger grow until he eventually snapped.

So he… ran away.

He resented the term his grandfather used, but it was basically true. He had convinced his retainers that it would be best for them all to get away, and intended to travel to the nearest city, have a small vacation there, and then return. It would have taken two weeks at the most and would have done the blonde a world of good. His plan had not gone as well as he had hoped.

Two things had gone wrong, as far as Laxus knew. One; the night guard who he had bribed for his silence had a change of heart and had gone to Makarov to explain what Laxus was doing. Two; there had been a very minor attempt at kidnapping him.

It wasn't as bad as everyone was making it out to be, really. Yes, someone had tried to kidnap the prince of Fiore on his first outing in months. Yes, at one point he had a sword to his throat that could have killed him. Yes, the three of them had been taken unaware and the fight had not been as easy as it should have been. But it wasn't as if Laxus had been taken; Evergreen's magic made quick work of most of the kidnappers and Laxus and Bickslow were by no means weak and vulnerable. Even the injures Laxus had gained had actually come from his horse being spooked and bucking him off, rather than the kidnappers themselves.

Annoyingly, the guards looking for Laxus appeared at the same time the kidnappers were forced to retreat. And they didn't believe Laxus' story about where his injuries came from, or about how long he planned to be away.

So now, he was essentially fucking grounded.

"Oh, that's what you think," Evergreen said, incredibly sarcastically. "I thought you loved everything about this situation and wanted it to go on forever. Oh you're so hard to read, Laxus. Thank you for the clarification."

"I can kill you Ever," Laxus grunted. "I'm a prince, I can have you beheaded."

"Firstly, no you can't. That hasn't been allowed for centuries," Ever laughed. "And secondly, if you killed me, the only friend you'd have in the world is Bickslow. Imagine that. Just Bickslow. Bickslow."

Laxus chuckled a little, seeing Bickslow's eye twitch as he continued focusing on healing the prince. He couldn't be sure, but Laxus could just see Bickslow raise an arm towards Evergreen's direction and the blonde expected that a certain finger would be raised towards her. He was glad that he had the two of them with him, or he would be both bored out of his mind and stewing in his anger. Also he was fairly sure that fucking horse had broken a rib when it kicked him off, and that would have hurt a lot more without Bickslow's healing.

God, what would happen if they lost their position for helping him. Well, he just wouldn't let that happen.

"You got any idea what they're gonna do?" Evergreen asked, and she was looking at Laxus so obviously was addressing him.

"Who fucking knows," Laxus sighed, wanting to run a hand through his hair but stopping himself so the healing could be continued. "Guards at the doors to my chambers, not even allowed out of the castle, let alone Magnolia. Which is gonna fucking kill me because I can't deal with staying inside this fucking town let alone this stupid fucking old-"

"And we're done!" Bickslow chimed, and Laxus cut himself off by the sudden chill that overtook him at the absence of Bickslow's magic.

"Doesn't feel fucking done," Laxus grunted, looking at the scabs and cuts on his arms he knew Bickslow could have healed.

"Well, maybe if you weren't being such a grumpy bitch then I'd make all your injuries go away. But you are, so suck it up," The healer grinned wide and manically, looking towards Evergreen. "And if I remember correctly, I was your only friend for quite a long time, and look how you turned up," He paused, looking Evergreen up and down. "Actually, she's right. If you turn out like that then you're screwed."

"Asshole," Ever snapped, but Laxus saw her smiling a little.

A small but playful argument occurred between the two retainers, and it allowed Laxus some time to think to himself. He should have known that this would happen in some way, it wasn't as if he would return home from his two weeks away to cheers and forgiveness and a parade to honour his successful attempt at running away. It would always end up in this situation, although being confined to his bedroom wouldn't have been as bad if he hadnt seen the aforementioned room for a week as he had intended.

He continued to spiral into a mess of anger – aimed at both himself and the situation he found himself in – for a little while as Evergreen and Bickslow continued to argue with each other; he wasn't listening so couldn't tell what exactly they were picking at anymore.

The situation was broken when the two large doors to Laxus' chambers were pushed open, slamming against the walls they were attached to. He saw Gildarts, one of Makarov's most trusted knights and retainer, swagger through the doors that he had opened with far too much gusto. Normally, Laxus would have gotten pissed at someone storming into his room without permission, but Gildarts was almost definitely acting on the king's orders and, as the king was kind of pissed off at Laxus, he didn't want to make it worse.

"Your gramps wants to see ya, kid," Gildarts grinned, apparently knowing Laxus wasn't gonna risk biting back on his slight taunt. "You really pissed him off, y'know."

Laxus stood, walking to the door. He spared him a glance as he muttered. "Thanks."

The two men walked through the large, lavish halls of Magnolia Castle in silence, with Laxus walking a few steps in front of Gildarts. He made sure his face was devoid of any emotion, partly because he was trained to hide his feelings from his youth, and also because if he got control of himself now, he was less likely to explode when face to face with his grandfather.

When they reached the king's office, Gildarts stood to the side of the door, assumedly so he could stand guard. Taking in a breath, Laxus pushed open the doors and walked into Makarov's office.

His grandfather was sitting behind his large wooden desk, which had stacks of paper on one side and a large lamp on the other. The king looked up at the entrance of his grandson, removed the glasses he was wearing and looked at the blonde with an expression that screamed 'disappointed but not angry.' Laxus bristled a bit at this, because he knew his grandfather was just as volatile as he was and he was pissed, not just disappointed. This was the façade he wore when he was acting as a king rather than himself.

So he was dealing with King Makarov and not his grandfather. Great.

As he walked further into the room, he saw that there was another man standing to the side. He was facing the king, so Laxus couldn't see his face, but he had long green hair and was wearing typical swordsman's armour: predominant black fabric with silver lining, and small plates of armour over vulnerable parts of his body but not enough to limit his movement. He also had a red cloak over his shoulder, which connoted a high rank. Laxus didn't recognise him, though.

"Take a seat, Laxus," Makarov stated, voice somewhat tired. It grated on the blonde's nerves.

"I'd rather stand," He grumbled a little, wanting to have a small amount of power in the conversation.

"If you must," Makarov leant forward. "As I'm sure you've realised, I am not happy with your behaviour over the last few days. Not only did you willingly go against my orders for you to stay in the city, which I did to keep you safe," Laxus rolled his eyes at that. "But you also took your retainers, and therefore put them both in danger with you."

"I wasn't in danger," Laxus muttered.

"You were nearly kidnapped Laxus, that's essentially the definition of being in danger," Makarov snapped, and now there was no doubt that Makarov was angry at him, not just disappointed. "You were reckless, you were childish, and you put your retainers in danger just because you can't handle a small amount of control being taken away from you."

"Small?" Laxus gritted his teeth. "I haven't left this fucking town in months."

"People in that 'fucking town' are going through a lot worse than that, and they don't throw tantrums over it. Get over yourself," Makarov snapped, his kingly façade slipping. "Clearly, what you've done isn't acceptable and it can't happen again. After looking at the problem from a few angles, I believe that the best way to stop this is-"

"You're gonna keep me in the castle," Laxus snapped. "Or in my chambers or tie me to my fucking bed or whatever. Stop fucking around and tell me."

"Don't interrupt me, brat," Makarov snapped again. "As I was saying, that the best way to stop this from happening again is to admit that, perhaps, I misjudged the effects of keeping you in magnolia. I didn't expect it to mess with your head as much as it did, and I clearly didn't expect you to do something so reckless as to run away-"

"I wasn't trying to run away!" Laxus yelled his protest.

"Clearly your freedom is more important to you than I expected," Makarov continued as if he hadnt heard Laxus' claim. "So, I'm going to work on a way to allow more freedom while keeping you safe from potential attack."

Laxus quietened at that, not exactly sure how to respond. The idea of Makarov admitting he was wrong wasn't farfetched – he wasn't irrational – but to hear him do so after Laxus had pissed him off was confusing. It was clear that Makarov was still angry at him, and whatever his plan was wasn't going to be as simple as him saying things can go back to the way they used to be. But, with how much he was craving more freedom, he expected any punishment he might have to take would be worth it.

"From what I've been told, you were taken unaware by the kidnappers," Makarov continued. "That, to me, suggests that there is a problem with your retaining team."

"You are not replacing them!" Laxus spoke up, teeth gritting again. "It was my fault they were distracted."

"I don't doubt it," Makarov glared at his grandson. "I know you have a good relationship with Evergreen and Bickslow, and I don't hold it against you. I was the same at your age. But I believe that, given the target you now have on your back, having two retainers – one of whom focuses on healing – is not effective. Hence why Mr Justine is here."

Makarov nodded towards the knight who was still standing in the room, a little behind Laxus. The blonde looked back, to see he had a stoic expression on his somewhat fragile features; the man himself didn't seem fragile, Laxus could tell this from a glance. He looked back to his grandfather.

"Don't recognise him," Laxus stated. This was unusual, he knew of almost everyone working in the castle, even if he didn't speak to most of them.

"Mr Justine here has been working through the rehabilitation program, and is one of the most successful participants," Makarov explained, and Laxus had to fight a roll of his eyes. So he was one of Makarov's little pet projects. "As you can tell from his uniform, he's gained the position of a knight, which he has had for quite some time. He's a good fighter, effective with a sword and has the mind of a tactician. Which is why I believe that he will be effective when he takes control of your retainer team."

"No," Laxus stated, tone not leaving room for argument. "He's a fucking criminal! And you want him to follow me everywhere? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"He is as much a criminal as you are," Makarov spoke calmly, cutting off Laxus before he could speak. "By going against my orders and leaving Magnolia, you technically committed treason. Therefore, you are a criminal."

"Oh fuck off," Laxus growled, knowing Makarov was baiting him for a reaction. "When I was a kid, I slammed the doors too much when you told me not to, was that treasonous too?"

"Technically speaking, yes," Makarov wouldn't break eye contact with Laxus, making the blonde bristle again. "But that is beside the point, Mr Justine is no longer a criminal in my eyes and therefore he is no longer a criminal in any law in this country. I trust him and he has proven himself to be both reliable and effective in his work. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters."

"What if I say no," Laxus crossed his arms. "Or what if Bicks or Ever have a problem. They ain't gonna like some random criminal telling them what to do."

"From what I know, Bickslow and Evergreen have already formed something of a friendship with Mr Justine here, so I doubt they'll have any problems with him joining your team," Makarov explained, and Laxus frowned. He didn't know that. "And as for your opinion on it, I won't be taking it into account. Just like you didn't take my orders into account when you ran off because you wanted to stretch your legs. But if you continue to act like a child and fight with me about this, I may take your recommendation to keep you restrained to the castle on board. Thank you for that."

There was a great urge to tell his grandfather to go fuck himself that Laxus found himself fighting, and the only thing stopping him was the fact Makarov was going to follow through on his threat if he was pushed enough.

The blonde turned to the man who was apparently now part of his retainer team and glared at him openly. He didn't know exactly what the man had done to get him arrested and subsequentially put into the rehab program, and he knew that his grandfather wouldn't tell him if he asked. But the fact he was here – and had been taken into the castle's jails; that was the only way people got into the rehab program – meant that it wasn't a small crime. Laxus felt his distrust of the criminal wearing knights armour was justified.

The knight, Mr Justine, looked back at Laxus with an unreadable expression on his face. Neither said anything, and if Laxus wasn't as good at hiding his emotions then he may have squirmed a little under his gaze. The criminal seemed to be assessing him while maintaining eye contact. It was disturbing.

"I expect you to treat him with the same amount of respect you give to your current retainers, Laxus," Makarov commented, standing up and walking to the door of his office. He gave Laxus a pointed glare. "I have to ask you both to leave now, I have work to do."

Mr Justine nodded, bowed and gave the usual goodbye that Makarov was given. Laxus didn't speak to his grandfather as he walked out of the office, and when the door was shut behind them both he looked towards his new retainer with an expression of distrust across his features.

"Gramps said you can look after yourself," Laxus stated, arms crossed. "You agree with that?"

"I'm a better knight that most people here," The man spoke for the first time, voice smooth and confident. "I'm qualified to look after you."

"Prove it. Go to the courtyard and beat me in a fight, hand-to-hand."

There was a moment of silence before the knight spoke again. "No."

"Fucking typical," Laxus muttered. "Why the hell should I trust you as a retainer if you don't have the balls to fight me."

"That isn't the reason I don't wish to fight you," Mr Justine spoke, and Laxus was annoyed that he believed the man. Nobody who spoke that confidentially was scared of a fight. "While you're still recovering, you will have an excuse to why you don't beat me. If the only way to earn your respect is to fight, it will be when neither of us have the luxury of saving face if we lose. So when you've recovered, then I will fight you. Is that acceptable?"

Laxus bit back the urge to use his title as prince against him. The cocky son of a bitch thought he could beat Laxus? And he was confident enough to be acting like that? Bastard. Still, taking away the smugness of his face would be pretty fucking cathartic.

"Fine."

"Very well," Mr Justine turned to walk away, but stopped himself. He looked back to Laxus with the same expression on his face. "I feel I should let you know, for full discretion, that me and your current retainers met and became close when the three of us were part of the king's rehabilitation program, which you seem to not respect."

Laxus' eye twitched. He didn't know that either.

"I can't imagine why they wouldn't mention it to you," The knight continued. "You seem so open to the chance of someone changing who they used to be," His face split into a spiteful, almost cruel looking smile. "Good day, your highness."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Laxus ground his teeth together, felt a rush of anger flow over him, before storming off in the opposite direction.

Bastard.

#fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #fraxus day #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail #writing

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