#casey: gonna catch some waves. whatever those are

[that1notetaker]

Surprise attack!!! First - Part 2 - next

Raph: One arm, no problem. I'm learning how to write dialogue in a way that flows. Wish me luck.

[hangovercurse]

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You work at the preschool next to Casie’s middle school. One day, you catch Colson’s eyes while working, and lucky for him you happen to know his daughter.

Request: “Hi!! Let me start out by saying that you are so so so talented!! I was wondering if you’d write something about colson falling for a preschool teacher? like he just sees her one day while he’s picking up casey from the middle school and he’s all soft seeing her interact with the kids and he makes up excuses to keep coming to see you!?”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing (maybe?)

A/N: I did that thing where I write too much… again.

Word Count: 2394

Colson tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, drumming softly to the beat of the music coming from his radio. He pulled into the school parking lot, the line already a million cars long it seemed. But he promised Casie he would pick her up whenever he wasn’t working so she didn’t have to take the bus. If that meant spending thirty minutes in a line of slow-moving cars, so be it.

As he was jamming, he glanced out the passenger window, finding a smaller building with a chain link fence outside, surrounding a child’s playground. The door happened to swing open while he was looking, and from there time seemed to move in slow motion.

Out of the door came a dozen or so toddlers, waddling their way outside, surrounding the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. The sun bounced off of your skin perfectly, making everything around you seem so much brighter.

Your skirt flowed with the slight breeze, making the scene more picturesque. He watched as you reached down, picking up one of the toddlers and holding him in your arms. The small boy seemed to be crying, over what Colson couldn’t tell.

You seemed to be speaking to the boy, bouncing him up and down in your arms to comfort him. Meanwhile, a little girl with pigtails made her way over to you. You spoke to her brightly, reaching the arm that wasn’t holding the boy to hold her hand.

Colson’s eyes followed you as you let her drag you over to the playground. You supported her as she climbed the small rock-climbing wall and reach the landing for the slide. You then smiled as she made her way down the slide, telling her good job when she made it to the bottom.

You then turned your attention back to the boy in your arms, making silly faces at him until he laughed.

All it took was those few moments for Colson to get hooked. If there was one thing he found attractive above all else, it was women who loved children. He refused to date anyone who wasn’t supportive of his relationship with Casie, so you were already ahead of everyone on his list. It also helped that you were breathtakingly beautiful.

Colson just got good vibes from you. From his brief observation of you, he could tell you were compassionate and kind, but also childlike and fun, much like himself.

The blonde man was pulled from his thoughts as the car in front of him started moving, signaling the line was moving.

 The next day, Colson had a plan. Instead of driving into the school parking lot, he pulled into the pre-school. He checked himself out in the mirror, praying he would see you working. He stepped out of the car, putting on his best confused dad face, and walked into the building.

And by some miracle, you happened to be speaking with the woman at the front desk.

You were even prettier up close, eyes meeting his and stopping him dead in his tracks. You smiled kindly, voice ringing out, “can I help you, sir.”

He returned your smile, “I was looking for the middle school but I have a feeling I ended up in the wrong place.”

You giggled slightly, “just a little. The middle school is just next door.” You pointed to your right. “Are you picking up a sibling?” You asked.

Truthfully, the man had caught your eye the moment he stepped into the door. It was rare you saw someone your own age, and he was exponentially more attractive than most men. What would it hurt if you got to know him a little bit?

“My daughter, actually.” He spoke, fiddling with the key in his hand. You tilted your head, his face seeming vaguely familiar.

You hesitated before speaking, “who’s your daughter? I substitute over there sometimes and you look vaguely familiar.”

He bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t blown his cover. “Casie Baker.” But surely, he’d have remembered you if he’d met you.

Your eyes widened at the name, “Casie? She’s my absolute favorite!” You grinned at the man, realizing immediately that their similar features made him feel familiar. “She’s awesome.”

Colson smiled, letting out a nervous chuckle, “thank you. Yeah, she’s great.”

“She tells me about you. Whenever I sub in her classes, she talks about how cool you are.”

Colson blushed lightly, rubbing his neck. “I’m Colson.” He reached out an arm to shake your hand, mentally kicking himself as soon as he did it.

You found it endearing, shaking his hand “Y/N.”

 A few days passed and Colson still couldn’t get over how soft your hands were, or how your touch sent electricity running through his body.

He felt ridiculous, leaving rehearsals and recording sessions to pick Casie up with the hope that he gets a glimpse of you.

After a few days of nothing, he almost loses that hope. Until he happens to arrive at the school a little bit early, windows rolled down to let the cool air in. He hears the sudden sound of children laughing, pulling his attention to the playground next door.

And there you are, in all your beautiful glory. Guiding the kids out, helping them into swings and onto the stairs.

Colson must’ve pleased some God because you looked over your shoulder and found him. Of all the cars in the line, you found his, eyes locking immediately. You smiled softly, reaching a hand over to him and waving. He waved back, trying to keep his cool. But really, he was freaking out.

He thought about saying something, or mouthing something, rather, as you were too far away to hear him, but he was stopped by the beautiful brown hair of his favorite girl in the world. Casie plopped herself down on the seat next to him, her backpack falling to the floor with a frown on her face.

She looked up to her dad, about to complain about her day when she saw his preoccupation. She followed his eyes, finding you in the playground. Immediately her mood was lifted, and she turned back to her dad with a grin on her face.

“Daaad?” She questioned, her voice lifting at the end of her question. The blond man looked down to her a soft smile in his face.

“Hey Case, how was school?”

“You think she’s pretty, right?” Casie ignored his question.

Colson scoffed, rolling his eyes, and shifting his car into gear. “She’s… pretty. I guess.” He mumbled, pressing lightly on the gas.

Casie continued smiling up at him, “that’s Ms. Y/N. She’s the coolest.”

“Put your seatbelt on.” He said, pulling out of the parking lot. “And I know, I met her the other day.”

Casie’s eyes lit up at the thought of her two favorite adults meeting. “Really? How? Did you like her?”

Colson chuckled at his daughter, “I went into the pre-school parking lot by accident and she showed me how to get here.” He blushed, knowing Casie would easily spot his lie.

And that she did, “I’ve been going here for almost two years, how did you accidentally go into the wrong parking lot? You pick me up all the time.”

Colson coughed nervously, “so, how was school?” He tried to change the subject.

Casie gasped, “did you go to the preschool just to see her? You like her!”

“I just met her Casie.”

“You like Ms. Y/N!” she sang, dancing in her seat.

“How was school, loser?” He asked, laughing at her.

She ignored him, again. “Does she know you’re my dad? Did she say anything about me?”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself at her excitement. “Yes, she does, and yes, she did.”

“What did she say?” Casie practically yelled.

“She said you were the worst student she’s ever substituted for.” He smirked, flinching lightly as Casie slapped his arm.

“She did not say that!” The girl pouted, “Ms. Y/N is my favorite teacher in the whole world.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her affection for you. “She’s not even technically your teacher. But she did say that you were her favorite student.”

Her eyes twinkled, “really?”

Colson nodded, “she also told me that you talk about me in class.” He looked at the girl, raising an eyebrow, “any reason why?”

Casie sunk into her seat, a guilty expression on her face. “No.” Colson looked back to the road, but his eyebrow was still raised, “Okay, fine. I just think it’d be really cool if my favorite dad and my favorite teacher were… friends.”

Colson laughed, “I am your only dad, first of all, and second… don’t be weird.”

“But you said you liked her!” Casie pointed out, making the man’s ears turn red.

“I said she was pretty, that’s not the same thing.”

Casie sang again, “whatever you say.”

He rolled his eyes again, letting out a sigh and dropping the conversation, knowing he would lose. “Are you gonna tell me how school was or not?”

Casie sighed, hitting her back against the seat, “Mr. Clemmons was being mean today again. He said he’s not gonna curve our test even though only 2 people got an A on it.” She crossed her arms and huffed.

Colson pouted, bringing a hand to rub her shoulder, “what’d you get on it?”

She mumbled out, “a B.”

His eyes went wide, “dude, what? That’s awesome, that’s above average. You should be proud of that!” He always tried to encourage Casie, knowing the insane amount of pressure people put on their kids nowadays and not wanting her to feel that.

Casie shrugged, “yeah but my guidance counselor says if I want to get into a magnet program in high school, I have to get all A’s. And I have to get in a magnet program high school to get into a good college.”

His eyes went wide as he pulled into his driveway, “woah, woah, woah. You’re 11 years old! You don’t need to worry about that stuff and whoever is telling you that is wrong. Getting a B or even a C isn’t gonna stop you from getting into whatever program you want, I promise.”

Casie sighed, opening the door, and sliding out. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Can we go back to talking about how you like Ms. Y/N?” She asked, her shoulders slumped.

Colson rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and following her inside. “I don’t like Ms. Y/N.” He groaned.

“Whatever, but next time she substitutes my class, I’m texting you and you’re gonna bring me lunch and talk to her.” Casie said, going to her room and throwing her backpack onto her bed.

 A week and a half later, Colson was sitting in his car in the school parking lot, staring at himself through his rearview mirror. He looked at the bag of chick-fil-a in the passenger side seat and sighed. His phone buzzed, a text from Casie coming through.

Lunch is starting, where are you???

He chuckled and texted back.

Going to the office now, calm down

He grabbed the bags and drinks, opening his door and stepping out. He made his way through the office, getting his visitor’s badge, and moving towards the cafeteria. He opened the door, searching through the sea of children for his daughter, only to find your eyes instead.

You smiled brightly, head tilting as if to ask why he’s here. He returned the smile, holding up the bags to answer your question. Casie appeared next to you, waving her hand. Colson made his way through the pre-teens, trying not to crush any of them.

Casie and you giggled at his struggle, joking with each other. Eventually he reached you two, setting the food on the table that Casie had reserved just for you three. The girl took her place across from him, motioning you to sit down next to him. You laughed but followed her directions.

Colson took the food out of the bag, passing Casie her sandwich and fries and pulling his food out of the bag. He turned to you, a smile on his face. “Woah, they must’ve given me an extra sandwich.” He held it out for you to take.

You obliged, giggling lightly. “How strange.” You commented, your smile never leaving.

“Oh, right. Ms. Y/N, this is my dad, Colson. Dad, this is Ms. Y/N, the best substitute ever.” Casie said, pointing between the two.

Colson chuckled, “yes, Casie. We’ve met.” He looked over to you, hiding his laugh behind his sandwich.

“Yep. Someone got lost and found me at the preschool.” You said, your voice exaggerating. Shit, Colson thought, you were onto him. “Speaking of, Casie. I know you’ve been talking about needing volunteer hours. If you want you can come by after school some days and help me with the aftercare program? I can take you home afterwards if your dad can’t pick you up.”

Casie smiled brightly, nodding her head. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Colson watched the interaction, fondness in his eyes. If he wasn’t sure before, he was now. He was falling hard.

You turned to him, kindness in your eyes, “if it’s okay with your dad.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind having her around. I’m cool with it.” He tried to hide the blush on his cheeks as you continued to look at him, taking in his features.

Casie squealed, “thank you!”

You simply smiled and shrugged, “it’s not a big deal. I get some extra help and I get to spend some more time with my favorite 11-year-old. Maybe her dad can even stop by and help sometime.”

You turned to the man next to you, who was sure he’d turned very red. He was never this nervous around women, but something about you made him incredibly self-conscious, like he had to impress you.

He mumbled out a quick “huh?” before registering your question. “Uh, yeah, sure. If you want me to come help. I’d be cool with that.” He turned to meet your eyes.

You giggled, holding the eye contact, “I do want you to. I’d like it a lot if you did.”

Casie looked between you two, suddenly regretting what she’d done, “are you two done? I’m trying to eat my sandwich.”

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Touch starved/ hurt reader - hcs or scenarios the turtles? Reader super cool regarding friendship, like funny and open etc etc, but if someone tries to do anything that implies a bit more regarding romantic stuff they are kinda like oop- no. Reader is kinda jumpy and just freezes when someone’s they like does any kind of affection ( blushes a lot, try to run away and avoid those situations) people have taken them for granted which has make them a bit cold and defensive in that area- they want to be more affectionate ( which they know deep down it’s what they crave) but it’s kinda they are a scared / angry cat? Please, hope this makes sense, thank you

( also regarding looks and gender I think you can go with they/them so everyone can see a look but if themselfs in the scenario, and if you are going to any kind of skin ship, make the reader extremely defensive over their arms and tummy pls, I do love hugs but if anyone touches my hips I’ll try to get away so fast omg sbbtjfjdkdksn and I will just close off momentarily, I absolutely hate it, I’m more on the heavy side ( talk and chubby ) and if anyone’s touches the “giggly” parts I get extremely upset ( because of how ppl havemade fun of it over the years) and I think the boys would be very “??? What?” To that reaction cuz they didn’t think it was some thing bad to have? ( like a more soft and chunky/chubby body) because they haven’t been exposed long enough to society’s judgment or beauty standards ( I mean they know about! The ones who would have read more about it maybe it’s Leo and Donnie, but what I mean maybe they have never experienced something like this - themselfs irl) Eitherway this ask is already so long omg I’m sorry and thank you, if it’s too much you don’t have to do it, have a good night/ day!)

Okay first of all I love you and I would die for you. You are a perfect human being and there is literally no one else like you. Your body does a damn good job of keeping all of your organs in place and that's what matters. If anyone tells you different you rock their absolute shit.

And don't worry, I understood the request perfectly so no worries on that, I've got a similar body type except I'm really short. But I'm also super defensive over being touched or having those parts of my body perceived, so trust me when I say you're not alone. We be vibing with this together.

Now to the writing!

TMNT Headcanons

Boys reacting to a touch starved/defensive reader

Michaelangelo

Look man, our boy here is body positivity central, he thinks you look amazing and he wants everyone to know it

As far as you two go he's your best friend, your homie, your main man

So of course he's gonna wanna show you off, why wouldn't he?

He doesn't think you'd have a reason to not be okay with it, you've always been playful with him and his brothers

So obviously there's some widespread confusion once Casey gets tossed into the mix

All Mikey had done was reach behind him and snag you by the waist to pull you over

That was all

The words "and this is my best friend, y/n" never got the chance to leave his mouth

He was definitely not expecting you to squeak out in protest and scramble away from him as fast as humanly possible

Your face was burning red and you were clutching your sides, desperately trying not to bare your teeth in defence

Mikey couldn't help but feel heartbroken

Was there something wrong with him?

You sent Casey an unenthusiastic wave before turning on your heel and basically running out

Leaving a very confused orange turtle behind you

When he finally managed to catch up to you later you rushed to explain why you'd reacted the way you did

You couldn't stand his expression when you explained that no- you didn't think he was disgusting and no, he hadn't done anything wrong.

But he did seem baffled at you telling him that it was because you hated being touched there.

"Look Mikey, I've got no problem with the whole contact thing but you gotta give me a warning or something before you go around grabbing me. Okay?"

He was 100% fine with that

Anything to make you comfortable

But you both got to the point of being able to laugh at your reaction to the turtle trying to hold your hand

"Seriously Michaelangelo, I have a reputation to maintain. How am I supposed to do that when you're giving me feelings?"

Donatello

It completely baffled him

By all accounts it didn't make sense

You threw around compliments like you were playing hot potato and for whatever reason you'd always find someway to playfully flirt with him

But the second one of his brothers suggested something other than the innocent friendship the two of you had you would shut down completely

And coincidentally those types of comments were made at the most inconvenient times

Nothing screamed awkward more than you going stone cold and standoffish over a piece of pie

Bubbly and excited one moment, tossing around those positive affirmations to your favorite people

And staring murderously at an inanimate object the next

You were like an unsolvable rubix cube to him

But he was determined to figure you out

"Y/N?"

You didn't appear to be busy, just sitting on the haphazard bunk in your makeshift area with a book in your lap

The others had gone out on patrol and you weren't sure where Splinter was at that particular moment which left you and Donnie holding down the lair until they got back

The perfect time to approach the subject

"Hey y/n? Can I ask you something?"

His voice always got a little louder when you were alone, less afraid of being overheard. You looked up with a smile

"Fire away Dove."

His cheeks flushed in surprise

"uhhhhh... whydoyounotlikeme?"

You set your book down and leaned forward to stare at him

"Elaborate."

And he did, god he did, he did it at the speed of sound of course, but you caught every word

let me tell you, this boys heart broke for you when you told him that you did like him

you really really did

but the thought of being romantically involved with anyone made you shut down

Donnie assured you that it was fine

he'd wait for you as long as you needed

Raphael

Look, Raph knows a thing or two about being self conscious

out of all of his brothers he's the one who worries about his appearance the most

but you- holy shit he thinks you're the most amazing, perfect human in the world

so when he finds out that you hate being touched and that thinking about relationships makes your skin crawl he doesn't know whether to genuinely cry for you or punch someone in the mouth

both is okay

You'd always been very bold with your words and sometimes you'd even joke that you couldn't even tell when you were flirting with him

it just slipped out

and hearing that even though you could pull that off as easy as breathing and compliment all of them endlessly but you struggled to be comfortable in your own body?

that was a lot to unpack in one sitting

but the longer he sat with you and listened to you talk him through it the more he understood

sure, it was horrible

and he wouldn't likely stop thinking about hurting the people who'd done this to you (there'd be too many to count)

but you had a way of making him understand things

it was his favorite thing about you

"Uh- you know y/n, I uh- personally I think you look great. Like- all the time."

plz insert awkward finger guns here

there, your playful smirk was back and you were wiggling your eyebrows at him

"Awhhhh... is that Raph I see having feelings?"

Leonardo

he'd done enough listening and reading to know how society treated people who it thought was different

and he hated that you'd had to experience that for most of your life

when it came down to it and he saw that you had become particularly hard on yourself he took it upon himself to check in with you

that's how you'd started meditating with him

and you'd found it quite relaxing if you were completely honest

Leo told you that meditation was the best way to connect with your body and understand it

you hoped that in time you would understand what he meant by that

but the positive affirmations were doing something, so you'd take it

he'd always encourage you when you couldn't yourself

and always jump to your defense when the others got a little to out of bounds with their words

you still would noticeably flinch when touched without warning

they were all working with that

and he still found himself saddened that you'd recoil back into your protective walls if anyone mentioned anything inherently romantic

but you were coming around

and he was endlessly proud of you for that

Alright I hope I was able to get down what you were thinking. This one definitely took the most contemplating out of any of the requests I've gotten so I hope you like it!

[heyheydidjaknow]

I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

--

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[omgjasminesimone]

Housewarming

Word Count: ~900

Bryce x MC

A/N: Continuation of a world where Bryce is one of the Open Heart Roommates

The dermatology resident laughs loudly, and, in Casey’s opinion, obnoxiously as she clutches at Bryce’s arm. Casey rolls her eyes. She doubts whatever the handsome surgical intern whispered in the admittedly pretty brunette’s ear was that funny.

Casey downs the rest of her hard cider, turning away from the scene. Sienna is giving her a look. “What?” Casey tries to play dumb.

“Casey, if you like him, you should go for it.” Sienna advises. “Bryce has made it pretty clear he likes you.”

He has made that clear, by doing cute little things like folding her laundry when she leaves it in the dryer over night, or emptying the dishwasher even though it’s Casey’s turn. All the roommates have noticed the way he looks at her, how flirty the two doctors can get on occasion.

But it’s just some innocent flirting. She’s not going to hook up with her roommate. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. After all, could she handle watching the guy she’s hooking up with sneak other people into their shared home? She doubts it.

But then again, even though they’re not hooking up now, she’s still having a very hard time watching Bryce flirt with the pretty dermatologist with perfect skin. Her eyes have returned to them again, unbidden, but she turns away when the brunette presses a kiss to Bryce’s lips.

Sienna shoots her a sympathetic look that makes Casey shrug. “He can do whatever he wants. Nothing is going to happen between us. I’m gonna get another drink, do you want anything?”

When Sienna shakes her head no, Casey slips through the numerous people crowded into their apartment for their housewarming party to the kitchen. She makes another drink. Sprite and vodka. Mostly vodka.

As the night continues, Bryce and his ‘friend’ get cozier and cozier. While Casey gets drunker and drunker. She’s half heartedly flirting with a tall dark and handsome nurse, but she can’t help but keep glancing over at Bryce and the dermatologist, who’ve migrated over to the couch.

“Hey, want to sit down a minute?” She asks Jack. Or did he say his name was Paul?

Jack/Paul nods, and Casey stumbles towards Bryce. She trips a little over the rug, dowsing him in margarita. “Oh shit! I’m sorry! Here.” Casey grabs a napkin off the coffee table, frantically dabbing at the stain on Bryce’s shirt.

“Hey.” Bryce takes her hands into his, gently peeling her away. “It’s fine. I’ll just go change.” He turns to the dermatologist. “I’ll be right back Ashley.”

Ashley, because of course her name is Ashley, nods and waves him off with a smile.

Casey sets the remnants of her drink down on the coffee table. “I should help him. Not to get undressed or anything. But to take his shirt to the cleaners.” Casey mumbles inarticulately. The alcohol is starting to catch up to her. She stumbles after Bryce, entering his room without knocking.

He’s shirtless, rummaging through his drawers for a replacement shirt. Damn, he’s so hot. Those abs, those back muscles. What Casey would let him do to her, if only they weren’t roommates.

“So, Ashley.” She confronts. Bryce startles a little at the sudden interruption, but recovers well enough.

“What about her?” He asks.

“Are you going to like....sleep with her?” Casey can’t help but ask. She has to know.

“I don’t know, maybe. She’s pretty. Why do you ask?” He replies, feigning nonchalance.

“No reason.” Casey insists, arms crossing across her chest petulantly.

Bryce abandons finding a shirt, making his way over to her. “Casey....do you not want me to?”

“It’s none of my business. You can do whatever, and whoever, you want.” Casey insists.

“But do you not want me to?” He asks again, more insistently this time. She remains silent, and he takes another couple steps forward. Before she knows it, Casey is pinned between his shirtless body and his door. “Tell me not to Casey.” He murmurs in her ear as he leans forward, and she can’t help but shiver.

“I don’t want you to.” She finally admits before wrapping her arms around his neck and capturing his lips. She can hardly believe it’s been almost a month since they last kissed in that hospital supply closet. As his hands drop to her waist and he pulls her flush against him, deepening the kiss, she can’t help but feel a little foolish for depriving herself this long.

 She takes control, walking him backwards to his bed, and they collapse onto it without breaking their kiss. She only breaks the kiss so she can see what she’s doing as she fumbles with his belt.

He grips her hands to stop her. “Are you drunk?” He asks.

Casey shakes her head no. “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. I wholeheartedly consent. I want you Bryce.”

Despite how elated he is to hear those words coming out of her pretty mouth, he still needs to be absolutely sure. He holds up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three Bryce. I’m not seeing double.” She assures.

“Hmm...makes me wonder if maybe you tripped and spilled your drink on me on purpose.” Bryce quips, reaching for the hem of the red sparkly top he’s wanted to rip off of her all evening.

Neither of them makes it back to their housewarming party.

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite Chapter 4- Broken Promises

AN: Happy Friday everyone! I hope you all enjoy Chapter 4. :D

Previous Chapter: https://pepperimps01.tumblr.com/post/646112113682710528/frostbite-recovery-chapter-3

Summary: Casey and Donnie struggle with their feelings. Leo reunites with the new mutant, and finds more info about them.

~~~

Casey grunted and grumbled as he wandered downstairs, still in his pajamas. Predictably dad wasn't in the kitchen, so he fixed himself and Riley a bowl of cornflakes. Dad was rarely ever at home, usually cruising through different bars to stay occupied, so Casey had to step up.  He wasn't really a cook, not that he would have time to make a meal.

"Riley, breakfast!" He hollered, running his hand through his messy curls.

The chipper girl skipped down the steps two at a time. She plopped down, inhaling her cornflakes like she hadn't eaten in days. She was already dressed in a blouse and skirt, the uniform required at her middle school.

Casey joined her, eating his cereal a bit slower as he fixed his hair. Not that he cared too much about his appearance.

"You know a comb would be more effective." Riley teased, mouthful of milk and cereal. "Something really weird happened last night. I almost thought it was a dream but it couldn't be."

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"I ordered food from Murakami's. I was so hungry, you know."  She continued. "And I walked home with my noodles and these assholes started attacking me."

Casey dropped his spoon so loudly it made a clanging noise. "What? Did they hurt you?"

She scoffed. "No, that's the best part. Sure, I was holding my own, but this guy with his sick karate moves saved me! And Sparky too! My pet racoon."

He wanted to tell her that a raccoon didn't qualify as a pet, and heck, he didn't even see the little rodent, but he was too concerned about his sister's wellbeing. "You're lying. You just did your homework last night."

"Except you know I never do my homework." Riley said snarkily. "No...he was really nice. Actually he was a bit strange. Donatello was his name." She perked up. "You wouldn't believe what he-"

"Shut up Ri, stop talking nonsense." Casey rolled his eyes. "Get ready for school. April's walkin' with us today."

"But he-"

"Riley!"

Riley frowned, slumping over, but complying as she grabbed her backpack moodily.

He chewed at his lip. He knew he was being a total jerk, but he also wanted his sister to just be lying. She was known to tell tales but he hated being so dismissive. He'd have to ask later.

After getting dressed and actually combing through his hair, he heard a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Riley shouted, clumsily leaping over a bookbag, nearly crashing into the wall as she ran towards the front door. "Hi April!"

"Hiya Riley," The redhead said. "You guys ready to go?"

"I am. Yo Casey, are you?"

"Yep." He grabbed his bag.

"Let's go then."

The trio headed out the door, Riley chattering mindlessly about something.

"I'm gonna stay late today." She said. "Baseball practice."

"Baseball?" April looked at her quizzically. "I thought you played hockey."

"I play both. Duh." Riley rolled her eyes, avoiding a crack in the sidewalk. "I'm the best player on the team, even though I'm the only girl. Hockey..." She cringed. "I prefer to watch, I think." She stopped, crouching down to watch a raccoon scurry through some trash.

"Come on Riley, we're gonna be late." Casey said.

"But he's so cute." Riley cooed. "I missed you Sparky!"

"How do you even know that's the same possum?"

"Racoon. And I just know." She scratched his furry head. The creature's big black eyes widened, accepting the pets happily.

"Ugh, no, he could have diseases or rabies or something-" Casey grabbed her by the backpack straps and pulled her away. Ignoring his sister's struggles, he looked at April: "Did you do Ms. Thompson's homework?"

"Yes, last night." She hummed, glancing back at him. "No, you can't copy it."

"Damn. Can you help me with it?"

April chuckled. "Sure thing."

"You're the best, Red."

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. "I've missed you, Casey."

"I've missed you too."

"Guys!" Riley interrupted. "Stop ogling and take me to school already!"

They blushed, April easily slipping her hand back in her pocket as if nothing had happened between them.

Thankfully, her school was just around the corner, giving him and April plenty of time to talk on their way to the high school.

"So...Red," Casey said, fixing his hair self consciously. "There's a new Beetlewoman movie comin' out on Friday."

April nodded. "There is."

"I heard it's even better than the last one."

She hummed. "I heard that too."

"Do you wanna go with me?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" She asked bluntly.

"That depends, are you gonna say yes?"

April stared at him for a moment, contemplating her answer carefully.

"It's a no, isn't it?" He sighed, defeated. "I could have sworn this would be the day."

"Jones," She said firmly. "Casey, you know I like you a lot."

"I have an annoying feeling that there's gonna be a 'but' somewhere..."

"But, I need to focus on myself right now. Dating is just another thing to worry about. My life is crazy enough." She laughed weakly. "You do know I like you and Donnie, right?"

Casey made a face. "What does this have to do with Donnie?"

"Everything." She looked away wistfully. "You'll figure it out eventually."

"Whatever you say, Red. Come on, the bell's about to ring."

~•~

Peace and quiet was all Donatello craved. The brief moments of silence he received when working on a project were always savored. Even as a curious little tot, he loved blissful quiet. Which was difficult when living in the same sewers as three other rambunctious turtles- but he made do.

Hunched over his desk, he carefully followed the instructions written down. Deja vu was a common occurrence now, and it certainly didn't help with the gelatinous blob form of Timothy watching him work.

"Don't worry Tim," He said through a yawn. "I won't rest until you're cured, buddy."

The floating eyeballs blinked back at him. Looking at him too long was sure to make anyone squeamish, but Donnie could only feel guilt and pity.

"Nothing will stop me from-"

"Yo D!"

Donnie massaged his temples, recognizing the voice immediately. For once, he wished it was Mikey who had interrupted his work.

"Don't you have school?"

"What are you, my mom?" Casey scoffed. "Nah, school's out." He flopped onto the lab table, sitting directly on Donnie's notes.

"What do you want now, Jones?"  He still couldn't forget his brother's teasing, and he wasn't looking forward to dealing with his own feelings. If they caught him talking with Jones, there was no doubt they would make fun of him.

"Oh, nothing." Casey took a seat on the table. "Check it." He slid a disc towards Donnie, who examined it. He couldn't believe what he was looking at- and that it was real.

"No. Way." He breathed. "The Electric Skullz's Dynamite album?"  He had to bite his tongue in order to prevent himself from squealing.

Casey grinned. "You know it." He placed his hands in his lap, thinking. "I figured we could...listen to it sometime. Together! Since we both like it." He paused, scrunching his face. "Stupid idea, probably."

Donnie's features softened. This kid...he did something nice for him. He didn't have to, but he did. And Donnie was touched. But also midly infuriated. How dare Jones make it so difficult to hate him?

"It's not stupid.. That's what friends do, don't they? Listen to music together?"

Friends...it sounded weird out loud. Not that either teen disliked it.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Wait...we're friends?"

Donnie shrugged. "I don't know. But arguing is exhausting. And you had a point. We both love this band, so why not?"

"Sounds good to me."

Donnie eagerly popped the disc into his homemade music player, turning the volume up. Timothy pitifully stared through the glass container, as if he wanted to jam too.

"Listen Don, I meant to, well," He rubbed the back of his neck. "Talk to you as well."

Donnie stopped the music abruptly. He glanced at Casey, who looked uncomfortable. "Yeah?"

"Oh- er- uh." This was proving to be more difficult as he stared at the tall turtle's mahogany brown eyes. "I don't hate you."

"Thank...you?"

"No, wait. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Ever since we've met. But I don't want to fight anymore. I like talking to you about music. You're kinda cool."

Donnie didn't say anything.

"Red doesn't want us to fight. And if you do care about her like I know you do, then you'd respect what she wants. Right?"

"Yes, I agree. The trouble is..." Donnie looked down guiltily. "I don't know what I feel. About us." He gestured at himself, then at Casey.

"You don't have any answers?"

"No. For once, I don't."

Casey exhaled. "I don't either."

Donnie hummed, waiting for anything to ease the awkwardness. Before he had a chance to return to his work, Casey spoke up again. 

"My sister said something weird." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Oh?"

"She said some guy named Donatello saved her from some creeps. Is that true? Or was she just makin' stuff up?"

Donnie paused, a small smile revealing. He looked as if he was debating if he should tell Casey or not. "She wasn't. I did, though I didn't know she was your sister at the time." Donnie replied honestly. "Riley, right?"

"She didn't mention you were a turtle though." He joked.

"She didn't seem to mind."

"Guess those things don't really matter, huh? It's all about...what's in there." He patted Donnie's scratched up plasteron. Brown eyes met darker brown, and he backed up slowly, unsure if he should move closer. "Sorry. But thanks for helping her. She means everything to me. I'm sure you know how that feels."

Donnie's breath was caught in his throat. He gulped.  "I...of course."

"Oh shoot." Casey checked his phone as if nothing had happened. "Sorry dude, I promised Raph I'd ride bikes with him. Catch ya later?"

"Yeah!" His voice cracked. "I'd love that."

As Casey left with a cheeky grin and wave, Donnie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He glanced at the jar of guts that once resembled another teenaged boy. "Tim, I think I'm in trouble."

~•~

That sinking feeling in his stomach didn't leave even hours later. Donnie had tried to push it off, move forward and continue like normal. It wasn't even a big deal. He saved Casey's sister, and that was that. He would have saved any other human just the same. Then why did he feel so weird? He wouldn't lie, he wondered how Casey would react if he knew. Would he be proud of him? Maybe their friendship could expand and their infamous rivalry could finally end.

They had more in common than either boy had realized. They enjoyed the same music and food at least, and according to 'bro code' that's all one needed in a friendship. They did have fun bonding over the Electric Skullz...

But then there was April. She clearly didn't seem enthusiastic in dating either of them. Donnie's pursuit of the beautiful redhead seemed to lose interest as time went on. Each look she gave him was not one of admiration, but of pity. He still liked her a lot though.

'I don't have a chance with her.'

Did Casey? Casey had the added benefit of being human. But he was also charming, handsome, had curious chocolate brown eyes and...and...

A really cute smile with little dimples on each cheek. And confidence to boot, something Donnie had always secretly admired.

Donnie rolled over in back, staring at the wall. What was he even saying? Casey wasn't...he didn't.

'Don't think that. You're not gay. You like April. You like April. You like April.'

He heard Raphael's voice in his mind. 'Who are you even trying to convince? Me, or yourself?'

Who was he trying to convince?

He slid out of bed as quietly as possible. He wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate.  Might as well work on the retromutagen and get his mind off Casey for once.  And it would be less of a time waster than staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning.

'Casey's still human, you know.' The little voice reminded him as he stepped out of his room, blinking blearily. 'You've got the same chance of impressing him as you do April.'

"I know." He muttered under his breath, this time aloud. "I don't like him like that. He's just a friend. I think?"

If he was human, he wouldn't have this problem. Maybe he could have dated them both. Though even for humans that was considered taboo.

He shook his head, glancing at the lab clock. 3:32am. No point in going back to sleep. His laptop had been left open too from a few hours ago. He sighed, typing into his old friend Google what exactly his feelings were.

Article after article, the only sound being the ticking clock, he found his answer. But not in the way he expected.

What is...bisexuality?

Hamato Donatello knew a lot of things. But one thing he was always going to struggle with- was romance. The best course of action was to simply avoid these emotions and put them off until he couldn't take it anymore.. Little did he know, he wasn't the only turtle struggling. His hand stopped moving the mouse, hearing shuffling noises from outside. He came to recognize each individual footsteps his brothers and father made. Mikey usually had a bounce in his step, Raph dragged his feet or stomped about. Splinter's paws were very quiet and had his tail dragging behind him. But these steps were nearly silent, as if he was standing on his tip toes, eager to not wake the remaining members of his family.

"Leo?" He uttered, careful to keep his voice low. He didn't need to turn around, he knew exactly who it was.

But when he saw the distraught, bloodshot eyes of his oldest brother, he moved closer. Leo flinched.

"Leo?" He repeated. "Why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep." His voice sounded hoarse. "And you?"

"Same as you, I guess." Donnie quickly slammed his laptop shut. "You look exhausted."

"I can't stop thinking about her." Leo murmured, nearly inaudible.

"Her?" Donnie stared blankly, wondering if Leo was sleepwalking and somehow stumbled inside the lab. "Karai?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm talking nonsense aren't I?"

"A little bit, yeah."

Leo chuckled softly, then turned somber. "I was thinking about the mutant. I'm worried. I mean, she could cause some serious destruction."

Donnie's eyes widened in realization. "You were going to try to find it...her, weren't you? That's why you're wandering around at 4am."

Leo didn't answer. He didn't have to. His eyes told Donnie everything.

"You're dead on your feet. You definitely shouldn't go searching for a deranged mutant when you can barely stand. And alone, of all the crazy things. Come on, Leo, let's go back to sleep."

Surprisingly, Leonardo agreed, as if Donnie was the older sibling and not the other way around. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. But you should sleep too."

Donnie relaxed, grateful that there wasn't an argument involved. "I think I will."

"I'll walk with you to your room."

"And you promise you'll go to bed?"

"I promise." Leo vowed, leading the way back to their individual rooms.

Donnie slipped inside his room, practically melting into his bed, exhausted. His eyes fluttered close.

"Oyasumi." His brother whispered.

"Hai, oyasumi." He mumbled under the blankets, instantly comforted.

"See you in the morning, brother." Leo tucked him in gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

And for the first time in his life, Leo had broken a promise to his brother.

~•~

The moonlight glowed over the cityscape. Leo tumbled to the ground of the rooftops, checking the area, knowingly being followed. He wasn't afraid, but he knew he had to keep alert. This enemy was unknown, and if he made one false error, he couldn't rely on his brothers for help. Each sense perked up anxiously, waiting for any sign of attack.

Another movement came from behind. He stopped abruptly, skidding to a halt.

"Show yourself." He commanded, one katana raised high, its brother still in its holder.

"Oh, but that would make things less fun..."

Leonardo turned around fiercely. "Every moment you hide in the shadows you only prove your cowardice."

"Cowardice? We'll see about that. You're the one who's afraid."

"I'm not afraid." He said defiantly.

"You soon will be..."

And then it crawled forward. Slowly, claws stepped towards him, revealing the hidden mutant reptile that resembled a crocodile. Her voice, though menacing, still had a feminine tone that made his heart race. Her body was a beautiful emerald green, with piercing gold eyes and cream undertones. She flicked her long, thick tail back, fangs curling into a sinister smirk. Though she was bigger than he was, he wasn't about to show any sign of fear. She then circled him like a predator with her prey. Though he had dealt with much deadlier villains, he still felt uneasy. 

"Miss me?" She snarled. "It's been a while."

Leo narrowed his eyes. He recognized her of course, though they had never spoken. Their last fight had ended less than pleasant. Both he and Mikey had to make a hasty retreat. Leo had regretted it ever since.

"I don't think I ever caught your name." He growled. "If you have one."

"I didn't throw it." She said, then relented. "Nova."

"What are you?"

She licked her lips. "The last thing you see before you die. The banter was cute, sugar, but I'm hungry. That's all I need."

Beyond her wild eyes was a look of fear, and true hunger. She wasn't lying, she looked as though she hadn't eaten in days.

"Nova please. I'm- I'm Leonardo."

She pounced forward, pinning the turtle to the ground. "So long, Leonardo."

"I don't want to hurt you." He wheezed.

"What a shame, because I so want to hurt you. Your pathetic attempt at kindness only shows how weak you truly are."

"Nova..."

With his free leg, Leo kicked his shin upwards to hit her underbelly. She yelped, falling backwards. Her malnourishment was proof she needed help. But clearly she didn't want any.

"So much for not hurting me." She spat, acid leaving her lips and barely avoiding Leo's toes as he lept away. When she moved closer towards him, he softened slightly. He avoided staring at her shark like teeth.

He held out a hand. "I meant what I said. I can help you. Food, shelter, a chance to be with other mutants. I don't want to fight you."

For a brief moment, she looked as if she was going to comply, even eagerly with his convincing tone. Her muzzle grazed his cheek, vulnerability clear in her gold eyes. Then she turned away viciously, reconsidering.

"I don't want anything to do with you, Leonardo. Any hope of happiness is finished., My humanity is gone. I'm a freak, like you." She spat. "I had everything. Fame, fortune, my beauty..." Her claws extended. "All of it is gone."

He shook his head. "No it isn't. There is still hope. I promise, I'll help you."

She rolled her eye slits. "How very noble of you." Her tongue slid out, resembling two separated spiky parts.

"It's not just about being noble. It's about doing what's right." Leo held out his hand once more, echoing the wisdom of Captain Ryan. "Are you willing, Nova?"

"I..."

Snapping her jaws back, she raised a claw to swipe at him. He flinched, waiting for a swift but agonizing feeling. But nothing happened. She had moved away. He didn't even need to draw his swords.

"That's your answer. See you soon...sugar." She hissed, disappearing into the shadows once more.

"Wait!" He cried. But she was gone.

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter One

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.

[Chapter Two]

It's a straightforward kind of situation, as their kind of situations usually go. John's been up in the Comm sphere three hours now, monitoring the reconstruction of an old, 2040s satellite. No rescue call yet but John was grim faced and bleak as he reported to his brothers that it was only a matter of time, and that when things go wrong in space, things tend to go wrong fast - so it's best to be prepared. It's not far out from Five though; he and Star can handle anything that might arise, but Alan downstairs has got Three idling on Standby just in case.

Speaking of Star, the station's resident jailbird is making her way up from the galley, a plastic, lidded mug of hot tea and a bagel in hand - because lord knows John-beanpole-Tracy doesn't have the sense to go get such things for himself when he's all mission focused like this. 

Star is bored, and John is busy. She knows this, but she also knows it’s been too long since he’s eaten, and he’d been awake before she had, so she was well within her rights to start working her way into his space. The 2040s satellite gives Star the creeps, and she’d much rather it be over and done with so they can go back to their usual menu of natural disasters and idiot brothers… things she can help with… things that don’t mean disaster if things go tits up.

“Oi, John,” Star calls into the Comm Sphere, hovering in the doorway. “I have food and tea, which you are going to eat. You wanna do it up there or are you gonna come down here?” 

His head turns toward her, surprised to find an invader in his little bubble. His hair, that's grown out a little longer than he usually keeps it, bounces around his head in the OG. It's been a busy week. 

"Ah, thanks Star." He flicks a schematic away, long fingers dissolving it into blue particles, evidently of no more use to him. Like this, he seems as much a part of the sphere as his floating blue holograms are. "We've got some suspicious activity around the station. I've been unable to find an official statement or licence for its reconstruction, though my readings have had two heat signatures working over there since 1400 Eastern Standard."

Not many people have the funding or means to re-build a space station for the fun of it though, so it seems likely that it's a perfectly innocent endeavour. A lot of the old, 2040s materials the station was originally built with remain a cause for concern though. Especially as John hasn’t been able to identify the boarders to find out if they have a licence to handle them safely. It's easy to see why him suspects something could go wrong. The GDF have been alerted, but Colonel Casey has yet to get back to him about it. 

Pressing his worries down to focus on the present, John kicks off the side and glides gracefully over to Star like it's nothing, taking the tea mug with a warm, grateful smile.

Star pulls a face at John’s suspicion, relinquishing her hold on the tea and food absently, as if the news had put her on autopilot. She knows where the other brothers are, and where they themselves sit in the universe, and it is an undeniable fact that if something were to go wrong -under suspicious circumstances or not- she and John would be the next closest people to go and help. Star has a love-hate relationship with space rescues. On one hand; sure International Rescue is there to save everyone, but on the other… this isn’t a natural disaster or an accident. If anyone is dumb enough to be out of atmosphere, that was their call. She’s definitely gotten better at space, several spacewalks now tucked under her belt from various repairs (including the infamous one in which John broke his arm) and the general sightseeing she let the red-headed astronaut drag her on from time to time. If she was being honest, she’d do it any time he asked, if only for the way his eyes light up, in awe of the stars. 

“John, that is the exact opposite of what I want to hear up here,” she moans, peering over his shoulder at the glowing red-orange-yellow of two people in a sea of cold blue. She tears her eyes away to give John a once over -dark under-eyes and too long hair and all. “What exactly are you worried about? What could go wrong?”  

"What would I do without you?" He jokes, "I'd better stay up here and keep and eye on it," he takes a large mouthful of tea, eyelashes fluttering as the caffeine hits his system. "Mmmm, perfect."

“You’d starve,” she tells him, not for the first time. And it’s true. 

John gives her a more amused hum, already leaving the lidded mug floating in OG beside him so that his hands are free to card through his schematics. The bagel makes its way to his mouth, though it almost seems like he forgets it’s there as he plunges his fingers back into the world of glowing blues and green and lines and data and the little triangular logos that warn him about everything going on in the world, anything that could be a situation. There’s at least a hundred of them, and it’s a quiet day. Just because a situation has the potential to turn dangerous though, doesn’t mean it will.

So it’s strange that John seems to have fixated on this one.

“Unclear.” He rolls his shoulders back, unconsciously trying to relive some of the tension in them. “I have a…” His nose wrinkles, unhappy, “Mm, don’t tell Gordon, I don’t want to confirm his squid sense thing, but I’ve just got a feeling about it, is all.”

John is the last Tracy who’d ever run on pure feeling alone, but a Tracy’s a Tracy and all of them have good instincts, at the core of it. Squidsense or otherwise.

He grabs the tea mug again, eyes still scanning the screens, for something to do with his hands more than anything. 

Star chews on her lip while he takes a drag of the tea and finishes his mouthful of bagel and- John is looking at her. Star see’s the red-flashing warning in his Comm Sphere before he does, moments before what could only be an alarm starts blaring through the speakers. 

John reacts like lighting - it’s perhaps the fastest she’s ever seen him move. One jumble of holographic letters gets shoved out the way and another one is pulled up in its place, then another, then another, all in rapid succession. He skim reads everything so quickly that it makes Star’s eyes hurt, and then he’s discarding his tea and the rest of his bagel in favour of grabbing his helmet. 

Star is still hovering, watching him with her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, searching for words her brain can’t seem to catch before they skitter away. In the end, she settles for swearing. John reaches for his helmet, and Star is suddenly very aware that she is (as usual) not in her uniform, the cool recycled air raising goosepimples on her arms and legs, bare of her pyjamas. 

“We’ve got a situation.” John announces to whoever he’s got listening, brusque and professional, “Eos, update Tracy Island for me will you? Me and Star are gonna take the gear and go EVA to…” He pauses for a second, and the actuality of things seems to catch up with him, “Uh... you ok with that?” He checks, looking back over his shoulder, as if he’s suddenly realised that she might not want to go out there, to a dangerous, unknown station right in the middle of bloody open space. At some point, he seems to have gotten so accustomed to having her at his side, he’s started taking it for granted. He looks guilty about that.

“It’d be good to have two of us out there,” He backpedals, worried she won’t agree to come with him, “You know, for if either of the workers on board have been injured, or if they become hostile. I mean, I don’t think they’re up to anything legal… but if they’re in danger then, well, we’re International Rescue, right?” He says, like everyone possesses the same mad heroism the Tracy’s do. He shines her one of those sweet, spaceman smiles of his for good measure, though he’s got no idea how goddamn effective those really are. Boy doesn’t know the power he wields. “Our scanners picked up some kind of explosion over on that old space station,” John goes on, “it looked pretty severe and, if these readings are right, she’s still got a belly of old, radioactive fuel that could be a problem. It’s definitely not the kind of stuff we want leaking out into orbit. Could pose a threat to everyone up here.” He says, like that’s the reason she’d go with him.

He’s really impressively oblivious to the fact he needs someone looking out for his ass.

It’s right then and there that Star comes to the realisation that she much prefers it when John doesn’t ask. Following blindly is easy, going along with whatever half-baked plan he’s got in his head to make sure it doesn’t end in tears, or at the very least, John comes out of it alive. Star’s good at that, the sudden appearance of a disaster, a problem that needs to be solved, and she can ride her way out of it on a wave of adrenaline, sarcasm, and the need to make sure John’s dumb ass is alright. It’s an expectation that is relatively easy to live up to. 

Choice, though… that is something else. Star doesn’t understand what’s flashing across the screens, but it is an awful lot of red and urgency and its

space

. She doesn’t know if there will be artificial atmosphere in the station in need, or if it will be little more than a dead hull haunting the universe like a ghostship, but she can’t even think about it because the empty expanse of

nothing

between it and them makes her want to curl up and hide. The rabbit-fast thudding of her heart in her chest threatens to choke her, but it doesn’t matter. 

There was never really a choice. She’s not ever going to leave John alone. 

“What kind of a question is that,” she murmurs, trying to force a full breath of air into her lungs. “What do you think I’m going to do, sit here and watch?” 

 “I just need to…” Star gestures to what she’s wearing. “I think I’m going to need my spacesuit.” 

John barks out a laugh at that, startled and sweet, and he’s smiling as he waves her away.

“Thanks Star. Suit up, quick as you can.” He’s already running a pre-flight safety check of both his and Star's Exosuits, “Make sure you grab a full O2 tank.”

While he’s waiting for her he discards multiple alarms and pulls up the schematics for the station they’re hopping across to. Screens show a large portion of her aft hull blown open and the fuel tanks are giving off enough cosmic background radiation to confirm his theory that they're probably leaky. John checks his tool belt, finding the small, compact welder securely in its place, ready for use. He doesn’t anticipate any problems sealing the tanks back up, just as long as whoever’s on board over there allows him to do his job. Hopefully they listen to reason. If not… well that’s what he’s got Star for, right?

Star shimmies into her spacesuit, still reluctant about owning the damn thing, despite the fact it clearly comes in handy. She keeps her NASA shirt on underneath, soft and too big which probably means it's actually John's, but he’s long since given up trying to reclaim his clothing. From across the station, she can hear John talking to EOS, professional words sprinkled with tolerant laughter that manages to rub Star’s already prickly temper up the wrong way. But she’s ready in no time, standing in front of John covered neck to toe in the strange wetsuit looking spacesuit, her helmet tucked under one arm. The oxygen tank was already sitting with the suit when she put it on, the little dial as close to ‘full’ as it was going to get. 

“Anything else you need me to bring?” she asks him, noting his little stash of tools. It makes her feel strangely naked, like she’s forgetting something. She coaxes her head at the screens behind him. “Anything I should know? About what we’re walking into?” 

John runs his eyes over her speculatively, considering. She looks small and skinny in her spacesuit, all nobbly knees and elbows and even the deep, navy blue sash doesn't help bulk her out like John's does for him.

Instead of the thick stripe of sunny orange John's got, Star's is thinner and flatter, with a different method of strapping around her littler torso. It's a much lighter, easier thing to carry around but still, like John's toolkit, it has enough pockets and pouches for anything they might need: pressure resistant emergency suit patches, super strength glue, a small medikit and a whole bunch of pliers and zip ties and thingamabobs and there's even a small hammer, tucked into a zipped seam opening. She's not got the same wires and solder and electronics communications gear that John's got, her design is far more streamlined - stripped to the essentials. 

"Here," John tosses her three small grapple pack cable cartridges, knowing just how bad it can be to run out mid EVA and have no way to propel yourself across the void and wanting to prevent that for her.

Star catches the packs… barely. Her fingers are clumsy and uncoordinated in the confines of her space suit. She can see what John is doing, always stocking her up with the tools to escape, but he doesn’t know about the knife she’s got tucked away in an extremely reinforced pocket of her sash, the pocket she tries to keep conveniently turned away from him as she stands patiently and lets him check her over. She just hopes he’s prepared himself as well as he has her.

He spares a second to safety check her suit seals and helmet, but they have little more time to spare and so he's pushing off the floor of the Comm Sphere and gliding up toward the hatch for the Exosuit assembly rig, talking as he goes.

"The station is an old Xz197 craft, decommissioned following the Global Conflict after the upsurgence of the green energy movement. There's no place in space for nuclear energy these days." He smiles warmly down at her as the assembly rig snaps the pieces of the Exosuit on around him. "It was deemed far too dangerous for them to send anyone up to clean it out, which begs the question, why is it inhabited now, and what are they doing aboard when I can't seem to find any kind of permit for them to be there?" It's clear this has been bothering him for hours, but without a good excuse for Colonel Casey, like an explosion apparently, he could do nothing but watch.

Star raises an eyebrow at that, waiting as John gets himself into the exosuit. Her breath makes a little circle of condensation in her helmet, a constant reminder that she’s alive in her peripheral vision; that space hasn’t gotten her yet.

‘And how would you feel about me bringing a crowbar along?’ She asks, and it’s only half a joke. She’s a barely useful second pair of hands in a repair situation, being half decent security is the least she can do. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got some kind of scanner, so we’ll be able to tell what’s radioactive when we get out there? So we’re not flying blind?’ 

Star grew up with criminals, she knows whoever these people are, their cooperation is unlikely. It brings her heart rate back down to a reasonable level. People, she can deal with, she can protect John from. 

Before she knows it they’re in the airlock, and Star has never hated EOS’ voice more than when she is counting down the door opening. Then, just like that… what Star has only ever been able to think of as freefall into the great unknown.

John quirks a ginger brow at her, uncertain if the crowbar thing is a joke or not.

“If you think we’ll need one.” He concedes, though he’s fairly certain there’s no such thing onboard. “Scanner’s on your wrist,” John takes a moment to demonstrate, sliding two fingers along the black panel that takes up half the length of the back of his forearm, so that it lights up with schematics. “I’d never leave you to fly blind.” A quick flick of his wrist to the left and the jumble turns into a simple meter, green at the moment, though with the potential to rise through the traffic light to a bright, alarming red, the more radiation is detected. “Don’t worry,” He tries to reassure, “Our suits will protect us as long as the radiation level doesn’t exceed the dark orange. And we won’t be over there long enough for that to be a problem.” He sounds very certain about that. A simple in-and-out rescue. 

As if anything for them ever stays simple.

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 8

No BTHB prompt for this part. Find the masterlist for this series here, or the previous part linked in the first line.

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed): @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doitforthewhump, @shameless-whumper, @endless-whump, @theycomeinthrees, @faewhump

CW: creepy whumper, painful wound cleaning, mild gore for brief description of stitches, stockholm syndrome-y vibes (but the whumpee is just delirious, not attached), pet whump mention (again, not actually)

“You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no no no a thousand times over, but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Floyd opened his eyes and everything set in slowly. Arms pressed against him and the cuts all along his body, holding him against someone’s chest. The sharp haze of pain clouded his senses, the world a buzz of noise and color around him.

Eventually he felt the ground rise up to meet his back once again, and he must have passed out again. When he woke, he was being moved around from behind.

“Wha… what’re you doin’...?” Everything was still bleary, but it looked like there was another person in the room standing right in front of him.

“Trying to help you,” he recognized Percival’s voice in his ear, “Now sit up before I drag you by your hair.”

Drowsily, Floyd rolled over and started slowly pushing himself up, but lethargy still clung to his autonomy. He slumped back to the ground, trying to peel his eyes open long enough to see the world spin around him, but it was too little too late. Fingers reached and twisted in his hair, and sharp sparks of pain jolted him to his senses.

The grip tightened and shoved him into a sitting position, Percival’s hands coming around to grab Floyd’s upper arms, an iron grasp pulling him to sit upright.

He blinked in surprise, still dazed by the sudden movement, and noticed that there really was a second person in the room. Narrow, tired eyes looked back at him, glancing before--He? She? He really couldn’t tell--turned back to the table in the corner of the room. His stomach churned at the memory of being strapped to that same table not even a day ago, and he leaned unwittingly back into his captor’s chest.

“Hey, hey, none of that now. Casey’s gonna stitch up those cuts, and you’re going to hold still for them so they don’t mess anything up,” Percival chided, shifting him closer as Floyd tried harder to pull away.

“Nnh- I… what do you mean they? There’s only one pers’n here…” he muttered, finally stilling when he realized he was far too weak to get away.

“Yes. Casey is one person, they go by they, and it’s in your best interest to respect that, Benedict,” he hissed.

“Don’t bother,” came a bored voice above, slurred and careless as they turned away from the table with supplies in hand, “it’s not like your pet’s gonna understand the fine intricacies of human decency.” Casey chuckled quietly to themself as Percival’s face twisted.

“Hey, this one’s not a pet. He’s just a pet project I’ve taken, ah, special interest in.” He pulled a hand through Floyd’s hair as he said it, pulling back on greasy red curls so the boy looked up with a shiver.

Casey stood over him, a needle with some sort of thread in one hand and a bottle of ale in the other. They bent down and he eyed the bottle warily, thirst threatening to overtake him. Alcohol wouldn’t do much to rehydrate him, but to have any liquid at all would be a blessing.

“See that, darling? I saved some ale just for you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hold it still; it’s not gonna like this,” they sighed, uncorking the ale and kneeling up to get a better look at Floyd’s body. He shivered, feeling bare under their critical gaze. He cringed when they peeled his pants back from dried blood and cuts, rolling them up to have better access.

They reached back for the ale as Percival held him carefully still, and only when it lowered towards his legs did he realize it wasn’t to drink. Casey tipped the bottle and translucent red streaks poured over his legs, mixing with darker, viscous fluid and sliding neatly into slices all the way down to the deep wounds in his heels.

It was a small, cool pressure like the saltwater, but then it was hot and steaming and sharp and overwhelming. He could feel every single pinprick of pain as alcohol flared and raged, as opposed to the hazy, deafening torment of salt. His muscles locked up at the awful sensation, shivering as he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow down a cry. The breathy whimper that came out made him wish he’d just screamed instead.

Floyd gasped deep, hitching breaths when it finally faded into a dull thrum up and down his leg. It was done, and he took his time to calm down before the stitching started. He could make it through this, and maybe mercifully pass out once it was over.

Casey’s hands wrapped around his ankles, and Percival’s around his shoulders, and he’d been spun around before he could protest. His back now faced out, and that left him staring forward into his captor. Agitated cuts on his legs pressed into the floor under him, but he couldn’t shift before he felt the unmistakable sensation of more liquid rolling down his injured back.

Before Floyd could even think, his hands were fisted in Percival’s shirt, head pressed to his chest, and eyes screwed shut as ale seeped quickly into the deepest wounds. This time he let himself shout when it sank in, writhing against the pain. Percival’s chest shook with laughter he couldn’t hear. His arms circled around Floyd’s back in an awful mockery of a hug, hands skimming over cuts and fingers with long, cracked nails pressing cruelly into them. He yelped and shivered every time, feeling them slip under his skin where he never should have been able to feel.

“You do know there’s no point in me cleaning its cuts if you just stick your dirty fingers right back in them afterwards, right?” Casey grumbled, busying themselves with threading the needle. Percival laughed again and moved his hands back up to massage at Floyd’s shoulders.

“Let up, Casey,” he clicked his silver tongue, waving them off, “didn’t you see him? The first hint of pain and he came to me to support him. I think it’s sweet.”

Floyd shivered uncomfortably, flushed with embarrassment and anger. Of course he used Percival to support himself; that freak was the one holding him in the first place. He didn’t have another option.

“...wish it wasn’t you,” he muttered, too scared to confront his captor with anything else he was thinking.

“Oh, Benedict, you poor thing,” Percival pouted maliciously, cupping Floyd’s chin in his hands and tilting it up to look him in the eyes. “There’s nobody else here who would even bother to hold you while you cry. Is seeing my face really such a price to pay?”

He averted his eyes in a silent concession.

“Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place?!” he exclaimed, the shift in his tone just startling enough to drag Floyd’s gaze back up to him. “I can do that for you, darling.”

Percival’s eyes flashed with hot, swirling magenta tones before he faded from vision. He… he turned invisible. That wasn’t what Floyd wanted at all.

“...alright, I’m just gonna start on the stitches so this doesn’t take forever. Hold it still,” they sighed, placing a light hand over one of the wider cuts and positioning the readied needle. Percival pushed his captive back against his chest, looping arms under his shoulders and nodded.

“Go on,” he gestured.

Face buried in his captor’s chest, he struggled to draw deep breaths before the needle slid in, tugging through the corner of a slice. It felt… wrong. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled, sending his stomach fluttering at the sensation. He held his breath as the next stitch slipped through, slick now with his own blood, pulling sickeningly at skin as the last one tightened further.

Stitches painted a canvas across his back, moving on to another when they closed the first wound. Slowly, Floyd felt himself falling out. His tense muscles went limp, only jumping at occasional deep pricks of the needle, and he closed his eyes. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost pretend the sturdy frame he was curled up against wasn’t his captor, but Ray. The long strings of hair that tickled the back of his neck were Ray’s dark curls, and the sharp scent left on his shirt wasn’t vinegar, but the salty, sandy smell of everything Ray wore.

Slowly, his hands loosened from fists in Ray’s shirt, and wrapped around his midsection in an embrace that the recipient leaned eagerly into. He could hardly feel the needle sliding through his skin anymore, and focused more and more on the comfort of his captain, holding him close after this terrifying nightmare was over. Kind, and warm, and soothing, like a father to his son…

“Alright, that’s it. I could get the ones on its legs, but they’re small and I’m bored,” Casey said, pulling Floyd back to reality. He blinked, realizing that the man he was up against was visible once again and the illusion shattered. He had been hugging Percival,and burying himself in that awful vinegar scent, and feeling his arms around him. At the smug look on his tormentor’s face, Floyd let go of him as quickly as possible and scrambled as far away as his sluggish limbs could get him. He’d just willingly hugged the man who kidnapped and fucking tortured him, and imagined he was someone he admired.

Anger flashed in Percival’s eyes, and he flew forward kneeling right over Floyd and catching his shoulders to keep him from moving any further.

“Don’t. Tear. Your. Stitches.” he seethed. “Casey worked very hard to make sure you don’t bleed out or get very, very sick aside from what I’m going to do to you. So, if you ruined their work this quickly after getting it done, I’d be loath to let you get away without severe punishment.”

He left the threat hanging in the air, but Floyd nodded quickly, face still flaming. He didn’t need examples. He already had them bruised, cut, chafed, and slowly scarring across his body. He didn’t need any more. Percival smiled, dismissing Casey before he spoke.

“Perfect. How do you feel about a meal, then?”

Next part

[alittlextrathatway]

Brettsey Prompt: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

A/N: Not gonna lie I picked that dialogue list hoping someone would choose this prompt! lmao

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

you can find more info on the prompt game here.

—————————————

A slow day at Firehouse 51 was rare and when it happened you didn’t talk about it. The minute you state any observation about said slowness, the peace is over. So they set about finding things to do. There was cleaning, washing the trucks and ambo, and laundry. Matt even noticed Sylvie alphabetizing the magazines in the common area. But eventually they ran out of busy work.

Some people decided to use the time to catch up on sleep. Herrmann and Severide used the time for paperwork, but Casey wasn’t behind on his paperwork so that wouldn’t work for him.

He heads toward the common room to try and find something to keep him busy. Under no circumstances could he say he’s bored or appear to be bored because that is exactly when this spell of calm would end. Chicago does not need another city wide gas emergency or flesh eating bacteria scare or whatever the hell else insane thing they could come up against.

He finds Brett pouring over a laptop with a furrowed brow. He fixes himself a cup of coffee before joining her at the round table.

“Hey,” Matt greets as he angles himself toward her.

“Hey,” she replies distractedly.

“You okay?” He asks in concern.

She rolls her eyes but nods. “Foster created an online dating profile for me without asking so now I’m trying to eradicate its existence before I end up with random guys messaging me dick pics.”

He winces and shakes his head at her. “Do guys on those services actually do that?”

“Yes,” she replies with a huff. She doesn’t elaborate and he’s glad for that.

“Foster really wants you to get back out there, huh?” Matt asks as concern stirs in the back corner of his mind.

“She thinks it’s been too long,” Brett answers with a shrug. “She might be right. I mean you’ve been out there a lot lately. No reason I shouldn’t be too.”

He tenses and tries to keep his eyes from widening. She noticed that? He hadn’t spent much time talking about it but he supposes with Stella living with them now it’s not a stretch to think Kidd told her. The truth is, he’s not exactly proud of it. He’s spinning out and he knows it. Not that he can say any of that to Brett. She’s the reason he’s spinning out in the first place. Trying to avoid having feelings for someone is hard work. It had been a while since he’d had serious feelings for anyone and he isn’t sure if risking his friendship with Brett is the right move. But he’s not sure it’s the wrong move either. And then he wondered if he maybe he was just lonely and his brain was making him feel things that weren’t really there.

He thought if he could redirect what he feels for Brett and focus it on someone else then he could prove to himself that it was loneliness and not real feelings. So far, that hadn’t worked. He’d been on a handful of dates at this point and all of them ended the same way.

No sparks. No tension. No lingering looks that make him question everything he thinks he knows. Just bland and boring perfectly fine dinners with women who weren’t Sylvie Brett.

“You’ve been out there,” he supplies weakly. “I mean, there was that Ryan guy.”

The Ryan guy that annoyed him despite seeming perfectly nice.

“That was one date…over lunch. And honestly I wasn’t even sure it was a date until he tried to kiss me so I really don’t think that’s worth claiming,” she admits with a scoff. “I don’t know I just…I don’t wait to date a guy just because he’s nice and polite. I want…I want more than that. I want something real. Something I don’t have to force or chase or contort myself to reach. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” he agrees. “You deserve that, Brett. You deserve to have all the things you want.”

She lets out a hopeless sigh and then looks away from her laptop to meet his eyes. They share a look that carries on for several moments and he knows it has meaning. He recognizes the emotions behind Sylvie’s stare. At that moment he knows, without a doubt, that she’s been struggling with the same issue as him. She’s feeling something for him and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

If she’s feeling it too then why are either of them fighting it? It’s a big risk, sure, but he was only unwilling to take it before because he was afraid it was one-sided. Now he knows that it isn’t, a big wave of bravery crashes over him. Sylvie wants something that feels natural and easy. That’s the two of them. The amount of times they’ve talked or made sure to show up for each other assure him of that. Now, to make sure she sees it too.

“You and I can’t keep doing this,” he insists.

“Doing what?” She asks warily.

“Dating the wrong people. Questioning everything we feel. Talking ourselves out of the very things we know we want.”

Sylvie closes the laptop, fiddles with her watchband (a habit he knows she does when she’s nervous) and then gives him a tiny hopeful smile that nearly stops his heart.

“We?” She questions.

“We,” he confirms with a thick swallow. “Sylvie, you have the wrong idea about these dates I’ve been going on.”

Her eyes narrow but she doesn’t ask for elaboration. He explains himself anyway.

“When I said you and I can’t keep doing this, what I really meant was…” Now or never, Casey. There’s no way you’re chickening out when you face roaring fires and gas explosions on a bi-weekly basis. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

A soft gasp brings his eyes to hers and he finds delighted disbelief reflected back at him.

“I—I don’t understand. So the dates that you went on…”

“I kept trying to distract myself from you,” he replies when her question fades expectantly. “It didn’t work.”

“Well,” she says quietly while glancing around the common room for prying ears. “I have a very simple solution for you.” She reaches out a hand and wraps it around his before tugging him closer, beaming at him the entire time. “Stop pretending to kiss me and just do it already.”

“Here? Now?” He asks with pleasant surprise.

“There’s no one else around. Besides, didn’t you just say that we should stop talking ourselves out of the things we want?” She challenges with a triumphant grin.

That grin lures him closer until his lips are a breath away from hers. He spent all this time trying to convince himself Brett wouldn’t want him or that losing their friendship wasn’t worth the risk, but he was wrong on both counts. Based on the enticing smile and impatient look in her eyes she does want him and finding out where that might lead then is absolutely worth the risk.

He closes the distance and finally covers her lips with his. Her lips feel perfect against his. Soft and giving like Sylvie herself. Until she sucks his bottom lip in between hers and then some of that assertiveness he’s always admired shows itself. The kiss gets away from them and deepens as lips part and tongues explore.

Holy shit, she’s good at this. He needs more. More of her insistent mouth. More of her soft skin than what he feels under his palm that cups her jaw. More of her. His free hand finds her waist and starts to work it’s way under her shirt — only for the bells to sound and announce a call for Ambo 61. He lets out a frustrated curse which causes Sylvie to laugh softly as she pulls away from him.

“Don’t worry,” she says reassuringly, carding a soothing touch through his hair. “We’re definitely finishing this discussion when I get back.”

He smirks at her back as she leaves. He should have done that a long time ago. No more pretending to kiss Sylvie Brett. No more kissing anyone other than her, for that matter. He should have known the reality would be far better than the fantasy. Sylvie Brett has always impressed him before. There’s no reason for that to change now.

[mxdanni]

The Right Kind of Therapy. Ethan x m!MC

Summary: with the news about Dr Banerji quitting, Ethan finds himself lost. He also does remember MC mentioning a certain supposedly scientific study on an alternative kind of therapy. MC is yet to know the reason Ethan behaves so odd but is ready to help him out.

m!MC : Dr Cheng Lee

“This is going to be some party,” pointed out Jackie as she and Cheng watched Zaid and Innes leave along with their excited flatmate. “Looks like everyone’s gonna be there.” She smirked, clearly amused and pleased with herself.

“Well, not exactly everyone…” mumbled Cheng. It was more to himself: he looked around the hall and tried to figure out what was wrong. Like something was missing. “Don’t you think we’ve forgotten somebody?”

“We invited half of Edenbrook.” Jackie tittered and gestured around. “Then the other half invited themselves. That’s everybody.”

“Not really…” Cheng frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes caught some movement down the corridor, and a white coat disappeared round the corner. “Oh.”

“Cheng?”

He smiled and clapped his hands together. “I know who!” And with that darted after the doctor.

“Er– okay? See you.”

Cheng waved and turned into another corridor.

“Dr Ramsey!” He called out and ran closer. “Dr Ramsey!”

The other didn’t seem to hear at all. He was holding some patient files, leafing thought them, frowning, and then returning to the start clipped to the board.

“Oh, hey…” Cheng stopped to his right, a few steps behind. “Dr Ramsey?” he called much quieter and cautiously glanced over his face. The other didn’t even flinch, say nothing of look behind. Cheng blinked. “Didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Hm?” Dr Ramsey looked up from his files. “Rookie.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Well, they don’t look bad, don’t take me wrong,” Cheng added in a hurry. “You just look, erm, different? Yeah, different, not bad different.” He bit his lip to stop himself rambling. The sight of Dr Ramsey in those glasses unnerved him for a reason Cheng couldn’t think of. Dr Ramsey looked… vulnerable? Now, that was the first word that popped to Cheng’s mind, and yet the last one he wanted to admit thinking of.

“What are you talking about?” Dr Ramsey scowled. His usual expression would have left almost no traces of whatever he was thinking before if it wasn’t for his eyes. Glasses hid that, surely, but Cheng could still spy thin worry lines at the corners of his eyes. And hurt.

Dr Ramsey quirked his eyebrow, and Cheng realised he was staring.

“Never mind!” Cheng blurted out and waved his hand around. “I was- yeah, we were talking in the hall, and by we I mean–“

“Rookie, I don’t have the whole day,” Dr Ramsey said sternly.

“Right. To the point…” Cheng would glance up at his face and away when Dr Ramsey caught him looking. Which felt like every time, and Cheng shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he shifted from one foot to the other. There must have been really something unnerving about Dr Ramsey in glasses. Cheng closed his eyes and heard Dr Ramsey breath out sharply. “My flatmates and I are having a housewarming party,” Cheng explained. “We did move in almost two months ago but never got round to throw one. So, yeah, it’s tomorrow. We’re inviting everyone– that is, would you come too?”

Dr Ramsey stared at him for a few moments. For a mere second, he was about to say something. Some emotion passed his face, an emotion Cheng couldn’t quite put.

And Dr Ramsey just shook his head and looked away.

“It’s alright,” Cheng said and nodded to himself. He didn’t mean to sound that disappointed. “I understand you must have other, well, more important things to do.”

They stood in silence. Cheng stared at his shoes while he felt Dr Ramsey watching him very closely. The other moved, turned halfway around as if to leave–

“Rookie?” His voice broke.

Cheng jerked his head up. “Yeah?”

Dr Ramsey now looked everywhere but at him. His fingers tightened on the clipboard, knuckles popping up. Rigid.

“What is it, Dr Ramsey? Is it about a patient or–“ Cheng cut himself off. Clearly, it wasn’t, and he couldn’t get his mind around what could have possibly distressed the other so. Dr Ramsey looked lost, and hurt, and... almost embarrassed?

He, finally, cleared his throat and looked at Cheng, although still clearly uncomfortable. “Could I... bother you with something?”

Cheng hummed. “Like...?” he traced off for Dr Ramsey to continue.

“I need your help with, well, something.” He turned around and took a step down the corridor, then glanced over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on Cheng a bit, and gestured to follow him.

Cheng blinked and stared. It left him several steps behind, Dr Ramsey didn’t bother looking whether Cheng was following him or not. So Cheng shook his head and trotted to catch up. Whatever it was, he at least wanted to know it.

“So...” suggested Cheng keeping by Dr Ramey’s side, “anything happened?”

The other sighed, missed a step and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

Cheng shrugged. They were getting closer to Dr Ramsey’s office, and so far seemed to be alone. “I might have seen you arguing with Dr Banerjii earlier...”

“Naveen he— never mind.”  Abruptly, Dr Ramsey stopped, and Cheng nearly ran into his arm as they were about to turn into another corridor.

“You... alright?” Cheng’s voice faltered, there was nothing remotely alright about that expression.

Dr Ramsey didn’t answer. He shrugged it off and looked away instead. “Why do you care?”

“You seem off.” Cheng didn’t like the glare Dr Ramsey gave him and quickly added, "Well, you look rather lost anyway. Or thinking. Like too concentrated on something? Could be that.”

Dr Ramsey scoffed. He looked around, Cheng followed, but they were still alone on that floor. Mornings were the busiest around the patients’ wards, with everyone hurrying past on their rounds. And at that, the administrative floor was left almost deserted.

“Just don't tell anyone about it,” sighed Dr Ramsey. Cheng stared because it sounded so close to a plea, rather than anything– “Do you hear me?”

“Yes!” Cheng exclaimed and clenched his fists, still inside his coat pockets, so that he wouldn’t jump back. The glare was terrifying, and yet so usual Dr Ramsey it put things back in order. It put him at peace so Cheng shoved other thoughts away. After all, he could have imagined it all. Or it was the glasses, they could make Dr Ramsey look vulnerable, couldn’t they? Yeah, definitely the glasses. “So...?"

Dr Ramsey didn’t move, he just glared, well, watched Cheng very closely.

"Dr Ramsey?” Cheng called out. “Erm, I promise?”

“Huh?”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul. What was that about?"

“I would hate to bother you–“

“Well, I’m already here, aren’t I? So you might as well tell me.” Cheng grinned wickedly. “Or I will bother myself and sneak around your office until I find what it was about."

Dr Ramsey scoffed a laugh. “Please, don’t.” He stepped closer and reached out for Cheng.

Cheng looked down at the hand extended towards him. It was rather awkward, really. Dr Ramsey wasn’t exactly touching him, then he also wasn’t offering him a handshake or whatever the gesture meant. Cheng glanced up and at the hand again.

"Dr Ramsey? Opf...”

The other closed the distance between them. He put his arm over Cheng’s shoulder and lightly nudged him forward.

It made no sense.

“It was supposedly therapy,” Cheng heard Dr Ramsey mutter close to his ear.

“Ah,” Cheng thought. It was nowhere near a hug. "If you are doing this,” Cheng pretended to grumble as he snatched Dr Ramsey's arm off his shoulder and pointed his index finger into the man’s chest, “at least do it right!” And Cheng wrapped his arms around the other’s torso and yanked him flush against his body.

“Rookie–“

“Sh-h-h.” Cheng nuzzled his face against the lapels of Dr Ramsey’s white coat and pressed himself even closer. His fingers clutched the fabric at his back. “It’s the-erapy,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

It felt warm. Cheng did feel Dr Ramsey tense under his touch, was quite aware that the other’s arms hovered awkwardly above him. And yet he kept quiet and just drank in the moment.

Then Dr Ramsey put his hands on Cheng’s shoulders. At first lightly, as if checking if he’d pull away, and in a few moments firmer. His palms slowly slid around Cheng’s shoulders and locked behind. A thumb grazed exposed skin just above Cheng's collar, and he shivered.

Dr Ramsey leaned into the embrace.

It felt right.

What the two didn’t see – was a figure hiding round the corner. The doctor froze when noticed them in the corridor and quietly stepped closer to the wall. There the doctor remained, back pressed against the surface, and watched them closely.

- - -

p.s. when people don’t have problems with our app, customer support engineers write fanfiction 😂 just saying: consider googling first – maybe you’ve just added a new fic to the fandom

- - -

My Open Heart Ethan Ramsey x m!MC series:

When Push Comes To Shove (p. 1 & p. 2)

He Wasn’t Meant to Hear

Confess (+ the crew at Donahue’s)

Likeable (+Dolores)

Thinking Straight (+Dolores)

this one goes here

Now you see me

- - -

Taglist: @flower-child-54 @msjpuddleduck  @warning-fangirlapproaching  @x-kyne-x  @lilyofchoices  @rookie-ramsey  @lapisreviewsstuff @perriewinklenerdie  @fuckingelfstolemyliver  @lauren-choices  @givemeoneethan  @potbam  @trashyandco  @commander-rahrah  @furiouscloddonutpeanut  @journeesblog @archieandrewsbf  @huckitcrab  @edgiestwinter  @pixieinboots  @untealyoutellmewhy  @tallulahshh  @drstrange46ers  @andromedasinclaire  @trashyandco @raines-ramsey-hunt  @melmcgonagall  @yayalovesyou  @dr-brianna-casey-valentine  @beesbeesfearfear  @hervench @inlovewithrebels @marshmallow-drake

[royalbloodedbastards]

chatzy // weed closet pj party

DATE: Friday, March 27, 2020 CHARACTERS: Chase, Jesse, Malia, Alec, Casey, Blue, L, Parker, Jack ABOUT: The Morpheus cabin hosts a PJ Party. Mammals smoke marijuana and Twister ends with a twist.

Chase made sure that all the lights were placed well and all the blanket walls were secure. He picked up a cat from the twister mat and flipped it onto its back so he could hold it like a baby. He unlocked the door and stood to the side, wondering if he should wait there and be a fake psychic that was standing there the whole time or step back so he wouldn’t be weird. He swayed a bit and then walked over to take his cookies from the oven.(edited)

Malia held her mug of hot chocolate in both her hands as she shooed Killer # 1 from pulling at the blanket fort. She followed Chase into the kitchen and smiled. "Any pronoun preference tonight? I don't want you to like, explain yourself if you don't want to."

Jesse was finishing washing the few dishes that had piled up over the day and didn't hear Malia's question to Chase between the sound of the water running and some vague daydreams. As he put the last plate on the drying rack, he turned around and absently pet Killer # 2 on the head, still in his own world.

Chase set the cat down on the counter, pulled the cookies from the oven, and then picked the cat up again as he turned the oven off. He grinned widely at Malia, heart full. “No, no preference. Thanks for asking. Say whatever feels right.” He leaned against the counter. “Did either of you want a cookie? They’re vegan and don’t have nuts, but they do have weed.” 

Malia considered it, then glanced at Jesse. "Want to split one?" 

Jesse tuned in to catch the last part of Chase's offer, once he realized he was being addressed. He smiled at Malia, shrugging one shoulder. "Sure, okay." 

“I’m actually gonna put a note on them to only take half, so y’all might wanna take a quarter.” 

"Oh shit, okay." Malia pulled off half a cookie and then held that half out for Jesse. 

Jesse took it from her. "Thanks. Who're you expecting to come?" he asked Chase. 

Alec let themself into the Morpheus cabin and wandered over to where the three were standing in the kitchen, looking around as they go. "Hey gang! Are there new sheets up in here? It looks swanky. Do those have weed in them?" 

Jack doubted his decision up until the moment he knocked on the door, but he was determined to push himself. "Let yourself blow, Jack," he whispered. After waiting half a minute and hearing voices from the inside, Jack decided to let himself in. "Is this..." The room was much emptier than he expected. "Oh my actual gods," he muttered. "Why am I always so fucking early."

Malia brightened at the sight of Alec and waved her quarter of the weed cookie at them. "Hey! Yes they do." She walked over to Alec to give them a quick cheek kiss and noticed Jack in her peripheral vision. "Hey! You came!" She walked over to him. "I gotta say I wasn't sure if you'd come." 

"Uh, yeah," Jack smiled. "Me neither, TBFH," he chuckled. "It smells like the inside of Martha Stewart's purse in here."

"Oh yeah, Chase made weed cookies." She held out her quarter for him. "Take this, I'll go get another piece for me." 

Chase shrugged. “Um, it was more of a general invite? Alec said they were co–“ As if summoned, they were there. “Hey!” Chase turned his attention to them. “Sure do! But don’t have any eggs, dairy, or nuts.” He turned to Jesse again. “Uh, I dunno who else. Blue, maybe?” 

"Uh," Jack took the quarter cookie in his hand, eyes wide. He hadn't been high before and had no idea this is how the night was going to go. But at the same time, the cooke did smell great... 

Malia noticed his hesitation. "You okay?" she asked. "Oh my gods, did I just peer pressure you? I totally did, didn't I? I'm sorry, you don't have to eat this." 

Jack laughed. "No, I mean, that's fine. I've just never... Done this before? I've always been curious but, like... Just have not." 

Alec beamed at Malia, then bounded over to Chase and Jesse. They scooped up a cookie and broke it in half. "Oh holy mackerel, awesome! You're the fucking best." As they happily chewed away at it, they started petting the cat in Chase's arms. "Can I hold him?" 

"Oh, okay." Jesse closed his eyes for a half second and exhaled when Alec came over, and then put on what he hoped was a polite smile.

"Ah." Malia tapped her lips. "Okay, eat like, half of that and check in with me in like, 20 minutes. We'll just pace you." 

"Okay," Jack brought the cookie up to take a bite. His first was cautious and amounted to nothing more than a nibble. Swallowing the crumb down, Jack thought to himself, It's already quartered, it's probably not that much, and ate the rest of the piece in one bite. "Ugh. Butter makes everything taste so good." 

Chase opened his mouth when Alec took the cookie and then closed it when they only took half. He smiled and held the cat out to drop into Alec’s arms. “I’m gonna go make a sign for the cookies. Can y’all stay here and make sure people don’t take more than half?” 

Casey pushed the Morpheus cabin door ajar and poked his head inside. "Knock, knock! It's your friendly neighborhood drug peddler—I mean girl scout!" Casey held his arm through the door, showing off two boxes of Girl Scout cookies in a little plastic bag.

Alec gave Chase two thumbs up and hopped up to sit on the counter beside the tray of cookies. "You got it! I'll guard them with my life." They hugged Killer # 2 close to their chest. "If anyone tries to take more I'll sic Killer here on them." Jesse looked between Chase and Alec, then rubbed his temple and nodded. 

Malia blinked as he watched the whole quarter go into Jack's mouth. "Or, you can do that, too." She laughed and sipped her hot chocolate, finding it finally warm enough to drink. "It'll be fun! Here, uh, I dunno if you know everyone here?" She walked back into the kitchen. "That's Chase," she said, kissing their cheek as she walked past. "And that's Alec, and that's Jesse." 

Alec waves at Casey from the kitchen with the arm they aren't using to hold Killer. 

Jack rubbed his hands together to get off the crumbs. "I don't know anyone," Jack half-laughed. He waved along as Malia pointed people out, being careful not to make contact. "Uh, hey. I'm Jack. Thanks for inviting me." 

"Oh my gods, kitty!" Casey launched into the room, setting the girl scout cookies on some surface along the way. "Hi kitty," he sang. "You're such a beautiful little mammal!" Casey smiled up at Alec. "And you're a beautiful mammal too, of course." 

Chase smiled at Malia and waved at Jack, then waved at Casey. “Hey Case!” He smiled at Jack. “Ah, Chase.” He shoved a thumb into his chest. “Make yourself at home. It’s real cosy here.” 

Jesse has only ever had one interaction with Jack before, and he isn't too keen to remember it. Still, he smiles at him– this is a better place to meet than on a frozen lake. "Uh, hi. I'm Jesse." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But Mal just said that, sorry." 

Alec held Killer out to Casey so he can pet him, and then they reach out a hand to pat the top of Casey's head too. "Aw! We should make a club. Founding three members right here. There's vegan weed cookies!" They wave at Jack as well. "Hi Jack!" 

Malia moved back into the kitchen to pick up another quarter of a cookie. She popped it into her mouth and kissed Jesse's cheek, too. She wanted to tell Jack that she also invited her brother, but wasn't sure how either person would take the news at the moment, so she refrained. "Should we put on some music?" 

Jack waved and smiled at all the greetings, not sure if he was supposed to respond or if everybody else had just convened before Jack arrived and agreed to be nice to the weird guy. "Uh, yeah. Let's put some music on please." 

Chase sprinted upstairs to grab a pen and paper and wrote “STRONG: TAKE HALF” on it so that people would get the message. He took a moment to rummage around his room and then ran back downstairs so that he could put the sign next to the cookies and hold allergy medication out to Alec. “Thought you might need this.” He leaned against the counter and looked around. He raised his eyebrows and pulled out his phone. “Does anyone have any requests?” He put on Toxic by Brittany Spears. 

"Oh my god," Casey crooned as he stroked the cat. "Cute mammals and vegan weed cookies," he repeated under his breath. His active listening turned off at first contact with the cat and the verbal response was just his way of saving the memory in case it came up again later. 

Jack narrowed his eyes at Chase when Toxic came on. He whispered to Malia, "Is Chase... Gay?" 

"Ooh, yes, put on—" But the music started playing before she could finish her sentence. Malia laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. "What would make you think that?" she replied quietly, giggling again. 

"Two of the best parts of life," Alec replied cheerfully, breaking off a small piece of one of the cookies and popping it into their mouth. They almost spit it out in their excitement when Toxic comes on and they immediately hop off the counter. "Chase, I would die for you!" 

"Um, do you not hear and see what is happening in front of you?" Jack gestured vaguely in Chase's direction. "I mean, like, it's great. But..." Jack laughed. 

Jesse exhaled a laugh at Chase and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over the pastel pyjama shirt he's borrowing from his brother.

Malia laughed again. "Oh don't worry, I see it. Jack, I think me and Jesse are the only straight people at this party right now." 

Chase laughed at Alec and blew them a kiss before looking at Malia. “I can queue up a song that you want!” 

Jack looked around the room, brows furrowed. "Um... Since when?" If what Mal was saying was true, then Jack had to fight the urge not to kick himself for coming out to these events sooner. 

Alec picked up one of Killer's paws in each hands and made him dance along to the song with them.

Casey pulled a pen from his pocket and took a deep hit, watching Alec dance with Killer. "So debonair!"

Alec cracked up and let Killer jump down once he started to struggle. They sneezed three times in quick succession and picked up the allergy medication Chase had given to them a minute earlier. "That's what they call me!" @spexile

Malia laughed. "I mean... since always? But since we've all been aware? A few years." @spexile

"Oh my gods, are you allergic to the kitty?" Casey sat down to let the cat brush by him as he walked away. 

Jack widened his eyes and laughed. "Ugh. Of course. So are there, like, no straight boys at this camp at all because..." Jack's sentence trailed off as he remembered who he was talking to. 

"Nope!" Alec replied as they took one of the  pills. "I'm allergic to all kitties! And everything else with fur. Do horses have fur, or is it hair? Maybe I'm not allergic to horses. I haven't really tested it out, I think they're some creepy." 

Malia raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Chase took half of a cookie and nudged Jesse. “What’s up? You look like you’re leaving your body.”

"Huh?" Jesse blinked a few times and turned to Chase, breaking into a smile. "Sorry, zoning out. Everyone looks really nice, yeah? Especially for a pajama party." He ran a hand through his hair, watching Malia as he said this. @caitlin

"Oh my gods," Casey gasped, pushing Killer away. "That's so tragic, I'm so sorry for your loss. I mean, I don't have any cats or pets or anything, but I love being a pet uncle." 

Chase smiled and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, not everyone just wears sweatpants to bed.” He looked at Malia as well. “I really like her robe.” 

"Nothing!" Jack quickly covered up. His eyes scanned the room, looking for something to change topics to, but he came up short. "So, pajamas..." 

"It's horrible," Alec sighed dramatically, their expression giving away how much they were exaggerating their distress. By the time Killer was out of sight, a grin had spread back across their face and they waved their hand. "I used to work in a pet store, I can handle a couple cats." 

Malia gave him a knowing smirk. "Were you going to say something about my brother?" 

"What? Why!" Casey laughed. "That's so masochistic of you but also feels so correct for your vibe and I love that for you." 

"Um, what?" Jack turned red, unable to help the smile forming on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, shut up." 

Chase sings along to Womanizer under his breath.

Chase also looked around. “Uh, if we don’t all want to stand, we can move to the couches?” 

"Working around animals all the time's a dream come true, eh? But they fired me after four days." Alec laughed. "'Cause I was allergic to everything in the store except the fish." They turned to Chase. "I love couches, let's go!" 

"Okay, I'm pretty sure you'd be super obvious to anyone, but I literally have a superpower about this stuff so don't play dumb."

"Oh my gods, you're incredible," Casey laughed, getting up to join everyone on the couches. "I want the side seat!" 

"Ugh." Jack flushed. "Wait, what do you mean you have a superpower?" 

Chase grabbed the tray of cookies to take with him so that the cats wouldn’t be able to get at them while he wasn’t looking. “Case, I put up the shamrock stained glass.” He smiled and pointed it out to him as they sat down. 

Malia shrugged and finished her hot chocolate. "I have a superpower. I like, know who everyone likes, who everyone is fucking. All that good stuff. I used to think I was just really observant? But I'm pretty sure it's because of my mom. Oh my gods, but my brothers don't have it, before you like explode with embarrassment. Parker is so clueless and if Kieran did have the same thing I'm pretty sure he wouldn't care enough to do anything about it." 

Casey gasped. "Oh my gods!" He went up to the glass to admire the details. "Oh my gods, wait, Chase, now that I'm not drunk, this is actually so good!" 

Jesse waited for Chase to leave the kitchen before he followed. He paused to smile and shake his head at the twister mat in the middle of the room before taking a seat on one of the couches.  

Alec veered away from the couches to go over to the glass as well. "Aw, shit, it is really good!" They looked over their shoulder to smile at Chase. "You have a new calling!" 

"Wait, so, like... Can you tell if someone, like..." Jack didn't know how to phrase the question without sounding pathetic. "What do you think you sense with me and your brother, then?" 

Chase set down the cookies and then turned to lean over the back of the couch to look at where his art was hanging near the window. “Aw, guys, you’ll make me blush!” He nodded sagely. “Drunk art is a talent of mine.” 

L knocked at the door and smiled at Blue and Parker. “This was a good idea for a party!” Parker shrugged. 

Malia hummed and turned toward the sink to start washing her mug. She had a huge grin on her face. "Well, I don't think you need a superpower to tell?" She glanced at Jack. "Let's just say there's a reason I left you two alone on St. Patrick's day."

Jesse got back up from the couch to get the door when the knock came. He opened the door and looked at Parker, then Blue, then L. "Oh, hey. Come in." 

Blue nodded, taking L's hand in hers. She slapped Parker lightly on the back. "It is! I don't know why Parker is being so grumpy about it." When Jesse opened the door, she grinned at him. "Sup." She pushed Parker in ahead of her and followed after him. 

L stepped in and gave Jesse a hug in greeting. “Hi! I hope we’re not too late!” She pulled away and took Blue’s hand again. Parker sighed and stepped in. “I’m not grumpy, I just don’t see the point in buying clothes specifically to sleep in.” He smiled awkwardly and looked at Jesse. “Um, hi.” 

Jesse nodded at Blue and gave L a one-armed hug back before stepping away to give them room to enter. "No, no, not at all." He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled back at Parker. "Hey," he repeated. "What's up?" 

Jack's sheepish grin fell off very quickly as Parker, L, and Blue all walked into the cabin. Breathing deeply, Jack pressed his lips together. After the jacuzzis he had mentally prepared himself for a moment like this, but now in person, his heart and brain still felt like they were operating miles apart. 

Blue wandered into the living room and, of course, Jack was there. She immediately Did Not look at him and instead put her focus on Casey. She rushed over to him. "Fuck yes, we look so good!" 

"Oh my god, trash babies!" Casey squealed and ran over to celebrate with Blue. "What is this recurring mammal theme tonight?" He turned to Alec and called out, "Watch out, we've got some allergens coming through!" 

L followed after Blue and waved goodbye to Jesse. “Oh, Alec, do you need any antihistamines? I don’t have any on me but it’s probably not a far run to my cabin.” She teased. 

His reaction was not quite what she expected, but looking at what he was staring at told her why. She took a deep breath and dried off her hands quickly. "Want me to go get Parker?"

Alec moved to sit on the back of the couch and pretended they were trying to lean even further away from Casey and Blue. "No! Keep them away! Also you guys are cute as all hell, aw." They shook their head at L. "I'm good, I'm good! Chase got me some already." 

Parker shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Um, nothing. Cool idea for a party.” He hoped Jesse hadn’t heard him bitching about it to Blue a moment ago. 

"Oh, yeah, it was Chase's." Jesse cleared his throat and glanced back at the couches. "Yeah."

"Um, no, I mean, he can live his life. it's cool." Jack tried to sound casual but wasn't convinced that he did. 

Blue gasped, clutching Casey as if in need of support to stand. "You're allergic, to mammals?" 

“Oh.” Parker frowned but didn’t know how to retract his statement without sounding like a hypocrite. “Um, Mal said she was here?” 

Jesse relaxed. "Yeah, yeah, just over there. Talking to Jack." 

"I know, right?" Casey confirmed. "It pains my heart and I'm not even involved." Casey shook his head piteously toward Alec.

"I am," Alec responded mournfully. "Like, all of them. Wait." They scrunched their eyebrows together. "Not humans. Humans are mammals? Yes." 

Parker felt the blood drain from his face. He looked over at Jack and made sure that was far away from where Blue was. “Um, did your brother choose the guest list?” 

"I guess?" Jesse shrugged– he's not sure what Parker's really asking, and he has no desire to find out. "I think it was open invite, kind of." 

Malia watched Jack carefully, then checked the time on her phone. "Well, okay, that edible is probably going to hit you in a hot sec. We can just chill in here for now?"

L nodded. “Humans are mammals because we make milk! I’m pretty sure you’re just allergic to, like, fur an dander though. But, actually, going back to the milk thing...” she squinted. “I guess you are... allergic to all mammals.” 

"That was a gross sentence!" Alec said to L, brightly.Casey fiddled with the ears of his onesie. "Dude... That's so rough," he laughed. 

Blue laughed and kissed her girlfriend's head. "You're so fucking cute." She turned back to Casey. "So, I was told there was weed? Where's that?" Jack nodded. "Uh yeah. I mean," Jack looked for a place to sit on the floor. "How do I know when it happens?"

“Ugh, okay.” He frowned again and looked at the two groups of people, and then made his way over to Jack and Malia when he made his decision. “Hey. Hi.” He smiled at them a bit. 

"Oh, you'll know." She looked to Parker when he walked over and smiled. "You came! Hi." 

L laughed. “I know! I regretted it as it was coming out of my mouth!” She smiled at Blue and tugged at one of her raccoon ears. “Says you in this.” 

Jack smiled at Parker as he walked over. "Hey!" Jack noticed that the question he had just posed Malia was echoing now in his brain. How do I know when it happens? 

Parker took a seat near Jack. “Hey,” he repeated and shrugged at Malia. “Yeah, Blue invited me.” 

"That's cool," Jack mentioned a little too quickly. "Mal invited me." Jack felt a tingle slowly rise up his spine and a smile started forming on his face. "Yeah," he chuckled. 

"And so did I! Jerk." She crouched down so she could look at the both of them more easily, smiling despite the weirdness between her and her brother right now. She watched Jack's smile slowly travel across his face and then looked back to Parker. "I was just telling Jack that he might start to feel this edible soon. He took a quarter of one so it should be fine, though." 

"Ah, c'est la vie," Alec responded to Casey (on time) and stroked an imaginary beard to give the impression of wisdom. "You can quote me on that." 

Blue giggled and pressed her mouth to L's neck briefly. She came back upright and slung her arm across her girlfriend's shoulders. "Very wise," she said to Alec. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that before." 

Casey scampered away from Blue and L to give them space, taking a seat beside Alec on the couch instead. "Is this distance okay? You'll let me know if you get allergic to me?" 

“Oh. Yeah.” Parker flushed. He’d mentioned Blue inviting him to get at Malia and hadn’t even thought of Jack in the moment. He frowned at her. “You gave him an edible?” He tried not to sound too judgemental. 

"Thanks! I should put it on a t-shirt." Alec grinned at Blue. They slung an arm around Casey's shoulder and leaned against him. "I'll let you know by sneezing on you, does that work?" 

Jack shrugged. "I took it, she didn't peer pressure me." With each wave of static rising up his back, Jack felt his smile grow wider and wider. "This is... Great." He laughed. 

Malia sighed. "I gave him a quarter of an edible, and told him to eat half of that to take it slow. Jack," she smiled at him, more teasing this time, "decided to eat the whole thing. But I promise, it's fine. You look very chill, Jack." 

"Yes, that's wonderful, right into my hand." Casey cupped a hand under Alec's chin, pinching their nose twice in the process. 

"Ugh, shut up, I literally look the same." Jack grinned goofily. 

L blushed and nodded at Alec, though she hadn’t really been paying attention to what they were saying. She took a seat on the couch. “Were you asking about something, babe?” 

Parker squinted and then hummed in acknowledgement at Malia and then looked back at Jack, and then at the floor. “You do. I’m actually surprised you’re not wearing a power ranger’s suit, since it’s a pajama party.” 

Alec scrunched their nose up after Casey pinched it and shook their head like a wet dog. "Gross!" they laughed. "Is there enough like, DNA in that to clone me if I do? I feel like I talk about cloning a lot. Maybe I just talk about everything a lot." 

"Um, you told me that we were never gonna talk about that again." Jack pointed at the ground in front of Parker. 

Malia tucked her hair behind her ear and stood. "I'm gonna go say hi to everyone else. I like, barely spoke to Alec since they got here." She winked at Jack and then lightly squeezed Parker's shoulder, even though he wasn't looking at her. She walked away from them and wandered over to Jesse, grabbing his hand as she moved to his side. "Hey."

"Yes you do, but so do I." Casey leaned into Alec's embrace and kicked his feet up onto the couch. He pulled his pen out of his pocket and took another hit before holding it out to Alec. "Do you want some of this? It's CBD." 

Jesse had been caught between heading back to the kitchen or sitting by Chase on the couch, so he relaxed when Malia approached and gave him something to do besides examining the shamrock stained glass. "Hey," he replied, squeezing her hand with a smile and turning to face her fully. 

Parker laughed and ducked his head. He looked back at Malia, smiling a bit as she walked over to Jesse, then shook his head at Jack. “No, no. I promise, my lips are sealed. It was just too perfect to not bring up right now.” 

Blue dropped onto the couch and pulled L a little closer to her. "Oh, I was gonna ask about the edibles, but I think they're in the kitchen and uh, someone is in there." She looked around, frowning when she didn't see Parker. "I don't want to make it weird so I'll just— Oh! Casey," she rolled her head over so she was looking at him, now. "Can I have some too? Pleaaaaase?" 

"Okay, but actually," Jack leaned it. "If I got like, not a morphsuit, but a headless one? Like a turtleneck with gloves? Would that be weird? Because I feel like it could be like, a thing?" Jack cackled. "Oh my gods. Wow. No sorry, I heard it as I was saying it." 

Alec was beginning to feel the edible kick in. "Yell heah," they sighed happily and took the pen, settling against Casey more. "You are an angel and also so comfortable I never want to move again. But hat could also be the, uh," they waved a hand around. "–decor? Yeah, the decor speaking. It's so cozy in here!" Alec passed the pen to Blue. 

Chase blinked out of his momentary suspended animation and looked at the people around him on the couch. “Oh, uh, Blue, the edibles are here.” He smiled and pointed at the coffee table. “Didn’t want the cats to be able to get at them.” He blinked again. “Also, hi!”

Malia could feel the edible hitting her slowly, and she smiled up at Jesse easily. "I," she said a little smugly, "stopped a potential disaster. Jack is safe and stoned in the kitchen." 

L nodded approvingly at Chase not wanting the cats to consume drugs. She backtracked when she thought of who she might have seen in the kitchen. “Ah, good idea.” 

"Yeah, Blue, just take it," Casey waved a hand nonchalantly. "Um, don't take my comfiness away and credit it to inanimate objects! I'd like full recognition for everything you're feeling right now, thank you." Casey pulled his feet onto Alec's lap and nuzzled his raccoon hooded head into Alec's neck. "If they're gonna be cute on that side of the couch, then so are we!" 

Parker tilted his head to the side, a smile spreading across his face. “No, no, please let me hear about this thing.” 

"Oh shit, I'm blind," she said, laughing. "Okay wait, I don't want your pen." She grabbed a half of a cookie and started to eat, then snuggled back into L's side. "It is a good idea. I have a lot of them, surprisingly."

Jesse didn't bother glancing at the kitchen to check, too busy smiling at Malia. He rested his free hand on the side of her arm. "I guess that makes you the resident peacekeeper." 

Chase picked up the nearest cat since everyone seemed to be pairing off. He looked at Casey and then at Blue. “Are you guys matching on purpose, or was this a coincidence?” 

"Ugh!" Jack cackled again. He wasn't sure if he could feel his face turning red or if that was just the high. "I was thinking like it'll be like a turtleneck but with the morphsuit hands. And I could just wear it under what I normally wear and it would just look like gloves, but then I could like, poke your face or hold your hand or something stupid like that, blah, blah. Ugh," Jack pulled his face down with his hands, half laughing, half whining. "What am I right now?" 

Alec wrapped both of their arms around Casey fully now. "I take it back! You can have 110% of the credit." They rubbed their cheek against the top of his head. "You're saying we're not always cute? I'm betrayed!" 

L moved so she could put her arm around Blue. “That’s not surprising! You had the idea about the solar panels!” 

"Literally just a coincidence, I don't even know this woman," Casey called out to Chase, scowling at Blue. "And nooo, we are! Sh, shh." Casey gave Alec a reassuring stroke on the back of their head. 

"Oh shit, you're right!" Blue laughed as she swallowed the rest of the edible. At Chase's question, she leaned over and flicked Casey's head. "Don't lie because I look better than you!" 

Malia flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, me? What an honor! Glad to be of service." She leaned a little closer to him as she laughed, lifting her hand to pull at his shirt. She thought better of it at the last second and lowered it again. "Everyone is on the couch, should we like, actually use the blanket fort?" 

Parker felt his chest swell and pressed his face into the cupboard next to him to try to cool his cheeks down at least slightly. He pressed his palm into his mouth to keep from smiling too much and to keep down a small, strangled sound at how cute Jack was. He covered it up as a cough and nodded at Jack, face still against the cupboard. “Wanna hear something lame?” 

Alec flopped backwards when Blue leaned over so they were half twisted and lying over the arm of the couch now, still somewhat entangled with Casey. "I hate it when you fight!" they said with a laugh to the two of them. "Not in front of the children!"

Jack sighed, smiling at Parker. "Please. Let me be the not lame one for like, two seconds," he laughed.

Chase laughed and put his hands up. “Woah, woah, calm down everyone, didn’t mean to start anything. This is actually a zero violence household, so I’m gonna have to ask y’all to cool it, you both look great in your fursuits.” 

"Aye!" Casey flinched in exaggerated offense when Blue flicked him. "Don't you flick me!" Casey swatted Blue away, his other hand grabbing Alec's shoulder to keep himself steady. "I'm the good parent!" Casey protested to Alec and Chase. "She literally started it." 

L pressed her hands to her cheeks and fake-sobbed. 

Parker spoke quickly so he couldn’t stop himself. “I brought plastic gloves with me from work so that maybe we could hold hands on Saint Patrick’s day, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” He leaned back on his hands. 

"Sure." Before letting go of Malia's hand so they could move, Jesse ducked his head to lean closer to her so he could still be heard. "You really look amazing tonight." 

Jack closed his eyes. His body was frozen still, but a huge smile grew on his face. "Wait... Are you... Being serious?" 

Alec pretended to wipe tears away. "This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with raccoon fisticuffs on a chesterfield." 

“Ugh.” The cabinet wasn’t even cool anymore. Parker sighed. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah, and I’m finishing it.” Chase did his best to sound serious and not to laugh, but utterly failed when Alec spoke. “Not with a bang, but with the most Canadian sentence I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

"Yo, I have no fuckin clue what you just said, but yes." Blue turned a exaggeratedly mean face to Casey. "You're going down, Casey." 

Casey threw his head back laughing at Alec's lament and wrapped his arms around Alec's shoulders again. "Raccoons are very vicious, I can't help it. We fight to the death, we eat trash, and we loan out money for desert island real estate." Casey stuck a tongue out at Blue. "Try me, Nook." 

"Do not insult me like that! Nook? The evil capitalist scum? You're really dead for that." She disentangled from L just to get close enough to flick Casey between the eyes, then moved back to her spot. "Try me again." 

Jack felt like simultaneously melting and fizzing up like a bottle rocket. "You don't like..." He drew a circle on the floor between them with his finger. "Have them right now... Do you?" 

Malia's face uncharacteristically flushed, and she turned her head a bit into his so the rest of the room wouldn't see. "So do you, and I mean it. You look sexy in stripes." 

Casey gasped and sat frozen, mouth agape. "You just—Chase!" Casey turned his head toward Chase and yelled out. "Blue is bullying me again!" 

"You brought that on yourself!" Blue shouted back, trying to hold in a laugh and keep up the bit. 

Parker had never regretted not taking plastic gloves with him to a party more. In all honesty, he considered it, coming to the Morpheus cabin. He pulled his face from the cupboard and buried it in his hands. “No. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Alec lifted their head more to look at L past the ruckus on the couch. "Did you know koalas have smooth brains?" 

Chase tutted and wagged a finger at Blue. “Hey, hey. What did I just say? Raccoon or not, you gotta keep your paws off each other.” 

L tilted her head at Alec. “What does that mean?” 

Jesse touched her cheek , then remembered where they were and dropped his hand. His ears were warm, and the flush was quickly spreading to his cheeks. "Should we sit down?" 

"Their brains are smooth," Alec repeated to clarify. 

“What does that mean!” L laughed.

Jack pressed his hands into his face then laughed and shook them away. "That's okay! I'm like—I feel so good right now and I'm just really happy that you're here." Jack scooted closer and touched his index finger to Parker's knee. 

Casey stuck out his tongue at Blue again, but he was smiling. He gave Alec's shoulder a squeeze before standing up and walking over to Chase. "Hey! Are we gonna play Twister?" 

Malia glanced around the room. "I think I actually left something upstairs," she said quietly, brushing her hand lightly over his chest. "I should go get it now before a game starts or something."

Parker smiled so hard that his cheeks hurt. He touched Jack’s knee, careful not to make contact with his skin. “Me too.”

Alec held their hands out until Casey was fully out of reach, at which point they wrapped their arms around themself instead and turned their attention back to L. "You know how our brains are wrinkly, like coral? Koalas don't have wrinkles, their brains are right smooth! That's why they're bad at crosswords."

Chase tilted his head and then perked up a bit. “We should!” He stood and looked around. “Does everyone wanna play Twister?” He addressed the party. 

Jesse didn't get the chance to agree before Chase spoke. He closed his eyes for a moment, then laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again. "Spoke too soon, I guess."

Jack savored the moment for only a second before hearing Chase's announcement. He dropped his head and laughed. "Ugh. Of course it's Twister." He smirked up at Parker. "That's like, a total disaster if I play, right?" 

Malia's eyes closed in frustration. "Okay, well, maybe we can go get it later?" she asked him quietly. 

L tilted her head, blinked, and then laughed. “Are you serious? About the smoothness, not about the crosswords.” 

"Twister!" Casey yelled in repetition, throwing his arms up in the air. 

"Fuck yes, Twister!" Blue clapped. 

Jesse tucked a piece of hair behind Malia's ear and gave her a half-smile. "Of course." 

Parker exhaled a laugh and shrugged. “I bet you could do really well, actually.” He shook his head. “Ugh, nevermind, I didn’t say that.” 

Chase picked up the spinner and put it on the floor. “Okay, so, either if someone doesn’t want to play or if someone’s closest, they can spin the wheel for everyone else?” 

"Deadly serious!" Alec exclaimed. Without sitting up they slowly slid off the couch, head first, so they could lie on the ground by the twister mat. "Sounds good, Chase!" 

Jack laughed and rose to his feet. He pulled the sleeves of his sweaters down past his fingers and held his covered hands out to help Parker up. 

It was physically painful to rejoin the party and sit at the Twister mat, but Malia managed, somehow. She pulled Jesse along with her so they were sitting beside each other. 

Casey bounded across the floor to sit beside the mat. "Has anyone ever played this in underwear covered in oil?" He asked nobody in particular. 

"Only you, weirdo," Blue said as she moved, pulling L along with her. "But that does sound fun." 

"I've played it in a swimsuit covered in oil, does that count?" Alec asked, sitting up so there was more room. 

“That’s very Greek.” L nodded as she followed after Blue. 

"Um, I've never done it," Casey clarified. "I just think it sounds fun! Did you have a good time?" he asked Alec. 

Jesse followed Malia easily and nodded his head towards the blanket fort before he sat. "Want a pillow?"

Parker took Jack’s hands through his sleeves despite not needing any help up. He stood there for a moment, the  dropped his hands, heart pounding in his chest. “Um, were you gonna be spinner?” 

"It was crazy hard, but fun!" Alec moved to sit up on their knees. "We did it on the beach with way too much spray on sunscreen. Slip-sliding everywhere." 

"Uh, I guess." Jack's heart sank a little bit. A naive part of him was hoping he'd be able to play, but he wasn't sure how. "Do you think—" Jack turned to Parker. "If they have gloves, maybe I could play? I could just, like... Wear a scarf and gloves?" 

"Oh," Malia didn't want to be not at his side for ever a few seconds. But, her ass would start to hurt, sitting here, so she nodded. "Sure, yes, thank you." 

Parker blinked and then nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah, I don’t see why not!” He looked around. “Do you want me to ask?” 

"Oh my gods, sunscreen, that's genius!" Casey clapped his hands in recognition. "I bet tanning oil would work too. Except for the radiation but whatever, beauty is pain, right?" 

"Yeah, please. I like, just officially met half the people here and I'm afraid I won't remember their names," Jack laughed. 

Chase crouched to pick a cat off the mat again. “Should I change?” He asked Malia and Jesse, since they seemed least likely to make fun of him and most likely to tell him the truth. 

"Well," Malia looked over to Chase. "I love the shorts, but if you're in a compromising position it might be... a bit of a show, for us?" She giggled. "Up to you." 

Jesse disappeared into the blanket fort and came back out with a pillow in time to hear Chase's question. He glanced between Chase's shorts and the twister mat. "Maybe, yeah, you might want to." He held out the pillow for Malia, then sat down next to her.  

Parker smiled and reached out to touch Jack’s sleeve again. “Cool, I know...” He looked between Chase and Jesse and frowned. “I can ask Jesse.” He dropped his hand and walked over to Jesse and Malia as Chase left, figuring Jack would follow. 

Chase bobbed his head and scampered up the stairs.

Alec laughed and leaned against Casey again. "But the tanning oil would rub off some places and stay on the other! Your skin would look right fucked up." 

Jack followed Parker. The sensation of walking was very interesting to say the least. Jack found his mind drifting to several different places in the short span of distance between where they were sitting and where Jesse stood. Casey put an arm around Alec. "Okay, good point, good point. So then maybe the beauty is in the fun and laughter you share with your friends and then you just wear long sleeves the next day!" 

Blue was leaning on her hands, her eyes mostly closed and lazily leaning in and out, lightly pecking L's lips every time she was close to their face. She wasn't paying attention to the rest of the room. "What did you learn about koalas?" she asked.

Jesse blinked when Parker came over and looked to Malia, remembering now something about a fight between them. He assumed Parker had come to speak to his sister, so he waited for one of them to speak with hopes that it wouldn't turn into an argument.

Malia accepted the pillow from Jesse and moved so they were practically touching while sitting next to each other. She looked up at her brother from her place on the floor and gave him a little smile. "What's up?" 

“Um.” Parker cleared his throat and looked at Jesse mainly. “Do you have, like, gloves and scarves and stuff?” 

Alec smushed their face into Casey's shoulder. "You're a genius. We could do that in my loft! Except I don't have tanning oil or money to buy it. I have vegetable oil?" 

L was in and out of conversations. She smiled. “They have smooth brains! No wrinkles, and can’t solves puzzles because of it.” She nodded a bit, then looked at Casey and Alec. “If vegetable oil comes from vegetables and olive oil comes from olives, where does baby oil come from?” 

Jesse rested one hand on the ground behind Malia so that even though his arm wasn't around her, there was still a semblance of it. He drew his eyebrows together. "Winter clothes? Uh, yeah, some. Why?"

"Vegetable oil is probably so bad for your pores but maybe, like, olive oil? Is that expensive?" Casey laughed. "Or bubble bath! Oh my gods, this Twister idea is getting steamier and steamier."

Blue laughed at L's joke, resting her head on her shoulder. She glanced around the room finally, not sure how much time had passed since she sat down. She saw Jack standing in the middle of the living room and stared maybe a little too long, then turned her head in the opposite direction, staring at the floor.

Parker shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because Jack wants to play Twister?” 

Jack smiled and waved awkwardly at Jesse from past Parker. "I'm a freak, I'm sorry." 

"Oooooooh," Malia turned to look at Jesse. "Do you have rubber gloves? They might have more traction than fabric." 

Alec laughed at L. "Olive oil is so expensive," they lamented to Casey. "But I have bubble bath! Oh! Oh! I have bath oil. Or, Ime did, but they left it behind so it's fair game!"

Jesse fully noticed Jack behind Parker now. "Oh. Right." He realized how that sounded and flushed again. "Yeah, yes, we have rubber gloves in the kitchen. And you said a scarf, too? I can grab that."

L tucked a piece of hair behind Blue’s ear when Jack walked into the room and cuddled up next to her more. “Are we waiting for Chase to get back?” 

"Wow, this is like, the most intimate game of Twister I've ever heard of and I am so in." Casey squeezed Alec's shoulder. "I'll bring the scented candles and red wine."

"Cool," Jack nodded at Jesse. "Good thinking with the rubber," Jack mentioned to Malia. 

Parker nodded and resisted the urge to take Jack’s sleeve again. “Thanks.” He felt weird being the only people in the room standing and took a seat next to Malia. “Hey, what’s up?” 

"I'll get the gloves?" Malia offered to Jesse, then turned to Parker with a smile. She wasn't sure if Chase would want to sit there, but her brother was talking to her so she didn't say anything about it. "I'm great, how are you? Actually, hang on, let me go get the gloves." 

"That'd be great," Jesse replied to Malia. He smiled at Jack but was careful to keep a decent bit of distance between them as he got up and moved past to go get a scarf from the closet behind the door. 

Alec heaved a sigh and pressed the back of their hand to their forehead. "You can't say things like that and not expect me to fall head over heels in love with you!"

Jack glanced around the room while waiting for the scarf and gloves. For a moment, his eyes found Blue and he pressed his lips together in a terse smile before quickly looking elsewhere. 

Malia stood and walked over the mat and into the kitchen. She found the gloves in the cabinet underneath the sink and brought them back to Jack with a smile. "How are you feeling?" 

Parker opened his mouth to speak to Malia and then closed it again. He folded his hands in his lap and pretended not to notice Blue. 

Jack's attention fell back to Malia and he smiled, taking the gloves. "Honestly, so good. Like... Great." He pulled the rubber gloves on with a loud snap. 

Blue didn't know what to make of that facial expression, but she was more focused on Parker sitting next to him, clearly with him. She turned her head back to L. "He just gave me the weirdest smile ever? What the hell?" 

L frowned and tilted her head “Maybe that’s how he smiles?” 

Jesse returned with two scarves, one large and one small. "Uh. I didn't know if you wanted a big one or not." He held them out, carefully. 

Malia nodded, briefly squeezing his hand once the gloves were on. "Great." She returned to her spot at Parker's other side and bumped shoulders with him. "Okay, hi, I'm good. How are you?" 

"Uh," Jack opted for the smaller one. "This is probably good. So it doesn't, like, drag or anything. Thanks." He wrapped the scarf around his neck, tucking the excess into his sweater. He sat down beside Parker, his face wrapped in a hand-knit neck brace. "This is great." 

Parker moved his hand to the space between himself and Jack and looked at the Twister mat. He shrugged at Malia. “Um, I’m fine.” 

Casey let his head rest on Alec's and brought up the hand that was wrapped around Alec's shoulder to cradle their face. "Fall in love with me, baby. That's all I've ever wanted." 

Jesse nodded at Jack and wrapped the end of the other scarf around his wrist absentmindedly. "Should I check if Chase remembers the game?" he asked Malia. 

Malia was debating trying to press for more conversation from her brother when Jesse spoke to her. "Oh, yeah," she frowned. "He's been gone for a while?" 

Jack's gaze fell to Parker's hand. He shifted his weight to sit more comfortably before letting his hand settle beside Parker's, so their pinky fingers stacked. 

"Hmph," Blue sighed, looking ahead and not at Parker again. "Maybe." 

Alec could feel a blush spread across their face despite themself and they grinned at Casey. "I see now! You orchestrated this whole thing to seduce me! Keep going, it's working– flattery is accepted 24/7 in this town. By 'this town' I mean my brain." 

Jesse shrugged one shoulder, but he glanced at the staircase. "He might've fallen asleep. I'll go check." 

Malia's frown deepened. "Fallen asleep?" 

Casey laughed. "Yes, good, then my plan is working beautifully." He let his hand move up to the side of Alec's head, gently scratching his hair. Casey suddenly remembered that he had brought cookies, but couldn't recall where had placed them. He pouted slightly as he wracked his brain for the memory. 

Jesse glanced at Parker and Jack before deciding how much to say. “Yeah. He hasn’t been sleeping well. I’ll be right back.” 

Malia nodded as Jesse walked away. She knew Chase hadn't been sleeping well but it was concerning to realize that he was this tired. She eyed the mat, brow furrowed in thought.

Parker stifled a smile at touching Jack’s hand and moved so the tips of his other fingers touched Jack’s. He tried to make it so that the line of sight between Blue and his hand was blocked and acted Fully Natural. He looked at Malia and tilted his head at her. “Are you okay?” 

L frowned a bit at the mat and extended her legs in front of her. “Have you guys played Twister with paint? It’s awful.” She smiled. 

“I’m high as all hell right now,” Alec sighed happily, feeling as though Casey was slowly pulling their soul from their body through their hair. “L! That sounds like a dream come true.” 

Jesse headed upstairs and knocked on the wall beside Chase’s door, even though the door was ajar. “You okay in there?” 

Jack relished in the sensation of having Parker's hand on his, as strange as the method was. Both physically and mentally, he was buzzing. 

Chase was curled up on his carpet, pajama pants cuddled to his chest when Jesse knocked on the door. He sat up with a start and looked down at himself, shook his head, and sighed. He pulled the pants on and ran over to the door. “Ha, yeah, sorry.” He smiled and started back towards the stairs. 

Casey laughed at Alec's declaration. He didn't have as much of a head high as he figured everyone else did, but the sensation of playing with Alec's hair was really satisfying multiplied with the CBD tingle. "Oh my god, wait, paint twister actually sounds so fun. Or like pigment powder twister, like they do in Holi?" 

Malia looked over and Parker and smiled. "All good." 

Jesse put an arm out to stop Chase before he reached the staircase. He was going to say something about how Chase didn’t have to go back down, or how he could stay with him upstairs if he wanted, but neither seemed quite right. He sighed and patted Chase’s shoulder instead. “Want me to make some coffee to get you through the party?” 

Parker wanted to take Jack’s hand fully, but was somewhere between not brave enough and not stupid enough to do so in front of Blue. He frowned slightly at Malia. “Okay.” 

Blue was trying very hard to ignore Parker sitting next to Jack but was only halfway succeeding. She turned to L and raised an eyebrow. "With paint? That sounds terrible, I kinda love it." 

L bobbed her head at her friends. “It’s super messy, but I think it’d be fun. I’ve never done it, by the way.” She tilted her head at Casey. “Is that a thing? Do people end up inhaling it?” 

“Pigment powder. I love the alliteration. And that sounds amazing! But less slippery than paint? So lower stakes.” Alec looked around at everyone. “All of the hosts have fled the circle. Oh, hey Parker!” They waved at him considering he was the only one they had yet to greet. 

Chase stopped and frowned slightly, then shook his head. “Nah, man, I can make it though a party.” He exhaled a laugh as though this was obvious and started down the stairs. “Were y’all waitin’ for me?” He asked once he was down. “Y’should’ve started!” 

"Oh good points," Casey conceded. "Okay, yeah, paint is probably better. And if the colors are all good, probably more aesthetic too?" Casey followed Alec's focus and waved at Parker and Jack. 

Parker looked somewhat less than pleased to have Alec bringing attention to him and flushed, glad Jack wouldn’t feel how sweaty his hand was. He coughed. “Um, hey.” 

L nodded. “I think I wouldn’t do all the colours on the board! Because then you’d just get brown, right? I’d pick nice pastels or something.” She looked over at Parker when Alec and Casey waved, but thought she probably shouldn’t wave. 

“How’s it going?” Alec asked Parker since it was clear Parker didn’t want a conversation. They laughed at Chase when he returned. “Howdy,” they replied in a poor imitation of his accent. “Yeah, w’all were waitin’!” 

Jesse returned to his seat beside Malia, watching Chase carefully. 

"Yeah, that's a good point. Wow, look at you, Apollo kid over here with the color consciousness," Casey snapped for L with his free hand. 

Malia bumped Jesse's shoulder with her own and waved at Chase. "We were! Ready to start?" 

Blue is pointedly not looking at Parker. "Who's spinning?" she asked the group. 

"Well, we probably can't all play at the same time right? Maybe we could do teams and spin for our teammates," Casey suggested. 

“Um, I’m fine.” Parker’s fingertips started to tingle, but he brushed it off as anxiety. “I hear you’re well? High as a kite, was it?” 

"Ooooh, good idea." Blue nods. "Okay...." she scans the room. "Teams of three?"

"Close enough," Alec replied cheerfully. "I'm glad you pay attention!" They counted the number of people in room, then nodded. "So like, teams of three where one person spins and the other two duel to the death?" 

Chase shook his head and mussed up Alec’s hair as he passed them to take a seat next to Jesse. “Sorry! Killer was bein’ real cute.” He looked around and bobbed his head. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

"Don't even joke about death matches, Alec, because I will make it happen," Casey replied seriously. 

L looked around. “Should the teams be random?” She suddenly felt like that could turn out terribly. “No!” She replied to herself. “I wanna be on Blue’s team!” 

Also she was totally like “omg Casey I AM a color conscious Apollo kid!!!” on time

Blue laughed and pulled L closer. "Okay! And..... Chase, come join us!" 

"In.... in Twister? How would that even work?" Alec glanced around the circle again. Their eyes settled on Jack and Parker's hands for a second and they smiled to themself, but it quickly faded and they drew their eyebrows together and pulled their phone out to text Parker.

arent u allergic to latex???

Chase scooted closer to Blue and waved goodbye to Jesse and Malia. “Godspeed without me, guys.” 

Malia glanced between the two clearly forming couples on either side of her and Jesse. She put her chin on his shoulder. "We might have to split up," she pouted. 

Jesse smiled at her and rested a hand on her back. "Did you want to play? Because I really just want to spin." 

Malia laughed. "I also really just want to spin."

Parker checked his phone and made a weird face at Alec when he saw it was them that texted him. He checked the message and the color drained from his face as he realized his fingertips were not pounding in time with his heart but because they were starting to swell. He pulled his hand away and shoved it in his pocket. “Um, where’s the bathroom?” 

"Seems it's for the best, then." Jesse blinked and looked over at Parker. "Uh, just over there." He pointed to a door under the staircase. 

Feeling Parker's hand pull away, Jack looked down at his own. At took a second longer than it normally would to register the question being posed. "Uh..." Jack turned to Jesse for an answer. 

Parker nodded and rushed to the bathroom so he could run his fingers under cold water. 

Casey, ever eavesdropping, cupped a hand beside his mouth and called across the room to Malia and Jesse. "Give us your boyfriend!" 

Malia sighed. At Casey's suggestion, she closed her eyes and smiled. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!" she said to Casey. She ran a hand down Jesse's back. "Good luck," she said to him before scooting closer to Jack. "Where'd Parker go?" 

Alec laughed at Casey and hopped to their feet. "I'll BRB!" They grabbed the allergy medicine Chase had given them earlier and put it on the ground outside the bathroom. "There's Reactine right outside," they said to Parker through the door ."Don't die!" With that, they hopped back over to Casey. 

Chase looked at Blue and L and kept his voice low. “Who’s spinning? Also, should I use my powers to cheat?” L shook her head. 

"Same to you," Jesse replied, also choosing to pretend not to have heard Casey. He moved over to sit by Casey and Alec. "Are you guys okay if I spin?" 

Blue shook her head. "It's too obvious if you cheat in such a small room." 

Jack nodded his head toward the bathroom. "To the bathroom." He folded his hands in his lap and smiled idly at the Twister mat. "This is great." 

Malia giggled. "Still feeling good? I think you should be plateauing by now. I'm gonna spin, okay?" 

"Yeah! Spin away," Casey chirped, scooting a bit to give Jesse room. As Alec came hopping back, Casey looked up at them. "Everything cool?" 

Parker groaned quietly when he heard Alec outside the door and grabbed the allergy medication on the way out. He took a few and downed them with tap water before returning, hand still in his pocket. He sat between Jack and Malia. “We’re a team? Can I spin?” 

Alec gave two thumbs up, one for Jesse and one for Casey. "Yep!" they replied to both. "We should get the Killers in on this." 

"I just feel so calm. This is what Linda always talks about in my podcast. I just... Ugh." Jack sighed. His hands came up to the scarf to play with the knitting. "Your sister is spinning too," Jack mentioned to Parker as he came back.

Chase sighed and shrugged. “Pretend people are just really high.” L shook her head again. “No way!” 

"Yes we are and absolutely not, I can't play twister in this outfit," Malia said to her brother. She grinned at him. "Sorry, deal with it." 

Blue cackled. "Nah, we'll play fair." She wrapped her arms around L. "Okay but, who is spinning?"

Parker sighed. “Fine.” He smiled as Jack brought up his podcast. “The uterus one?” He pulled out his phone to text Alec quickly.

Pls dont mention it to anyone?

"The Power of U," Jack smiled. "Hosted by Linda Ballerini, expert in hollistic healing and women's health, thank you for joining us today." 

L rubbed her cheek against Blue and smiled. “I can spin if you guys really want to play!” Chase hummed. “I am tall but not bendy. I have trouble touching my toes.” 

Malia's mouth opened a little and she smiled. "Why do you listen to a women's health podcast?" 

Alec winked at Parker, then realized that could be misinterpreted so they texted him back as well.

u got it!! u should also get new gloves for him tho if u guys are playing tweester together??

They laughed at how 'tweester' sounds for a couple seconds then put their phone away. "Are we against each other Casey? 'Teams' is misleading, eh?" 

Parker smiled at Jack more and shook his head at Malia. “It sounds calming!” He checked his messages again and shrugged before putting his phone away. 

"She's just so affirming and understanding and empowering. And her voice is like honey." Jack shrugged. "Helps me relax." 

Jesse was getting more confused by each addition to the rules. "Wait, I thought we were playing as a team? Is it against each other?”

"Oh my gods, are we?" Casey thought about the logistics for a second. "I mean I guess if it's like every person for themself on the board then that makes sense," Casey shrugged. 

"I was thinking like, the two non-spinners face off and whoever wins goes against the winner from another team! But we can also try and cram six people on the mat. That sounds hectic, in a great way." Alec nodded. 

"Six people on the mat could be chaotic but also I love chaos," Casey suggested. "Or we could try to tie teammates back to back and have them play as a conjoined unit!" 

Alec snapped their fingers. “I love that! Let’s do that.” 

Jesse frowned slightly. “Or one from each team at a time?” 

Malia still looked a little confused but nodded. "Okay, okay, fair enough." She overheard Alec and Casey's scheming and leaned over the mat. "Um, friends," she sing-songed. "How about, one from each team, when the first person falls the second person swaps in. Last person standing wins for the team?" 

L smiled. “Hey, that way nobody has to just spin!” She nodded at Blue like this was the perfect solution. 

Casey rolled his eyes. "I mean, Alec and my idea sounds way more fun but sure we can go with the rational thing." Casey leaned towards Alec to whisper, "Okay, so our game is gonna have bath oils, scented candles, and hand cuffs." 

Malia shook her head. "Nope, no, I'm just spinning. Two people per team so it doesn't take too long?" She smiled sheepishly between Chase and Jesse. "Please?" 

Alec grinned at Casey. “I have two of the three! Do you have scented candles?” 

Casey shook his head quickly and put his hands up. "How is scented candles the thing that you don't have?" 

Chase gave Malia a thumbs up. “I love not bending and stretching!”

“That’s a good idea,” Jesse answered quickly to Malia, then nodded and laughed at Chase. 

Alec cocked their head to one side. “Huh, is that surprising? My cabin used to be full of explosives so I steered clear from candles.”

Satisfied, Malia moved back to her side of the mat. "Okay, Parker and or Jack, one of you get out there." 

Casey blinked. "Wow. Amazing. Okay, no, yeah, I have scented candles." 

Blue realized too late that Jack was not the spinner for his team and frowned. "Um," she scooted closer to Chase and spoke very quietly to him. "Hey, do you think this is a good idea?" 

Parker looked from Malia to Jack and tilted his head. “Should I start? Not to brag, but I’m pretty flexible.” 

"I," Jack slapped the floor in front of him, "would love to see that." 

"Ew, Parker," Malia shook her head. "Go for it." She addressed the rest of the room. "Who has the spinner?"

“So now I’m thinking about it and being covered in oil with reduced mobility in a loft that has no railing and surrounded by fire is kinda fucking bananas?” Alec laughed. “Sounds thrilling! I’m glad I’m lucky!” 

Chase chewed on the inside of his cheek, only now noticing Jack’s Lewk™️. “Um...” He looked at Jesse. “Probably not? Should... uh.” He tried to message Jesse through telepathy and looking at him. 

L frisbee’d the spinner over to Malia. 

Jesse glanced over at Chase and raised his eyebrows in question when he noticed his look. “Huh?” 

Parker laughed and stood. Then, when he noticed nobody else was standing, he squatted so he seemed more ~casual~.

"You... Are incredible." Casey was at a total loss for words. "And also your cabin needs a visit from the fire marshall." 

Chase looked at Jack, then at the mat, and then raised his eyebrows at Jesse in question. 

Blue saw that Parker was up first and pressed her lips together. "Whatever," she muttered, and moved to stand on the mat. "Casey," she said to her friend. "Come on. Parker versus the raccoons."

Casey clapped, hearing Blue's challenge. "Yes! Let's go!" He stood up and moved to the edge of the mat. "Three competitors! Two species! One victor!" 

Alec just laughed at Casey and waved a hand. “Go Casey! You got this!”

Jesse frowned slightly and shrugged one shoulder. “I think it’s okay,” he answered Chase. 

Chase bobbed his head. “Alrighty. Spin, Malia. Raccoons should team up and get the human out for now! Then deal with each other.” He smiled. “No alliances!” L protested.

Malia laughed and spun the arrow. "Okay, left hand green."

Parker takes his hand out of his pocket and puts it on the mat, apparently Extremely skillfully.

Chase leaned over and spun the arrow. "Right foot red!"

Blue yawned as she put her hand down, a little off balance.

Casey feeling cocky, turned to face away from the mat, stretched his arms up overhead and leaned back, falling into a backbend with his left hand on green.

Alec whistles at Casey. "Holy shit!" 

Parker put his foot on red.

Blue also whistles at Casey and stretches her foot out to hit a red circle. "Don't get too cocky, Case." she teased.

Casey, grinning cockily, slid his right foot over to land on a red circle. "I will be as cocky as I deserve, thank you."

Jesse spun the wheel now. "Uh, right hand green now."

Parker slid his hand over fairly easily to the green circle.

"Already there, baby!" Casey nudged his right hand over an inch to reach another green circle.

Parker put his hand exactly where Blue was reaching and it knocked her off balance. "Uuuugh," she groaned as she slipped out of place. "You screwed me over, Valentine!" 

Parker blew Blue a kiss and smiled, hoping that this was a joking anger rather than a threatening one.

Casey tried to angle his head up so all the blood wouldn't rush into his brain.

L jumped up and took Blue's place. "I'll knock 'em dead, baby!" She was secretly glad that Blue was out before Parker.

Malia took the spinner back and twirled it around. "Okay... Left foot yellow."

Parker skillfully moves his foot to yellow.

L moves a leg next to Parker's.

Casey steps his left foot yellow, crossing his legs so that he's holding himself up sideways.

Chase took the wheel from Malia and flicked the spinner. "Left hand red!"

Parker moved his hand and leaned on his blisters. He inhaled sharply but managed to save it.

Casey calculated his next move in his head. With a quick switch, Casey managed to flip himself into an upright position on all fours, with his limbs in the appropriate places.

L moved one arm around but simply wasn't tall enough to reach the other colour. "Oof." She fell and sighed. "Sorry guys." She stuck out her lip as she crawled back to Chase and Blue.

"All good!" Chase patted L on the back. "You did better than I could've." He smiled. "It's all about having fun, anyway. Now we can watch them and mix up all the colors on the mat."

Blue booed. "This is rigged!" she protested, then pulled L close to her to kiss her cheek. "You were the cutest one out there." 

Parker is also going After everyone to see which row he's supposed to do because I forgot that he was colorblind ok

L wrapped her arms around Blue and smiled. "Only because you weren't there!" 

Jesse spun the wheel next. "Left foot red, now."

Casey deftly brings his left foot over to a red circle. "We're killing this, baby!"

Parker laughed at Casey. "Are you saying that to yourself?" He slipped as he twisted and hit his back. "Ugh." He rolled. "Jack, get in there." He smiled up at him.

"I'm saying it to my beautiful teammate and supporter over there," Casey nodded his head toward Alec.

Malia smirked at her brother. "Now that you're out you can spin," she teased him. 

Alec cheered as Parker fell. "Whoo! Twister master Casey!"

It took Jack a solid moment to bring himself up to a standing position. "Oh my gods, okay. Ready to watch me fail?" He went over to the side of the mat and tried to visualize how he was going to take Parker's place.

Parker held up his hand to Malia. "I can't. Out on disability." 

"Ugh," Malia swatted his hand away. "Fine, whatever. You ready, Jack?" 

Chase whistled at Casey as well. "I believe in you, Nook!"

"Yep!" Jack called out from the mat. He crouched slowly and carefully placed each limb on a circle. "Oh my gods. Oh my gods. Ohhh my gods." Somehow, he managed to get into the correct position. "Oh my fucking gods, wait, am I doing it?" Casey laughed beside him. "Yeah man, that's it."

Blue took great interest in playing with L's hair now that Jack was on the mat.

Parker pulled his hand away, in fear of it actually hurting, and then grinned at Jack. "Oh, you're a natural!"

"Can you braid my hair?" L asked. 

Malia spun. "Left hand yellow!"

Both Jack and Casey reached for the same yellow circle and for a moment, their bodies wobbled together on the mat. With clutch reflexes, both of them caught their balance, planting their hands on adjacent yellow circles. "Fuck," Jack hissed, chuckling all the while.

Chase bungled the colours up to throw them off, but did it too late

Blue couldn't help but watch as Jack got way too close to her friend's hand. She eyed the shared circle with suspicion then, finally, turned back to L. "Oh yeah, no problem." She ran her fingers through L's hair and started putting it into sections. 

Chase leaned over to flick the spinner, then tossed it in Jesse's direction. "Uh, left foot green, I think it was?"

Casey saw that the easiest green circle was the one caught between them. Trying to move quickly, he launched his foot toward the circle. However, in his haste, he overshot the distance and accidentally kicked Jack's leg out from under him, sending them both toppling to the floor. 

"Ow, fuck," laughed Jack. 

"Sorry! My bad. Here—" As Casey brought himself up to sitting position, he offered a helping hand out to Jack. Jack reached out in response and before his high mind could perceive what was happening, Casey had grabbed onto his exposed wrists and pulled them both up to a standing position. Casey gave Jack a congratulatory pat on the back and turned to Alec, cheering, "Ay! Who's your man!" Behind him, Jack stood open mouthed, frozen.

Alec pointed at Casey and jumped to their feet. "You are! Wow, that was amazing! Did we win?" 

Parker watched the interaction, opened his mouth to say something, and closed his mouth before anything could come out. He tilted his head at Jack and opened his mouth again, but didn't know what exactly he was supposed to say. He pushed himself up and raised his eyebrows at Malia. "Did you see that?" 

"Hell yeah we did!" Casey ran over to Alec with his hands up for a celebratory high five. "Mammal power, baby!" 

Chase smiled at Jesse, seeing nothing wrong with the interaction. "Good job! You won." 

Blue watched them both wipe out with trepidation, and almost stood to interfere when Casey grabbed Jack's arm. But, nothing happened. Blue blinked and sat back.

Malia looked up from readjusting her robe. "What?" 

Jack wasn't sure if he was having trouble processing what just happened or just having trouble processing. He looked back at Parker and Malia and stepped off the mat, his brain struggling to form a continuous thought. "Uh, sorry guys. I guess we lost."

Jesse smiled back. "I guess so. I got lucky with my team." He looked up at Casey. "That was really impressive."

Before Parker could say anything to Malia, Jack was back, so he just shook his head at her. "Nevermind." His heart pounded in his ears. "Oh, well. That doesn't matter, the teams were stacked. Alec, like, never loses games."

[submerged-tmnt]

Introductions

Submerged AU rising from the dead because @rhi-draws-things needed some good good content of Casey and the boys.

(Refresher: gist of the AU is that the Kraang accidentally flooded the earth prior to canon and made it unusable for terraforming. Now NYC is mostly underwater, everyone lives on boats, and most days are spent peacefully diving/fishing or getting up to regular teen shenanigans.)

AU Karai ref. AO3 version.

Casey hefts the bucket of fish bones, balancing it on his hip so he can unlatch the door and push it open. The cool nighttime air gusts inside as he steps out, and Casey walks away from his home towards the other end of the dockway. The buoyant path linking all the surrounding houseboats rises and falls subtly under his bare feet, the ocean calm tonight.

Casey hums as he reaches the edge, holding the bucket out and tipping it to spill the bones into the dark water. Except something suddenly surfaces right where he’s aiming the bucket.

“Casey!” exclaims Leo, and Casey yanks the heavy bucket back just in time that he avoids dumping fish gunk on his friend. Unfortunately, the bucket is heavy and his luck isn’t having it tonight. His grip on the slimy plastic slips and fish bones spill onto the dockway.

“Uh oh,” says Mikey, joining Leo in poking his head out of the water. Donnie and Raph emerge as well, clear eyelids blinking away the saltwater in their eyes.

“Guys- c’mon!” Casey says, shaking a skeleton off his foot in disgust. “What the hell, I’m gonna have to clean that all up!”

“Sorry,” Leo apologizes sincerely, “but you were the closest person and we really need help.”

Casey forgets the fish bones for a moment, coming back to the edge and kneeling down. “What’s up?” he asks, a bit worried despite his casual tone. Then he frowns, seeing the dockway lights shining on cuts and bruises the brothers have. “Hey, you guys look a little rough. Something happen?”

“We, uh… well,” Leo starts, looking sheepish. “It’s a bit complicated.”

The water underneath the dockway suddenly rises, making Casey wobble a little. “How so?” he asks, steadying himself with a hand.

“It’s not complicated,” Raph interjects before Leo can continue. He’s got a serious shiner and an annoyed scowl. “We got basically spent the whole day getting beat up by a snake.”

“Wh- a snake? Like, a mutant one?”

“The fuck other kind of snake could do this to us?”

“Jesus,” Casey says. “That’s pretty kickass, I guess. If no one got hurt, right?”

“We’re fine,” Mikey assures him, giving a bright smile with a split lip. “Just sore and hungry.”

“Are you here for food? ‘cause we got some leftovers inside,” Casey says, jerking a thumb at his family’s restaurant houseboat behind him. The dockway rises and falls sharply again, which is getting kind of annoying and worrying. Maybe there’s a storm on the way? The clouds are wrong, though…

“Food would be good,” Mikey sighs longingly. “I’m starving.”

“Pen and paper is needed first, though,” Donnie says seriously.

“Uh, why?”

“Our friend needs it so she can tell us her name,” Leo explains, which doesn’t explain much at all.

Casey raises his eyebrows in interest anyway. “You guys make a new friend before or after the snake fight?” he asks, smile quirking his lips. The brothers could use more friends, seeing as they’re only willing to interact with Casey and April, and neither of them has managed to convince the four turtles to show themselves to the population of New York. Their phobia of people is a stubborn one.

“After!” Mikey cheers. He grabs Leo in a side hug, splashing Casey’s knees. “Leo sweet-talked her into it.”

“I didn’t s- sweet-talk her, jeez,” Leo says in a mumble. His brothers chuckle and elbow him, teasing their teal scaled sibling.

“So, where’s this lady of yours?” Casey asks gamely, grinning at Leo’s embarrassment. The dockway surges underneath him again, forcing Casey to steady himself with both hands and triggering a weird feeling in the back of his head. A shivery ‘something is wrong’ feeling.

“She came with us,” Donnie says, as the water around him and his brothers churns. And as he delivers that calm statement, something big rises out of the water right behind them.

Casey gapes for a moment at the giant fucking snake his friends have brought to his doorstep. Then it opens its mouth and hisses viciously and Casey yelps, scrambling backwards from the edge of the dockway.

“Ah, it’s okay!” Mikey calls out. “We told her you’re our friend! That’s just how she talks. Kinda.”

The giant sea snake makes another hiss, followed by a sound that seems like it wants to be an actual word, but can’t fully form into one. Casey’s lifetime of being taught to fear a sea snake’s bite is rearing its head, causing sweat to bead his brow and his heart to race.

“You shitting me?” he asks, staring at the snake mutant. It- she stares right back, luminous green eyes pining him with a gaze that’s got just an edge of feral. Kinda like the ones the brothers sometimes have.

“If only,” Raph grumbles, leaning on the dockway with his elbows. “This’d be a lot simpler if it were just a prank.”

“I second that,” Donnie says with a longsuffering sigh.

“Um, Casey? I know it’s a lot,” Leo speaks up, “but could you skip being shocked and just go get a pen and paper? We’d- well, she’d like it if we could call her by her actual name, instead’ve just saying ‘you’ or ‘Miss Snake’.”

The snake mutant, though she still looks pissed off, bobs her head once in agreement. Casey runs a hand through his loose hair, feeling its long strands tangling after a hot and sweaty day.

“Uh, sure,” he says, shaking off his shock about the whole situation. “I’ll. Just go get those…”

The brothers are sitting on the dockway when Casey comes back, legs folded and scales glistening with seawater. Their usual weapons are present, but- Donnie’s spear has been broken at the tip, Raph is definitely down a couple knives, Mikey is missing his fishing net, and Leo seems to have lost one of his swords. Plus, with them out of the water, Casey can see the full extent of the injuries they garnered fighting with the snake mutant looming over them all.

Of course, the snake herself looks a tad banged up, too. Looks like the damage was all very mutual, until things got worked out.

“Okay,” Casey announces, sitting down next to his friends. “I hope you guys use my dad’s notebook wisely, ‘cause paper isn’t cheap.”

“We just need one page,” Leo assures him, taking the pad and pen. He turns his head, looking up at the serpent with jaws big enough she could swallow a small child whole. Leo smiles at said serpent. “Alright, like Donnie explained, I’m going to go through the alphabet letter by letter. Hiss, or, do whatever you want to whenever I hit a letter of your name in order. Ready?”

The snake mutant huffs impatiently.

“I figured,” Leo chuckles. He clears his throat, touching the pen to a blank page of the tiny notebook. “A, B, C, D …”

It goes on like that until Leo hits K, and the snake mutant hisses loudly. Casey’s arms have goosebumps and his heart is skipping all over the place, and it’s kind of great. She’s wickedly scary, teeth designed for piercing, a deadly bite to boot, and a long sinuous body that’s powerful enough to shake the dockway as she gets excited over the first letter of her name- god damn. There aren’t many mutants around this size or strength. Casey would not (totally would) want to be the guy caught in the water with Miss Snake or whoever she is.

(He would probably die trying to take her on, but fuck. What a way to go, battling a giant seas serpent.)

“K?” Leo is saying excitedly. The snake mutant bobs her head yes. He writes the letter down hastily, and keeps on going with the alphabet for the next one.

Five letters later, and the snake shakes her head vehemently as Leo tries to start again. Leo looks confused for a moment, then lights up with a smile. “Oh! Is that it? Is this your name?”

The snake bobs her head.

Casey then ends up shoving slickly wet limbs out of the way so he can see the notebook, too. Leo gets squished by all four observers crowding in, little growling clicks coming from the back of his throat with his irritation.

“God, guys, I was gonna read it out!” Leo snaps, elbowing everyone he can reach. Casey is shoved away, just like the rest of the brothers, but not before he sees what Leo has written in tight, painstakingly careful boxy letters.

Karai

“Karai,” Leo says aloud, still smiling at the snake leaning over them all. “That’s a really cool sounding name. It’s nice to meet you, Karai.”

“Hey, Karai!” Mikey tacks on, as Raph mutters a, “Hi, again,” and Donnie adds politely clipped, “Hello.”

“Sup,” Casey says, waving a hand. Karai regards them all with her wide green eyes, examining them for something, and then huffs.

She makes a softer hiss than any of the ones she’s made before, followed by something that’s nearly a word. Casey is pretty sure it’s supposed to be a hello. He grins.

So cool. Four quirky turtles who are weirdo recluses, and now a giant deadly sea snake. Casey’s friend group hasn’t ever been this colorful before, even with April and Irma as buddies.

“So, hey, Dee?” Casey asks, catching the attention of the least occupied brother, while the other three are focused on Karai. “How’d you all meet anyway?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think we got a chance to tell you or April.” Donnie crosses his arm, letting out a resigned sigh. “We interrupted a deal between pirates, mostly on accident, since we were tracking a shipment of mutagen. It was supposed to be an in and out operation, but SOME PEOPLE-” he says loudly, shooting a look at Raph, “-can’t be damn well bothered to remember common manners!”

“We live in a tunnel system!” Raph protests snappishly. “How was I supposed to learn that shutting doors is what’s polite when we don’t have fucking doors?”

“It didn’t even matter if it was polite, you left the door wide open, which was unusual for a tightly knit band of pirates who always kept that door shut, which in turn alerted them to our presence and ruined the whole plan!”

“Shut up! Leo already bitched at me, you can’t, too!”

“So where’s Karai factor into all this?” Casey asks in a bemused voice, because Raph and Donnie are literally just hissing at each other now and that’s always hilarious. Donnie snaps something clicky and sharp and definitely turtle-speak for something or other at Raph. one last parting shot, then smooths his metaphorical ruffled feathers, clearing his throat.

“She was the leader of the pirates looking to purchase the mutagen,” Donnie says. Casey raises one eyebrow and glances up at Karai.

Snake mouths aren’t really meant for scowling, but Karai is somehow pulling the sullen look off anyway.

“And in the chaos of you being discovered,” Casey says, filling in all the gaps, “Karai got a dose of mutagen?”

Karai flashes her mouthful of sharp teeth, hissing balefully. She turns and dives into the ocean, black and white body vanishing into the depths. Leo winces and then sighs.

“Try not to talk about it too much,” Leo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s only been a mutant for a few days and she’s still adjusting. We only just got her to calm down and listen about how we didn’t drop that canister.”

“It was just the guy I punched,” Mikey says, shrugging. “He totally wiped out and then the canister went rolling all over the place and people kept kicking it, which was majorly stupid, wow, and it ended up getting shattered right on Karai. Total accident, totally not our fault.”

A wave abruptly crashes down all them all, courtesy of the tail smacking against the surface of the water. Casey spits out seawater and curses, trying to sort out his now soaking hair, which is sticking everywhere and making it feel impossible.

Raph wipes his face off, flicking the water away. “An accident, yes. Don’t mean she’s gonna forgive us for interrupting her black market shopping spree just yet.”

“At least she’s not trying to kill us anymore?” Leo says with a weakly light tone, to which his brother roll their eyes. Casey drags a strand of hair off his face and flicks it backwards, huffing with a grin.

Never a dull moment with the brothers. Casey can’t wait until April gets a load of this new misadventure. It has teeth, a pissy attitude, and is apparently pirate related, too.

Casey definitely wants in. But first.

“Okay, great talk everyone, fun sharing session,” Casey says, standing up, hands on his hips. “Now who wants the good broom and who wants the shitty broom? Because you’re definitely helping clean up the garbage you made me drop, plus since you just ruined my dad’s notebook.”

The brothers groan, but mumble agreements to the return of a favor. The water by the dockway swells with a long dark shape moving underneath it, not straying too far, but unwilling to surface right now. Casey takes the dripping notebook from Leo to set out to dry inside, and heads in to get the brooms as well. Practically whistling, despite the fact that he’s dripping wet.

[ghostsinthewoods]

Bonus: Gregg and Bea Solve a Mystery

Early evening in Possum Springs. The sky was a sleepy orange, the setting sun poking out from behind a few scarce clouds. The weather was getting warmer. It was still appropriate weather for long sleeves and hoodies, but more and more people were just wearing t-shirts.

Not that Bea could appreciate the weather, really. She was stuck behind the counter at the Ol' Pickaxe. A whole day of moving tools, lifting supplies, and explaining different types of hammers to the customers.

They really needed to get someone else on the team. That guy Danny had worked for them for, like, two or three days before getting fired. Maybe Germ was looking for a job? He already helped out sometimes.

Bea almost considered if Mae might be interested, but she decided against it. She loved Maeday, but she didn't trust her around anything heavy and unwieldy.

Well, this was all stuff Bea could talk to her dad about. He'd been having a few good days recently. Bea would have been hopeful, but he'd had good days before. Without some sort of professional help, Bea didn't know if her dad would get out of the place he was in.

The bell above the door rang, and Bea already knew who it was. Mae stopped in to check on her friends every day. It was right before closing, so if Mae wanted to do something, Bea felt like she'd be down for it. She didn't really have any other plans.

But it wasn't Mae at the door. That threw Beatrice for a loop. Instead, it was Gregg. His expression was hard to read as he sprinted towards the shop's counter.

This was weird. Gregg almost never stopped in at the Ol' Pickaxe. It wasn't an unwelcome surprise, of course—she didn't hang out with Gregg that much, but she still considered him a friend. Still, something seemed wrong.

"Dude, the barn!" He said, stopping to catch his breath. "Burglars!"

"Okay, Gregg, I'm going to need a complete sentence," Bea said. "Also, hello to you, too."

Gregg seemed confused at first. He nodded, though, and waved. "Yeah. Hey. Hi, Bea. Hi. Someone broke into the Party Barn."

"Is it really breaking in considering it's abandoned?" Bea asked. "Because, if it is, then we break in there all the time."

"This is serious, Bea!" Gregg exclaimed. "They jacked our shit! All of our shit is jacked as hell!"

Okay, that was concerning. Bea knew that leaving the instruments in the Party Barn was a bad idea. It was a good thing she wasn't dumb enough to leave her computer in there. But now wasn't the time to say 'I told you so.'

"Have you told the police?" Bea asked. Almost as soon as she said it, though, she realized it was a dumb question. Gregg shared the same 'Eff the cops' mentality that Mae had. The antiestablishment fervor of middle class 20-somethings.

"If I tell the cops, they'll just say it was dumb for me to keep my shit in there," Gregg said.

"Okay, but it was pretty dumb," Bea pointed out.

"And that's why I'm not telling the cops," Gregg said. "I've already heard it from you."

Bea sighed. "Look, Gregg, I'm sorry. This really sucks. Is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah," Gregg said, "I'm gonna try and sleuth out some clues. Come with me. Let's be cops."

Bea wasn't even sure what to say to that. Over the few years she'd known him, Bea had never quite gotten used to Gregg's strange brand of zaniness. It seemed like every few days, he had something new to surprise her. This was one of those days.

"Okay, I guess I can help you look," Bea said slowly. "Should we, like, tell Mae or Angus?"

Gregg frowned. "Nah, Mae's doing something with Germ. And Angus has…" A look of mild disgust seemed to cross Gregg's face. "He's got family stuff."

Ah. 'Family stuff'. Now that she thought about it, Angus had mentioned his brother would be coming over for a visit a few weeks ago. That meant a visit to their mom. Bea felt her face contort into the same look of disgust that Gregg had.

"Alright," Bea sighed. "Let's go. I don't know what you're expecting, though."

Gregg grinned. "I'm expecting to solve a mystery, Beatrice."

The Party Barn seemed to never change. Ever since it had closed, and the supplies and furniture had been moved out, it seemed to be in a constant state of emptiness. It was like the pictures of abandoned building people posted online.

Well, it was an abandoned building. Most of the time. But whenever the band was in there, for a few minutes every night the building was full of music.

Tonight, though, it was only full of old confetti and two idiots looking for clues.

Bea wasn't entirely sure why she was there. It was probably just because she didn't really have anything else to do. It was a little weird that Mae had decided to just hang out with Germ without saying hi.

Then again, both Mae and Germ were a little weird themselves.

While Gregg searched around behind the Birthday Zone stage, Mae leaned against one of the support columns and lit a cigarette. Watching Gregg dig through the old streamers and decorations, Bea found it amazing that he had so much energy after a day of work.

"Oh, shit!" Gregg suddenly called out.

Bea raised an eyebrow. "What? Did you find something?"

Bea walked over to where Gregg was crouched down. She'd figured he hadn't found whatever clue he was looking for, and she was right. Gregg was pointing to the cement floor underneath the Birthday Zone stage. Graffiti of all sorts had been carved into it.

Gregg was pointing at a cluster of words in particular. 'GGG', 'KC', and 'MAEDAY'.

"Oh," Bea said. "I'm guessing this is something you guys did a while ago?"

"Yeah, when we were, like, 12," Gregg said. "For some reason, Casey thought it was cool for him to write his name as 'KC' back then." He shrugged, and then pointed to the three G's on the floor. "That's mine."

Bea blinked. She knew for a fact that those weren't his initials. "Why the three G's?" She asked.

Gregg smirked, as if he was holding in the greatest joke in the world. "They're the G's in my name," he said. "They stand for Gay, Gayer, Gayest."

Bea laughed. "You know, you're lucky your name has three G's in it. That joke wouldn't work if your name was, like, Lawrence. You should be thankful."

"I'm thankful that my name isn't Lawrence every day of my life," Gregg said.

Bea was contemplative for a moment. "So, like," she said, "I hope you don't think this is prying, but did you really know you were gay back when you were 12?"

Gregg didn't seem offended. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, I almost feel like I've always known. Like, I realize there must have been a point in my life when I didn't know, but… I mean, I dunno."

Bea nodded. "Right. Sorry, I don't know why I asked."

"Dude, it's cool. Don't apologize." Gregg laughed. "I mean, I knew who I was pretty early. I feel like a lot of people probably go through life not knowing who or what they're into, you know?"

Bea did know. Some people, like Gregg or Jackie, figured out who they were fairly early. Meanwhile, Bea wasn't 100% certain about who she was. She was fairly certain she was straight. At least, she thought she was. But every so often, something happened that made her question that.

Now wasn't the time to think about that, though. Gregg continued searching under the stage. After a few seconds, he let out a triumphant cry and pulled something out.

"Check it out!" He exclaimed. "A clue!"

It took Bea a few seconds to register what exactly it was. Mostly because she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"That's a bong," Bea said.

"Sure is!" Gregg said. "Our culprit must've dropped it when they were nabbing the instruments."

Bea didn't even know where to start with that. For one thing, it wasn't an old bong. The green glass wasn't dusty, so it couldn't have been here for long. Also, while Bea wasn't very knowledgeable about weed culture, she somehow doubted that people just carried bongs with them all over the place.

"Levy probably knows whose bong this is," Gregg said. "If not, he can point us in the right direction."

"Then what?" Bea asked.

"Then, we nab 'em," Gregg said with a grin. "We bring 'em to justice!"

"Gregg, we're not cops." Bea pointed out.

"We killed those weirdos in the mine. We're basically cops."

"That's not how being a cop works," Bea muttered. "That's the opposite of how being a cop works."

Gregg rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's a lead. Now let's go out to the Food Donkey and find Levy." He crammed the bong into his leather jacket. The top of the pipe poked out of the neck hole.

There was no way this wasn't going to end badly.

Bea wasn't in the habit of hiking out to the Food Donkey. If she was, she probably would have felt like the trek took a bit longer than it normally would. The whole way there, she was terrified someone would notice the green bong poking out of Gregg's jacket.

To her surprise, though, no one seemed to notice. Even in Possum Springs, everyone was busy with their own lives.

"So," Gregg said as they made their way past the Clik Clak, "you and Angus have been friends for a while, right?"

"Since, like, 8th grade, yeah," Bea said. Then, she chuckled. "To be honest, I was kinda surprised when you two started dating. Like, you're complete opposites in a lot of ways. No offense."

"You're really worried about offending me, huh?" Gregg asked. "Don't sweat it. He's big and cool, I'm small and scrappy. He's a super genius, I'm… Gregg."

Bea frowned, stopping in her tracks. Gregg stopped alongside her. "I don't think Angus would agree with that. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Gregg laughed at that. It was a sad bark of a laugh. They continued walking along the black tar of the parking lot. The two turned the corner around the Food Donkey, making their way to the back. Bea was beginning to notice the faint smell of glue.

"Man, it's my second time seeing Levy in less than a week," Gregg muttered.

"Who is Levy, anyway?" Bea asked. She hadn't always socialized with the same people as Gregg and Mae. She'd known Casey, sort of; mostly through his reputation as a troublemaker. But Levy? Bea didn't remember anyone named Levy.

"Eh. If you don't know him, you don't know him," Gregg replied. "Thanks for coming with me, by the way. Kinda bored without Angus or Mae."

"I still can't believe Angus's brother makes him visit their mom," Bea muttered. "Like, I get he's trying to do be, like, a bigger person and all, but—"

"There's a lot about Angus's brother I don't get," Gregg said. "Let's leave it at that. I don't hate the guy, but… yeah. I feel like it'd be better if he just left Angus alone."

Bea didn't know if she entirely agreed with that. She'd met Angus's brother once or twice. Still, Gregg did have a point; he needed to stop dragging Angus along to meet with toxic people from his past.

They were behind the Food Donkey now. While the front was simply abandoned, the back was a mess. It was covered in graffiti. A pair of half-filled dumpsters were lined out along the back. Two people were huddled between the dumpsters, relaxing.

Bea recognized one of them. And she was very confused.

"Mae?" Bea called out as they approached the dumpsters.

Mae waved cheerfully at Bea, a smile on her face. "Hey, kids."

"Mae?!" Gregg yelled a bit too loud. "What are you doing here, Mae?"

Mae blinked. Her smile was replaced with a puzzled frown. "What? Dude, you told me to—"

"Hey, Levy, what's this bong?!" Gregg practically screamed.

The huddled up figure in the green hoodie looked up at Gregg. He looked like a mess. His eyes were baggy and lifeless. He looked like he hadn't shaved in months. Also, he smelled like glue. Like, really badly.

"Hey, Craig," he said. Then, he looked at Bea. "Hey, Steve."

It took Bea a moment to figure out that she'd somehow been confused with Steve Scriggins. She and Steve didn't look anything alike. How did you make a mistake like that? The guy was clearly out of it, but still. Weird.

While Gregg fished the bong out of his jacket, Bea exchanged a confused look with Mae. Her oldest friend could only shrug. It seemed like she was as confused as Beatrice.

"Hey, man," Gregg said, "we found this bong at the Party Barn. Someone stole our shit, and—"

"Wait, what?!" Mae blurted out. "The instruments were stolen? When? Who? Why?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Bea said. "Apparently."

Levy, meanwhile, was transfixed on the bong. Well, not transfixed. But his glazed over little eyes were pretty focused on it. The stoner reached his arm up and wiped his nose off on his sleeve. Slowly, he stood up, and reached out his hand to take the bong. When he wasn't curled up with his knees to his chest, Bea was surprised by how tall he was.

"I saw a bong like this up in Bright Harbor once," Levy said. He turned it over in his hands with surprising delicateness. "Shit's legal there, man. Dunno whose it is, though. Sorry, Craig."

"It's Gregg," Craig said.

"Weed's legal in Bright Harbor?" Mae asked. "Whoa, wait, is that why you guys are moving there?"

Gregg stared blankly at Mae. "No, dude. I already told you why we're moving. It isn't for the weed."

"You don't gotta be ashamed, man," Levy said, handing the bong back to Gregg. "I'd move to where it's legal if I could afford to. You and your dude will probably have a lot of fun in Bright Harbor."

"Yeah," Mae said. "You'll have fun smoking pot and getting sheep tattoos."

At times like this, Bea honestly couldn't tell if Mae was joking or not. She sincerely hoped she was. Mae seemed to misunderstand a lot of stuff a lot of the time, though. It was like a weird gift she had. Although she wouldn't put it past Gregg to get a second sheep tattoo.

Gregg stuffed the bong back into his jacket. He had a serious expression on his face. In fact, it was a little too serious. Like he was trying too hard. "Look, the culprit left the bong at the scene of the crime. Can you tell us anything?"

Levy sniffed, pausing to scratch his nose. "I dunno, man. I mean, I'm pretty knowledgeable about weed culture, and I can tell you for a fact that people don't just carry bongs with them all over the place."

"Oh, hey, that's what I thought," Bea said.

Levy looked at her as if he'd completely forgotten she was there. He blinked a few times, and then continued. "Uh, yeah. Okay. Anyway, it might've been one of the folks off the train or something. I dunno."

"This is garbage!" Mae shouted, throwing her hands up into the air. Bea looked over at Gregg. She expected him to be similarly upset. Instead, though, Gregg had a much harder-to-read expression. Gregg's eyes flicked from Mae, to Bea, and for a moment he looked caught off guard.

"Extreme garbage, yeah," Gregg said. "Man, I'm so upset. I just wanna kick a tree." He nodded, slowly. "We should all go get pizza so I'm not mad anymore."

What was it with everyone in Bea's circle of friends and solving their problems with pizza? "I seriously think we should go tell the cops, Gregg," Bea said. "It might not be too late for them to do something."

Mae winced. Bea had a good feeling she knew why. "If you guys are gonna talk to the cops, I think I'll pass. I feel weird around cops ever since last year."

Levy nodded, seemingly in agreement. "Yeah, I don't like cops. I can't come with you guys."

Bea opened her mouth to tell Levy that this didn't involve him, so they hadn't really expected him to come along. But there probably wasn't any point. Levy seemed like he just kind of did things.

"We'll probably find some cops at the Clik Clak," Gregg insisted. "Anyway, we gotta carbo load if we're gonna report a crime to the cops. Need some cheesey pizza in our bellies. Cops won't respect us otherwise."

"Nothing you just said made sense," Bea said.

"Yeah," Mae said slowly. "But, I mean, all this talk about cheese has me all hungry for some pizz." Mae paused. "Er, I'm calling pizza 'pizz' now," she clarified.

"No, we all got that," Bea assured. She sighed. Why were her friends like this? She loved them, more or less, but still. It was like rounding up a bunch of children, and she and Angus were the parents.

No. Wait. That analogy didn't really work, because Angus was in a relationship with one of their adult children. This comparison was getting kind of gross. Bea decided to drop it.

"Fine," she sighed. "Pizza is fine. But if the cops can't find Gregg's instruments, it's you guys' fault."

Gregg threw up his arms and made a strange howling noise. Bea had heard him make it before. She figured it was some sort of in joke between Mae and Gregg. Either that, or Gregg thought he was a werewolf. Bea didn't think the second one was too likely, but Gregg was unpredictable like that.

Anyway, even if Bea wouldn't admit it, she was starting to crave pizza too.

"… And, like, at the bottom is the worst pizza, but everything else is still really good!"

The group had just finished eating their first slices, and Gregg was finishing up his explanation of the pizza scale. It had come up when Levy had complained about the pizza. He was fairly opinionated for a guy who'd followed them to a diner without asking.

To be fair, though, he at least had money to pay for some of the pizza. That was more than Mae could contribute. And she'd actually been invited.

Bea still wasn't sure why they were eating pizza instead of going to the cops. Sure, Gregg was a little impulsive, but still. Even Mae seemed a little on edge as she helped herself to one of Gregg's leftover crusts.

Meanwhile, Gregg was acting like nothing was wrong. In fact, he was fairly chipper. Out of the four people at the table, he was in the best mood, no questions asked. Mae was on edge, and Levy seemed just kind of… bleh.

"So," Bea said, trying to change the topic of conversation, "Gregg, you guys are going apartment hunting soon, right?"

There was an immediate shift in mood at the table. Gregg somehow got even more excited. Talking about the move always seemed to cheer him up. Mae, meanwhile, had an uncomfortable look on her face. She wasn't happy about Gregg moving; or, at least, she was conflicted. She didn't do a good job at hiding it.

Levy remained completely neutral as he ate a slice of pizza, crust-first.

"Oh, yeah. We're staying in some dumpy motel outside of town while we go searching." Gregg's eyes lit up. "Oh! You guys should tell me what you want! I'll bring you souvenirs!"

"I'd like some saltwater taffy," Levy said.

"Uh… I wasn't really asking you, but okay. I'll keep it in mind, dude."

"Do they have any places that sell, like, samurai swords?" Mae asked. Her mood had turned around a bit. Samurai swords tended to do that.

"Mae, I can't afford a samurai sword. If I could, the apartment would be filled with them," Gregg said.

"Oh." Mae frowned. "Alright, I'll take, like, a shirt, or whatever."

"I'm good more or less," Bea said. "You guys don't need to get anything for me."

"Oh, boo," Gregg said. "Live a little, girl. Jeez."

"Hey, I'm coming down, and I'm starting to realize you aren't Steve," Levy said, as if this was some major revelation. Actually, for him, it probably was.

No one seemed to know what to say to that. They just kept eating. Eventually, when they were done with the pizza, Mae spoke up. "Hey, Gregg," she said, "Why'd you tell me to wait for you behind the Food Donkey? I kinda wanted to avoid that place after last time."

That threw Bea for a loop, and raised a couple of red flags. "What?" She said. "Gregg told me you were off hanging with Germ or something."

Mae looked at Bea as if she'd just grown another head. "Uh, no?" She said. "I haven't even seen Germ today. He wasn't hanging out in the parking lot or anything."

Gregg wasted no time in changing the flow of the conversation. "So, Bea, how's the Pickaxe? Still killing you?"

Bea frowned at Gregg. "Don't change the conversation," she said. "Why did you lie about Mae hanging out with Germ?"

Gregg's eyes darted from Mae, to Bea. He looked nervous. Bea got the feeling that Gregg wasn't a great liar. That made sense; he was a pretty genuine guy. The problem was, Bea had no idea why he was lying.

Thankfully, Levy saved the day for Gregg by blurting something surprising out.

"Hey, so your stuff getting stolen reminded me of something," he said. "Did you guys know Possum Springs had a cat burglar in the 20's? Like, during Prohibition and shit."

Levy's sudden broaching of the subject distracted Bea from her suspicion. She'd remembered hearing something like this when she visited the historical society building back in high school. What surprised her was that Levy knew about it.

"A cat burglar?" Mae asked. "Like, the kind with a whip who flips through lasers?"

"Yeah, but it was the 20's, so the lasers probably weren't super-advanced," Levy said. "But back in the 20's, there were a bunch of dudes making moonshine up here. And I guess someone decided to, like, capitalize on that and steal shit."

"Whoa, that's cool," Gregg said. His nervousness was gone, replaced by sincere awe. "So, Possum Springs had some sort of weird super thief?"

"I mean, no," Levy said. "He stole shit for two years, but eventually someone living up in the hills shot him. Turns out he was some homeless dude from off the tracks. He buried everything he stole up near Possum Jump."

"Okay, I didn't know that part," Bea said. "Why'd he bury the stuff?"

Levy shrugged. For once, he didn't look like a stoner. He looked like a normal dude. A normal dude who happened to do drugs, but still. "I dunno, man. Shit's weird. Like, I think every town in the world is sitting on a crockpot of weird shit. And, like, if you dig deep enough, you'll find that crockpot."

"Wait," Mae said. "I'm confused. This guy buried crockpots?"

"I know a lot of stuff about weird shit in Possum Springs," Levy said. "Like, the Deep Hollow Hollerers, the town's secret society, Little Joe. It's all just interesting, you know?"

"I can kinda get that," Bea said.

"Yeah, Bea's a history nerd," Mae commented.

"I'm really only into history when someone dies or goes missing," Levy explained. "But that's, like, most of history, because most people die."

Bea blinked. "'Most people?'" She repeated.

"I don't know everything," Levy said.

That much was pretty obvious.

After dinner was done, it was time for everyone to head home. Mae had gone walking off on her own, and Levy had just sort of slipped away at some point after the meal. It was down to Bea and Gregg again. Since their homes were in the same direction, they were more or less caught in a conversation.

"Well, today turned out a lot more weird than I expected," Bea sighed. She was trying to light up the new cigarette she had placed between her lips. She was grateful it was staying brighter longer during the day. In winter and fall, when the dark came early, she sometimes had trouble switching on the lighter.

"I dunno," Gregg said. "I think by now we've all had much weirder nights."

Bea nodded. The orange flame sprung from her lighter, and soon the end of her cigarette had a healthy glow. God, she'd needed that. "Mhmm," she said. "I guess this night doesn't even rank in my top ten weird nights. Sorry we didn't figure out who stole your instruments, though."

"Oh, I did that," Gregg said casually.

Bea stopped in the middle of the sidewalk while Gregg continued walking. He stopped in front of her, and turned with a sheepish grin on his face. They were right outside the Snack Falcon; inside, a woman was frantically ringing up an insane number of bags of chips.

"What?" Bea asked. "Wait, so this whole thing was some stupid prank?!"

"No, dude," Gregg assured. "It wasn't a prank. It was a ploy."

Bea wasn't sure how angry to be. On the one hand, her time had been wasted. On the other hand, all she'd really lost was a few bucks spent on pizza. So, okay, Bea wasn't really angry. She was more… flabbergasted. That was a good word for it.

"Why?" Bea asked. "Like, seriously, Gregg. What the hell? I know you do a lot of wacky shit and get away with it, but this was really, really dumb."

Gregg chuckled, and shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "You and me never really hang out. I kinda wanted to, like, bond before me and Angus moved."

That caught Bea off-guard. She wasn't sure if that was sweet, or just really misguided. Probably both? Gregg was kind of misguided in general like that. Weird guy. "You couldn't have just asked me to hang out?" She asked.

"I got the feeling you'd, like, be busy or something," Gregg said. "I mean, if it wasn't for Angus, would you ever even bother hanging with me?"

Bea knew the answer to that question. She didn't really want to answer it, though. Gregg was a nice guy, she knew that. Despite her concerns about his relationship with Angus, she didn't have a problem with Gregg. But she and him were nearly complete opposites.

"So, I came up with a bogus emergency to get you to hang with me," Gregg said. "I stashed the instruments in my apartment, and set it up so we'd run into Mae because I knew you'd hang out longer if she was around."

Bea blinked. "How much thought did you put into this?"

"I mean, as much thought as I put into other things," Gregg said.

That didn't really explain anything.

"Okay, Gregg," Bea said, "I get that you thought that this was, like, a fun, quirky thing, but if you stop to think about it, it was kind of manipulative."

Gregg stared at Bea blankly. Then, a look of realization spread on his face, followed by an expression of shame. "Oh, shit," he said. "Yeah. Wow. This was kind of not a great thing to do, huh?"

"Yeah, like, I'm glad you want to be better friends, but if I didn't know you, Gregg, I'd punch you right in your jaw," Bea said.

Gregg nodded slowly. "Jeez," he muttered. "Yeah, sorry, Bea. I don't know why I do things sometimes. Like, I just get ideas, and I wanna do them. You know?"

"I kinda got that impression," Bea said. She could feel herself calming down a bit. The cigarette was helping. Plus, Gregg was genuinely apologetic.

"Tell you what," Bea continued. "Next time you want to hang out, maybe you could just ask me. And maybe don't ever pull a stunt like this ever again."

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Gregg said with a laugh.

And he never, ever did.

[gotta-save-your-ass-for-a-change]

Who Would Have Thought?: Chapter 8

Chapter Title: Love Is In Everything Fandom: Shameless, Mickey/Ian Rating: M Summary: Mickey and Ian enjoy their reception, and Fiona surprises the newlyweds with a major wedding gift. Notes: Updates are definitely going to slow down a bit due to real life responsibilities, but there is so much more of this. It’s getting out of control, to be honest.

Also, I was trying to set something up with the whole Frank thing a couple of chapters ago, but I have since discovered that I hate writing Frank, so that didn’t really go anywhere. There’s a mild attempt at resolving it here, but I just cannot get Frank’s characterization right, so I decided not to push it.

Title from Darren Hayes’s “Love Is In Everything.” (Anyone noticing a pattern here 😉)

Ao3 Link

Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five * Chapter Six * Chapter Seven * Chapter Eight * Chapter Nine * Chapter Ten * Chapter Eleven * Chapter Twelve * Chapter Thirteen * Chapter Fourteen * Chapter Fifteen

They join their guests immediately following the announcement, choosing to forego any kind of tradition, for what they assume will be a few minutes of hugs and thank yous before the whole crowd heads to the diner for the reception. A few minutes into greeting their guests, though, they hear Fiona’s voice from the front of the room calling for everyone’s attention, and Mickey and Ian are turning to her curiously, confused at the new development.

Fiona smiles brightly at them once she has the attention of most of the room. “All right, people,” Fiona announces, watching Mickey and Ian mischievously. “Thank you all for being here. In about an hour, we’re going to head over to Patsy’s for the reception, but before we do, the owner of this wonderful venue would like to invite everyone to help themselves to some coffee and hot chocolate, and in just a bit, we’re going to bring out a little surprise for our guests of honor. So stick around, have some refreshments, and enjoy this lovely space.”

A moment later, she’s stepping back and approaching Mickey and Ian, both of whom are staring at her in confusion.

“The fuck’s going on?” Mickey questions when she’s within earshot, raising a brow at her.

“Casey and Trevor are giving you a cocktail hour, and I’m about to surprise you fuckers,” Fiona announces, slapping Mickey on the shoulder and grinning at him playfully before she wanders away, presumably to prep her so-called surprise.

Mickey turns to Ian in confusion. “The fuck’s a ‘cocktail hour’?” Mickey asks and Ian just laughs brightly and grabs Mickey’s hand.

“Don’t know,” he confides, pulling Mickey toward the coffee bar, “but I need some fucking coffee.”

“Decaf,” Mickey insists, and Ian waves him off, but complies with the request with a smile and a wink.

A bit later, Fiona finally shows up again, and she’s carrying a simple, two-tier wedding cake. The tiers are circular, lovely intricate lines looping out around them in the same pattern Mickey had drawn out for Fiona months ago—a pattern that matches the ones they have etched on their skin in promise to one another. It’s subtle, the design completed in the same cream colored frosting that adorns the rest of the cake, lovely burgundy roses lining the top of each tier to add contrast.

Mickey and Ian quickly appear by Fiona’s side as she gingerly lays the lovely confection beside the coffee bar.

“The fuck did you do?” Ian asks, pulling Fiona into his arms, even while his eyes remain glued to the surprise she’d planned. “We were just going to do pie at Patsy’s.”

“Yeah, well, this is a wedding, and you two idiots deserve the tradition. Bottom tier is for serving. Top gets boxed up for you to freeze until your first anniversary. Tradition. It’s chocolate with a mocha mousse filling and a white chocolate buttercream, and it is delicious, so stop complaining and enjoy!” she insists, hugging Ian back, and then moving to kiss Mickey’s cheek as Mickey pulls her into a half-hug.

“This is amazing, Fiona,” Mickey insists, squeezing her shoulder. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. You’ve already done so much—”

“Yeah, well, it’s done,” Fiona argues with a smile. “No going back now, so enjoy it. I’m happy for you two. Let me spoil you, okay?”

Mickey laughs at that and lets her go. “All right, all right,” he waves her off, and moves to join Ian where he’s examining the fresh tattoo on his skin against the design on the cake. Mickey sidles up behind him, wrapping an arm around Ian’s waist and peeking over Ian’s shoulder, laying his left hand atop Ian’s so the matching ink on their skin stands side by side. “Your sister’s kind of amazing,” Mickey murmurs, and Ian turns to him with a smile and a nod.

“Yeah. She really is,” Ian agrees, twisting until he can wrap his arms around Mickey’s neck to kiss his lips softly.

A moment later, Mandy appears beside them, her voice shrill as she pulls a face in mock disgust. “Jesus Christ. Could you two assholes keep it in your pants for two minutes? I’m your fuckin’ sister for christ’s sake. I don’t need to see this shit.”

Ian laughs and breaks away from Mickey immediately to drag Mandy into his arms for a tight hug.

“Good fuckin’ luck,” Mickey shoots back as he watches Ian rock Mandy playfully for a moment. Mandy jabs Mickey in the shoulder over Ian’s back and gives him a glare. “Hey,“ Mickey protests indignantly. “It’s my fuckin’ wedding, bitch.”

Ian laughs at the two of them as he draws back to look Mandy over. “You look good, Mands,” he tells her with a smile. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you, too, asshole.” She turns to Mickey then, giving him a glare. “And you, too, dick. Although, I’m still fucking pissed that I had to hear about this shit from my best friend instead of my own fucking brother.”

“What the fuck’s it matter?” Mickey counters, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s his fucking wedding, too. We called, you heard, end of story.”

“Ian called,” Mandy counters, “not we. And it matters because you’re my goddamn brother, and it would’ve been nice to hear it from you, asshole.”

She gives him another playful little punch in the shoulder before dragging him into a hug. “I’m so fuckin’ happy for you two. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey plays it off as though he’s not near tears at finally seeing Mandy again, looking healthy and happy, and Ian watches them fondly as Mickey hugs her back and teases, “Shut the fuck up.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls back to turn to Ian again, her voice sincere. “Really.”

“He knows, Mands,” Ian smiles back at her, reaching out for Mickey’s hand. “And so do I. Thank you.”

“Whatever,” she brushes it off. “I’m gonna go harass your brother and leave you two to bask in your shiny new relationship status. Love the rings, by the way.”

She winks at them and wanders off as Ian pulls Mickey into another gentle kiss with a smile. They hadn’t made a big show of the tattoos. They’d gotten them done the night before—the ink and the redness surrounding it still fresh against their skin, the vibrant black standing out sharply, no time to fade and dull. They’d gone just the two of them, without telling anyone, including Fiona, and they hadn’t incorporated the choice into the ceremony. Because this one little element was just for Ian and Mickey—the branding on their skin a deeper promise of forever than any they’d made at that altar just minutes ago. It was nice, though, knowing that that promise was visible on their skin, noticeable to those around them who bothered to look.

A few minutes later, they find themselves wandering away to a little nook off to the side of the main space. They both know they should be greeting their guests and mingling among them, but they’d planned to do that at Patsy’s, and they’d quickly found themselves wanting some alone time in the lovely little shop to just be together. So they snuck off, cozying up in a comfy leather loveseat in a dimly lit corner. They sit together, Ian leaning back into Mickey’s arms, his head pillowed against Mickey’s chest as they examine the ink on their skin silently, just enjoying the quiet time together.

They’ve only been in the space for a few minutes, though, before they hear footsteps approaching, and the disappointment they feel is palpable as they prepare for their inevitable return to the festivities.

When they glance up, though, it’s Fiona who rounds the corner, Yevgeny tucked in her arms with his little hands wrapped tight around the worn copy of The Velveteen Rabbit that Mickey had read during the ceremony. Yevgeny’s face lights up in a smile when he sees Ian and Mickey, and he reaches out a hand, nearly dropping the book that Fiona catches at the last moment with a little smile.

“Hey,” Fiona greets quietly, resituating Yev until he has the book firmly in his hands once again. With a smile she smooths back the child’s hair, and he grins at her, tucking his head against the crook of her neck. “Yevy’s getting a little sleepy,” she explains with a smile. “He asked for a story from his daddies.”

Mickey’s face lights into a smile at that, and he and Ian shift until Mickey can reach out for Yev. Fiona passes him over carefully, and Mickey situates Yev on his lap so that Ian can sit close. “You want to read a story, Yev?” he asks gently, eyes soft as he watches his son.

Yev nods, as he makes himself comfortable in Mickey’s lap. Over the past several months since Mickey’s been back, Mickey and Ian have learned quickly that Yev gets quiet when he gets sleepy, and sleepy always means storytime to Yev.

Fiona smiles softly at them as Ian strokes a hand over Yevy’s blonde locks and opens the book in his lap. “I’ll let you guys be,” she promises, keeping her voice low. “And I’ll run interference for you, in case anyone tries to interrupt. I’ll let you know when it’s time to cut the cake.”

Mickey smiles and whispers a quiet, “Thank you,” as Fiona waves him off and wanders away to leave the three of them in peace.

“Hey, Trev. Casey,” Fiona greets as she wanders back into the main space, keeping close to the little nook Ian, Mickey, and Yev are hiding in to keep away unwanted interruptions.

“Hey,” Casey offers back with a smile; Trevor giving a little wave in her direction. “They duck away? Was this too much?

“Nah,” Fiona responds honestly. “Think they just needed a little time to bask in the whole married thing. Plus, Yevgeny wanted some time with his dads.”

“Makes sense,” Trevor responds, sipping at the coffee he holds. “They really love that little boy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they do,” Fiona agrees, leaning back against the wall behind her with a fond smile on her lips. After a moment, though, she snaps out of it with a shake of her head. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you guys for all you did here. They loved it. Even if they are off in their little family bubble. And, Casey, I want to make sure you know you’re expected at the reception, all right? No arguments. Order of the grooms.”

Trevor smirks a bit and raises his hands in innocence when Casey glances his way. “Wasn’t me,” he insists.

Fiona laughs at that, fond little smile playing at her features. “Look, they want you there. For real. Not just a formality or some shit. They love this place, and they like you. So. Be there,” she threatens playfully before turning to Trevor. “And you. Make sure he’s there.”

“Will do, boss,” Trevor offers with a playful salute as he takes Casey’s arm to lead him back to the party, leaving Fiona to keep watch over the little family around the corner.

Later that evening, when they’ve finally all made it over to Patsy’s and everyone’s been fed, they find themselves out on the dance floor—or at least the open space that’s serving as one. Even Mickey’s dancing, rocking playfully in Ian’s arms and laughing with his husband as they watch Yevgeny bopping along to the music with Amy and Jemma. The little boy had found a second wind after spending a little time napping in his dad’s lap, and now he’s back to enjoying the festivities.

They’re due to make the rounds with their guests—they’d been avoiding that particular responsibility, opting instead to stay close to one another in their little bubble of happiness. There’s a fear lurking that letting the rest of the party in might somehow dampen the evening, and it’s not entirely unjustified considering some of the family who’d shown.

For the most part, it’s Frank they’re worried about. They’d managed to keep him away from the actual ceremony, but somewhere along the way, he’d forced himself into the reception with Monica on his arm. Ian’s tense for a bit after they arrive, but Lip is keeping them under control for the most part, and part of Ian is happy to have them there. He knows he should be over the attachment, and for the most part he is, but even through the worry he’s feeling, some part of Ian is still grateful to have both his parents there celebrating with them.

All that appreciation fades, though, when they finally drag themselves over to say hello.

The first thing Monica does when they get there is hand Ian an unsealed envelope full of cash, cooing about how proud she is of him, and Ian’s defenses are instantly raised as he shakes his head in frustration.

“Goddamnit,” Ian forces out, anger tightening his voice as he shoves the envelope back at Monica. “We don’t want your fucking dirty money, all right?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Monica reaches out, laying her hands gently on Ian’s cheeks, “it’s not dirty money, I promise.”

“Then where the fuck did you get it?” Ian insists, pulling back and reaching for the gentle hand Mickey lays on his shoulder for comfort.

“Ian, honey,” Monica tries again, eyes gentle, but Ian’s not buying it. “We just want to leave something for you and your new husband. We want you to be happy. We want to help.”

“We don’t need your help,” Ian counters as he pushes away from the table, standing close to Mickey. “We are doing just fine on our own, and I’d appreciate it if you both left us the fuck alone.”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand then, drawing him away, and Ian can feel the tension in Mickey’s form, the waves of protective frustration rolling off of him. He hears Frank call after them, a loud shout, That’s how you talk to your mother?! You ungrateful little shit. But Frank’s cut off by Monica who’s begging him to let them be and Lip who steps in to get Frank back under control, and Ian can feel his own tension starting to melt away the further they move from the scene.

“It’s okay,” Ian whispers quietly to Mickey, placing a gentle hand on Mickey’s cheek and guiding his eyes back to Ian’s from where he’s turned an angry gaze to Frank. “Lip’s got it. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Mickey sighs at that, reaching out to stroke his fingers through Ian’s hair, eyes soft with concern. “You sure?” Mickey asks, eyes locking on Ian’s.

With a little smile, Ian leans forward to kiss Mickey softly, nodding as he pulls back and whispers a quiet, “Yeah, Mick. I’m good.”

After the debacle with Frank and Monica, they jump back into making their rounds, assuming the worst is over. So they wander the space, chatting with their guests, and it should be easy—it’s just their family and closest friends—but Ian can see that exhaustion is starting to wear on Mickey. Mickey’s not used to the full Gallagher experience. It’s not often that they’re all in the same confined space. Ian’s pretty sure, in fact, that this hasn’t happened since they’d announced their engagement.

At some point, though, Mickey ends up with Franny in his arms while they’re chatting with Debs, and his face lights immediately. Ian’s trying to listen as Debbie offers her congratulations and updates them on Franny and Neil, but Ian can’t seem to focus on anything but the bright, happy smile Mickey wears as he coos at the baby in his arms. Ian’s never seen him with a baby other than Yev. Back when they’d been staying in the Gallagher house, Mickey had always been good with Liam, but Ian has never seen him interact with a baby who wasn’t his son. It made Ian’s heart ache at the sweetness.

After a moment, he realizes Debs has gone quiet and both Debbie and Mickey are watching him expectantly. Debbie has a knowing little smirk on her lips, and Mickey’s smiling openly.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Mickey teases. He’s rocking Franny, fingers tickling at her back with her little head resting against his cheek. Ian thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

“Language, Mickey,” Debbie scolds, and Mickey doesn’t even roll his eyes, just smiles a little and offers a quiet apology that Ian thinks he might even mean. It makes Ian smile.

Debbie stares at Mickey for a moment in disbelief. “Wow,“ she offers, turning her eyes to Ian. “Either you’ve seriously tamed him, or your husband really likes babies.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Ian agrees, the corner of his lips tipping up as he and Debs watch Mickey with Franny.

Mickey scowls at them both, and Ian can see the silent fuck off in his eyes that he contains to avoid Debbie’s wrath, and Ian laughs happily at Mickey’s antics.

“All right, Mick. Time to give the baby back. We’ve gotta keep making the rounds,” Ian insists as he gives Debs a little hug and thanks her for being there.

Mickey frowns, the disappointment obvious on his face as he presses a gentle little kiss to Franny’s hair before handing her back over to her mom. Ian wraps an arm around Mickey’s shoulder and nuzzles at his hair, smiling in fond affection as he steers Mickey on to the next group of guests.

Once they’ve finished circulating with their thank yous, Ian insists Mickey join him back out on the dance floor. They’re laughing and happy and Ian’s not sure he’s ever felt so complete. He has Mickey now, for always, and he’s determined not to fuck it up.

“The fuck you thinkin’ about, man?” Mickey questions after a moment, the carefree smile on Ian’s face catching his attention.

“I’m happy,” Ian insists, grin stretching wider as he nuzzles at Mickey’s neck.

Mickey laughs at that and continues to rock Ian in his arms, holding Ian close as they bask in the joy of finally having one another so completely.

It’s not long, though, before Monica’s asking to cut in, cooing apologies at Ian, and Ian sighs but gives in, pressing a reassuring kiss to Mickey’s cheek before breaking off to dance for a bit with Monica.

For a moment, Mickey watches them, his protective instincts flaring. But Ian seems okay, and Mickey’s not about to argue until something goes down, so he moves to wander off to their table. Before he can make it, though, Fiona’s stopping him with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Any chance I can get a dance with my new brother-in-law?” she asks playfully, and he can’t quite bring himself to deny her the request.

“Come here,” he smiles, grabbing her hand and dragging her forward. She laughs and rocks with him to the mid tempo music that’s flowing through the speakers, and she chatters happily at him about how beautiful the whole wedding turned out and how happy she is for them, and he tries to pretend like it’s no big deal, but Mickey is really fucking happy there dancing with Fiona and watching Ian from across the room.

As the evening is ticking away, Mickey and Ian are beginning to get restless, ready to head home and spend their first night together as husbands. Fiona has instructed them that they’re not allowed to go anywhere until she can hand over their wedding gift, though, so they’re trying to hold out until she can get a moment away.

When she finally does, she approaches them happily, a bright smile on her face as she hugs them both close and kisses their cheeks as she whispers congratulations. After a moment, she hands over a small box wrapped in delicate shimmering pearl paper with a small cloth bow adorning it. Ian smiles when Fiona places the gift in Mickey’s hands and then nudges Mickey with a shoulder and a raised brow. Mickey raises his eyes, dumbfounded, and Fiona scoffs playfully.

“Open it!” she insists, bright eyes shining with excitement.

So Mickey does, tugging gently at the bow, and then opening the paper carefully. Curiously, he lifts the cover off the small box in his hands, and gasps softly when he sees a key nestled on a bed of tissue paper. “Fiona?” he asks, fingers tracing the cool metal of the key delicately, afraid to hope. “What is this?”

Fiona smiles brightly. “It’s the key to your new apartment. In my new building. The two bedroom you liked with the little office you could easily turn into a nursery someday, if you ever decide to extend your little family. Renovations are all finished, and it’s move-in ready. Could even stay tonight, if you want.”

Mickey’s silent for a moment, disbelief and utter joy written across his features.

With Mickey indisposed, Ian cuts in, wide eyes locking with Fiona’s. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We couldn’t afford the two bedroom, Fi. Best we could do was the one bedroom.”

“Yeah, well,” Fiona waves him off with a grin, “I’m givin’ it to you for the price of the one bedroom. With the other units rented, I’ll be turning a decent profit. I can swing a deal for my family. I’m even giving you the first couple months free. Happy wedding, assholes.“

When Mickey looks up, there are genuine tears in his eyes, and he presses a palm into them to stem the flow before he finally breaks and pulls Fiona into a hug. “Thank you,“ he whispers, squeezing her tight before pulling back so Ian can take his place and hug his sister close.

Mickey’s overwhelmed by all the emotion as Ian turns to him and pulls Mickey into a delicate kiss, pressing their foreheads together when he pulls away. Mickey can see the tears shining in Ian’s eyes then, and Mickey let’s a little laugh escape his lips. “We have our own home,” Mickey murmurs with a smile. “With room for Yev. We have a home, Ian.”

Ian laughs loudly, then, joy radiating off of him as he kisses Mickey again happily. “Yeah,” he nods, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes, “yeah, we do, Mick.”

Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five * Chapter Six * Chapter Seven * Chapter Eight * Chapter Nine * Chapter Ten * Chapter Eleven * Chapter Twelve * Chapter Thirteen * Chapter Fourteen * Chapter Fifteen

[robot-human-blog]

Escape

What: Escape from Australia Who: Ryder, Alyssa and Nate When: A week (ish) after Justin and Harris were kidnapped. Directly following Aussie guards turning on them.

Nate wasn’t thinking, just moving. Dialing memorized numbers that he had called several times over the past month, but for very different reasons. “CJ,” he said in a rougher voice than he normally used. “I need a favor.” His eyes kept darting back to Alyssa and Ryder, likely still in shock. He looked back, balancing the phone against his shoulder so she could grab the medical supplies they needed and shove them into the duffel that he’d grabbed on the way out of the house. “I need a plane...Twenty minutes...No, not at the commercial airstrip, dumbass. If I wanted a commercial flight I wouldn’t be calling you. I need a plane at the old private airstrip outside of Banksmeadow.” It had taken some practice, and a few misses with other shadier contacts before he figured out the persona that he needed to adopt in order to address these particular contacts. “Obviously I know it’s short notice,” he deadpanned. “It’s an emergency, and you’re good at making people disappear. Just name your price...Yes, five fake identities. Whatever you need, government ID’s, passports, social security cards, anything. Just get me the fucking plane.” He zipped the duffel bag and pulled it over his shoulder, motioning for Ryder and Alyssa to follow him. “I need three seats...I’d rather tell the destination to the pilot when we get there...I know it’s a secure line, I’ve just had the misfortune of believing a lot of things were more secure than they were lately.” He handed the duffel bag to Ryder in favor of pulling his gun from the back of his jeans, and scanning the outside of the building to make sure they were cleared before waving Ryder and Alyssa towards the car. “I owe you one, CJ,” Nate said. “Just send me the names and photos, I’ll start working on the ID’s as soon as I know we’re safe.” Nate ended the call and dropped the phone to the ground, crushing it under his heel before getting into the car. “We’ve got a plane, I’m going to get you guys out of here,” he said, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to watch Ryder and Alyssa holding onto each other in the backseat. It was actually only a fifteen minute drive to the old airstrip, but Nate knew this wasn’t the time to try and beat the clock, so he gave them a few extra minutes until they were supposed to meet the plane. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over for speeding, and for TC to see the cops run one of his aliases. He had no doubt they had all of their aliases flagged. He’d probably grabbed more at their faux pharmacy than he’d been able to grab from the house. He actually hadn’t grabbed anything, just told Alyssa and Ryder to take a few minutes to throw some things in a bag, and rushed them outside. There would be time to get food when they landed. Wherever they landed. He still wasn’t exactly sure where. All he knew was that Casey was going East, so he had to go West. He kept glancing back in the rearview mirror. He knew that more socially conscious people would ask if they were alright, but he always thought that was stupid thing to ask. They weren’t. He wasn’t. But they were alive. And that was good enough at the moment.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Those were the only three words that made sense whirling through his brain again and again. This wasn’t happening. ‘This’ had all happened so fast -- he had to be wrong. That was the only possible scenario, right? And yet, here he was standing in some disgusting never-been-cleaned-before excuse for a bathroom trying to scrub drying blood from violently shaking hands. His, Max’s, Keaton’s, Kalen’s -- it was impossible to tell at this point -- but it felt like it was everywhere. And despite Alyssa having somehow managed to get him into fresh clothes, the smell seemed to follow him. It took a few seconds to realize the water’d been turned off and another to register what that sound in the bathroom was. Nate was on the phone. And then Alyssa was nudging and somehow he got his feet unstuck and his legs supported him back to the car. His eyes stayed trained on his feet, curious how they were doing that. Lifting up, swinging forward, step, repeat. Who was telling them to do that? Confusion drew his brows closer as he blinked, but didn’t argue as he was led to a car and wrapped up in Alyssa’s arms. There was probably something he was supposed to say here. An “I’m sorry” or “Oh, my God.” anything. But it felt like someone’d taken an ice cream scooper to the parts that made him him. He couldn’t smile, or talk, or joke, or breathe. Keaton was such an important part of his life -- there was no way he was facing the rest of his days alone. That wasn’t possible. They were gonna grow old together. Like 45. Weren’t they? “Lys?” he mumbled. “I don’t understand. We should...I was wrong. We should go back. He’s alive. Right? He’s alive. I need him to be...please. Please tell me we were wrong. We left him there and we should go back for him!”

Alyssa couldn’t stop crying. She had given up wiping the tears away a while ago. She wasn’t sure how long ago. She was shaking, everything was blurry, and all she knew how to do was cling to Ryder. None of it made sense. There was Max-- and sure, she knew everyone hated him, but he’d been nice to her. But then he was-- and Keaton. She couldn’t get it out of her head, watching him collapse to the ground. As she watched and tried to help Ryder wash the blood from his hands, she wasn’t even sure which was worse for him, or if either had hit him yet, that Keaton was killed or that he himself had killed the man responsible. She leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek, pretty sure she’d left more tears behind on his skin than the kiss, but he wasn’t moving unless she guided him, and that scared her more than anything. She took a moment to wash the blood from her own hands, and change into a spare set of clothes she’d managed to grab. Her hands were shaking when she dropped the bloody clothes on the ground. Keaton’s blood. It had to be, because she didn’t even go over to Kalen after he was shot. One of her best friends, and she hadn’t even ran to him. Or, not her best friend. Fake best friend. She wasn’t even sure. She still saw it in her mind, watching him raise his gun, looking at her only long enough to give her an amused smirk that hadn’t even looked like her Kalen, and aimed to gun at Ryder. Her throat still ached with her sharp scream when she heard the gunshot, but Kalen had just collapsed there to the floor, and Nate was there behind him, reaching for them, rushing them out. Nate was saying a lot of things, and she didn’t catch most of it. Of what she did hear, she didn’t understand more. “Compromised,” he’d said. “Code black,” he’d called over his shoulder at Casey as they ran out. Then rushing them into a car without a pause to breathe, and rambling about a pharmacy. Not a real one, a fake one. He only gave them a minute to try and grab things to take with them, and Ryder had been in such shock, Alyssa grabbed things for him too. Standing in the dirty bathroom, Alyssa took a few paper towels and wiped at her face, not daring to look in the mirror. She’d glanced at her reflection and Ryder’s when they first walked in, and the pure horror reflected back at her made her want to break down in tears again, but Nate was saying they needed to leave, and something about a plane. “How’d this happen? Nate, what’s it mean? Where are we going? Why’d they do this? Nate, please,” she mumbled, trying and failing to hold back the tears. She looked up at Ryder when he started talking again, and fresh tears started falling again. She opened her mouth, but a lump formed in her throat, choking back the words and she just pressed her lips closed and shook her head, wrapping her arms tighter around him and burying her face against his shoulder.

‘Grieve on the plane,’ was what Nate wanted to snap, but he could already hear Coral’s voice in the back of his mind, reprimanding him for being insensitive. They didn’t have time for it, though. At least they were in the car. He’d worry about dragging them from the car to the plane when they reached the airstrip. His eyes flicked up to the mirror at Alyssa’s tear-filled questions, but he couldn’t answer her. What did she expect him to say? If he’d known this was going to happen, he and Casey would have snuck everyone out of the house months ago. It wasn’t like he could give some play-by-play of how their guards had turned on them. Though, he thought morbidly, he probably should be able to write a play-by-play by now. He should be able to write an entire goddamn book. “I don’t know, Alyssa. I’m sorry,” he said. Where Alyssa had moved into full-blown bawling though, Ryder was still clearly in shock, and moving into denial. “You weren’t wrong, Ryder,” he said as gently as he could. “He’s gone. I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do now, except stay safe. We’re here.” He parked the car a bit out of the way, behind a shed that wouldn’t completely conceal the car, but at least wouldn’t be as obvious as sitting in the middle of the airstrip. The plane was in place, as promised, and it looked like the pilot was rushing around checking the engines and making sure everything was ready for a quick takeoff. “Let’s just get onboard, and we’ll figure it out from there, alright?” It was strange actually, going to the underground to find contacts when they were trying to escape from TC. The thing he’d learned though, since he’d started easing his way into shadier circles in his search to find information on Marty, was that one underground circle could be counted on to be in strict and deadly competition with another. It had come to this, with him trusting an international drug dealer’s transporter more than he trusted the agency. “So you must be Fisher,” the pilot said, echoing off the alias Nate had given to CJ. “That’s right. I’m told you can get us where we need to go.” “So long as it’s this side of the Atlantic, yeah I can do that.” “It is. South Africa,” he said. He hadn’t seen any agency or TC bases in the country when he was working with Harrison, Casey and Agent Klein to pinpoint where they intersected. And as far as he knew, they mostly spoke English and French, so with Alyssa along, he was hoping they’d be able to manage alright. At this point, just getting away was good enough, and South Africa seemed as good an escape as any.

Panic gripped hard onto his heart but they weren’t moving. Alyssa wasn’t even speaking, just crying harder and holding onto him, so he turned pleading eyes onto the reflection of Nate in the mirror. Please, please, please, turn the car around, he tried to silently will Nate but the man just unapologetically told him no. Keaton was gone. Without permission, his bottom lip started to wobble, but that was easy enough to bite down on as he turned his gaze out the window. No. His mind wouldn’t fathom a world without Keaton in it. They were two peas in a pod. Soul mates. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. It wasn’t ending like this. So he focused on what was around them, the shed, the sketchy guys, the plane. They were flying somewhere. Was this how the New Yorkers had felt? Ripped out of their homes and shuttled off without ever knowing if or when they’d be able to set foot on their home soil ever again. Ryder loved Australia. He loved New Zealand. Somehow, he doubted they were heading towards Auckland. A wild flash of irrational desire made him want to run, kidnap the plane, and go back home. To their home. The flat the four of them had shared inbetween tours. It seemed like a dream that their life had been like that once. Fun, parties, movie nights, weekly family dinners, and a whole lot of music. Had that even happened? Dazed, he looked back at Alyssa when he registered the soft pushing and eventually managed to untangle his limbs and follow Nate from the car towards the plane and all the shady people. Most of it flew by him unnoticed until he caught wind of a country name and reached out to curl fingers around Nate’s arm -- uncertain if he was trying to ground himself or prohibit Nate from leaving. “We can’t go to South Africa.” he whispered, eyes wide like that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. It was second after Keaton being dead. “We can’t leave him there like that.” If by some improbable chance Nate was right and he was dead -- then he was lying amongst Max and Kalen’s bodies and he deserved better than that. Who fucking knew what TC or the Agency or who-the-fuck-ever would do with him. No. They had to -- they had to properly deal with that. Why were they bolting anyway? Max showed up but assumingly he was empty handed. Nate and Casey hadn’t turned on them and neither did the other New Yorkers so -- why couldn’t they have taken the time to deal with Keaton properly? “He deserves more.”

Alyssa was shaking, and couldn’t find it in her to make it stop. She had cried to the point that her breaths were coming in soft hiccups, and her cheek were starting to feel tingly, but still the tears refused to relent. It just didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. She couldn’t shake that face, Kalen’s face, laughing, almost maniacally, staring down at his own brother bleeding out. At Ryder, shaking as he instinctively pointed the gun at whoever happened to walk through the door next. And it was Kalen. There. Just laughing. A sobbed ripped from her throat, and she was leaning heavily on Nathan when he opened the door and helped her out of the car. He was mumbling something, she wasn’t sure what. She just followed where he guided her, the vague thought crossing her mind that, oh right, he was a guard too. Just like Kalen. She reached behind her, grasping at empty space until she found Ryder’s arm. “Please, can we just- Ry, please. I’m scared. I just wanna go. I wanna go.” She stayed put when Nathan motioned for them to stop, clutching desperately onto Ryder’s arm as Nathan disappeared into the plane for a minute. He called out a minute later, and she walked up the steps first, keeping a tight grip on Ryder’s hand. She constantly wiped her eyes, trying to keep the tears away, but they kept coming back. “It’s not right,” she mumbled, looking at plush looking seat for a moment before slowly sinking into it. None of it made sense. Not a single moment of it made sense. “Nate, why’s it happening?” She turned desperate eyes on the American. “We didn’t do anything- did we? Why then? And where’s everyone else? Where’s Luna? And Jer and Coral?” Another sob made her double over. “They were gonna- Were Kalen and Max- Were they gonna take us- Take us like someone took Harris? And Justin?”

Nathan didn’t have any solid way to calm either of their fears. At the moment, it wasn’t his concern. They were aware of the agency, of TC, of the risks- So why didn’t they understand that? Why didn’t they understand that hurt feelings and confusion could not take priority right now? All Nathan knew how to offer was harsh honesty, and it wasn’t something either of them likely wanted to hear, but it was what they needed to hear. “Yes, Keaton does deserve more than that. But he also deserves more than his death being in vain,” Nathan said, looking over Alyssa’s shoulder to address Ryder. “And if you go back, and get yourself killed, that’s exactly what his death will have been: meaningless. We don’t know if it was the entire agency, or only them that were compromised. What we do know is that they’re trained agents. And trained agents don’t do anything without a contingency plan. And I’d bet a hell of a lot that that contingency plan is currently searching the house and everywhere around it for us. I’m sorry that we have to leave him like that, but I’m not letting you go back and end up the same way. Now both of you wait here.” He made sure Alyssa was leaning at least enough on Ryder and the handrails to keep herself upright before he made his way into the plane first. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his contacts. More than he didn’t trust anyone. “It’s safe, you can come on,” he called out, stowing his gun away and waiting for them to join him on board. He made sure they were both settled and ready for take off before he went back to speak with the pilots. He introduced himself to the co-pilot, and clarified exactly where they were going, before ducking back into the main cabin and taking his seat. “You didn’t do anything, Alyssa,” he sighed. “None of this is because of you. I don’t know why, but I know that. I’m sorry, I should’ve picked up on it. Noticed the signs. Not the first time guards have turned on us,” he finished quietly, speaking more to himself than to them. “No, I don’t think they were going to take us like they took Harrison and Justin,” Nathan said, watching her uneasily. He didn’t quite know how to handle the emotional part of this, and now that they were just waiting for take-off, all he had to focus on was the emotional part of it. It was easier when he had something to focus on, getting them to the plane. But now he didn’t have that to focus on. “Jeremy, Coral and Luna are safe. They’re with Casey. I don’t know where they’re going, but they’ll be safe.” Granted, he did have a guess. TC weren’t the only ones with a contingency plan in place, especially after their guards had turned on them the first time. No, they had a plan too. Code Black, and he, Casey and Justin all knew what to do. Take the protected and go dark. Disappear. Casey would go East, Japan if Nate had to guess; his father was stationed there. Justin would have gone north, likely Russia. And Nate would go West. He didn’t have any family or connections except his family in New York, so he’d have to be more creative, but he liked that better anyway. No one could guess where he’d go, even himself, and that gave him, Alyssa and Ryder an advantage. “You should both rest. Try and get some sleep. We might not get much chance to slow down once we land. We’ll have to move quickly to find everything we need, and a safe place to hide out.”

There had to be a way to fix this. His mind just couldn’t comprehend actually losing Keaton. Like, that was going to be the last time outside of his memories that he’d ever see, smell, or feel Keaton ever again. And he’d been too busy shooting bullies and staring horrified at what he thought was their lifelong brother from another mother trying to kill them to you know, really take that in. So how was his death not in vain? According to Max and then Kalen, there’d been no chance that he was going to walk out of that cabin alive so was it still in vain if it was inevitable? Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t get the chance to form a response before Nate was up and out of the car so he hugged his knee closer while resting his head against the glass. Did he care? Honestly? What was the fucking point now? His family was gone. Alyssa hadn’t yet stopped crying and he had no words to make the tears stop. The stray’s nightmare had become theirs and despite knowing how their story went and watching it happen to them -- it hadn’t prepared him to know how to deal with this. Before he could think of some stupid thing to offer her -- Nate’s voice was telling them to get on the plane. That it was safe. And he wanted to laugh suddenly. This was all just fucking hilarious. For a long moment, he stayed where he was, feet firmly planted on Australian soil and thought about it. Thought about bolting back for the car, for tearing it back to their city, their home, but … but what good would that do? To chase ghosts down memory lane all alone? Alyssa was all he had left and more importantly, he was all Alyssa had left and she was begging him so he gathered what little strength still remained and drug himself up and into the plane, and even somehow managed to get his harness buckled up. But he found he couldn’t look at anyone. Not the strangers, not Nate, and not even Alyssa. Not yet. Everything was too much. Too raw, too uncontrollable, too impossible -- he felt like the smallest sneeze was going to shatter him and he very much did not want that to happen. So he stared at the runway and tried not to listen to Nate reassuring Alyssa about it not being their fault while simultaneously blaming himself. Technically, they’d all been told the stories. The strays came with a warning none of them heeded and now Harrison, Justin, and soon if not already Jer and Luna would be dead. Coral’d probably be the only one to survive beside Casey and they’d never hear from her again. So many people. Just...gone. This time he pulled both his legs up, not caring about shoes on the seat, as he watched the asphalt under them start to roll, before Nate’s words pierced through the haze and started drawing out a harsh laugh. “You think it’s possible to sleep? I’m not entirely sure I’m still breathing and you think I can close my eyes? Relax? Jesus fucking Christ. Have you loved anyone? Ever? You couldn’t have. There’s no fucking way you’d be saying that to us right now if you had and could empathize with what it’d feel like to --” his words shut off there, equal parts too traumatized and too superstitious to say it out loud. If he didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t real. “Unless you grabbed bendaryl or ambien from the pharmacy, don’t get your hopes up on sleep. In fact, it’s probably better if you just don’t talk until we get there.”

Alyssa pulled her knees against her chest and leaned against the wall of the cabin, staring through blurry eyes out the window. There were voices, familiar voices, but ones she didn’t care much to try and listen to. Comforting but hollow words from Nathan, and gentle suggestions of rest that she didn’t really understand, but didn’t want to comment on. Then angry words. Demanding questions, and frustration lashing out at the nearest and easiest target. Alyssa closed her eyes tight, trying to block it all out, but they shot open again almost immediately when it was Kalen’s laughing face that greeted her in the darkness. “I don’t want to sleep,” she mumbled against her knees, certain neither of them heard her, as words were shot back across the cabin. How long would the flight be? How long would they be arguing? None of it was right. She just wanted it to end. To just wake up and be told that it was a horrific dream. For Kalen to wake her, shaking her shoulder as she thrashed from a nightmare, and comforted her that something like that could never happen. That he would protect her like he always had, and that Keaton was safe, and that Max wasn’t coming back. Maybe even that Harrison and Justin were back, and safe. But it was that thought more than the others that caused a sharp pain in her chest. Because they weren’t coming back. It wasn’t a dream. None of it was. It was all real.

The anger came quickly enough. Nathan scrolled through the stages of grief in his mind. At this rate, maybe they could be at a productive place mentally where they could find a safe place to hide without emotional baggage pulling them backwards by the time they landed. That wasn’t what made Nathan clench his own fists though. Anger he could deal with. Anger was an acceptable reaction. Attacking him though, accusing him of being unable to understand love was what made him turn a hard glare to the Australian. “I’ve given my life, dedicated my life, to protecting people, protecting lives, yours included in case you’d forgotten. Don’t question my ability to love, or whether I have loved anyone. Only a sadist would continue this job after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through. Only a sadist, or a person who honestly does love people, loves humanity as a whole. Sees the value in people’s lives, not just for life itself but for a life’s potential. But if you think you understand love so much better than I do, what would you rather do? Go back? They would kill you before you even reached his body to try and give him a proper funeral. Do you think Keaton would want that for you? If you truly believe that he would want you to die by his side in a fruitless effort to bury his lifeless body, then that’s an insult to his memory and an insult to any form of love that you shared with him.” Nate dug through the bag of medications that he’d pulled from the pharmacy and held out the requested Benadryl to Ryder. “I didn’t say rest would come easily. I said it’s what you should do,” he said evenly. “Grieve when we’re safe.”

Considering guards left and right on both sides of the pond went homicidal, forgive him if he found the whole dedicating his life in an effort to protect other life a little fucking hard to believe right now. Half of him was convinced he was a pig being led to the slaughter and he couldn’t find a fuck anywhere in him to do something about it. But all he could do was watch Nate form words and still feel like he was missing the point entirely. Seeing value in a life was not the same as holding your entire world in your arms as they let out the last breath they’d ever take and then being told to get some sleep. Sleep. “I don’t think bolting blindly into the dark to country hop with essentially a stranger was exactly spelled out in Keaton’s will either.” he pointed out drly. But he caught Alyssa’s soft words and shifted a little so he could get an arm around her and press a kiss to her hair, fighting the urge to dissolve into helpless endless tears himself. Like that’d help. What he wanted was to go home. But he could already hear Nate tell him to go ahead but he’d be letting Keaton down because the whole country was overrun apparently. Who knew you could have a ninja problem? For a long moment, he looked at the drugs being held out to them before reaching a shaking hand over to take them and look at them for awhile. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d tell if they were tampered with or not, but ultimately had to look up and shrug. “I’m sorry for snapping. I owe you a thank you for ...for um, for doing what you did and for helping us get out. If you point us in the right direction, we’ll get out of your hair and you can head back home with the rest of your group. Or wherever they’re going.”

Nate watched as Alyssa curled in tighter to herself, while simultaneously trying to move closer to Ryder. It didn’t look like it worked very well, but she didn’t seem concerned about the difficulty. His eyes flicked up to Ryder’s at his words, and he just stared at the Australian. “Bolting blindly anywhere with a guard, in order to keep yourself alive and safe is part of the wish of every guard that signs up with agency.” He shifted and looked out the window. “All the loyal ones, anyway. The ones that are here for the right reasons, and actually care about the people we’re assigned to protect. Your life came before his, it comes before mine, Casey’s and Justin’s. Whether your safety is spelled out in his will or not is irrelevant.” He had to admit, he was surprised that Ryder actually took the pills. He didn’t expect him to. Ryder was clearly already upset with Nate, and there was no reason for him to believe that drugging himself when he was in mourning, while on a plane with someone he’d already described as a stranger, was a good idea. And yet he took the bottle and just stared at it, before apologizing, and then going off on an idiotic tangent. Nathan really didn’t understand this boy. It was like he followed perfectly logical facts in a perfectly logical pattern until they ended quite unexpectedly at a cliff which he expected to jump from, and found no flaw in how he got there. “What part of anything that I’ve said thus far led to you to think that I’m just going to dump you in a strange country and leave you to fend for yourselves?” He leaned forward with his arms on his knees to look at Ryder at eye level. “Let me say this as plainly as I can: You are in danger. Someone wants you dead. I am trained to protect people that others want dead. I’m here to protect you. I’m not leaving until whoever wants you dead is dead first. Are we clear now?”