#currently I’m reading Lying Puppies Get Eaten

[boykissingbathtub]

I’m new to BL/Yaoi Manga/Manhwa but I am a gay man who’s been around a few fandom blocks if you catch my drift, which is to say drop the recs pals

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter Three

As a child, Bilba’s favorite game had been a fantasy RPG where she’d spent her time exploring a massive world filled with all manner of amazing creatures and beautiful landscapes. 

It had also been filled with wolves. Not normal ones, but massive creatures known as Dire wolves. She’d used to complain endlessly about them, especially in the early parts of the game when her character was low level with poor weapons and armor. 

Her ire with them had not been improved when her father, who adored random trivia, informed her that the creatures were based on an actual, extinct wolf species that had once roamed the earth. Closer in size to a lion than any wolf currently in existence, the animals would have been apex predators on their own, let alone in a pack. 

The wolf looking at her right now reminded her of those old drawings and descriptions, except she was pretty sure he was bigger. 

He was lounging in front of a tree with his back legs vanishing under a large bush. His fur, thicker and shaggier than a normal wolf’s, was a golden brown, darkest along his back and lightning to near white along his legs and sides. His eyes were a brilliant amber that almost seemed to glow with their own light, and studied her with what felt like an unusual level of intelligence.

Bilba really hoped it was the sort of intelligence that suggested not eating the girl who’d broken up his majestic lounging by using him to break her fall. The tree behind him would have hurt had she hit it, but probably not as much as being eaten by an Eldritch god would. 

The animal was strangely calm, which Bilba took as a good sign. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed frozen in place, but it was long enough that her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out. Whether this was because her nerves had genuinely settled or she’d moved past sheer terror and into catatonia. 

She started to give what she hoped was a reassuring smile only to cut it off as she realized that baring her teeth at a wolf might not be seen in the positive light she intended. 

Actually, now that she thought about it, how long had she been making direct eye contact with him? Wasn’t direct eye contact with a predator a VERY BAD THING?

She dropped her eyes, only to find them naturally locked onto his paws. His very enormous paws, with curved claws wider than her fingers and probably twice as long. Bilba swallowed, or tried to past the enormous rock suddenly lodged in her throat. 

There was literally nothing she could do. Move or don’t move, slow or fast, in the end it would all depend on whether or not the wolf chose to let her live. 

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She risked a quick glance and saw the wolf’s ears perk up. “Sorry for rolling into you. I’m going to try to scoot away now, okay? Please don’t eat me.”

Her voice dropped to nearly inaudible on the last few words. Be a nice wolf, she thought desperately. A nice wolf like -- oh, crap, she couldn’t think of any nice wolves in media. What did that mean? Even bears had the Care Bears or Yogi or a whole host of others. She could think of friendly snakes, lions and even a shark or two, but not a single friendly wolf. 

That was such a bad, bad sign. 

The wolf caught her eyes and then, in what seemed an oddly deliberate motion, turned his head to where his feet vanished under the bush. He shifted and Bilba heard the distinct rattle of some metal object along with the clink of a chain. 

The wolf’s eyes turned back to focus on her, steadily. 

Trying to avoid any sudden movements, Bilba walked her hands back until she could ease herself into a crouched position. The wolf didn’t seem to mind, so she slowly braced her hands behind her and eased her body into a seated position. Her body protested the action, but nothing felt broken or seriously injured, simply bruised and sore. 

Her new position put her near the wolf’s hind legs. The wolf caught her attention and then deliberately repeated its earlier action, a slow, deliberate look toward its hind legs followed by a shift in movement and the rattle of metal and chains. 

Bilba nodded shakily and scooted back a few feet closer to the bush. An uncontrollable tremor started to run over her, and her stomach was in knots but, overall, she still felt strangely calm. Perhaps she’d finally snapped, and gone insane. 

She leaned over and brushed back some of the branches of the bush. Silver glinted off the jagged teeth of a small trap locked tightly around one of the wolf’s paws. A thick chain led off the trap to a metal stake set deep into a rock jutting out from the roots of the tree. 

Even in the shadows under the bush, she could see how deep the teeth had dug into his foot. Blood matted the fur, and coated the ground underneath. From the pattern, it appeared he’d spent some time fighting to pull himself free by brute force. 

“Ouch,” she murmured, before mentally kicking herself at the inane comment. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the wolf’s breathing was fast, sides heaving in a near pant as though he’d run a marathon, or was in extreme pain.  

Bilba shivered as her mind conjured just what it must feel like to have those metal teeth ripping through her foot. If she wanted, she could probably leave. The chain was short. If she gathered herself and lunged away from him, it was likely she’d take herself out of his range. She could get up and...only have the one threat to deal with instead of two. 

She could do that, and leave him here to suffer...or she could help and risk him killing her as soon as he was free. 

As if reading her mind, the wolf let out a low whine and laid his head on his front paws, eyes fixed on her. 

Bilba sighed. “Fine, you can put the puppy eyes away.” She leaned in to look closer at the trap. “I really hope I don’t regret this,” she mumbled to herself. She had enough regrets to last her a lifetime. 

At least if helping did end up being a mistake, it’d be a very short lived one. 

The thought was not reassuring. 

She spotted the release lever. She’d have to push it down, forcing the teeth farther into the wolf’s paw, in order to release it. “This is going to hurt.”

He gave another whine and then, to her surprise, thumped his tail on the ground. Bilba frowned, could he be someone’s lost pet? It would certainly explain his behavior. 

She refocused on the trap, and a strange exhilaration ran through her, slicing through the apathy and fog that had shrouded her the last five years. The thought of helping another living being, of mattering to another living being, if even for just a moment…

It made her feel alive again. A being that existed in the world, instead of a shadow merely watching it pass her by. 

It was growing darker, and the gloom gathered under the bush was growing nearly too thick to see through. Bilba got her phone out and thumbed on the flashlight app, bringing the trap back into sharp relief. 

“Here goes nothing.” At the very least, if the wolf killed her, she’d die with the satisfaction of knowing just how truly pissed Lotho would be that she’d finally escaped him. 

Thinking of Lotho dashed some of her exhilaration and the gray pall began to settle over her once again. Bilba grimaced and, desperate to get her mind off it, braced her phone against a few branches of the bush and grabbed the trap. She took a deep breath, got her balance settled and then squeezed on the trap. 

She didn’t immediately die, so that was a good sign. Hopefully. 

The wolf made a low, groaning noise and she clenched her teeth in sympathy. “Sorry.”

The teeth of the trap sank lower into the wolf’s paw, blood bubbling up from the jagged wound. In order to release, the lever needed to ratchet further than she had it so, with a mumbled apology, she rose onto her knees and leaned forward to get her full weight behind it. 

The wolf groaned again and Bilba shivered at the thought of how much pain she must be causing the animal. 

The lever slipped into its final position and, with a sharp click, the trapped popped open. Bilba pried it off the wolf’s paw, and he drew his legs in to lick at the wounded appendage. He showed no interest in harming her, and Bilba sighed and slumped in relief.  

“Hey Girlie! Where’d you get off to?”

Bilba’s heart leapt into her throat and she sucked in a sharp breath. She scrambled for her phone and shut off the flashlight. Darkness fell about her and her eyes widened. She hadn’t been paying attention to how long she’d been there, or how fast the sun was setting. There was still a little light left overhead, past the tree canopy but, underneath, it was fast approaching full dark.

“Come on, now,” the man from the parking lot called. He sounded closer. He must have gotten tired of waiting and come after her. “You can’t stay in there forever. Come on out.”

Beside her, the wolf gathered itself and lumbered up onto its feel. If Bilba had thought it was enormous lying down, it was nothing compared to him when he was standing. He was like a freaking mountain, rising over her. It elicited an instinctive, primal desire to close her eyes, and curl into a fetal position. 

“You’re starting to piss me off, girl! Get out here, now!” The voice was even closer, and it wasn’t dark enough to fully hide her if he should happen to look down the incline. She pulled her legs to her chest and gripped her phone in her hands. 

She really wanted to go home, even if home was hundreds of miles away and five years in the past. 

The wolf limped past her. Bilba watched as he scrambled up the slope and vanished, leaving her alone. The temperature seemed to drop, and the darkness grew heavier. Overhead, she could hear crashing in the undergrowth and she held her breath, desperately praying the man wouldn’t look down and see her. 

“Damn it, Bitch,” she heard him say, “where the hell--”

His voice cut off in a sudden yelp and Bilba flinched in surprise. 

A low, rumbling sound reached her and she struggled to identify it. Something in her subconsciousness seemed to understand what it was and, again, that primal urge ran through her. The same desire that, as a child, would have her diving under the covers to hide from the thunderstorm raging outside. 

Not that hiding under her covers did any good. 

Hiding at all had never done her any good. 

The sound came again and her mind finally registered what it was. 

Growling. Deeper and fuller than anything she’d ever heard, a deep, vibrating thrum on a frequency so low it was almost more felt than heard. 

The wolf. 

The man gave an almost inhuman scream, and then she heard thrashing heading back toward the parking lot. The wolf snarled, a sound that froze her blood despite knowing it wasn’t directed at her, and new thrashing started as it apparently gave chase. 

The distant noise of a car engine started, followed quickly by squealing tires as a truck fled the parking lot. 

Bilba shuddered. She was cold, in pain, and nothing stood before her now but a return to her life, or what passed for it. For a brief second she’d felt normal again, like she’d belonged somewhere, but the feeling was gone now and there was no getting it back. 

She started to get up, but paused as the burning in her ankle registered. She remembered feeling it earlier, but hadn’t been in a position to do anything about it. She tabbed her flashlight app back on and pulled her sock down to check her ankle. 

The light from her phone fell on her ankle, and lit on a small, glowing mark just above the bone. Specifically, the linked, geometric shapes that had appeared when she’d turned eighteen. The ones that had been dark until this very moment when they’d begun to glow a bright, golden color. 

Her ankle wasn’t burning. 

Her soulmark was. 

Her activated soulmark. 

And the only person she’d met since the burning had started was the creep from the parking lot.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

[awkward-radar-tech]

Kylo Ren, The Rising Star

Summary: You are Kylo Ren’s personal assistant. The rising star doesn’t know how to cope with his sudden popularity. You let him take sanctuary in your apartment, and help him return to who he was before, Ben Solo.

A/N: I’m stating this now, no romantic relationship blooms in this. But, the seeds are planted. And I will write more where the relationship does grow, if requested.

Prompt, from an anon:  But I got an idea, how about worn out actor Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo has been doing to much lately he doesn't even know what time zone he's in sometimes. Reader is average Joe lucky enough to be his PA in his new film. With the stress of everything and fans following him everywhere Ben hides out at your house, were he sleeps all day in your bed and you feed him lots of food, cos you like to cook?

Chapter 2

🌟🌟🌟

You didn’t know what you were getting into when you applied to be an assistant for a local movie shoot. But being the new personal assistant to the biggest rising star was not it at all. And you weren’t always local like you expected. Being Kylo Ren’s PA meant you had to go with him on his other press tours during breaks in shooting. Caffeinated anything had become your friend, and today was one where you were dependant. You had jumped across every American time zone in a day and a half, and now you had crossed the Atlantic, only to turn around in twelve hours and fly home.

You checked your watch and went to knock on Kylo’s dressing room door, “Twenty minutes until you’re on, sir. Do you need anything else?”

He opened the door, still in the t shirt and jeans he wore on the plane, “I just have one question, where are we?” 

You looked at him, concerned, “We are in London, sir. You’re doing an interview for ‘the rom-com’ right now. Your suit should be hanging up for you.”

He yawned, “I told you to call me Kylo, not sir. And it is there. Could you step in real quick?”

You nodded and waited for him to step aside, following him inside, “Sorry, Kylo. So used to using sir. Now, what do you need?” 

He closed the door and sat on the couch, “First, no need to apologize. Second, can I have a caffeine pill?”

You pulled out a packet from your bag and handed it to him, “You can hold onto these. But, uhh, Kylo, you didn’t need to ask me in here for that. Nobody cares how you stay awake.”

He hummed, “Thank you, (y/n),” he quickly took a pill, “and that isn’t why I asked you in here. I have an unconventional request, that nobody can know about.”

“Yes?”

“This movie, people are going crazy over it. They have surrounded my building at home, waiting for my return apparently. It is exhausting having to go through all these people, some have even found ways inside my building and to my door. I need a break. Could I stay at your place? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Kylo, sir, I live in a run down apartment. You wouldn’t want to stay there. And my couch is only a bit longer than this one, you wouldn't sleep very well."

"I'd much rather stay there than possibly anger fans. Please, think about it."

You gave him a pointed look and checked your watch, “Fifteen minutes, Kylo. Now get changed.”

You left the room, closing the door. Kylo was, but also wasn’t, your boss, and he was asking to stay at your place? He had bodyguards, couldn’t they tell the fans to leave? No, he cared too much about his fans’ feelings to have them told to leave. Maybe you would let him stay. Once back he was off for a week, so he wouldn’t have to leave. It would be fun to hang out with somebody for once, even if it was the person you worked for.

The interview went well, and before long you were being taken to a hotel for the night. 

You followed Kylo outside to the car and he looked at you once inside, “Woah… It is already night?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it is almost eight. I think we are here for like ten hours then we head home to rest for a week.”

As you pulled up at the hotel, there were clearly a bunch of fans waiting for him, and you heard a muttered “shit.”

You looked at him, “When we get home, you can stay at my place, okay?”

He smiled wide for once in his life, “Thank you, so much, (y/n). I’ll give you a bonus.”

You shook your head, “We’ll talk about it later. I don’t want any extra money. Think of it as a kind gesture from a friend.”

The door was opened and Kylo was escorted into the building. You stayed in until the car parked before grabbing your own stuff and going up to your room; there were shrieks from girls, obviously he decided to stop and talk. You went up to your room and got ready for a bit of sleep. 

As you washed your face you heard your phone ringing in the other room. When you went out to check it, you read it was Kylo calling, so quickly answered it.

“How can I help you, Kylo?”

“What time do I have to be ready by? Need to set my alarm.”

“Six. Hopefully the crazies won’t be awake then.”

He groaned, “Hopefully. Thank you. Goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight, Kylo. Text me in the morning so I know you’re awake please.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and hung up. 

In the morning he clearly hadn’t slept much, or well, he was a living zombie in a somehow oversized sweatshirt, clutching to a cup of coffee.

He looked at you in the hallway, “Oh, I forgot to ask if you wanted a cup. Security brought it up to me. They said everybody left at like 2 am, so the coast is clear.”

You gave him a warm smile, “It is alright, Kylo. I’m fine. Let’s head down to the car then.”

You thankfully got to the airport and onto the plane without incident, people have better things to do between 6 and 7 am on a Tuesday apparently. Landing back in Los Angeles was a different story, people don’t care that it is noon on a Tuesday. 

Kylo still looked exhausted, and you hoped nobody followed you. As the car pulled up to the studio you knew you would be safe. You showed Kylo to your car and got in to drive to your apartment.

He looked at you as you pulled out of your spot, “Hey, thank you so much. I appreciate it, more than you might think.”

You nodded, “You’re welcome, Kylo. Do you want to listen to some music?”

“Sure. Listen to what you normally do.”

You turned on your radio, the bluetooth connecting and automatically playing your playlist. You tapped along to the songs on your steering wheel as you drove. After twenty minutes you pulled up to your run down building and parked in your spot.

You turned to Kylo, “No crazy fans it seems. That is good.”

He hummed, “Yeah. But there are still people around that could recognize me.”

“If they ask if you’re Kylo Ren just tell them no and give a fake name. I don’t talk with my neighbors so they don’t know what I do. And none of my friends know who I work for.”

He nodded and prepared himself to step out. He messed up his hair so it wasn’t as perfect as his normal style, put on the hood of his sweatshirt and stepped out, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder.

You stepped out and got your bag from your trunk. You looked over at him awkwardly looming next to the car, “Let’s go, sir.”

He followed you like a lost puppy, and then you heard the voice of your annoying neighbor from the floor below yours, “Hey, 32! Is that Kylo Ren?”

You turned to her voice, “No. This is my friend.”

She acted like you were lying, “You sure?”

He stepped in, “Uh, yeah. I’m Ben. But I get that a lot. It is a bit tiresome.”

You tried to pull him away and walk inside, but she wouldn’t relent, why did she have to be out? And why did she care? She has always been vocal about despising everything about Hollywood, especially celebrities.

“Do you have ID to prove it?”

Kylo stopped and you turned, “Ben, don’t pay her any mind, let’s go get some lunch.”

He didn’t move when you pulled, “No, she wants proof I’m not stupid Kylo Ren, I’ll prove it,” he pulled out his ID and showed it to her, “See? Benjamin Solo. Now, can me and my friend go have some lunch? I’m rather hungry and I have a short fuse when I haven’t eaten.”

She just walked away after reading his ID. He looked to you and you just walked in, taking the elevator up and getting him in your apartment.

You threw down your bag as soon as you closed your door, “I’m so damn sorry Kylo. She is so annoying, and thinks she can know anything she wants. She isn’t even on this floor, she is in 21. But, uhh? You aren’t really Kylo Ren?”

He sat on your couch, “Well, I am now. I legally changed my name last year when people started recognizing me, but I still have my old ID, which I had just renewed a few months before I changed my name.”

You nodded, not wanting to pry further, "Alright then. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Can I get some water please?"

You went and dropped your stuff in your room then got him a glass of water.

You sat on the floor after you gave him the cup, "TV? Food?"

"Watch whatever you want, (y/n)."

You turned on Netflix and turned on the show you were currently binging, then your belly grumbled, “I’m going to go fix some lunch, any requests?”

He looked at you hopefully, “Tacos?”

You thought for a moment and nodded, “Yes, I have everything to make tacos.”

You left the show on, you could rewatch the episode later, and went in to cook. You cooked some carne asada you had prepared for this week, some rice and beans, then prepared all the toppings you needed. Assembling Kylo's tacos were easy, he liked his tacos almost plain, just meat on the tortilla with some fresh pico de gallo. When everything was finished you fixed each of you a plate of your preferred tacos with some rice and beans then brought the plates to the living room. 

"Here you go, Kylo. Just as you like it."

He took the offered plate and began to eat, "Did you make all of this right now? This is amazing."

You nodded, "I did most of it. I had the carne asada marinating to fix this week, and the salsa I just made. The beans and rice are pre-packaged, but I try to make them myself too, when I have the time. And the tortillas I buy fresh from a neighbor."

He hummed, "Well this is all delicious. Thank you so much."

You smiled and ate your meal. When you finished you took your plate into wash along with all the items you cooked with once you stored the leftover food.

After a moment Kylo sheepishly walked in with his plate, "Excuse me, (y/n)? Is there anymore?"

You turned to look at him, "Yeah! I just put it away in the fridge. Help yourself."

Kylo took out the containers and fixed himself more tacos, then stood at the counter to eat them while talking with you. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"Mostly self taught. I had to learn how to stretch my food budget when I moved out. Cooking from bulk purchases helps. So I had to learn how to use the same ingredients in as many ways as possible so I wouldn't get bored."

He handed you his now empty plate, "Can you be my personal chef and my PA?"

You laughed, "You don't want to see me 24/7 Kylo."

He walked out of the kitchen, "Maybe I do."

You just shook your head and finished washing everything. When you walked back into your living room, Kylo was passed out on your couch. He looked so uncomfortable, he was almost bigger than the old thing. You went to your room, changed all your bedding, then hid all the embarrassing things you had out. 

You gently woke up Kylo once you finished, "Hey, go sleep in my bed. It is a lot more comfortable than this small thing."

He groaned and stretched, voice heavy with sleep, "No. That is your bed. You sleep in it. I'm fine here."

You crossed your arms, "No. Kylo. You are sleeping in my bed. I don't need to sleep right now anyways. You do. You've been working so hard recently. Go sleep in a damn bed."

He stood up and pat your head, clearly still mostly asleep, "Whatever you say, my dear. Goodnight."

Your cheeks burned and you just shook your head as you watched him shuffle into your room and unceremoniously flop face first onto your bed, snoring within moments. You went and shut the door most of the way, but first you placed his bags in plain sight in case he woke up and wanted to change out of his jeans. 

You worked around your apartment, not letting the fact you had an unplanned guest keep you from your planned chores. You swept and dusted, set your bedding on to wash, the one nice thing about this apartment, you had a washer and dryer in your unit. While the wash was on you sat down and restarted your show and went through your social media. One of your friends shared a tabloid article theorizing that Kylo Ren is in a secret relationship since he has yet to return home after landing earlier today and has spent a lot less time interacting with fans these past few months. 

You mumbled to yourself, “He’s staying away from you pricks. You’ve exhausted the poor man.”

You continued perusing, finding nothing else of interest, then paused your show before moving everything to the dryer. You continued watching until it was time to make dinner, pasta is what you had planned for tonight, so you doubled everything to have enough for Kylo.

As you were cooking you heard Kylo enter the kitchen, “Good evening, sleeping beauty. Are you hungry?”

Kylo was still a bit groggy, but rapidly waking up, “Yeah. The smells woke me up. What are you making?”

He sat at your kitchen table and you brought him a glass of orange juice, his favorite, “Pasta. Specifically homemade cheese tortellini with meat sauce. And garlic bread.”

He took a sip and hummed, “You make pasta?”

You nodded, “Only filled pasta, it is cheaper that way. And I made the sauce and garlic bread. Including the bread. But I freeze a lot of stuff so I didn’t actually make any of it tonight.”

He held up his glass, “And this juice?”

You laughed, “That is store bought. I can’t make it as well.”

“You’re lying. I’m sure you can.”

You hummed, “Yeah. I can. But only when oranges are in season.”

You turned back and began to stir the sauce and added the pasta to the now boiling water. You pulled out the garlic bread and shut off the flame for the sauce. After a few minutes you drained the pasta and added a bit of the water to the sauce, then added most of the sauce to the drained pasta.

"Alright, food is ready Kylo. Come help yourself."

"It smells amazing."

You handed him a plate and he served himself then sat back at the table. You followed suit and served yourself, then sat across from him. 

You shared pleasant conversation, taking turns asking about the other's life. While you worked for him, and were around him more often than not, neither of you knew much about the other, but this time together would change that. 

When he finished he looked up and smiled at you, "Now for a more personal question, if you want to answer it. Are you dating anyone?"

You smiled back and chuckled, "So asking about my parents and childhood isn't personal, but asking if I'm dating is?" You paused to take a sip, "No, Kylo. I'm not. Haven't dated in awhile. What about you then? There is a tabloid article out there theorizing you're in a secret relationship since you haven't come home yet and aren't interacting as much with fans."

He groaned and covered his face, "No. I'm not. Same as you, haven't in awhile." He rubbed his face and looked at you again, "And you know that tabloid is wrong. I'm here with you."

"But what about the fan interactions? Just the burn out?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I've really just wanted to go to bed recently, or get into work. They're great and all, but I don't want to be on at 7 am or 9 pm, especially if I just came from a different timezone."

"I can't even imagine. But you don't have to be on at all this week. Stay here for as much of that time as you want. Be Benjamin Solo again, if only for me."

His eyes lit up, "Yes. Call me Ben. Please. Only my mom and dad call me that anymore. I need to be Ben for a week. I'll order some plain clothes online to be delivered here too. I’m going to be Ben Solo again."

You nodded, "Okay, Ben. Let me clean up, and you can work on ordering everything you need. Then tell me when you're checking out and I'll fill out my address."

He stood up and grabbed both plates, "Let me help you please."

"Alright. You can help me Ben."

He grinned and had a tiny celebration, "Yes! Thank you."

He set to work filling up the sink with water, placing the plates and utensils in the sink, then turning to you, "Uhh, the leftovers need to be put away. Where are your containers?"

You moved to the right cabinet, "This one, Ben. But I'll put it away. You focus on washing."

He nodded, "Okay, (y/n)."

You put away the food and Ben grabbed each empty piece and cleaned it. Once the food was put away you sat up on your counter.

You looked to Ben, who was meticulously scrubbing the saucepan, "I had no problem cleaning up, Ky… I mean Ben. I do it all the time."

He turned to you, "I'm your unplanned guest. I want to do has much as possible to help and not throw off your schedule and routine. I'm sure you have one here too."

You looked away, feeling your cheeks warm a bit, "Well I do. But I'm fine doing it all myself."

He pointed a stern finger at you, but his face held a small smile, "No. I'm washing the dishes. Go relax. Put on a movie. Pour yourself some wine if you want, and have any. I'll be out in a bit."

You just nodded and listened, going to turn on some super cheesy rom-com your friend told you to watch. After a while you heard the sink draining and footsteps coming back out. 

Ben plopped down on the couch right next to you and outstretched his arms across the back, then groaned, "Really, (y/n)? You like rom-coms too?"

You paused it, "Shit, sorry. Wasn't thinking. I just think that they are funny, especially the real cheesy ones. And one can dream about randomly falling in love with a stranger. But I'll change it to something else."

Ben shook his head, "No, you can keep watching. I'll order those clothes."

You started playing the movie again and he pulled out his phone and wallet to find clothes with rush shipping. After twenty minutes he silently passed his phone to you and you typed in the address information then handed it back. Once the order was placed he put his phone away and again stretched his arms out. You didn't know if he was actually watching or just zoning out, but you were happy he didn't mind. 

As the credits rolled, you let out a yawn, “Alright, time for bed for me,” you tapped his thigh, “That means it is time for you to move, Mr. Solo. You’re on my bed.”

He turned to you, “No. I’ll sleep here.”

You grabbed his arm and stood up, “Nope, this is not an option. You are sleeping in my bed,” you began to pull on his arm, “Now come on you big oaf. You are going to sleep in my bed, just like you did earlier.”

He stayed planted in his spot, chuckling, “You’re gonna have to pull harder than that. I’m almost all muscles.”

You pulled harder and then tried to pull both his hands, starting to laugh, “Come on Ben. Go sleep in my damn bed.”

He stood up suddenly and caught you before you fell back, “Fine. Just this once.”

You crossed your arms, “This will be the second time, Ben. You slept before dinner.”

He smirked and walked away, into your room, “That was Kylo Ren, thank you very much. Now, do you need anything from in here before I close the door?”

You ran in, “Yes!”

He chuckled and just sat on your bed, pulling out his pajamas from his duffle bag. You grabbed everything you needed and went out.

You paused in the doorway, turning to Ben before closing the door, “Goodnight, Ben. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, (y/n). Thank you again.”

You nodded and closed the door then went to change and grab your bedding from the dryer. After setting everything up you crawled into your cocoon of blankets and pillows on the couch and fell asleep.

You were awoken a couple hours later by the sound of whining and screams, coming from your room. You quickly got up and knocked on the door, “Ben? You okay in there, sir?”

He didn’t respond, just more whimpers, so you opened up the door and walked in to find him asleep but thrashing.

Carefully, you approached him, reaching out to rub his arm, “Ben. Kylo. Wake up, sir. You’re having a nightmare.”

He woke up and clung to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He was panting, repeating your name, “I’m so sorry. So sorry. For waking you up. Sorry.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, “Ben. It is okay, Ben. I promise.”

He nodded and slowly calmed down, “Okay. Okay. Thank you. Thanks for waking me up. I normally have to fight for much longer to wake up.”

You softly scratched his scalp, “Lay back down. I’ll stay until you’re asleep again.”

He hummed, “Can you keep doing that, and playing with my hair?”

You chuckled, “Sure.”

He moved back to laying normally and you moved to keep petting his head. It didn’t take long for him to get drowsy again, and he began mumbling to you.

His voice was barely audible and clearly full of sleep, “I like this. I like you. Don’t tell though.”

You felt your cheeks warm and continued until his murmurs turned to snores. You got up again and softly kissed his forehead, “Goodnight, Ben Solo. Sweet dreams.”

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 14/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After giving BB8 more to drink in the parking lot, Rey met up with Ben to watch 4th of July fireworks with the band. There would definitely be a show in central town and Rey would rather sit with the party crowd than sip her beer all alone.

She headed towards the ski lifts, very much hoping that they could transport her and BB to the very top of the mountain.

Alas, they had a strict policy against dogs.  She found herself relegated to the valley below. She was wearing her trainers and her backpack, the latter of which contained her hotel purchases: a water, a muffin, a banana, and a packet of beef jerky.

She looked around to make sure the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. Did she stop following or was she just getting better at being discrete?

She scratched BB’s head pensively, even as worry coiled in her stomach. And so she was fretting again—when she could be taking advantage of the day in front of her. After a quick google search, she decided to take a trek in the surrounding area. A walk could really do her some good.

The vast landscape looked nothing like the English countryside. Instead, mountain plants grew underfoot: traup flowers, pines, sage, heather, lichens and thorn bush. The air was buzzing with the sound of insects. Rey unclipped BB’s leash so the dog make her ascent freely.

Suddenly, she felt alone in her chagrin. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds, the serenity of the moment with someone else. Where was Finn? What was he up to in that instant—after having ruined all her plans? She felt like she had spent an entire lifetime in London. One that blurred into the distance with her departure. She still thought about him every day, but doing so had become far less painful, less consuming. Her memories were instead soft and hazy, like she was looking back at him through a pair of rose-colored glasses. They had separated only two weeks ago and yet she found she did not miss him as much as she thought she would.

She felt utterly liberated, free to make her own choices and follow her own desires. She had been in a relationship for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like not to be beholden to someone else. To make decisions alone and selfishly, without having to compromise for anyone. And sure, having someone in her life had been reassuring—but it had also been stifling.

And besides, he had never really liked hiking, Finn was the kind of man who stayed within city limits. Their time together had consisted of television marathons, sushi takeaway, cinema outings, and concerts. Sometimes Finn would play football with his closest friends, especially Poe. Bloody hell—she should have seen Poe coming!

No, it was obvious now that Finn would never truly appreciate the value of a moment of peace and solitude in the mountains. She would rather share this moment with...

Ben.

Wait. That was ridiculous. They had only really known each other for a couple of days. Never mind that she had made a terrible first impression on him, and that was putting it nicely.

Why then did her mind imagine him there, alone at the top of the world with her? He always emanated a sort of melancholy. Why was his gaze so sad? Rey wondered how much of his cocky rockstar was just for show. Was music really his bread and butter? There was no way he could afford to drive a massive pickup like that after only three self-released CDs. So where did the money come from? Where did he—and his knights—really work?

It was useless to occupy her thoughts needlessly; she would have the chance to ask them about it tonight. If she played her cards right and asked discretely, that is.

Sitting on the river bank, she ate her last-minute picnic, turning to throw a few pieces of beef jerky in BB8’s direction.

BB8?

Where was that girl?

Rey got to her feet and places her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“Bee Bee!”

Well, this was probably why they had put up that “dogs must remain on leash at all times” sign at the trail entrance. They were probably trying to save the squirrels from puppy wrath.

Chipmunks, whispered the voice in her head. Rey seethed mentally. Now was not the time to squabble over vocabulary!

The rustling of leaves a little further up the path got her attention. She recalled that BB8 liked to dig hiding places for her sticks. As Rey approached, a little striped rodent launched belly-down through the forest, zigzagging around rocks and roots as it flew into a thorny bush and found purchase on low hanging branches. BB8, previously disinterested, jumped up to chase the animal with a surprising amount of vigor. Before Rey could grab her, the dog disappeared into the bushes, like a greyhound chasing a lure.

Rey sighed a few choice words. Deciding not to waste time, she shoved the leash into her pocket and went in search of her dog.

And that’s how she found herself in a bloody sumac bush that left prickling imprints on her calves that caused agony with every step. The thorn bushes here were just as unforgiving as the ones in

England.

“I swear when I get ahold of that dog again I’m going to have an absolute fit,” she grumbled in between panting breaths. Her legs were on fire but the sound of BB8’s groaning wasn’t far off. She let it guide her toward a pile of withering branches. She found the little dog perched on her hind paws, barking at the trunk of a cedar tree that she had been leaning on.

Rey slipped the leash back onto BB’s collar and tugged a little harder than she probably should have. The dog yelped in protest. Feeling guilty, Rey leaned down to pet her.

“C’mon girl, let’s go.”

She retraced her steps, finally finding the place where she had stashed her knapsack. A large silhouette appeared to be rifling through her things. It looked rather large, and it turned to grunt at her like a bull.

Rey cried out. There, in the middle of the forest, stood a decent-sized bear. It was currently in the process of emptying out her bag, having eaten half of the banana and chewed up the muffin wrapper to sugary bits.

BB8 rose up and growled, baring her teeth. “Gently, steady now...” Rey whispered, backing away slowly.

She didn’t know anything about bears. Couldn’t it kill her and climb back up into the trees? But she had to get her knapsack back—it contained her phone and her travel papers—if the bear hadn’t already crushed them under its massive paws. She contemplated confronting the bear with the business end of a...stick? No, ridiculous. She could just imagine her equally ridiculous tombstone: Here lies Rey Jakku, who thought she could defeat a bear with her bare hands. Discouraged, Rey opted for patience. Surely the bear would eventually leave.

She took care to leave as much distance between herself and the beast, not realizing when BB8’s leash suddenly slipped from her grasp.

“BB8, NO!”

But the dog ignored her, descending on the bear at full height, teeth bared and frothing at the mouth.

The bear never saw her coming, too engrossed in sniffing out the food from the  open bag. It turned around brusquely, getting up on its hind legs and letting out a roar that left Rey’s whole body shaking.  BB8 retreated a few paces,  though still maintaining a defensive stance.  She certainly made up for her minuscule size with tenacity.

A nightmare scenario flashed inside Rey’s mind: The bear would kill her dog, and then finish her off.

Here lies Rey Jakku, mauled by a bear on her honeymoon. She was a rebel until the very end.

Or even if she survived, how was she to tell the Skywalkers—wherever they were—that she had left their little doggie at the mercy of a raging bear.

Here lies Rey Jakku, strangled to death by a woman who loved her orange dog above all else.

Without second thought, she began waving her arms around to distract the bear.

“Hey! Baloo! Over here!”

With the help of a stick she found on the ground,  Rey banged on the trunk of nearby tree, still shouting at the top of her lungs. The bear turned towards her, snarling and roaring anew.

Rey felt her knees wobble.

Here lies Rey Jakku, devoured by a bear at age 26. Her life was shitty.

The bear then proceeded to swipe a massive paw at BB8, which she easily dodged. She snapped her jaws in response. Finally, the beast got onto all four paws once more and charged suddenly.

She was going to die. Without having told Finn that she forgave him. Without having told her mother she loved her. Without having the chance to slide her fingers through Ben Solo’s mesmerizing hair.

It was insanely stupid.

All of a sudden, a sharp click pierced the air, echoing off the mountain. A projectile whistled past, lodging in the trunk of the tree next to her. She didn’t immediately realize the situation. The bear stopped, jerking its head.

Rey stood paralyzed, comprehending the scene at a glance. There had been a shot fired in the woods. The animal’s ear was bleeding. The moment took forever to pass. Someone was shooting at her.

It was just too much for her, and she fell to her knees with her hands on her head. The bear, the shooter, the sound of fire, it was all too much to process.

The bear, to its credit, turned around to roar again. BB8 kept barking even as she began to run out of breath, as though she could chase the beast away with sheer perseverance. Another bullet whistled past. Rey curled up on the ground, a strangled noise escaping her. The bear growled once more and then, with agility belying its hulking frame, skittered off into the woods.

Rey hesitated, still lying in fetal position against the soil. Her entire body trembled. She looked up when she felt the warmth of BB’s tongue against her hands and face. It was then that she managed to catch her breath and clamber to her feet.

She gazed at the horizon, searching for traces of the bear, or the shooter. Everything was calm again. The birds that had scattered with the opening shot had once again returned to their branches.

Losing her adrenaline and her ability to stand, Rey crouched on the ground once more, eventually falling onto her back. Tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand. She reached out and hugged BB8 tightly against her chest.

“Bravo, girl. Good dog—what a good dog, you’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

A voice inside her head whispered that it was ride or die with this dog. And the invisible shooter? Rey owed whoever that was a massive debt of gratitude.

Once the pounding of her heart had died down, she shouldered the remnants of her   bag and took out her Swiss knife. She used the blade to carefully carve out the bullet lodged in the trunk of the fir. The projectile was buried so deeply in the wood that she had trouble dislodging it.  When she finally managed to retrieve the gnarled piece of metal, she was overtaken by a violent burst of emotion. Someone had literally saved her life. She would have  here, thousands of miles from home— and yet she was alive and unscathed. She held the bullet in her fist before slipping it into her pocket. And then she began the lone journey back up the trail.

Fifty feet away, Syed stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. She put away her gun, still warm to touch. His orders echoed through her mind.

Follow the girl wherever she goes. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible.

She hadn’t thought it would be so complicated. This Rey had a supernatural ability it seemed, she was a magnet for all kinds of trouble. Keeping her in one piece was not going to be easy.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time Rey made it back to the city, exhausted and covered in scrapes and scratches. Fortunately, her car was still there and the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. She still checked to make sure that no one had slashed her tires or broken a window or stolen so much as the air freshener. No, it seemed the Falcon was a dingy yet invincible as ever. And that was the first good news she’d had all day.

It was still too early to join Kylo and the knights in the marketplace so she decided to take a nap. She was still crashing from the adrenaline high and her limbs could barely move. Not to mention that she’d barely slept last night, tormented by the looming presence of the blonde and the abrupt absence of Leia Skywalker. She had the feeling tonight was going to be an equally long night. Time to recuperate while she could.

She moved the car under the shade of a few trees at the very edge of the hotel parking, rolled down the windows, and let BB8 inside before blowing up her air mattress in the trunk. Just like last night. It was warm outside on that sunny summer afternoon, but a fresh breeze brushed against her skin through the open windows. And so she let go. But she wasn’t able to find sleep just yet. Something tugged at her mind, deep in her subconscious.

She had almost died today. Death had flashed before her eyes, and she’d thought it was over. And in those final, terrifying moments, she had thought about three people.

Finn.

Her mother.

And Ben Solo.

[magpiemorality]

Patton & Deceit, A Simple Favour. Part 5

The Muf-finale! Set immediately before the Can LYING Be Good?! video.

One Two Three Four Five AO3

***

It was morning and the house was quiet. Thomas hadn't slept too well the night before and they'd all been up late dealing with the impending issue, which left Patton yawning and rubbing his eyes, still in his teddy-bear patterned pyjamas when he wandered down to start breakfast that morning. He was wondering if today would end up being Thomas's breaking point and subsequent filming day, and if so what he could offer to help, and whether or not he was a bad person. Yeah there was currently a lot going on for Patton to work through...

Which was why it took him a full minute to notice the plate on the table as he wandered around the kitchen getting himself a cup of coffee.

Patton stopped abruptly, mug in hand, staring at the odd sight; there on the table was a selection of the muffins he distinctly remembered making along with Deceit only a couple of days before, all eight decorated beautifully and differently. A card lay on top of them- not addressed to anybody- and Patton was willing to bet that it and the muffins were meant for him. Only one other side had previously taken advantage of his early morning routine, and this was entirely his style.

It was weird though, why save the muffins until now? Why decorate them so well after struggling so much when they'd tried before? And also how on earth had Deceit managed to dress them up like this in the end?

What was he playing at this time?

Patton picked up the card, turning it over a couple of times to check that the message was the only thing written there. The card simply read, 'muff-enjoy them', which only served to further Patton's surety that Deceit had intended them for him and him alone. He was annoyed that he actually kinda loved the pun, but reasoned that of course Deceit would know exactly how to win him over; so it was okay to, well, be a little won over. He set the card aside and picked one of the muffins up, admiring the delicate piped roses and the little fondant hearts on top of it. Another had his heart and glasses symbol drawn in little silver edible balls, and a third was topped with a marzipan puppy face. They were pretty sweet, actually.

Maybe it was all just the offering it appeared to be? Patton rubbed his arm absently, considering his options carefully and coming up with nothing overly nefarious. The likelihood of poison was low, considering both that he'd actually been there when they were made- and sure maybe the toppings were suspicious but he could easily avoid those- and also the fact that it was very much not in Deceit's own personal interests to off Patton, or indeed any other side. Pretty firmly against the self-preservation M.O., that.

They looked perfectly normal. They smelled...

Oh gosh, they smelled divine.

The first one was gone before he'd even consciously registered that he'd made the decision to eat them, and the second followed hot on its heels. They were unbelievably addictive, full of the nostalgia of muffins past and the sweetness of a thousand happy memories, and he couldn't stop once he'd started, barely able to enjoy each one, eating his way through half of the stack in only a few minutes. He started to feel odd, and dimly alarm bells rang. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't stop and why had he eaten so many of them so quickly why wasn't he stopping why couldn't he stop-

Patton whimpered softly, staring in horror at the final muffin as his fingers reached for it without his say so, trembling as he tried hard to stop them from moving. There was a brief moment when it seemed like maybe he'd break out of the spell and manage to stop himself, and his jaw clenched with the effort.

But then, from behind him, there came the sound of soft footsteps. His eyes widened but his head wouldn't turn and he couldn't do anything more than softly whimper again as a gloved hand slipped under his elbow and along the underside of his arm, helping guide it by the wrist to the plate and then up to his mouth. The final muffin went down slowly, bite by agonising bite, and took Patton's consciousness with it, vision fading steadily to black until he swayed and fell back into Deceit's waiting arms.

"There we go," Deceit murmured as he hefted Patton up into a bridal carry and flicked his fingers to disappear the plate and card, before whisking the unconscious side up to his room and tucking him into bed carefully. His face was drawn, conflict between triumph and guilt warring visibly over his features.

He swallowed thickly as he looked down at Patton, peacefully asleep in his room of pastel dreams, stroking the bangs off his face so they wouldn't tickle his eyelids while he slept. "I'm sorry," Deceit whispered as guilt won out. "It was the only way- I just want to see him, just once, with my own eyes like you get to. I want to know he's looking at me, even if he doesn't know me, and you'd never say yes if I asked permission so-" he sighed, short and frustrated. "I guess I'll just have to beg your forgiveness when you wake up instead. God you're going to be so angry..."

Patton's room hummed with the undercurrent of voices from all the memories stored inside it, and Deceit drew in on himself, glancing around nervously. He knew the threat memories could hold within all too well. "I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you any of this anyway, you can't hear me. I'm just another voice among the rest in here."

He stood and turned away, morphing into Patton over the course of the few steps it took him to reach the door, where he paused and glanced back one last time. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, lifting his head up high and stepping out into the mindscape with a big smile and a jaunty walk, humming to himself.

Little did Deceit know that far from the quick wish fulfilment he'd hoped for it to be; that day's filming session would be a dramatic and unexpected reveal, one no one (least of all him) was prepared for. Thomas would be fundamentally changed by the events that were about to unfold, and self-preservation was going to have his work cut out for him in the days and months that were to follow... Entirely unintentionally.

It was only meant to be a simple favour, after all.

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

This is how the first time Dante, Jesse and Vrox hooked up went down.

I’m actually quite proud of this, especially the texts lmao XD but this still porn soooo... yeah, you can read up till things start getting sPiCY, or you can choose not to read it at all, no problem my beans!!! <3

Disagreements were commonplace, though they were rarely serious. Which song was better, who had cheated in a video game, whose turn it was to do the grocery shopping, whose puppy eyes while trying to guilt the other into doing the grocery shopping were cuter... There was one thing both Jesse and Vrox agreed on, and that was that Dante was hot.

He was also currently standing in their apartment making waffles, a fact which Jesse was texting Vrox.

Dante’s making waffles.

In out apartment.

Right now.

fuck me. the one day i’m doing the shopping

fuck.

Next time I’ll come with. We’ll steal some Cap’n Crunch.

bullshit we will. the one time i tried to lift something you kicked my ass. almost got us fucking arrested.

teacher’s pet.

If you met my mom you’d understand.

i haven’t met her and i still understand. you’re you. you’re a shitty demon jess.

SO shitty.

Dante’s still making waffles.

don’t change the subject

mr shitty demon.

He doesn’t have a shirt on.

okay i’m distracted.

send pics

Jesse laughed under his breath, sent an ‘x’ through, and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Something funny?” Dante asked, looking over his shoulder. Jesse hadn’t been lying about the lack of shirt; Dante had taken it off to wipe the sweat off his face, then left it in their laundry basket. He cut a damn fine figure and Jesse was trying his best to keep his eyes where they belonged. It didn’t help that they’d just gotten back from training, where Dante’s hands had been all over him, or that Jesse was getting better with staying on his feet and Dante had praised him for it, or that he had insisted on coming home with him because Vrox wasn’t there and he “looked lonely.”

Jesse’s phone decided to start pinging mercilessly and he could feel his face growing hotter and hotter as Dante’s gaze flicked down to his pants, eyebrows raised.

“Uh,” was all Dante could get out before Jesse pulled the phone back out and read the texts.

JESSE don’t you DARE

you’re not a shitty demon i changed my mind

you’re fucking awful. this is TORTUrE.

i’m coming home don’t do anything without me

you better not be doing anything without me

i swear to father

i will kill you

i mean i won’t cos you’re my sunshine and shit

you get the fucking point

Jesse smirked.

Oh yeah, I get the

FUCKING

point

yeah

yeah

yeah i’m gonna kill you.

“It’s just Vrox,” Jesse said, pressing the volume down to zero and dropping the phone on the table. “He’s being a baby.”

“Right.” Dante didn’t look convinced. In fact, Jesse had a hunch that he knew what was going on and had since this whole thing started. It wouldn’t surprise Jesse if he knew exactly what he was getting into when he first brought up the idea of private lessons with Jesse - and Vrox’s protective ass by extension. It was probably mostly because Jesse sucked ass at fighting and needed one-on-one teaching, but also...

“I thought your mom was big on being polite,” Dante said, eyes back on his waffles. He’d already eaten four. The rest were doomed. “Didn’t she tell you staring is rude?”

“Um.” Jesse cleared his throat as flames rushed into his face again. “Yeah. She did.”

He felt like a freaking teenager again. Well, technically he was still a teenager, but-

“It’s alright,” Dante said. He walked over, set a plate stacked with golden deliciousness in front of Jesse. There’s was something in his eyes, half a dangerous-looking gleam and half a goodnatured twinkle. “I don’t mind.”

It took Jesse a whole few seconds to realize his mouth was still open and he shut it with a little clop. His face had to have been bursting into flames at this point, right?

“Eat up,” Dante said with a nod to the plate and a frown. “You’re too damn thin. Every time I put a hand on you all I feel is bone.”

Well. The joke was right there. Vrox would have taken it. Jesse wasn’t that brave.

“Thanks,” he said instead, silently cursing himself as Dante just turned around and went back to making waffles. Hell, how many did he need? A lot. It took a lot to make him look like that. Maybe Jesse really should eat more-

“Hey,” Vrox said as he hurried into the room as fast as he could without looking like he was hurrying. He shot a glare worthy of a demon in Jesse’s direction, which was responded to with a sweet smile, and dropped the bags on the counter. All in one trip, Vrox wasn’t one to do things by halves. One of the bags had bunnies printed on it. Jesse knew it was Vrox’s favourite, even if he wouldn’t admit it on death row.

“What’re you doing here?” was directed at Dante. Jesse sighed; Vrox sounded standoffish even at the best of times.

“I like Jesse,” Dante said simply, flipping another waffle onto the growing mountain. “He’s a calming presence.” The emphasis on he wasn’t lost on either of them. Jesse smiled into his next bite of waffle and, well, Vrox...

“The fuck does that mean?” But Jesse could tell by the tone shift in his boyfriend’s voice that he agreed. It made warmth flutter in his stomach, tweaked his lips into a wider smile.

That smile dropped within a second though as Dante turned very causally to look Vrox in the face and said, “It means are you going to shut up, or do I have to make you?”

Vrox blinked once, twice, stunned. For a second, the only sound was Jesse choking on his waffle at the table.

“Please,” Dante said with a smile. “You really think I wouldn’t notice? I’ve heard bombs more subtle than you two.”

“We - don’t-”

“Jerk off in the gym before you think I get there? No point in lying, because I know you do.”

Jesse almost choked again, on his own spit this time.

Vrox, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered. “What’re you gonna do about it, then?”

It was a challenge, plain and simple. Jesse’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, and he couldn’t deny that there was a wet spot on his briefs already.

“Like I said,” Dante replied, voice so steady despite the smile - no, the grin, a feral sort of grin that twisted in the pit of Jesse’s stomach - present on his face. “If you’re not going to shut up, I’m gonna make you.”

Vrox’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, met Jesse’s for one second. The question was so clear on his face - is this okay? do you want me to do this? - and it breathed love back through Jesse’s veins. Jesse gave an almost imperceptible nod, and a cocky grin of Vrox’s own appeared on his face as he stepped forward, getting right up in Dante’s face.

“Then make me,” he growled, low in his chest.

Dante moved faster almost than Jesse’s eyes could follow. His hand reached up to grab the front of Vrox’s bomber jacket - gentler than maybe it should have been, because of course he hadn’t missed that soft little questioning glance, of course he hadn’t - twisted his body into him and slammed him up against the fridge so hard it rocked.

And then he was kissing him, fierce and deep, and shit, if Jesse hadn’t been wet before, he was now.

Vrox melted into the kiss, pushed up against him like he couldn’t get him close enough fast enough, hands clawing at his hips. Jesse watched the red marks they left in the olive skin there and swallowed hard. He wasn’t jealous, but man what he wouldn’t give to be the receiving end of the obviously very talented assault of Dante’s mouth.

Vrox must have picked up on that, because he growled low in his chest and pushed back. “Bedroom,” he got out, voice husky in the way Jesse liked it. His eyes took in Dante’s face, then slid back over his shoulder to Jesse’s. Dante turned, too, gaze running over Jesse like a heavy weight. His dark eyes looked even darker than usual, but the smile he gave Jesse was somehow terrifying and kind at the same time.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. He reached out with one big hand, not even bothering to turn off the outlet, just ripped the waffle iron’s cord straight out of it. Then took three strides and swept Jesse off his feet like he didn’t weigh more than a grocery bag.

The breath huffed out of Jesse - he didn’t get a chance to get it back before Dante’s mouth sealed over his.

Fuck. His tongue flicked against Jesse’s lower lip, teasing more than asking for access, ignoring the immediate part of Jesse’s lips for a tortuously long moment. One hand locked Jesse’s legs around his waist - low, so low Jesse could feel him pressed right up against him, fuck - and the other slid red-hot up Jesse’s back. Jesse felt another set of hands on him, slipping up under his shirt with practiced ease, just as Dante’s tongue met his own.

He couldn’t help it; he moaned right into Dante’s mouth, feeling Vrox’s hands trace down his spine.

Dante broke the kiss with a laugh. “Should’ve known you were this sensitive.”

“Ha, just you wait till you get at Vrox’s neck,” Jesse said. His voice didn’t sound weak. Not at all. Not in the slightest.

“Traitor,” Vrox muttered in his ear, pressed a kiss just under it.

Dante dropped Jesse on the bed with little ceremony and instantly started stripping, leaving Jesse and Vrox to scramble after his example. Jesse kind of wished he’d stopped to savor the show, however: Dante’s movements were clean, perfect efficient, almost had a certain grace to them. Vrox was all red-blooded, one misjudged pull away from ripping the fabric right off his body. And Jesse just tried to keep up, dragging off his shirt with a bit of difficulty and kicking his way out of his jeans. Damn skinny jeans, he should really stop wearing them, they were a pain in the-

He stopped as he saw Dante lean down, his leg slotted between Jesse’s thighs and one hand braced on the mattress. Hovering over him, the fingers of his free hand hovering just above Jesse’s chest.

“Can I touch you here?” he asked quietly.

Oh. Right. His scars.

Past Dante’s head, Jesse could see Vrox watching them like a hawk, and he knew without shadow of a doubt that if he said no and Dante still tried, Vrox would put him through a window.

God, he loved him. He really, really loved him. But he also trusted Dante, he wouldn’t have wanted this if he didn’t trust him.

“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips. “You can- you can touch me anywhere. Everywhere. Please.”

Dante grinned and ran his thumb along the faded lines in Jesse’s skin, and then just under them, where the sensitivity still lingered. Jesse sighed and Dante kissed him to taste the sound, pressing a little harder down on a sensitive spot, ever the quick learner.

“’Please’?” Vrox said incredulously. Jesse snickered into the kiss, not sparing him a glance until he thumped onto the bed beside him. “’Please’? What the fuck?”

“Just ‘cause I normally make you beg doesn’t mean I don’t know how to,” Jesse breathed out.

“Oh, shut your fucking face, Jesse, I- hhn.”

Dante had reached out and grabbed his cock - already hard and wet-tipped. Even though his body language was light, Dante’s grip was firm and the technique he stroked Vrox with was good enough to get a shudder out of the demon.

“Does he ever shut up?” Dante asked Jesse, mock-exasperated.

“Nah.” Jesse lounged back on his elbows and quirked his eyebrows at his boyfriend, whose face was now a ruddier shade than his hair. “He just gets louder, actually.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“Fuck you both,” Vrox said through gritted teeth. “Fuck-”

Dante ignored him and shoved him down on the bed, one hand pinning him down while the other kept that slow, devastating rhythum on his cock. “Be quiet, Vrox,” he said, tone for all the world conversational, but for the edge of an inhuman growl that raised the hairs on Jesse’s neck and arms. The power, the authority he always radiated was dialed to eleven now and it was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t even the one the order was directed at and he wanted to obey.

But Vrox, being Vrox, just growled back, tongue running along his teeth.

And Dante shrugged. Took his hand off his cock, sat back on his knees. “Alright,” he said. “Jesse, take off your briefs.”

Like hell Jesse was gonna argue, especially not when Dante grabbed him by the hips and dragged him properly onto the bed. Closer to him. As he lay down between his legs. Oh, fuck.

Vrox barely had time to whine when he realized he’d lost his chance of friction before Dante’s tongue ran up Jesse’s slit.

“Oh, fuck!” The word burst out of Jesse with no chance of stopping it. He knew Vrox was looking at him in betrayal but it wasn’t like he could help it, not when Dante’s fingers had found his dick, stroking in time with his tongue against his entrance-

Vrox couldn’t begrudge him it, not with all the short, sweet sounds leaving Jesse’s mouth, not when Dante kept pulling him closer and harder up against his face like he was starving for him. Instead, he settled back and grabbed his own cock, twisting his palm over the tip and groaning softly.

Jesse was panting already, legs twitching over Dante’s shoulders. God, where had he learned how to do this? When? With who? He really couldn’t bring himself to care as Dante shoved his tongue inside him and his fingers corkscrewed ever so deliciously around his dick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop, keep doing that,” he moaned, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the rumpled blankets. He felt them find warm skin instead, opened his eyes to find Vrox had moved down and taken his hand with his free one. His eyes were burning, that bright blue that turned eerily reflective at night, and they were so filled with hunger and love that Jesse’s hips bucked up into Dante’s face. 

“God, I’m close, I’m so close, please, Dante, please,” he gasped out. Dante merely used his free hand to pin down Jesse’s hips with no effort, not flinching when Jesse writhed with all his strength. Just a bit more, just a bit more-

Dante’s hot, slick lips closed over Jesse’s dick and sucked, hard, and Jesse came, trying to grind down more into his mouth. Vrox hissed as Jesse’s hand clenched on his, not easing up as Dante milked his orgasm for all it was worth.

Jesse relaxed after what felt like a full minute and shook his hair out of his sweat-damp face. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

Dante lifted his head somewhat reluctantly, because he was actually trying to give Jesse a heart attack, and licked Jesse’s slick from his lips. “You,” he said, “taste fucking sweet.”

“Tell me about it,” Vrox said, then laughed as Jesse flipped a pillow up into his face.

Jesse tried to put out the flames in his cheeks by leaning over and yanking open the bedside drawer. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for; the little bottle of lube was one of the few things in there. He tossed it to Dante, who caught it without looking.

Jesse nodded at Vrox, who suddenly had the grace to look mildly apprehensive. “Shut him up for me, would you?” he said with a downright evil grin. “He likes it rough.”

“You planning on giving away all my secrets, baby?” Vrox demanded.

“He didn’t need to tell me that,” Dante said. “Not a big surprise you like being a little bitch in the bedroom.”

Vrox turned redder and gave Jesse a nasty look like this was all his fault, Jesse replied with that angelic smile as he closed his fingers around Dante’s cock. Dante sighed into his hair, inching down to run a line of kisses down Jesse’s neck, murmuring approval as Jesse’s fingers rubbed under the tip of his cock, tracing a circle in the wetness dribbling down it. He was big. If Jesse was the one of the bed with his legs open he might have even considered bowing out. But not Vrox, oh no, he faced every obstacle in his way with a clenched, stubborn jaw. Especially if that obstacle was a big dick and his own was hard as sheetrock and an angry red colour.

Watching Vrox get fucked was fun enough on a normal occasion - Jesse didn’t think anything could possibly top that. But watching Dante fuck Vrox into the mattress was even better.

Jesse could feel himself getting wet again, couldn’t help it. Not when Vrox was making all those noises he loved so much, the pathetic little whimpers, bratty whines whenever Dante slowed down. And how he tried to take more control, twist back into Dante’s thrusts to push each one deeper, only for Dante to slam him back down and hold him there while he made those fucking noises and twitched and squirmed.

Jesse slipped a hand down between his legs, saw Vrox’s eyes follow the movement. They met Jesse’s and Vrox’s lips parted in a whine that was lost under Dante’s growl.

“Eyes on me.”

Vrox obeyed instantly, without even thinking ant heat flared in Jesse’s stomach. He slipped two fingers back inside and sank his teeth into his lip, just watching Vrox and Dante lose themselves more and more, bit by bit, until Dante’s hand closed around Vrox’s throat. Not squeezing, not even gripping, just... there. Vrox shuddered.

“You don’t cum till I tell you,” Dante growled. All hound now, barely any human left in his voice. Jesse’s fingers found his sweet spot and he moaned softly behind them, biting his lip to muffle the sound, but Vrox must have heard because his eyelashes fluttered and he groaned. He was such a mess, chest splotched red with a sex flush, legs all but limp over Dante’s hips as they drove into his against and again, each thrust hard enough to jar him further up the bed if Dante’s hands didn’t have a vice grip on his hips - Jesse could already see bruises forming there.

“Did you hear me?”

Vrox nodded frantically. His cock had dripped a puddle of pearly white precum on his own stomach. Jesse’s mouth watered; it’d been a while since he sucked him off...

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” Vrox whimpered, voice breaking in time to his thrusts. “I w-won’t cum, I won’t-”

Dante yanked his hips up and thrust deeper and harder, wringing a scream out of Vrox. Jesse knew that angle, had used it many times, knew Dante was thrusting deliberately right into Vrox’s prostate. 

Two more thrusts and he pulled out abruptly and came all over Vrox’s stomach and chest, a growl shuddering out of his chest as he twitched in his own hand. “Fucking hell,” he exhaled hard. Vrox was whining, too fucked out to move, his hips lifting desperately, seeking any kind of friction to push him over the edge. Jesse touched Dante’s back, fast and almost as frantic as Vrox, and Dante, bless him, seemed to understand immediately; he shifted out of Jesse’s way and Jesse pulled himself forward and shoved Vrox into his mouth.

Vrox let out a choked cry and Jesse groaned to taste him on his tongue. He took him deep, ignoring his gag reflex out of sheer determination, and Vrox made the most pitiful sound he’d ever heard. Satisfaction thrummed in his veins.

Dante grabbed Vrox’s jaw above him, forced him to look at him as Jesse bobbed his head on him and hollowed his cheeks. 

“Cum.” The word was a direct order, but even if it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have mattered with Vrox so far gone. Hot, salty bursts filled Jesse’s mouth; he swallowed each one without hesitation, shivering his way through his own overstimulated second orgasm. Vrox sagged like a puppet with his strings cut and Jesse smiled tiredly, started to clean him off with teasing, kittenish licks.

“Get off,” Vrox grumbled, flapping a hand at him until Jesse rolled over, pretty fucking spent himself. He felt Vrox��s hand smooth over his hair, and smiled.

“Well,” Dante said after a moment, far too cheerfully for somebody who had just fucked the life out of two people. “Who wants waffles?”

[silvana-fangirls]

Target [Dabi x ua!Reader] Chapter 7

I really don’t even want to excuse myself, but I kinda have to because I don’t know when the next update it’s gonna be up and it’s for the exact same reason so...

Hey guys, it’s me... after so much time. First of all I wanna thank the ones that reached out to me through my ask box (I will answer those in a sec) and through PM. I am okay, just crazy busy I suppose. We got a new project in the place I work so it’s really been consuming my life for the past month... that and college. So yeah, it’s been hard. i haven’t even been able to reblog or so much like posts here on tumblr aaaand I’m still dealing with it so while I wanna promise that the next update will be up soon I don’t wanna lie to you guys. I’m not saying ‘IT’S GONNA TAKE MONTHS!!!!’ because it can take only days or weeks, but it depends... and I don’t wanna compromise. 

Anyways, feels good to be back and update this. Feels good to dive in in this story as well... I’ve missed it. 

I hope you enjoy this chapter, tho. Please let me know. 

ALSO READ NOTES AT THE END THEY ARE IMPORTANT

Links to chapters:

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

TAG TO FIC IS: SILVANA WRITES : TARGET

READ IT IN [AO3]

or below the cut

Dabi felt like he lost a small battle when he sent Twice to give the girl her next meal after the ‘incident’ or whatever that type of situation could be called.

It felt like somehow he complied what she ordered him to do, and following orders never sat well with him. So, he kinda was cursing at himself right now for ‘giving in’ in some way.

It wasn’t because he wanted to please her in any way, though. It was mostly because of her words left him mute at that moment.

“Just tell me what you want from me”

The fact that he didn’t even have an answer for himself was pissing him off.

What was the true reason why he was the one who was acting as a maid?

Shigaraki didn’t ask him to do so. He didn’t even mention the girl once when he talked to him these past days (he did mention her to the other members of the League, though. Dabi found that quite odd but haven’t really commented on it. It’s not like he was interested anyways).

It just sort of happened before he could even realize what was going on.

The first morning in the new base Twice was sent in his civilian outfit to get something to eat for the prisoner. It seemed that it only downed to them that the girl hasn’t really eaten anything in more than a day, and it wouldn’t really be convenient if she died on them accidentally. Killing her would be more profitable.

Twice returned quickly from his small trip to the nearest grocery store, possibly because one of his ‘sides’ somehow had a little soft spot for the girl. He was quick to put on his suit again and heat up a small cup of instant noodles before rushing to her ‘room’. All while Dabi’s eyes followed his every move from the only couch that the base had, that was conveniently placed somewhere with a very great view of her door.

Magne was sent to the grocery store later in the day, since Shigaraki trusted her with food much more than anyone else in the place. She returned a couple of hours later, casually commenting that she only stole half of the stuff she brought with her.

Spinner then offered to help with the food. They made omurice for the League and lazily put some frozen nuggets in the small oven for the prisoner.

The next thing Dabi knew was that he snatched her tray of food just before Twice could get his hands on it.

“I’ll take care of it” The words slipped out of his mouth.

He could feel Shigaraki’s eyes on him as he made his way towards the girl’s room.

He brushed it off.

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened to him. It’s been happening for the past years of his life. He unconsciously realized he wanted to do something and he did it. No doubts, no questions asked, no overthinking.

He functioned better this way, and he liked functioning this way, too.

He won’t ever get ordered around again, he won’t ever hast for permission or give explanations for his actions.

Once he got in front of her door, he simply unlocked it and opened it up to then see her laying on her bed with her back facing him.

She didn’t turn around or flinch, she didn’t even tense up. In fact, she seemed quite comfortable where she was, considering she was currently kidnaped by villains and held somewhere unknown.

He found that quite odd.

He began to walk towards her, expecting her to turn around at some point, but she didn’t. It was only when he was close enough to the bed that she did turn.

He clearly saw how her eyes turned from slightly confused to completely horrified.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a bit pleased by that.

Horrified eyes instantly turned into a death glare, though.

She turned her back to him again, and spat out “I’m not hungry” in such an angered way that Dabi couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from lifting up.

He carefully placed the tray on her bed, and simply settled to sit laying on the opposite wall.

Again, he didn’t know why. But something about her being all tensed up now made him stay and watch.

It didn’t take long to watch her explode.

She got up and snapped at him like a rabid puppy –quite amusingly if he may add- while he simply looked at her lazily. He could see that she was fighting the urge to hit him with something, but she was smarter than that.

Because it definitely wouldn’t be pretty for her if she dared to touch him.

When she finally gave in and ate, he felt something he was sure he never felt before in his life.

Dabi liked challenge, to an extent. A very, very short extent if he was being honest.

After his entire childhood and puberty was a constant competition he wasn’t very fond of the feeling in a certain way.

He didn’t like the fact that when he was competing against something or someone, somehow, he felt like he didn’t have his own rails. He felt like someone else had control over him, and it would only give him that sour taste in his mouth he was very familiar with from the past.

Still, he found that he did enjoy certain challenges now. Like challenging over power, over control. It was mostly involved with his villain ‘job’ per say. Otherwise, his life was pretty careless, lazy or easy going.

He didn’t give a shit about most things.

But now, seeing that oddly mixture of challenge yet fear in her eyes he couldn’t help but feel a pull towards it.

What was going on in this girl’s mind?

He knew that he was pretty much hideous.

Burns and staples all over his face was a look straight out of a horror movie. He knew that she knew his quirk was pretty much devastatingly powerful as well. Lethal. And he was also positive that people were able to tell that feelings weren’t really fond of him so ‘mercy’ or ‘compassion’ were definitely not written across his forehead.

While she was being partially smart to be afraid of him, she was also being partially stupid to snap on him like that or look at him in a challenging way at all.

She was lucky he was curious enough about her not to roast her off to a better life for simply daring to annoy him.

Oh-

That was it.

He was curious. He was curious about her.

And he had plenty reasons to be.

Her past, her insistence of fighting even if she doesn’t stand a chance, her self-sacrificial antics, her wishes to be a heroine.

But most important of all, the feelings that she expressed every time her parents were mentioned. Feelings that mirrored his own perfectly.

He figured that he wanted to know exactly how things went down. He wanted to know everything, from the beginning. Perhaps it was because he never really encountered anyone that has been through a similar situation or whatever; he didn’t really care what his inner-unconscious motives were after all.

But it wasn’t only that…

If he was being honest he never really had any experiences with girls (obviously not romantically speaking) other than family or Toga (that didn’t count because she was batshit crazy, so, she wasn’t really a reference). He never got a chance to. But, even still, he knew that this particular girl was not ordinary.

Before she asked that damned question that left him mute as an idiot he would confidently say that the reason why he kept on being the one that gave her meals was because he was curious and he wanted to observe her like she was some rare animal in the zoo (not that he ever went to the zoo, but… whatever). But after she asked that he realized that what he was doing was actually pointless, considering that 99% of the time she would be ignoring him or snapping at him. So, what was there to ‘learn’ that would satisfy his curiosity if he was just sitting there for half an hour or so watching her do pretty much nothing?

That’s why he sent Twice in today, and he was mentally kicking himself for it. Not just because in some way he did what she told him to, but also because he let stupid, meaningless words to affect him enough to overthink them.

What did he want from her?

To join them? No. Not really.

Mostly because she hated her parents and she doesn’t want to follow their steps.

So, if it wasn’t that, what was it?

The only thing left (besides the curiosity issue) was that he now acknowledged and accepted in a way that he enjoyed being challenged by her.

When she threw the tray of food making it crash and splatter all over the floor he felt a sudden rush of anger in his blood. He was furious. Because how dare this helpless school girl defy him in any way?

But part of him enjoyed it as well. The challenge.

And maybe that was the reason why he was with her lunch on one hand while unlocking and opening the door with the other.

It was the first time she wasn’t facing backwards to the door. In fact, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed while reading a book. It was also the first time he saw her in a different set of clothes and with her hair down and slightly wet.

He instantly remembered that Twice was sent to buy some clothes for her early in the morning after Shigaraki said ‘We’re still freaking recruiting her or did every of you idiots forget about that already?’

She was now wearing a simple yellow T-shirt and some sports shorts. Both too incredibly large for her, but then again he couldn’t even imagine what shopping with Twice would be like.

The book was probably doing of the side of Twice that thought the girl was a toddler.

She lifted her gaze right after the door closed behind him and he saw how her eyes widened slightly before returning to her reading.

He did the exact same thing as any other day: Place the food tray on her bed and go straight to sit in the exact same spot he always did.

It was kind of surprising to hear her talk right away.

“I thought you were finally released from maid duty” She said without even bothering to look up from her book.

A chuckle threatened to escape his throat.

Yeah, this girl is definitely not ordinary.

“Missing Twice already?” He said mockery pretty clear in his voice. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but he seems to have a thing for Toga” He said looking straight at her with a smirk in his face. “Part of him, at least”

She sent him a vicious death glare, but turned to her book right after.

“Rather be with him than with you” She merely commented, as casual as she could.

“Ouch” He simply said and she glared at him again.

She closed the book for a moment and grabbed the tray, placing it on top of her knees to then calmly starting to eat the gyudon that was in front of her, flinching and scrunching her nose right after tasting the first bite.

He didn’t blame her. Compress cooked today and it was a complete disgustingly disaster.

She kept on eating, though.

“Why did you come back?” She casually asked like she was talking about the weather. “To burn me again?”

“I didn’t burn you” He answered after a few seconds. Yeah, he wordlessly threatened to but his palm wasn’t hot enough to actually burn her.

“Right” She said, and after sipping some water she continued. “Why not, though? Will get you in trouble?”

She was taunting him.

He narrowed his eyes just barely at her to then smirk ever so slightly.

“Not at all” he said. “I just thought that burning you isn’t a really effective way to convince you to join” He said the first thing that came to mind.

“Yet you burned Bakugou and you were trying to ‘convince’ him, too”

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at the sudden mention of the angry boy’s name.

“Still mad about that?” He asked at first. “I didn’t know you two were friends. Want me to send him an ‘I’m sorry’ card? I can add that you say ‘Hi’”

She quickly avoided his gaze with her jaw clenched.

They both stayed quiet for a few moments.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” She asked, breaking the silence.

The question definitely startled him.

“Huh?” He said, hiding completely his curiosity and startlement about the question.

She looked at him, dead in the eye.

“You heard me”

“You want me to kill you?” He asked. He didn’t take her for the cowardly type. In the few days she’s been captured, and ever since seeing her for the first time even, he thought that she was a pain in the ass, in a good way… sort of. That annoyingly persistent type of person that won’t stop pissing you off and wont budge until they got what they wanted.

The death exit definitely seemed coward compared to the initial impression he got from her.

What was off of this whole conversation was the lack of fear or desperation in her eyes while talking about death.

“Not necessarily you” She shrugged. “I mean the whole... Villains Gang or whatever the hell you guys call yourselves”

“’Villains Gang’?” He mentally scoffed.

“Y’all know I won’t join you” she continued. “I know you know” She said, referring to him in particular. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill me off and show it to the world?” She added, eyes never leaving his. “That’s still a win, isn’t it? That way you’ll still win and the Heroes lose. So what are you waiting for?”

He wanted to laugh at himself for being startled before, so he did. He let out a quiet snort.

Of course she was challenging him, again.

He didn’t know what her ultimate goal was but she was trying to get under his skin.

“I hope you’re aware that you’re playing with fire here, sweetheart” He warned.

“I didn’t know you were the punny type” She said completely disregarding his threat with an ‘innocent’ look on her face.

He chuckled again and started to walk towards her, getting a sickly pleasant feeling once he saw her tense up as fear flashed through her eyes for a moment.

He simply took her food tray with one hand while with the other he softly brushed hair out of her color drained face while looking straight into her eyes dangerously.

“You truly are something else, I’ll give you that” He said as he softly let go of her. “Just don’t get too comfy around here, okay?”

And then he left.

X

If Bakugou could blast the world off and turn it to ash, he would. He would, without a single doubt.

It’s been four days of coming and going to the Police station to check if they managed to get the lead of something –anything- but those fuckers where complete and utter incapable idiots.

It also seemed that without All Might and Best Jeanist the heroes turned into incapable idiots as well.

He kicked forcefully the door of his house, snapping it open soundly as he stomped through the halls making his way to his room.

“Katsuki?” His mother said as she got out of the kitchen. “Any news? Do they know anything about her?”

He didn’t answer; he simply stomped his way up the stairs and closed his door forcefully almost snapping it in two.

His hands were itchy, so unbearably itchy.

He needed to blast something off -or several somethings- before he went mad.

He was an incapable idiot, too.

How could he allow something like this to happen!? How did he even allow himself to get kidnapped in the first place!?

He sighed, his shoulders trembling slightly out of rage because of his last thought.

He was actually glad he was kidnapped, in a way.

He was glad that at least at the beginning that girl wasn’t on her own.

They should’ve stayed together. Either free or captive, but together.

He was supposed to become the world’s greatest hero, yet he allowed himself to get saved by a sacrifice.

He was at his home, safe and sound, while who knows where or how she was.

He should’ve gotten free of Kirishima’s grasp and tried to save her or sacrifice instead or at least get captured again with her.

His mind hasn’t stopped for a single second ever since he saw how she was carried by the crusty bastard through the portal, disappearing from his sight. Every single second was filled with her.

He couldn’t stop chastising himself, blaming himself and cursing himself after everything.

He was an incapable idiot. He was weak, and useless, and stupid.

He felt like shit, and the rumors running around the country weren’t helping either.

Instead of worrying about her most people were already dissing her.

Saying that she’d probably joined The League already.

Fuckers.

He was gonna find her, he was gonna bring her back and he was gonna prove all those fuckers wrong. She was gonna prove them wrong.

And he will make those bastards of The League of Villains pay.

Notes:

 I truly hope you enjoyed this....

Anyways, I’ve gotten several concerned reviews about a few issues so I guessed I should adress them to help calm down the insecurities of some of you:

Regarding Stockholm Syndrome: I am not really going for that... I mean yes, this is a romantic fanfic and yes our Reader/OC is captured but that’s really not exactly what I’m going for... I have the plot in my head already and while I can’t really give you details, I can assure you that it’s not gonna happen that way.

Regarding OverPowering: I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again: I hate overpowered characters. I hate superman and I don’t like Captain America or any of those characters that are god send or ‘chosen ones’ or just invincible characters. I like characters with flaws, with drawbacks, with weaknesses. I like them to be human and relatable because i like to feel related to them. So don’t worry about that. She won’t become supergirl in the future or ever to be honest. 

Regarding the ‘She’ll join the league’ theory: She won’t. Oops. 

I know a lot of you want this, but I didnt create a strong willed character with strong convictions and dreams and beliefs and views just so she can forget about everything because of a boy of all things. Sorry, but nope. 

That doesn’t mean that Dabi is gonna switch sides either. Just wait and see. 

I guess that’s all... 

Anyways, thanks for all your amazing reviews! i truly appreciate them :)

Do you want a next chap?

-Silvana.

tag list: @buckybear97 @this-lost-child @aebeessun @ye-rinn@ihatemyselftoinfinityandbeyond @cindxalex @luvley-shadow@taeniix@roadtripsonspaceships @iana-therese@darkagedoctor @liliafangirls @darkfaethedestroyer @celestiallsunshine @meggy126

I’m so sorry if I missed anyone, please comment in THIS post or hit my ASK BOX to get tagged!

[teresa60521-blog]

Side Effects

chapter 6: week 14

Uraraka’s stomach was starting to swell, making it more and more obvious that she was pregnant. She had known this for a couple of weeks now but as she stared at herself in the mirror, standing sideways so she could see her progress, it was really prominent now. She thought she would have more time but there was a definite outward curve to her belly. There was the possibility that she could pass it off as a little bit of weight gain but she would be pushing it in the next couple of weeks. She had taken to wearing Bakugou’s shirts lately, as they were the comfiest and the stretchiest. They had long since stopped smelling like him but she enjoyed the comfort they provided.

Delicate fingers touched her stomach and then retracted. She had been actively searching for information online since she couldn’t go back to the clinic. The internet said her baby was about the size of a lemon or a peach now. That seemed quite large to her, for a baby that had only been baking for fourteen weeks now. But Uraraka had never had much experience with pregnancy and didn’t have anybody to guide her so the internet was her only shining light.

Uraraka yearned to tell Bakugou, or Tsuyu, or Midoriya. She wanted to tell somebody , anybody so she wasn’t alone in this. But every time she picked up the phone it didn’t feel right. She knew she should tell Bakugou first (and in person) since he was the one that had put her in this mess in the first place but their conversations always strayed from being ridiculous to something about the heroes in the media and there was never time.

Uraraka vowed that she would tell him in person though, when she was over his house for dinner. She didn’t plan to do it in front of his parents, no, he could do that himself, but he needed to know, and soon. Before it was really too late to hide.

Deciding that was enough of that for the day, he sighed and pulled her shirt over her stomach. She would make a decision at a different time or maybe let the universe screw her over yet again. She would just let things play out the way fate wanted them to.

She yawned as she padded into the dining room of her small apartment. She was alone as usual, her parents having dropped her off that afternoon two weeks ago. They still hadn’t said anything to her about the Yuuei situation, no calls or texts telling her that they were disappointed in her. Just... Silence. It was almost worse than being told directly that they were disappointed in her.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she opened the fridge to find something to eat. The fridge was nearly empty and she knew she should go grocery shopping soon. That was way too much effort right now and she knew she had instant noodles somewhere. She would settle for the sodium induced heart attack waiting to happen.

Uraraka was heating up the water when the doorbell rang. She tensed up and shut the faucet off, walking down the hallway with light steps. She couldn’t hear anybody’s voice on the other side and when she looked through the peep hole and she wanted to flee.

It was her parents, arriving unannounced as they usually did. She knew that she would no longer be able to run from her problems as they now stood in front of her. The only thing she could do was inhale and open the door, forcing an enthusiastic smile onto her face.

“Mom, dad!” She exclaimed cheerily and her parents smiled back. She was the spitting image of her mother, but with the hardness of her father still showing through. Her mother was all curves and long brown hair, rosy cheeks topping off the beauty she exuded. Her father was broad and he was thick with muscle and toughened from years of working. In reality he was a big softy and Uraraka had the overwhelming urge to hug him, which would be sated in mere seconds when her father pulled her into a hug. She made sure that her stomach was in no way touching her father’s side.

Her mother held up a bag that held multiple plastic containers and grinned. “I brought your favorite!” Her mother shook the bag a little.

Uraraka lit up. “Okonomiyaki?”

“You know it!” Her mother pressed a light kiss on her forehead and both of her parents took their shoes off. “I just have to warm it up but otherwise we can eat right away! Is that okay?”

“Of course.” Uraraka nodded eagerly. She was never going to say no to her favorite dish. “Thank you.”

“Sure, sweetie.” It was her father that spoke this time and he smile down at her, ruffling her hair. “Is it okay that we stopped by?”

“I mean, it is your apartment too!” Uraraka laughed a bit nervously and sat on the couch with her father while her mother busied herself in the kitchen. “I just use it more often.”

Her father’s chuckle was hearty and booming, making itself known. His stockiness shown through in his laugh and in some way he reminded her of Endeavor, but only in build. From what she had overheard of Todoroki and Midoriya’s conversations, and from what she saw in the public, Endeavor was an asshole, to put it lightly. He was cocky and almost childish about how he had reached the number one spot. Her father was subdued and he was always polite, always willing to help people. He would never put hard standards on his children (though he only had one: Uraraka) and he loved her very much. Uraraka hoped that Midoriya or Todoroki himself usurped Endeavor from his seat. Bakugou certainly deserved it too.

With Bakugou in mind, she allowed herself to reflect on the fact that she missed him dearly. Whenever she thought of him her heart ached for calloused, sweaty fingers to run through her hair or down her back, pressing against her skin, leaving their mark. He had only burned her once with those fingers and only accidentally. It was during their first time and they had both gotten a little too excited, causing their quirks to activate without meaning to. Very awkward when you’re being thrust into and suddenly you’re floating a foot above the bed.

Uraraka learned to keep only one hand on Bakugou at all times. That was fine. Bakugou couldn’t really say the same; his hands were always all over her.

“Ochako?” Her father pulled her from her thoughts and looked at her quizzically.

“Ah, sorry, what were you saying?” Uraraka fiddled with her fingers in her lap as her father went on to discuss the work they were doing. Uraraka only half listened as her thoughts strayed to Bakugou once more. She wondered what he was doing right now, if he was thinking about her, or if he was doing everything to not think about her. They texted frequently enough for her to be somewhat on his mind. It was hard to read Bakugou when he was mellow and over the phone; it was easier when his lip was curled back in an angry puppy snarl. He still wrote with his colorful language but contrary to popular belief he didn’t like using all caps. He thought it seemed immature.

It made Uraraka smile. Bakugou was anything but mature. But he wasn’t immature either, clearly. He was a good in between, whatever that would entail.

“Alright, let’s eat!” Her mother announced with a proud clap and Uraraka sprung out of her seat to get to the kitchen table. It had been a long time since she had, had a homecooked meal from her mother and she couldn’t wait to devour it. Her mother was an amazing cook and when it came to her favorite dish? Uraraka’s mouth was watering already.

The sound of chopsticks hitting plates was the only sound in the dining room for a while. Uraraka didn’t know just how famished she really was and while one hand held the chopsticks the other rested over her bump under the table. Somewhere inside of her she hoped that her child was happy with the food. It was impossible now to eat some of the foods she normally loved because they made her nauseous. The baby was running the business and Uraraka hated handing over the rights.

“So.” her mother began after patting her lips primly with a napkin. “We got a phone call from your school.”

Uraraka paled and froze halfway with the chopsticks to her mouth. Her appetite was gone with a single phrase and she looked forlornly down at the half-eaten meal in front of her. “Oh.”

“They didn’t tell us why you were getting kicked out.” Her mother added.

“I couldn’t believe it.” Her father shook his head. “Our Ochako, getting kicked out of school? It’s so unlike you!”

“I didn’t…” Uraraka licked her lips and groped for words in her brain. She couldn’t lie; she had to stop lying. Lying was going to just keeping digging her deeper and deeper into a hole that she didn’t want to be in anymore. It was getting too deep, so much so that it was hard to drag herself out.

“Does this have anything to do with the sonogram on the fridge?” Her mother inquired, voice neutral to hide either disappoint or just a valid question.

Uraraka cursed herself. She didn’t have any time to take it down because she hadn’t known her parents were coming. The truth had been taken from her and in the processed she was catapulted from the hole.

“Yes.” Uraraka admitted with an exhale. “I… I’m pregnant.”

Her parents stared at her for a long time.

Uraraka continued, “They told me I couldn’t stay unless I got an abortion. They didn’t want me to ruin their reputation or whatever.”

Her mother reached over and pat her arm. “We’ll make you an appointment for an abortion, okay?”

Uraraka’s mouth fell open in shock and she stared at her parents, her mother smiling at her sympathetically and her father nodding in agreement. That wasn’t what she wanted, not at all. She knew that an abortion was the logical choice; she wanted to continue in her studies and be a hero someday. She had worked so hard to get into Yuuei; she had even been willing to sacrifice some of her points so that Midoriya could get in too. Was she really going to throw it away for a baby, a tiny bundle of cells at this current moment? Se had already sustained a connection with it and the thought of getting an abortion made her stomach lurch.

“I don’t want an abortion, mom.” Uraraka said quietly.

“What?” Her mother blinked wide caramel eyes at her.

“Honey,” her father shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t said much up until that point but with that first word out of his mouth, Uraraka knew he wasn’t going to be on her side. “this is your dream. You pushed yourself to the limit to get into Yuuei Academy. We’re making ends meet just so you can attend and dorm there too. And you want to throw that all away for a baby?”

Uraraka swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to argue.

“Ochako, we want you to be happy and we know you’ll be much happier if you get the abortion.” Her mother urged and already was picking up her cell phone to search for clinics.

“Mom, no.” Uraraka stood, heart beating rapidly. Her palms were sweaty and anxiety washed over her in a flurry. She couldn’t do this. “I… I’m going to keep this baby and raise it and I’m still going to be a great hero and help you guys out with the family business! I can do this! You just… have to believe in me.”

“We do believe in you!” Her mother did not raise her voice like Uraraka had. “But you can do so much more without a child, Ochako. I had to stop working for a couple of months after I had you and it took a toll on us. Your father picked up more hours and it was a really stressful time. And you’re only sixteen. You have to focus on your studies.”

“Why can’t I do both, huh?” Uraraka was starting to sound like Bakugou. She thought he would be proud.

“Because you’re a teenager!” Her father roared and slammed his hands on the table. Uraraka twitched. She could count on one hand the amount of times she had seen her father genuinely angry. “Ochako, you know we support and love you but you’re being irrational. Having and supporting a child is not easy. You don’t have a job, how are you going to pay for necessities? You have to be realistic about all of this.”

“I… I was hoping you guys would help me…” She mumbled quietly. Maybe Bakugou’s parents would be willing to help out as well.

“No.” Her father crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not going to help or support this selfishness.”

“Selfishness?” Uraraka exclaimed.

“Yes, selfishness.” Her father nodded.

Her mother looked between the two of them. “I think what your father means is that you would be bringing this child into the world unfairly. You can’t support it and we… we can’t support you with our funds either. We’re focusing on you. I understand if you want to carry to term and then give it up for adoption but-”

“I’m keeping it.”

Her mother lowered her head with a heavy exhale. “Ochako-”

“No! I’m keeping it! I… I don’t care if you guys help me or not! I’ll… I’ll ask the father and his family.”

“Selfish.” Her father repeated.

Uraraka glared and her mouth pulled into a thin line before she stomped over to the front door, shoving her socked feet into shoes.

“Where are you going?” Her father called.

“To the Bakugou residence!” Uraraka didn’t turn around. “You know that hot-headed blonde kid that won the sports festival last year and got second this year? That’s my boyfriend and the father of my child. I think he should get a say in this just as much as I do.”

“If you leave right now then we won’t be here when you get back.” Her father explained. “We will cut you off, Ochako, if you don’t make the right decision.”

Uraraka’s eyes watered and she bit her lip. Her parents were going to just give up on her? Just like that? All because of a baby that was the size of a peach? She was just trying to do what she thought was right.

Uraraka had never been one to back down from something she believed in. Her father was the one who taught her this. If they didn’t want to keep supporting her then fine. She could do this on her own.

Maybe.

“Fine.” She opened the door and grabbed her keys, running out the door. It swung shut behind her and she jumped over the railing down to float to the ground and then took off in a light jog to the station. It was irrational to walk to Bakugou’s house considering he lived nowhere near her.

Uraraka was anxious the entire way. Her parents had basically just disowned her. She couldn’t go back to apartment because they may or may not still be there. Everything was a mess. Maybe she should just give the baby up for adoption, or get an abortion. It would make her life so much easier.

But could she live with herself after that?

She knew an abortion was the logical decision. Her parents were right: she couldn’t take care of a child and live comfortably. It wouldn’t be fair to her or the child, or Bakugou for that matter. She didn’t really have any experience with children. She was sixteen and her primary focus should be to do well in school. But there was this deep seeded attachment that she felt she couldn’t let go of. Heck, her stomach was already sporting a tiny bump. Uraraka could see that she was pregnant and that was enough for her to hesitate. Was an abortion even probable if she was showing? She would have to do research but there was a slim chance she would go through with it.

Uraraka could see Bakugou’s house in the distance once she started walking after getting off the train. It was a cute modern-styled house and she could definitely see that it was owned by somebody in the upper middle class. She knew that his father was a fashion designer but was unsure of what his mother did. She figured their professions were related. Bakugou rarely ever talked about his parents and when he did it was in disdain. There had to be a reason but Uraraka never wanted to delve deep enough. It was risky getting Bakugou all riled up like that.

Uraraka had since calmed a little since she had gotten on the train, her heart no longer pouring from her eyes. Now, as she stood at the front door, that same heart palpitated so fast she thought she was going to pass out. Or vomit. Right there on the front porch. With a trembling fist she knocked on the door and clasped her hands together behind her back.

The door opened almost immediately to reveal a woman in her late thirties wearing a simple black skirt and pink blouse. She definitely resembled Bakugou, her blonde hair styled in the same manic fashion as her son’s, if only a little longer, and the same crimson eyes. Though, her’s held kindness and a little bit of mischief.

“Hi, um, is Bakugou-kun here?” Uraraka’s voice wavered and she smiled unsurely when Bakugou’s mother grinned wolfishly.

“Are you his girlfriend?” Bakugou’s mother crossed her arms over her chest, the smile still on her face. It was a little scary but considering Bakugou had the same smile, Uraraka knew it held no malice.

“Um, yes.” Uraraka nodded.

“Excellent.” Bakugou’s mother ushered her into the house with a hand clamped on Uraraka’s shoulder and slammed the door behind her. “Oi, Katsuki! Your girlfriend is here! You never told us how cute she was!”

Uraraka blushed and for a moment there was nothing but silence. Then, she heard heavy footsteps stomping against the stairs and coming closer until they rounded the corner. Bakugou was wearing baggy shorts and a normal black tee with a skull on it. Uraraka recognized it from something he wore to bed. Bakugou stared at her dumbfounded.

“The fuck?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not supposed to be here for another-”

“I’m pregnant.” Uraraka blurted out right there in front of his parents, his father sitting on the couch. She hadn’t seen him until her wide eyes scanned the room to assess the damage of the situation. His father, an older man with spiked brown hair and a mustache, had paled while his mother’s arms fell to her sides in surprise and she fixed a puzzled gaze on her son, who looked just as wild and confused as her.

“Katsuki-”

“We’re going!” Bakugou rushed over to Uraraka and fastened a hand around her wrist, dragging her up the stairs and into his room. Unsurprisingly, the room was painted dark grey and it resembled Tokoyami’s room back at the dorms. However, what did shock her were the All Might posters slathered all over the room. It reminded her of Midoriya’s room but she couldn’t find it in herself to be giddy about this little fact.

There was a reason she was standing in Bakugou’s room, and it wasn’t for leisure.

Bakugou was standing about three feet away from her, looking at his hands as if he were burned. It was a little irrational, considering that his hands were always sparking with explosions. He probably felt the burn of blisters every day.

“You have to be shitting me.” Bakugou spoke and glared at her. “You come into my house and spout bullshit? Really Ochako? What the actual fuck?”

Uraraka took a deep breath. Of course he wouldn’t believe her. They were safe. They were always so, so safe when it came to these kinds of things.

She fixed brown eyes onto furious red ones. “I’m pregnant, Katsuki. And it’s yours.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Uraraka was surprisingly calm as she told Bakugou that the baby was his, and didn’t flinch at his reaction. It was expected. She felt at ease, a peace within herself that she hadn’t felt for weeks. The burden of many lies was lifted from her shoulders in that moment and though she did feel a little bad that she had blurted it out in front of his parents (that’s definitely not how she wanted it to go), at least Bakugou knew now.

But Bakugou was silent where he would be shouting obscenities.

It was an eerie sort of quiet, the kind where you can hear the wind whistling through the window and the fan overhead whirling around, creating a draft. Uraraka could hear the soft murmurs of his parents below them and could only think that they were talking about them. About her. She hadn’t really made the best first impression.

“Pregnant?” Bakugou finally spoke, quietly. He was sitting on the bed, head in his hands, clearly stressed. His voice was almost like a whisper, the blades of the fan picking it up and airing it through the room. The question was so heavy, one word divided into a million different connotations.

“Yes.”

“How long?” Once again, quiet.

“I’m fourteen weeks along.” Uraraka touched her stomach. “It happened, um… your birthday...”

“My birthday…” Bakugou mumbled to himself, stitching the pieces together in his mind.

Bakugou’s eyebrows knit together and he stared at her. “Are you sure?”

Uraraka rolled her eyes and turned to the side, lifting her shirt. She watched crimson eyes widen as he stared at her slightly protruding stomach. It could be passed off as weight gain again, but then again it was hard to tell. She knew he was trying so hard not to believe her; he didn’t want to believe her, in fact. But Uraraka was going to keep throwing it in his face until he accepted it. She would never, ever blame him though. She just wanted him to accept.

“You’re not gonna keep it, are ya?” Bakugou asked, chewing on his lip. He appeared deep in thought, one of which Uraraka had seen a handful of times. Her stress management was to bite her nails, her low nailbeds currently a representation of that.

Determination set in Uraraka’s chocolate brown eyes. “I am.”

Bakugou stared at her incredulously. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to not understand? You’re the father and I’m keeping this baby.”

“What about school, huh?” Wow, they really did sound alike.

“What about it?”

“Is that why you were packin’ up so much shit the other day?” Bakugou inquired.

It was Uraraka’s turn to bite her lip. “I got kicked out.”

Bakugou snorted and shifted harshly, the mattress squeaking under his weight. He had an All Might plush doll leaning against his pillows and Uraraka couldn’t help but wonder if he slept with it. Would a time come when Bakugou would have his own plush dolls? Would she? Would a baby ruin her chances of becoming popular enough to have memorabilia made of her?

“And you’re still gonna keep it after that? What the fuck?” Bakugou’s voice finally rose in anger. “You’re gonna throw away your dreams for some shitty little punk?”

If Bakugou could yell then she would yell right back. “So what if I am?”

“That’s bullshit.” Bakugou scoffed and leaned back on his hands. Uraraka tried not to think about the way his muscles bulged from the sleeves of his shirt. It was almost obscene that a seventeen year old could be as buff as Bakugou. Perks of being a hero-in-training, she guessed.

“I just want to…” She paused. What did she want exactly?

“You can’t even come up with a goddamn excuse.” Bakugou clicked his tongue. “You need to get an abortion.”

“I need to?”

“Yeah. You can’t just fucking give up your dreams. It’s all you talk about it!”

Uraraka squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry that it bothers you so much.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Bakugou shouted. “You wanna be a hero so you can make money and help out your parents. Did you forget about that? It’s your dream, it’s why you went to this godforsaken hell of a school in the first place! This kid isn’t even born yet and it’s dictating you’re fucking life! You’re sixteen and I.. I’m seventeen! We shouldn’t have to make decisions like this. I don’t want to take care of a fucking kid. I don’t even want a goddamn kid. You should have thought of this before you… did whatever you did.” Bakugou’s voice was raw by the end of his speech and Uraraka’s eyes were only a little tearful but she blinked them away to replace with venom.

“You’re just as much a part of this, Bakugou-kun .” She sneered and she felt a little proud of the way he flinched at the way she said his name. “You stuck your... thing in me and you did it inside of me.”

“We used protection!”

“Clearly we didn’t or this-” Rapid gesturing to her bulging stomach ensued, “wouldn’t be an issue!”

“Well I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, you should be!” Uraraka huffed and turned her head. So much for not placing the blame.

“You won’t even consider an abortion?”

“It’s too late.” Uraraka shook her head. She didn’t know for sure but she guessed it was too late. She was already in her second trimester. It was risky.

“Adoption then.”

“I’m keeping this baby, Katsuki!”

“No you’re not!”

“You don’t get to make decisions for me and what happens to my body. It’s my body for a reason!”

“It’s my kid too, don’t I get a say?”

“No, you don’t. You only admit it’s your’s when you can’t get your way.” Uraraka glared at him and he glared right back.

“I’m looking out for you.” Bakugou’s voice was gruff and any other time Uraraka would have thought it was sexy but she was currently fuming so any thoughts of her attraction were out the window.

“By telling me to get an abortion that I would regret? By telling me to give up this baby and having to live with that decision for the rest of my life? They offered to take me back-”

“But at what cost, huh?” Bakugou interrupted and Uraraka balled her fists. “You get to come back and then what? It’s that easy? You get to breeze by while all of us bust our fucking asses just to make sure we pass Aizawa’s fucking schemes? That’s not fucking fair.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Are you going to try and guilt me into giving up this baby?” Uraraka wanted to curl into a ball when Bakugou stood, inching toward her until he crowded her near the door. She gulped but there was nowhere for her to go. She was cornered.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Bakugou had flipped a switch. One moment he was trying to convince her that he cared, that he was just looking out for her and now? He was cold-blooded, nothing but ice in his eyes and veins. “You can raise a baby all you fucking want but don’t you dare count me in.”

Uraraka gasped as Bakugou reached around her and yanked the door open. It hit her back and shoved her out of the way. She had stumbled forward and caught herself, and by the time she was going to say something in response Bakugou was already slipping out. The door slammed behind her with a thud that pulsed in her ears, one mimicking the same way she had slammed her own front door shut only an hour before. She heard Bakugou’s mother call out to him and then the front door was closing too.

Uraraka was completely alone, standing in a sea of All Might’s smiling face, quite possibly the only one looking down at her with positivity in her time of trouble.

[hekate1308]

Facts & Sweets

At this very moment in the town of Lawrence, Kansas, Fergus Crowley was 45 year, four months, three weeks, two days and 23 minutes old. He was busy chasing down a burglar; not exactly the kind of case he liked the best, but he, like any other creature under the sun, had to pay his bills.

The man had made the mistake to try and escape over the roof; Crowley, agile and quick-thinking, had naturally followed him and would have caught him, if not for the unfortunate and yet inevitable laws of gravity.

Ellsworth Rading was forty-nine years, ten months, three weeks, two hours and forty-seven minutes old and had been burgling houses for most of his adult life. As he was running from the State’s best PI, he contemplated the choices that had brought him here, and decided that once this was over, he would have to rethink his life. Sadly, he wouldn’t be doing any more living after he missed a jump between buildings and fell down fifteen feet, after which his neck got acquainted with the edge of the dumpster standing in the small alleyway.

Crowley knew from the second he jumped that he wouldn’t make it, and that he wouldn’t reach him in time to save him. He only reached the ledge to look down, register the man with the bin who had just entered the alleyway and watch Ellsworth break his neck, wincing as he did so.

There was no doubt that the man was dead.

And then –

Through the force of impact, Ellsworth’s body bounced back from the dumpster and was thrown against the man with the bin.

And suddenly he stood up and started to run against if his neck wasn’t broken.

Crowley stared as the man hastened to follow him and –

Touch him, after which Ellsworth Rading dropped dead again.

The man’s shoulders slumped in relief before he looked up and realized Crowley had been watching the entire thing.

He couldn’t be entirely sure because he was too far away, but he thought he exclaimed “Son of a bitch!”

These were the facts: Dean Winchester was eight years, four months and thirteen hours old. His little brother Sam, four years, one month, eight days and 57 minutes old, had been gifted a puppy for his last birthday, a puppy he called Lancelot after the book Dean always read to him while their parents looked on proudly.

Lancelot the puppy was four months, three days, 2 hours and 11 minutes old, and he wasn’t destined to get older. Sam was taking a nap in the late afternoon, and Dean was reading a Batman comic while their mother was doing the laundry. It really was no one’s fault that Lancelot got away, the door just happened to be unlocked.

Because Dean’s room faced the street, he was the one to hear the accident, and he raced downstairs to find Lancelot dead on the pavement in front of their home.

Thinking only of how sad Sammy would be, he let himself sink down to his knees and reached out a hand to gently touch Lancelot, who sat up as if nothing had happened, barked and ran back into the house.

Dean Winchester wasn’t like the other little boys.

Dean Winchester had just learned that he could bring the dead back to life.

“Let me repeat that” Crowley said carefully. “Your touch brings the dead back to life, and yet you chose to become a pie maker and the owner of a slowly failing bakery.”

“Not so loud, for God’s sake!” Dean hissed. “We’re sitting right in the middle of my restaurant ��“

“And it’s empty” he pointed out.

Dean glared at him. “No one asked you to be here ether, you know.”

“Oh, I know, but my chance at collecting the reward for Ellsworth’s arrest is currently lying in the morgue.”

“That’s not my fault! He fell off the roof!”

“Couldn’t you have kept him alive long enough for me to collect my fee?”

This was the moment where Dean should probably have lied, should have told the irritating yet handsome PI that it had been a reflex to touch the burglar again.

Instead, he told him the truth.

“If I had allowed him to live for longer than a minute, someone in close vicinity to him would have died. And that includes the possibility of you passing on, so –“

“I see” Crowley interrupted him. “So you can bring back the dead back to life for one minute or you kill someone else. You must be real fun at parties.”

Dean stiffened. “I don’t go to parties.”

“Or anywhere else, really” a cheerful voice interrupted them. “Or talk to anyone voluntarily, ever. So who are you, mister, and do I have to threaten you not to –“

“Charlie” he said tiredly to the red-haired waitress who had apparently shown up out of nowhere, “This is Crowley.”

The man had steadfastly refused to tell Dean his first name. Not that it mattered. The sooner he got him out of here, the better.

“Hi, I’m Charlie!” she grinned.

He nodded.

“Since you are here, and you’re obviously a friend of Dean’s, you have to try our pecan pie!”

With these words she all but bounced to the back, despite Crowley’s protest that he didn’t care much for sweets.

“Does she knows?” he asked as soon as she was out of earshot.

Dean shook his head. “No, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Don’t worry, I am not going to tell anyone I met a pie maker who happens to be Jesus.”

“I am not Jesus. Jesus had control over who he brought back.”

“So do you, you can choose who to touch –“

“Yes, and I choose not to touch anyone” Dean replied firmly.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“If someone has such strong principles, there’s normally a story behind it.”

“Which you will never hear.”

“I never said I wanted to, but it is certainly good to know there is one.”

Dean didn’t meet his eyes.

The story the Pie Maker didn’t want to tell and the PI believe he didn’t want to hear began two years, seven months, nine days and five hours after Dean had brought Lancelot back to live.

The puppy had grown and been in the best health since, even though Dean had noticed he never came to close to him anymore. But he was Sam’s dog anyway; there was no reason for Dean to touch him.

Mary Winchester had been grocery shopping, and had brought home a pie for her eldest son. But at the moment she unpacked it, an aneurism in her head burst, killing her instantly.

It was Dean who found his mother ten minutes later.

Some part of him knew that the dead were not supposed to come back to life. But what were he and Sammy and Dad supposed to do without Mom? And Lancelot was doing okay.

He reached out and touched her.

Her eyes blinked open and she sat up. “Oh, did I slip?” She smiled at him. “Who wants some pie?”

And so he sat down to have a cherry pie he wouldn’t eat.

Because in this moment, his father arrived home. Dean, as always, jumped up and rushed to greet him.

John Winchester smiled at his son for what would be the last time, opened his arms – and dropped dead to the floor.

Unknowingly, he had traded his mother’s life for his father’s.

He didn’t get to revive him because the tragic circumstances prevented him from doing so. His mother suddenly came running, tried to get to her husband – and brushed Dean on the way to him.

She died instantly, and despite Dean touching her, stayed dead.

And he knew that this would happen to Dad as well; and that, should he try and save him, someone else would have to die, and the only one in the house was Sammy.

He couldn’t harm Sammy.

So he called 911. His parents had taught him that.

Later that night, their Uncle Bobby came from Sioux Falls to take them away and look after them as best as he could.

Bobby believed that Dean’s withdrawn and taciturn demeanour in the weeks that followed was the natural reaction of a little boy who’d lost both his parents to undiagnosed heart conditions on the same day.

In truth, Dean was contemplating the gift – or, as he was inclined to think, the curse – that had been bestowed on him.

He couldn’t risk bringing anyone else back to live, only for someone else to die, and then for the first person to perish again when they touched him.

He needed to know the rules.

After a few experiments with houseflies, he figured it out: he couldn’t allow anything dead to return for more than a minute if he wanted to avoid the consequences.

The newly orphaned Dean swore to himself that he would never touch a dead thing again, and that he’d never grow too close to anyone unless he’d be tempted to break that solemn oath.

As the years went out, even his brother, after being constantly rebuffed, stopped trying to get close to him; the only one who ever did think he must have his reasons and should be treated with consideration turned out Charlie Bradbury, who he met in High School because she would introduce herself to the quiet boy who so often were Batman t-shirts. And even her he kept at a distance.

And so he became the lonely Pie Maker, owner of Pie Hole, until twenty-one years later, when a dead man fell from the roof.

“What I don’t understand” Crowley began, only to be interrupted by Charlie. “Here’s your pie! Enjoy!” She wandered off and he realized he would actually have to try.

He did.

It was... eatable for something sweet, and that was the highest compliment Crowley had ever bestowed on a pie.  

“And?”

“It is not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten” he told Dean. “But really, I told you, I don’t like sweets. Do you –“

“Can’t. The ingredients would rot.”

He understood. “One way to save money, I guess. I still don’t understand why this place is failing, however.”

“If customers fail to –“

“Not what I meant. Like it or not, you have a gift. You might as well put it to good use. I am sure people would pay for the opportunity to say goodbye, even only for a minute –“

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss then. But I do have to point out that quite often, if someone meets a violent end, their loved ones are willing to promise a reward to anyone who can catch the killer.”

“So?” Dean asked, only to realize he had made a mistake when Crowley grinned devilishly.

“So you can help me with that. It’s much easier to solve a murder if you can ask the murdered person who did it.”

“I said no –“

“Oh yes, dear reporters, there IS a man who can bring the dead to live –“

“No one would believe you.”

“Really? There are a lot of crazy people around.”

Dean stared at him. “Are you blackmailing me? You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, I am always serious when it comes to money. And I will even be generous – we’ll share half and half.”

Dean didn’t have any choice. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Oh, it’s quite enough for me that you’re at my back and call because you have to be.”

Crowley grinned again in that unsettling way of his.

That night at his apartment, Dean tried to watch TV, but he was still seething. How dare that guy just show up out of the blue, learn his secret and get away with it? It seem utterly unfair to him.

And, perhaps, in a corner of his mind, he considered it no less unfair that the PI was actually rather attractive when he smiled, even thought it looked devious as well.

Crowley, meanwhile, sitting in his office across town, had no such misgivings.

He also didn’t deny to himself that the Pie Maker was very handsome indeed.

The facts were these: Steven Shoemaker was forty-nine years, ten months, seven hours and 24 minutes old when he had the misfortune to drop dead in his own bathroom, his eyeballs all but exploding.

Mr. Shoemaker left three ex-wives and ten children, so naturally there were disagreements regarding the inheritance.

There was, however, one person in the world who hadn’t cared for his money; and this person was his secretary, who’d been a close friend of his for over twenty years.

Not only grieving for her best friend, but also enraged at one of the comments of the ex-wives suggesting that her and the dead man’s relationship had been more intimate than it actually was, she decided to act by offering a reward.

And where money was, there was a good chance Fergus Crowley, P.I., wasn’t far away.

“Dude” Dean said slowly, closing his eyes, “His face.”

“What about it?” Crowley asked carelessly.

“His eyeballs all but melted” he hissed.

“And?”

“And!? I can barely stand to look at him and you want me to bring him back to life?”

“Oh, is this CNN?” Crowley said, holding his hand up to his ear and mimicking a phone call, “Just imagine what I found –“

“Yeah, yeah, I got it” Dean pressed out through gritted teeth, “But if he starts coughing blood it’s not my fault.”

“Duly noted. Now, if you’d be so kind...”

Dean activated the alarm on his cell phone, set for one minute, and touched Mr. Shoemaker’s hand.

He sat up. “I can’t see!”

“It takes a while to get used to the surroundings after you pass on” Crowley said smoothly. “Don’t worry.”

“Dead? I’m – oh, of course. She poisoned me. Put it in my Diet Coke, never could resist that stuff. Am I going to Heaven?”

“Yes” Dean said quickly, watching the seconds tick by. “Who poisoned you?”

“My ex-wife, of course –“

In this moment, the door opened and Dean quickly touched Mr. Shoemaker, returning him to the state he’d been in.

It was the coroner. “You got everything you need?”

Dean nodded, although that was a lie.

“That was absolutely useless” Crowley commented as they strolled out of the morgue.

“Not completely” Dean argued, “We know that one of his ex-wives killed him.”

“Exactly. There are three of them, and they were always the main suspects. So he told us nothing.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let the doctor see the dead man sitting up and talking to us?”

“You did what you had to do” Crowley acquiesced, surprising him. “But now we have to do this the hard way.”

“It’s your job, and... wait, we?”

“Of course we. You agreed to take on the case, remember?”

“I agreed to touch the corpse!”

An old lady walking by shot him a scandalized look and Dean lowered his voice. “You wanted to talk to him, we did.”

“Need I remind you that –“

“Yeah, yeah, you own me” Dean spat. “I get it.”

“I wouldn’t imply ownership. More... forced company.”

“If you say so. Let’s get this over with.”

Sadly, grieving widows, or would-have-been-if-still-married-widows, are not prone to let people who suspect them of murder into the crime scene.

Sometimes, as Crowley would have said if Dean would have given him the opportunity, you have to improvise.

“Did I mention I don’t like heights?”

“Is there anything you like aside from pies?”

“Let me rephrase that. I don’t like heights I can fall down from. And this definitely counts.”

“Whatever you say, now hurry, I want to search his office while it’s still night!”

Dean grunted and forced himself to climb up the last few branches to the window, Crowley at his heels. He managed to open it and pull himself into the office, sinking to the floor and gasping.

“Don’t be like that” Crowley said, jumping in as if they hadn’t just escaped certain death. “You looked pretty confident. A regular squirrel.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with. What are we looking for anyway?”

“Anything that proves he was at odds with one of his e-wives.”

“Didn’t he have to be in order for them to become his ex-wives in the first place?”

“That may be the case, but in my experience there tends to be an immediate stressor for murder.”

Dean shook his head. “Man, your life must be cheerful.”

“Says the baker with the life-returning touch.”

Dean grumbled something unintelligible but continued to search the room.

Eventually, Crowley found a concealed button on the desk and pressed it; almost immediately part of its surface slid back, revealing a hidden compartment. “Hah.”

“How did you know that was there?”

“I have been in this business for a while” he replied simply as he reached into the secret drawer and took out an envelope. “Now, what do we have here –“

“Are you supposed to open that?”

“Otherwise I wouldn’t know what was in it.” Crowley opened the envelope and read its contents.

“Well?” Dean finally asked when he didn’t say anything.

“I thought you didn’t want to know, your principles and all that...”

Dean reached for the letter. Crowley gave it to him.

“A will?”

“And” Crowley pointed out, “Frome a later date than any of the others. Only a day before his death, in fact.”

“The secretary gets everything?”

“With some provisions for the kids, of course” Crowley drawled. “I assume he want2ed to leave them well taken care of.”

“Small wonder you only talk about this theoretically” Dean muttered.

But the Pie Maker didn’t know that the PI’s knowledge regarding children was, in fact, far from theoretical.

Much to his astonishment, he found himself tempted to talk about himself to a near stranger for the first time, to tell him his secrets, to let him know the man beneath the Armani-clad facade.

He stomped the impulse.

“Crowley?”

“Just thinking” he said quickly. “We definitely have a motive there.”

“I’d say so. All those millions running through their fingers... But who even knew this will existed?”

“Excellent question. We’ll make a detective out of you yet.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass” Dean said, taking a calendar from the desk and leafing through it. “Hey, wasn’t ex-wife number 2 called Katerina?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because there is a meeting with “K” here the day before he died. If he mentioned something...”

Katerina née Tassel was thirty-nine years, two months, ten days and six hours old when she was arrested for murder, still feeling getting her husband’s money was her right since she’d “lived with him for ten miserable years.”

Sarah Forde went on to inherit the money and found a charity for the homeless – after she’d paid Crowley quite handsomely.

“Admit it” Crowley announced a few days later at the Pie Hole, having just stepped in to tell Dean everything had worked out perfectly, “You liked it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Come on, you got to solve a murder case, bring justice to the victim –“

“As if you care about that” Dean replied. “You only want your money.”

“Yes, but I don’t mind if justice is done while I get it.”

Dean snorted.

“So you got her?” Charlie asked excitedly. She’d loved to hear that Dean was “out there” making friends, although he could hardly tell her that aside from Crowley, the one he’d talked to the most had even the dead guy he’d brought back to life.

“That we did, Miss Bradbury.”

“Excellent, I’ll get you a pie!”

It seemed that Charlie had decided that she would get Crowley to like sweets eventually, for all of his protests didn’t help; she brought him a piece of apple pie.

“Charlie” Dean said, pulling her into the kitchen, “You can’t keep giving out free samples if we are to make any profit –“

“It’s just one piece of pie” Charlie said, “Plus you can’t lie to me, Mister. I have seen your face when you think he can’t see you. You like him.”

He blushed scarlet. “Do not!”

But, try as he might, the Pie Maker couldn’t deny that the PI could be funny and charming when he wanted to be – although he also happened to be quite selfish and greedy.

Little did he know that while he was pondering this, Crowley was eating the pie and admitting reluctantly to himself that for some reason, he suddenly found he might get used to the taste eventually  and was growing rather fond of the Pie Hole as a whole, as well.

Their arrangement continued. Whenever there was news of a strange murder, Dean brazed himself for Crowley calling him, and he usually delivered. Soon enough, they’d developed a routine. Dean would usually be baking, or home alone, or hanging out with Charlie, who’d become more and more insistent that he “should have a life outside of the Pie Hole” when Crowley called him, and they’d meet up at the morgue. He never quite figured out why the coroner let them in at all times but suspected Crowley had something on him.

They’d take a minute – literally – to talk to the corpse, who usually but not always provided the direct resolution to their problem, and then Dean would leave Crowley to find the evidence he needed.

A few days later, he’d get the money and ask no questions.

He didn’t exactly feel clean doing all of this, but the Pie Hole was finally making profit – not due to his pies, but still – and he told himself that this curse he had been born with at least brought some good into this world.

And then there were the other cases, cases where it wasn’t so easy, and somehow, he found himself sticking around for them. After all, Charlie could hold down the fort, and he figured if Crowley ran into danger because of the information he’d provided, it was sort of his fault.

At least that was what he made himself believe.

But it wasn’t the truth. The truth was, as it often is, more complicated, stranger and a bit madder than that.

In truth he was slowly starting to enjoy working with Crowley a great deal.

Even if there were a few setbacks.

“I can’t believe we’re digging up an old corpse” he complained, “You do realize that his tongue will probably have fallen off by now, right?”

“Shut up and keep digging, Squirrel”. The nickname had stuck despite Dean’s many attempts to make him stop calling him that.

Dean’s shovel – he couldn’t quite recall the reasoning that had led to him being the one to do the actual digging – hit the coffin and they opened it to find Mr. Van Hutten’s actually rather well-preserved corpse. Thank God.

“Ask him where he hid the family jewels so we can get out of here and I can demand my payment.”

“It’s our payment, and when I think about it, I should be the only one to get paid since I do all the work.”

“You’d never do it if I hadn’t persuaded you to.”

“Persuaded” Dean mussed. “Yeah, right.”

He still reached out to touch Mr. Van Hutten’s hand.

And then things almost went awry. Mr. Van Hutten was so upset about his relations’ greediness that he started moving around in his coffin too much as he explained where he had hidden the family treasure, and the lid fell down and got stuck.

Dean cursed. “Quick, Crowley, help me to –“

He turned around and saw that Crowley had taken off. Of freaking course.

He managed to pry open the lid and touch Mr. Van Hutten again just in time.

Crowley was waiting in his car in front of the cemetery. Dean got in, fuming.

“Did you get the –“

“Yes, I did! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to die.”

“So you just left me there?”

“It seems logical to assume that you won’t be stricken down dead since these are your powers, so –“

“It could have been anyone else! You could have helped me!”

“I knew you would manage.”

“Knew I would – forget it; I’m walking myself home.”

Dean got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. What a jerk.

The next day, counting his money in his office, Crowley couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t feel as enjoyable as it usually did. After pondering the problem for a few moments, he realized that he felt something he hadn’t felt in quite some time – guilt for having left Dean at the cemetery when the time was running out, and that he had just allowed him to walk away into the cold night.

Really, it was rather disconcerting for him to realize how often his thoughts came straight back to the Pie Maker, even when there was no case he could call him in on.

It almost felt as if he – cared about Dean, and not just because he was useful.

What a strange feeling.

And yet he couldn’t help it. He decided he would do one good thing for Dean Winchester, to make him and Crowley himself feel better and get this... surge of humanity out of his system once and for all.

The problem with his solution to his other problem, Crowley reflected a few weeks later, was that it was damn difficult to get to know Dean well enough to learn what sort of things he liked. He only ever talked about their cases when they saw each other (and he mostly complained then). He barely mentioned his past or any personal details at all (not that Crowley was the poster child for that).

Still...

And for some reason it felt wrong to investigate Dean like he had so many others over the years.

But gossiping with Charlie... that could hardly be called investigating, now?

Plus she was bound to come over with a pie every time he entered Dean’s place.

She did exactly that the next time there was a corpse, and Dean hadn’t yet forgiven him, it seemed, since he let him wait.

“You do know this won’t ever change a thing, right?”

“And yet here I am, and I keep trying.”

“Like with Dean, when he doesn’t want to leave his kitchen?”

“Exactly” she said, her eyes sparkling. As he had expected, she sat down across from him, eager to make conversation since he allowed it for once. “Dean’s still young, just thirty-one, he should have fun now and then.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t?”

“When he’s with you, sure” she said, surprising him. He was rather certain that Dean had never really enjoyed their excursions.

And definitely not the last one, he thought ruefully.

“But other than that...” she continued. “I never got why he moved away from Sioux Falls so quickly after school. Can you believe he hasn’t visited his little brother and his uncle once since he graduated?”

“He has a brother?”

She nodded. “He talks about him a lot – only with me, of course, but he has no one else, really, and I already knew about Sam. He’s a lawyer now, but they don’t talk.”

“Why?” In truth, Crowley didn’t have to ask; it was easy enough to guess; Dean was terrified of what he might do if something happened to someone he was close to; and so he had distanced himself from 2everyone in his life.

Dean must be rather lonely, he thought.

But then, Dean probably didn’t know what Crowley knew.

Because he knew that, when push came to shove, Dean would do the right thing.

Dean Winchester was a good man – so good as to be even called righteous – and he would never purchase the life of a loved one with that of another. He was not capable of making such a decision, not when it had the potential to hurt others.

He wondered if Dean was ever tempted to reach out to his family. Probably.

Now how to get him to mention it so they could talk...

Dean Winchester didn’t quite know what to feel when he came out of the kitchen to find Crowley and Charlie conversing. Charlie Bradbury was the only friend he’d made in his lonely life, and that simply because she’d refused to let him go when he tried to; she also happened to know quite a few of his secrets, although she was naturally ignorant of the greatest of them all.

And Crowley...

Crowley knew he could bring the dead back to life, but nothing else about him, so between the two of them, he and Charlie knew Dean inside out.

Problem was that Charlie liked to talk, and talk about him too.

And he wasn’t quite sure he wanted Crowley to learn details about his life.

But some things, as the Pie Maker had learned at a very early age, can’t be helped.

“Crowley” he greeted him tiredly, sitting down next to him.

“Hello, Squirrel.”

He expected to be taunted about having run off the other night, but Crowley said nothing.

He narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“A case, of course. What did you think?”

Dean looked at Charlie. She raised her hands. “I know, I know. I’m gonna go do my job.”

“So what are the facts?” Dean asked as soon as she’d gotten up.

The facts were these.

Tommy Collins, twenty-one years, eleven months, thirteen days and ten hours old, self-sufficient caretaker of his family, had been found dead at his place of work, a construction site, in the middle of the night when he had no reason to be there.

The fact that the murder weapon – a hammer – found next to his body didn’t come from the scene of the crime, but was the hammer kept in the Collins family home, led suspicion to fall on Hailey Collins, Tommy’s sister, twenty years, two weeks and ten minutes old.

Their little brother Ben Collins, eighteen years, four months, fourteen weeks and twenty hours old, didn’t have the money to offer a reward, but the people in their neighbourhood, fond of the whole family, had collected money.

Which had naturally caught a certain PI’s eyes.

Hailey Collins looked pale but determined when they went to see her in custody.

“I would never hurt Tommy” she assured them. “Our parents died when we were young; we’re all we have.”

Crowley saw Dean swallow out of the corner of his eyes and noted that this might be what he needed to bring up his brother later; but for now, they had to work on the case. 

“Ugh” Dean exclaimed in the morgue when he pulled the sheet back, “I was hoping for a bit more... skull. Not sure if he’ll even be able to talk.”

“We can only try.”

“Of course you would say that” he mumbled, but he still touched Tommy’s hand.

He said up and started talking immediately. “Are Hailey and Ben alright?”

“She’s going to be charged with your murder unless you tell us who did it.”

Even with his face smashed in, he looked shocked. “Hailey? She would never do something like this! We’re all we –“

“Yeah, we heard that already. So who did you in?”

“Is he always like that?” Tommy asked Dean.

“Unfortunately yes.”

He hummed. “It was my boss. Found out he was stealing stuff from the site, as a way to make more money. Wanted to get proof before i went over his head. Didn’t work out to well.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll see that justice is done” Dean said.

“Thank you. Hey, before I have to go, can I ask you to tell Hailey and Ben that I know they’ll be fine and do amazing things?”

Dean’s throat felt tight, and he nodded before touching him gently.

The boss broke down immediately when they confronted him with what they called their “suspicion.”

“Didn’t have enough blood in him for true villainy” Crowley remarked as they watched him being led away by the police.

Dean didn’t really listen. “We should tell his siblings. Or something like it, anyway.”

“You mean the thing about them doing their best?” Crowley asked, looking bored.

“Yes! It’s their brother’s last message!”

Crowley shrugged. “I couldn’t get away from my half-brother fast enough. We’re not in contact anymore.”

Dean turned to look at him, but he wasn’t really seeing him; no, he was seeing a small boy with a big smile and a book in his hands, “Dean, will you read to me?”

“Haven’t talked to Sammy in ages” he replied roughly.

“Who’s Sammy?”

He snapped out of it, but the damage was done.

“My brother” he said curtly, but sadly, that didn’t seem to deter Crowley.

“You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“There was no reason to. As I said, we haven’t talked in ages.”

“So you were never that close?”

When he was silent, Crowley sighed. “Come on. Can’t eb that bad.”

“It is” he snapped. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Well, that hadn’t gone well.

But at least Crowley had got an answer. Now he knew that yes, Dean definitely had a brother, and there was a history behind it. Had they had a fight? Must have been a bad one, in that case; or maybe they’d never really seen eye to eye... No, he couldn’t imagine that. Not with Dean. Now, him and Oskar, that had been something totally different.

Alright then. He’d laid the ground stock; now he had to slowly extract more information as time went on.

Shouldn’t be too difficult.

But, the PI learned over the course of that spring, it was rather difficult. The Pie Maker, angry at himself for allowing even so much to slip past his lips, was more determined than ever not to talk about his past; and so Crowley was doomed to wait and hope and pounce whenever there was a chance for information. Which meant that he went to the Pie hole at least two times a week, even if there was no case, much to Charlie’s delight, who was still trying to find a pie he liked.

“Everything, please, everything but strawberry again” he was pleading one day.

She huffed. “Strawberries are delicious.”

“That’s your job to say, you’re a waitress.”

Unimpressed, she threatened to stalk off until he casually said, “I think you’re right. Dean misses his brother.”

Her face softened. “I knew it. He used to talk about him all the time when we were kids, and then after graduation he just... disappeared.”

“You found him again, though.”

She looked away. “I might have... there was some trouble, you know. I am quite good with computers and I needed to lay low for a while, and when I came here... I saw the sign, and just went in. It reminded me of Dean. Small wonder, really.”

“And then you made him give you a job?”

“You really think – he offered. He saw I was a bit down on my luck. That’s just who he is.”

Crowley was inclined to agree.

But, Charlie agreeing with him or not, Dean still didn’t give him any information.

Until another case came along.

These were the facts.

Matthew Horner, thirty-eight years, four months and six hours old, was found dead in a local bar – according to the blood tests, he was completely sober at the time of his death.

That wasn’t what attracted Crowley to the case, however – apart from the usual reward, naturally.

No, it was that no one could discern the cause of death.

He had never been able to withstand a good puzzle.

Which might also have explained his fascination with Dean Winchester, Pie Maker and very lonely man.

Dean should have been relieved that the case, despite certain weird details, was an open and shut one, but he couldn’t.

Because it had been Matthew Horner’s brother, chemist, who had poisoned him with a difficult to trace and even more difficult to pronounce substance, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about Sammy.

Maybe it was weird that he’d dealt better about the siblings who actually loved each other than the ones who had hated one another, since he and Sam had been close until he drew away –

No. No that wasn’t strange at all.

Because ever since he had left home, one of his persistent fears had been that Sam had grown to hate him in their years of silence.

Hell, Sam almost didn’t go to his high school graduation, but Bobby insisted on it. Dean hadn’t been supposed to know, but he’d eavesdropped. Accidentally, of course.

“Hey”. A gentle touch on his arm. “Where did you just go, Squirrel?”

He blinked. Crowley sounded... almost worried? “Just thinking, that’s all.”

Crowley looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You need a drink” he decided.

Dean Winchester was sixteen years, eight months, two weeks, four hours and thirty-four minutes old and had just woken up with the worst headache he had ever experienced when he made a very wise decision, given the circumstances that had shaped his life.

He’d be very careful how much he drank in the future.

However, as good a decision as it was, it left him with little to no resistance to hard drinks, especially Craig that had aged for thirty years.

“Dude” Dean said, his eyes widening, ”You have a mansion.”

“And?”

“And what? You have a mansion.”

“I like to have space.”

“He likes – why am I not surprised?” Dean muttered. “Could freaking well feed an army, but stays on his own.”

“You prefer your own company as well.”

“So I don’t make any stupid mistakes and wake the dead, there’s a difference – why are we here anyway, and not in a bar? I was under the impression you’d buy me a drink. Should have known better –“

“Do you really think I don’t have better taste in alcohol?”

That shut Dean up.

Still, the pit bull who came to greet them as soon as Crowley unlocked the door was somewhat of a surprise.

“Did you miss Papa?” Crowley cooed – actually cooed – at her. “This is Dean. Dean, this is Juliet.”

“Hello... Juliet” he said, somewhat lamely, but how else was he supposed to react?

He decided he’d had enough for the day. “Where did you say the alcohol was?”

Crowley would never have guessed that Dean Winchester was the type to get drunk after only two glasses of Craig, but here they were.

Dean giggled. Actually giggled, and normally Crowley would have been disgusted, but instead he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “You know I normally never drink this stuff because I’m afraid I might do something stupid like try to dig up Dad”.

At least that was what Crowley thought he said; his pronunciation wasn’t exactly the clearest anymore. “Your father? Why not your mother?”

“Because I didn’t kill her and anyway, already did that” Dean laughed again and then, without a pause, he started to sob.

Crowley really had no idea what to do.

Thankfully, Dean saved him the trouble of finding out by leaning against him and crying himself to sleep after telling him his life’s story, while the P.I. did his best to try and stay calm.

That night, a drunk and very sad Pie Maker fast asleep in his lap, as he made his tenth attempt to make them both comfortable because he didn’t want Dean to wake up alone, Fergus Crowley made a discovery he’d much rather not have.

Despite years of trying to prove to the world that he didn’t, he still had a heart.

And it beat suspiciously faster ever since Dean had touched him for the first time.

When he woke up, he almost felt like he was sixteen and hung-over in his bedroom at Bobby’s house again.

Mostly because he had never felt that sick quite again.

At least he’d made it home, thought; he was lying in bed, and –

He heard a faint noise of clattering from what must have been the kitchen. He pried his eyes open –

And realized he wasn’t in his bed, but still lying on Crowley’s couch, actually tucked in.

The thought of Crowley doing this for him caused him to – feel – something.

He was too hung over for this.

Hell, Crowley had even left a glass of water and some painkillers on the table in front of him.

Dear God, what had happened last night?

He was dressed at least, so not.. that, Thank God; but everything else was on the table...

Problem was, because he had all but stopped drinking when he was sixteen, he had no idea what kind of drunk he was.

When he entered the kitchen, Crowley was making breakfast, and he frowned.

“Trust me, you’ll want some soon enough.”

“You seem to know more about being hang over than I.”

“The wisdom of experience, my friend.”

“More like the experience of old age.”

Crowley shot him a dirty look. Dean grinned. At least he could annoy the P.I. while he was waiting to feel better.

He was right, too; once he sat down and the pain meds kicked in, the smell of the bacon Crowley was making caused his stomach to remember that food was actually good for him.

They were quiet as they ate; Dean was thankful to Crowley for not –

“So” he said cheerfully, “Want to tell me about how you killed your father when you were ten?”

Dean almost choked on a piece of bacon.

When he was done coughing, he stared at Crowley in horror. “What the –“

“You mentioned it yesterday – as far as I could make out what you were rambling on about. Just so you know, you’re a weepy drunk.”

Dean pushed his plate away, not feeling hungry anymore in the slightest.

“Come on. It was just a question.”

“How – how is that just a question?”

“It is because you were a child, and I know about your powers. You didn’t want to.”

“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you.”

Not that Dean was surprised; he couldn’t remember his drunken ramblings, but Crowley was clever.

“Let’s just say, I assume you were young, you knew you could bring the dead back to live, but you had no idea about the terms and conditions?”

He nodded, and then suddenly, he started talking.

He’d never told anyone; he’d never revealed this one, this terrible secret, had indeed sworn that he never would after he’d tried to explain it to Uncle Bobby and he’d simply ruffled his hair and hugged him, thinking he was just a traumatized kid.

When he was done, he looked away.

As the Pie Maker unburdened himself, Crowley found himself not only listening attentively, but also experiencing another emotion he had no longer considered himself capable of.

He wanted to comfort him.

He was surprised when Crowley gently squeezed his shoulder. “That... cannot have been easy.”

He sounded as astonished at his own compassion as Dean felt. He looked at him. “It wasn’t. Never really touched someone else after that.”

“And your brother?”

“He doesn’t know, of course. “Hey Sammy, it’s me, remember the big brother who more or less abandoned you as soon as he turned eighteen? I also killed our parents. How’s life?””

“You didn’t kill your parents.”

Dean huffed.

“You didn’t kill your parents” he said firmly, still surprised at himself. “Your mother died of natural causes, and you didn’t know your father had to died so she could live on.”

“I could have brought him back.”

“And killed your brother? I don’t think so.”

“Do you have to be so damn logical about it?” Dean argued, but the corners of his lips lifted up slightly. “I am trying to blame myself for everything that’s gone wrong in my life here.”

“And I’m not going to allow it.” After a pause, Crowley added, “Your talent does bring home the money, after all.”

Dean snorted. “Yes, am I glad that I can make sure you can buy more of these needlessly expensive suits.”

“Some of us like to be well-dressed, thank you” Crowley replied.

Hangover and all, Dean felt much better than he had expected to when he left the P.I.’s place that morning.

If only things could go smoothly for a few days...

Things did not go smoothly.

Competition is  fact of life in the business world, and when a new sweets store opened on the opposite side of the street, Dean didn’t think much of it.

Until suddenly, fewer people than before came to eat his pies and he found out through a faithful old client that Dick Roman, owner of Bitter Sweets, had been spreading rumours about his ingredients.

It would have been much worse if he had known the truth – that Dean used formerly rotten fruits brought to life again after a touch in many of his pies – but still.

Crowley had been busy with a fraud case and didn’t know what was going on, and anyway, the Pie Maker decided he could very well deal with that on his own.

Sadly, when he went to confront Dick Roman, he found him dead in his office; he’s just woken him up to question him when the police burst in and he could only touch him again to keep his secret.

Sadly, this meant that he was found with his hands on the corpse of a recently murdered man.

“Run that by me again, Squirrel. You were dumb enough not only to go there alone, but when you found him your first instinct was to bring him back to life? I thought you didn’t like to do that:”

“I thought while I was there I could make myself useful” Dean hissed, “And you know whose fault it is that I’m used to it –“

“I’m not the one in the jail cell, am I”.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Dean asked through gritted teeth. “I have money saved from all our cases, and –“

“Do you really think I’d ask you for money?” Crowley interrupted him, staring at him.

Dean stared right back.

What followed was the most awkward minute of their entire acquaintance, with Crowley suddenly remembering that he was a heartless bastard and clearing his throat. “I meant to say that you are an asset I can’t afford to lose.”

“Yes. Yes of course.”

Crowley said goodbye soon after that.

Unbeknownst to the Pie Maker, the P.I. had a plan.

“Charlie” Crowley said, bursting through the doors of Pie Hole.

“Crowley. How is he?”

“What?”

“I know you went to see Dean. What else would you do? So. How. Is. He.”

“He’s... holding up” he supplied.

Charlie nodded. “I’ll visit him myself later, of course, but still. Now – you have a plan. I can tell from the twinkle in your eye.”

“Dean told me you were good with computers” he replied without beating around the bush. “Illegally good.”

“Traitor” she muttered. “What do you need?”

“Dean is going to need a very good lawyer. Now, I was wondering if his brother’s interest in law had caused him to...”

“What makes you think I would know?”

He shot her an unimpressed look.

“Alright, maybe I did my research. So what?”

“Don’t you think this would be a good opportunity to reunite two estranged brothers and get Dean the legal aid he needs?”

Two days later, Crowley was in Florida.

So this was where the younger Winchester worked. Crowley studied the law firm from across the street. According to his research, they were the up and coming stars of the branch; that certainly told him something about Sam’s ambitions.

It also meant he had to be good at what he did, and Dean needed an excellent lawyer if he was supposed to get out of the scrape he had gotten himself in.

Feeling that he probably wouldn’t like being ambushed in his office, Crowley waited until he went out to lunch.

Hm. Interesting. Apparently he preferred his own company. Well, it just made it easier.

To Crowley’s surprise, Sam Winchester didn’t get lunch, but instead walked to a nearby park where he sat down on a bench.

“Clearing your head, MR. Winchester?” he asked.

Sam jumped up and turned to face him. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Crowley, I’m a P.I. from Lawrence, Kansas.”

Something like comprehension flashed across the younger man’s face before it settled into a blank mask. “And?”

“And your brother is the only suspect in a murder case and needs help” he replied. Better to rip off the band-aid immediately.

“Dean is what?”

“He is –“

“No, I heard you. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“You’re the lawyer” he reminded him.

“And Dean hasn’t talked to me in years. Do you expect me to jump to his rescue?”

Crowley shrugged. “i assumed some kind of brotherly feeling still lingered in your chest. Not my fault if I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”

He could have spend more time trying to convince him to help, but frankly, he had better things to do. Like getting Dean out of jail himself, if this hot-shot lawyer didn’t want to help.

Still, one last shot –

“I’ll be going” he said, “By the way, did you ever notice something strange about your childhood dog? Lancelot, was it?”

With these words, he left him there.

Or would have.

Because after he’d made a few steps Sam ran after him and grabbed his arm. “How do you know about Lancelot?”

These were the facts.

Sam Winchester was by no means an exceptional boy; he was smart, but he also loved playing with his big brother, both of his parents, and the dog they had gotten him for his birthday very much.

Losing one’s parents at the age of six years, three months, ten weeks, three days and nine minutes was not easy; but Uncle Bobby’s carer and love soon made him Sam smile again, and of course he still had Lancelot.

Who over time became more important than ever because Dean refused to speak to him, even months after they had moved to Sioux Falls.

By the time Dean turned eighteen and left, Sam believed himself to be thoroughly indifferent. He’d lost his big brother the day he’d lost his parents, and he had to live with it.

What he didn’t expect was how much he would miss him, regardless.

And then there was something else.

By the time he himself became eighteen and went on to study pre-law, it had become clear that Lancelot hadn’t aged ever since he had reached adulthood.

“I have my ways” Crowley said simply.

“I –“ Sam swallowed. “But Dean can’t know, Dean moved out –“

“You’d be surprised.”

Sam swallowed again. “Fine. You’re buying me lunch.”

Normally Crowley wouldn’t have been too keen on spending money on anyone but himself, but Sam suddenly seemed a lot more amenable, and he had to try, as long as there was a chance.

He told himself he only cared about Sam being a good enough lawyer to get Dean out, and that he wasn’t thinking about the night a drunken Pie Maker had cried to him about his brother.

“But Dean can’t have told you” Sam argued once they’d found a small restaurant and sat down. “I only noticed myself after he’d left.”

“How old is Lancelot?” Crowley asked carefully.

“Twenty-two; and the last vet I took him to thought he was about five” Sam admitted.

“I assume you no longer take him to the vet.”

“It’s better that way.” Sam hesitated. “Did Dean – no, he was just a kid himself. He can’t have –“

“You’d be surprised what you don’t know about your brother.”

“He’s in jail on his birthday too” Sam mumbled, and it was only then that Crowley learned what day it was.

So Dean had been born in January. Instinctively, he wondered how old he was, exactly – only to tell himself that it was of no importance.

“Did he hire you to prove he’s innocent?” Sam asked. Dean, Crowley thought, would at least take some comfort from knowing that his little brother had automatically assumed he was innocent, no matter how their little chat ended.

“No. We’re... business partners” he said carefully.

Sam frowned. “Last thing I heard, Dean had become a baker.”

“Pie maker” he corrected him automatically. “Yes, but he also helps me out on cases now and then.”

“Is this how he got in trouble?”

“Kind of.”

Sam nodded. “Dean always had a talent to do just that.”

“He has been very... helpful to me” Crowley continued. “And since he wouldn’t be in this predicament if we had never made our deal, I considered it only fair that...”

He trailed off when he saw the look Sam gave him. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just.-.. if you’re more than partners, you can tell me. I’m not a homophobe.”

“We aren’t-. We’re just... friends.”

He had never called anyone his friend in his entire life.

Sam didn’t look convinced, but thankfully he changed the topic. “What exactly do they think Dean did?”

Crowley told him. 

Dean was getting nervous. This had been the second day in a row without a call or a visit from Crowley. Charlie, of course, came to see him daily, but she couldn’t tell him anything about what he was up to, either, and he was getting the impression that he as being left behind since he was no longer useful.

Not that he’d expected anything else. Crowley had only ever been i9n it for his own gain, and Dean had known that. One drunken night of him crying about how his curse had ruined his life before it had even really begun wouldn’t change anything.

It only felt like it had fro Dean.

He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care that Crowley had indeed only been in it for the money, but then...

Crowley might not have been the nicest guy around, but he had been around. They had spent so much time together that Dean would probably have called him a friend if he had to.

It also didn’t help that Charlie was decidedly nervous on this day.

“What’s wrong, Bradbury?” he finally asked.

She bit her lip. “Remember how I am the best friend you ever had and that I’ve always been loyal to you?”

He frowned. “Yes?”

“Good. I want you to remember that for a second longer.”

“Charlie, what the –“

The door opened and the guard showed two more people in. “Fifteen minutes.”

Dean barely heard him.

Because standing next to Crowley was –

“Sammy?”

“Dean” he said neutrally. “I wish I could say it’s good to see you.”

He winced. He deserved that, for what he had done, of course, but still –

He looked at Charlie. “You helped Crowley find him, didn’t you.”

“As a matter of fact, I would have found him on my own, but Miss Bradbury happened to already know where he lives and works” Crowley supplied.

Dean looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Of course she had known. Of course she had.

“We’ll talk about this when I’m out of here” he said flatly.

“Alright, first of all, why are you in a cell to begin with?” Sam asked.

So that was it, then. Simply a client-lawyer meeting. And what else could have been expecting, even if he had known Sam was coming? He’d cut him out of his life deliberately to protect them both.

Charlie was frowning at Sam. “That’s all? You see your brother for the first time in years and that is your reaction?”

“Charlie” he said, throwing Crowley a glance.-

He understood immediately.

“Alright, red, let’s get out of here and allow them to talk.”

Charlie understood when arguing was useless.

After the door had closed behind them, Sam asked, “Didn’t you know a Charlie at school? You mentioned her from time to time – when I could get you to talk.”

“That’s her. She found me – ran into my place, really.”

Crowley told me you were a Pie Maker.” After a pause, Sam added, “Would have been nice to be given the option to learn that from yourself, just saying.”

Dean sighed. “Look, Sammy, I can’t give you an explanation. If you can’t live with that, you should leave.”

“But why?” he asked. “Dean, you and Uncle Bobby were all I had, except for Lancelot. And you just... you lived with us, but it was as if you weren’t really there anymore. Why can’t you just tell me –“

“trust me” he said tiredly, “Even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Sam hesitated, then swallowed. “Does it have something to do with Lancelot?”

“Lancelot? Why?”

“Because Crowley mentioned him and... and...” Sam looked around the empty room as if to make extra sure no one was listening. “Dean. I know how this will sound, but I think my dog is immortal.”

“Lancelot’s still alive?” Dean asked, surprised. Weren’t dogs supposed to die when they were about twenty?

“Yes. He just... stopped aging when he stopped growing. When someone asks, I just act as if I called him the same name.”

“Smart.”

HE didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “Dean... do you know something about this? Crowley made it seem like you did. And if you – does it – is there a reason you just walked out on us as if we’d been nothing but your roommates? Bobby still asks if I’ve heard from you occasionally.”

Dean swallowed, his heart beating fast. He couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t let his brother know that he’d killed their parents... and anyway, he couldn’t prove anything, and why should Sam believe him?

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Sam, yes, there is a reason. But it’s pretty incredible, and I can’t prove anything while I’m in here. If I get out and you still want to hear the truth, I will show you. I promise.”

Sam turned his head, suddenly looking like the little boy Dean recalled playing with Lancelot.” You promised we’d always be friends, once” he said quietly.

“And I meant it, then. All of this... happened later. But I will keep this promise.”

Sam looked at him, then gave a short, sharp nod. “Alright. Let’s get you out of here.”

There are no boundaries for what a few clever minds, once they put their heads together, can do; and Sam Winchester was indeed, as Crowley had imagined, an excellent, albeit young, lawyer.

“My brother is innocent” Sam insisted. “The autopsy report says Mr. Roman must have been killed one to two hours before the police found him. Do you really think he stayed near the body of the man he’d murdered for an hour?”

“Maybe your brother was looking for something” the police man insisted.

Crowley sighed and dragged both Charlie and Sam out of the place. When Sam tried to protest, he shook his head. “I know the type. We won’t get him out unless we present the murderer to him on a silver platter.”

“Thank God you’re good at your job” Charlie said.

“I am.”

Still, Crowley thought, someone like Dick Roman was bound to have made a few enemies along the way.

This proved to be true later that day, when they broke into his office, Sam quietly complaining. “Is this what you drag my brother into on a regular basis? Small wonder he’s in jail –“

“Would you stop nagging at me for one second? I’m trying to get him out, for Christ’s sake –“

“Nothing so far in here” Charlie, who had happily agreed to breaking and entering and had immediately hacked into Roman’s computer as soon as they entered the room, reported.

“Good, now let’s see –“

Crowley went through the desk while Sam automatically searched through the files in the drawer.

“I can’t believe it” he breathed two minutes later.

“What is it, Moose?”

He stared at Crowley.

“Squirrel is already in use.”

“Yeah, right... anyway, the guy has a binder labelled “death threats.””

“That’s useful” Charlie said.

“Yes, but don’t you think this is... weird?” Sam asked.

“You clearly haven’t talked to your brother yet” Crowley mumbled as he took the file out of his hands.

“What is that supposed to mean –“

“Let’s see” Crowley said, “We can discount the extremely angry ones – they usually just bark. But the subtle ones...”

“How do you know that?” Sam demanded. “You can’t just –“

“I’ve been in this business for quite a while.”

Sam shook his head, clearly disapproving, but there was nothing he could do but hope that Crowley was right.

They returned to the Pie Hole with the binder tucked firmly under Crowley’s arm.

“This is depressing” Charlie decided half an hour later, “I don’t think anyone liked this guy – this one’s from his own mother.”

“That’s what happens during a family feud” Crowley said pleasantly.- “My own mother wanted to kill me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me I do.”

Sam looked at them, then apparently decided he wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole and just shook his head.

Eventually, he said, “Wait... this one sounds about right.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, taking the letter. “Hm... business-like, so he means it... Okay, that does sound nasty... Oh, and it’s Arthur Ketch! I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“To call Arthur Ketch a asshole of a coyote would be an insult to the baby snatchers.”

Sam blinked. “Alright. I am going to ignore about fifty percent of what you’re saying from now on.”

“My mother always fared well with that technique” he conceded, anticipating the meeting with Ketch already; he always felt like this when he knew he was getting close, and of course this time something was at stake, Dean was at stake. “We need to go see Arthur ketch. Now.”

Charlie was already getting up when Sam said, “Wait. You think this guy has committed murder... and you’re going to accuse him to his face? Did I get that right?”

“Of course, Moose. What else are we supposed to do?”

“You...” Sam sighed. “What did my brother get himself into?”

“Don’t worry, we’re getting him out” Charlie said cheerfully.

Sam didn’t answer, but he still accompanied them. 

Arthur Ketch welcomed them into his office.

Crowley had made a few deals with him over the years – although none since he had met Dean, he realized – and had come to thoroughly dislike the man. He could have lived with his cold and conniving nature – after all, both were insults that were routinely thrown at Crowley himself – but there was something slimy in his attitude, something begging for approval, and that he could not abide.

“Mr Crowley! Long time no see.”

“Indeed” he answered, rolling his eyes; as always, Ketch had made sure his accent sounded even more British than it had to. Compared to him, Crowley himself sounded almost American.

“What can I do for you – and your friends?” he asked, his eyes sliding over Sam and Charlie with equal hunger.

Now, Crowley had never condemned any sexuality – one of the few things he wasn’t was a hypocrite – but he’d never liked the way Ketch looked at people he found attractive.

Thankfully, the disdain between them was mutual.

“Did you hear of Dick Roman’s death?” he asked.

“Oh yes. A tragic loss to the business world” he answered, but his eyes were laughing.

He didn’t think they could prove anything.

“What do you say to this”? Crowley asked, holding out a copy of Ketch’s letter.

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, I am sure Mr. Roman got a lot of those. It would have been far more suspicious if there hadn’t been one of mine, don’t you think?”

Crowley had to admit he was right, but then he’d always thought Ketch was clever.

“He definitely did it” Charlie decided as soon as they left the building. “Did you see that murderous gleam in his eyes? Haven’t seen that since Khan decided to hurt Kirk by –“

“Are you using –“ Sam began, but Crowley interrupted him.

“Yes, he definitely did it, the problem is we need proof.”

“Do we have to break into the morgue?” Charlie asked, her eyes sparkling.

She was enjoying herself a bit too much, Crowley decided. “No need to break in, I have my methods.”

“Of course you do” Sam muttered, if only to himself.

Soon enough, they were at the morgue.

“He was strangled alright” Crowley said calmly.

Even if Dean hadn’t been disturbed, Roman probably wouldn’t have been able to talk.

“So do you think the killer left DNA?” Charlie asked while Sam just eyed the corpse.

“He was definitely strangled with some kind of cord, so good luck with that”.

“There has to be something... what about his personal effects?”

Charlie was remarkably efficient, Crowley reflected as she went through everything that had been found on the body (once again, it hadn’t been difficult to get there, thanks to his contacts within law enforcement). They should bring her along more often.

“I knew it! Someone like this guy wouldn’t walk around without protecting himself – or rather, without making sure he got proof of people threatening him” Charlie announced with a flourish as he held up –

“His tie?” Sam asked. “What –“

“A small recording device sown in, I presume?” Crowley asked calmly, even though he was angry at himself that he hadn’t been the one to find it.

He’d been too worried about Dean.

He should probably spend some time alone after this, he decided. The Pie Maker was taking up way too much of his thoughts, these past few weeks.

That same evening, the doors of the jail opened for the Pie Maker as they closed behind Mr. Ketch for good.

But he couldn’t feel quite as happy about that as he should have been.

Because he knew his brother would ask him a question, and that he would have to give the dreaded answer this time.

Charlie had immediately drawn him into an enthusiastic hug. Dean’s eyes met Crowley’s as she was still trying to squeeze all the jail air out of his lungs, and they nodded at one another.

After she’d let go, he turned to his brother, who seemed conflicted whether to hug him as well.

He’d clear that up, at least.

“It’s time to keep my promise, isn’t it” Dean sighed, sure that Sam would run for the hills – if not because of his powers, then because of what he’d only ever told Crowley – that their parents’ deaths were his fault.

But still –

It was only fair Sam should get to hear the story from Dean.

And then there was someone else –

He turned to Charlie.

She’d been his friend long enough; if he was being honest, she had grounded him, given him a reason to get up in the morning, always cheerful, always friendly, even on the darkest of days.

“Charlie... I think you’ll want to hear this too.”

“Here” Crowley said dramatically as he put two cages on the table, one containing a dead rat, and one another who was very much alive.

“Dude, that’s my kitchen – wait did you –“

“Relax, Juliet caught them. She was a bit overenthusiastic –“

“Juliet?” Sam asked.

“His dog” Dean answered. “She and Lancelot would get along great, I bet.”

Sam looked sceptical.

“So what are you trying to prove here?” Charlie asked. “I fully expected you to blow a fuse, but seriously – only one comment? What are the rats –“

“Because this makes it easy” Dean sighed. “Thanks, Crowley. Although I could have done with insects or something –“

“Juliet is rather big for her breed, how is she supposed to –“

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Let’s get this over with.”

Dean sat down and looked at the cages. This was it. In a minute, he’d either have lost his brother and his best friend in one swoop, or...

Or...

He had no idea.

He almost jumped when Crowley squeezed his shoulder – in support, as he realized, feeling Sam’s eyes on them.

He cleared his throat. “Sammy, I promised you I’d tell you the truth and here I am. Would you please make sure the rat is truly dead?”

“What is this, some crazy magic trick`?” he asked.

“Please, Sam. It’s important.”

With obvious confusion, Sam made certain that the animal was dead. Juliet had done a thorough job.

“Now what –“

Dean reached through the bars and touched the rat.

IT jumped up immediately.

Sam sprang up too, his eyes wide. “What...”

“Please, wait a minute” Dean begged, “Just a minute”.

Since he was telling Sam the truth, he was determined to tell him the whole truth.

He didn’t look at him, instead he watched the seconds tick by on his cell phone.

A minute passed.

He didn’t have to see it to know the other rat had just died.

When he raised his head, Sam was staring at the two cages, his mouth hanging open. “But... how...”

“This is what I did to Lancelot” Dean explained, suddenly feeling very tired. “I was a child, and I didn’t know. I suppose an animal from around our neighbourhood died.”

Sam was still staring at the rats. “But then... Lancelot already died once” he said slowly, “And you brought him back.”

“Yes. There are only two rules: I touch something I brought back, it dies again and forever this time; and if that something stays alive for more than a minute, well...” he gestured towards the now-dead rat before finally meeting Sam’s eyes again.

And what he saw in them was a suspicion, almost knowledge –

“When – when Mom and Dad – did you?” He couldn’t finish the question.

Dean laughed, sharp and bitter; Crowley’s hand came to rest at the small of his back and he barely even noticed. “Yes. Yes I did. Why do you think they both died on the same day? Mom just – collapsed and I didn’t know. I didn’t know what would happen. Dad came back at that moment, and – she touched me when she tried to get to him...”

He stopped talking. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had said made any sense, but his brother seemed to have understood.

Sam looked at him.

Then, without a word, he got up and left.

Only when a drop landed on his hand did Dean realize he’d started to cry.

How freaking embarrassing, that was the second time he bawled in front of Crowley, plus his best friend –

Charlie had yet to say anything. He wondered if she’d leave to, closing his eyes.

He heard her indeed get up, but the next moment, she gathered him in her arms. “It wasn’t your fault” she muttered into his hair, “You were just a kid. Like you said. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean heard Crowley mumble something about “Taking care of those” and understood he was carrying the rats away.

“He’s never going to forgive me, is he” he mumbled into Charlie’s shoulder.

He thought Crowley had already left, but from the direction of the door he still heard his reply, “It would be his loss if he didn’t.”

Dean didn’t know how long he cried for, but when he was done, he drew back and sniffled. “Sorry, Charlie. I’ll pay for the shirt.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s nothing. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded. At least his secret was out, now. At least that burden was gone.

“You know” she grinned, “It’s actually kind of cool to have a boss with superpowers.”

“Not that cool to have them” he answered simply.

She immediately grew serious again. “Of course. Is that why you don’t like touching people?”

“Yes. If I get used – if I get too attached – God knows what I might do:”

“You’d do the right thing. You always do.”

He snorted. “Pretty sure my parents would disagree.”

2Dean, look at me. You were a child, and you didn’t know. This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if – “

“No what ifs. You were a kid, you were scared, and you didn’t know what to do. I am certain Sam will see it that way eventually.”

“Or not and he’s calling CNN right now to talk about his brother’s magical touch.”

“He won’t do that, Dean. Trust me-“

“I am trying my best” he promised.

At least when they came to drag him into the spotlight he’d have his best friend by his side.

“I’m sorry” Dean finally said after he had calmed down. “I didn’t mean to –“

“Hey, it’s alright. We all need a shoulder to cry on sometimes... Although I’m not sure Crowley didn’t want to be that particular shoulder today.”

“He’s probably glad you provided him with an out” he said.

“Oh, hush. Don’t think I haven’t see the eye sex.”

Dean shook his head. “What if Sam never comes back?”

“Then I agree with Crowley. It would be his loss.”

“How are you not freaking out about this?” he asked. “I just proved to you that I can bring the dead back to live, my brother ran away, and yet you’re still here –“

“Dean, I’ve spent my whole life playing D&D and wishing magic was real. I won’t freak out because I learn it is.”

“That’s... actually pretty good” Deans aid carefully. He wasn’t used to good things happening to him.

“Exactly, good things do happen. Sam will return, you just have to give him time.”

He wanted to believe her, but he still wasn’t quite sure he could.

Fergus Crowley knew that it had been the right thing to leave Charlie and Dean alone. She had known him far longer than Crowley, and she would know how to calm him down.

After all, the one time Dean cried in front of him, he’d been drunk.

Still, what worried him far more was that feeling that had once more settled in his gut.

He wanted to be the one to comfort the Pie Maker, to make him feel better.

He was not used to such emotions, and he didn’t want to get used to them.

The problem was that he suspected he would have to, if he and Dean Winchester continued their... association.

Charlie had finally left him alone at his own insistence. Dean had wanted to be alone with his thoughts, only for a while.

As he watched darkness descend over the city through his living room window, he thought of Sam. Was he safe? Had he found a hotel? If not, where was he staying?

All his old sense of protection had returned the second he’d set eyes on Sam, but what could he do? He’d probably never see him again. If only he hadn’t demanded answers...

For a second, he was almost angry at Crowley for bringing his brother into this. But he’d only wanted his best. In the end, it wasn’t his fault.

No, it was Dean’s fault. Dean’s and his powers.

Quite strangely, he found himself wishing Crowley was here. True, he’d looked after him when he was drunk, but that didn’t mean Dean enjoyed his company.

At least that was what he was busy telling himself when there was a knock on the door.

Theoretically, the P.I. knew there was very little he could do about the situation with Dean’s brother, and that he shouldn’t interfere.

And yet he found himself in front of his door, wondering what he was doing. He’d never really felt the need to comfort or be there for anyone, so why now? Why him?

He had not yet found the answers to these questions when the Pie Maker opened the door.

“Crowley?”

“Squirrel. I was nearby and thought I’d check how the family reunion is going...”

It was the wrong thing to say, he could read it in Dean’s face.

“Wonderful. When even you are feeling sorry for me –“

“I’m not feeling sorry for you. I assure you I got rid of such emotions a long time ago.”

At least Dean laughed at that. “Might as well come in. I’ve been experimenting on a few new flavours; you can tell me if you like them.”

He frowned. “Pie, I assume.”

“Yes, pie, Mr. Not Sweet Tooth. Come on.”

Although the P.I. would never have admitted it, at this point he would have done anything to make the Pie Maker feel better; and so he decided to taste the sweets he normally would have scorned.

After three pies, it became clear that Crowley wouldn’t be as easily won over as Charlie had always assumed he would.

Dean still didn’t give up. It gave him something else to think about than Sammy out there.

“And this” he announced with a flourish, “Is a peach pie. You’ll love it.”

“That’s what you said about the other three” Crowley complained.

“Never give up, that’s what I say. There’s the right sort of pie out there for everyone if one just knows how to make them right. Now, come on; try the peach pie.”

Crowley sighed but did as he was told.

And then, on this day, in the kitchen of the man who baked pies and woke the dead, a miracle occurred.

Fergus Crowley found that he liked it.

“There it is” Dean said with satisfaction.

“i haven’t said anything.”

“Do you really think an old pie professional like me doesn’t know immediately?”

He had to concede the point. “It is good.”

“Charlie will be angry that she wasn’t here, Peaches.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It was the peaches who made the miracle happen, wasn’t it?”

Crowley grumbled a bit about it, but there was nothing he could do now that he had admitted the impossible was indeed possible.

Crowley knew that he was probably outstaying his welcome, but Dean seemed to feel better and better as time went on and for some reason he still couldn’t name that made him feel good, in turn.

They were currently watching some awful medical drama that Dean was riveted by and Crowley was rather sure had been created directly in Hell to torment him.

“And why is he wearing cowboy boots, that’s hardly appropriate – “

“Crowley, this isn’t supposed to be accurate.”

“But why should I carte then –“

“For God’s sake you’re just supposed to have fun and lust after Doctor Sexy. So why don’t you do that.”

“Because I do not find Doctor Sexy particularly sexy.”

“Excuse you, he wears cowboy boots.”

“In that case perhaps I should invest in some hideous footwear” he drawled.

Dean looked at him and – was that a blush?

Yes, he was definitely blushing.

How ... interesting.

Dean’s gaze wandered down to his lips. Without meaning to, he licked them.

Dean’s eyes snapped back to his.

They leaned forward –

A knock on the door.

As the Pie Maker hastened to open the door, the P.I. couldn’t help but wonder what exactly that knock had interrupted – and what they should do about it, if anything at all.

He opened it to find Sam.

“Sammy?”

Without another word, Sam drew him into a hug. Dean stiffened.

“I’m sorry for storming off” his giant of a brother mumbled.

“You had every right to –“

“No I didn’t” he said, letting go of Dean. “I’m sorry, I just – needed some time to take it all in. But you were ten. You weren’t even in high school yet! How were you supposed to know what to do?”

Dean hugged him back, holding on tight.

Crowley cleared his throat behind them. “Well, then, now that the brothers are reunited... exit stage Crowley. Squirrel, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah” he managed to say, turning away from Sam to watch him walk out the door.

Dear God, what had he been about to do when Sam had intervened? He and Crowley were business partners, and to be precise, he’d blackmailed him into that in the first place.

He didn’t even like Crowley, let alone this way.

He didn’t.

“Say” Sam began, drawing back, “That was weird even for Crowley. Did something happen?”

What was he supposed to say? No but almost and I kind of would have wanted it to happen only for the part where I shouldn’t?

“Found a pie he likes. Peach.”

“And that’s strange?”

“For Crowley, yeah. Guy doesn’t like sweets much.”

Sam seemed to accept the explanation. “Can we talk?”

Dean nodded.

The brothers talked until late into the night, slowly learning more about each other. After twenty years of silence, they finally told each other the truth.

“Always knew you’d make it as a lawyer, Sam” Dean said.

“It was as much being stubborn as actually being any good, I’d say”.

“Come off it, you always wanted to go for law, even when we were kids.”

He nodded. “Speaking of when we were kids... So you touched Lancelot?”

Dean winced, but still told him the truth. About how he hadn’t paid attention, the car, Lancelot’s dead body.

“Any idea how long he will...”

“None. I’ve brought no one else back. It’s why I kept my distance.”

Sam nodded. “I can understand, finally. I just thought... I just thought you didn’t care.”

“That’s not true. I cared too much.”

He still feared something would happen to Sam, Bobby, Charlie, Hell, even Crowley, and he’d be faced with the choice to bring them back but know it would mean killing someone else, and that he wouldn’t –

He swallowed and tried to focus on Sam being back in his life. It was more than he’d ever have dared asked for.

“Dean” Sam said slowly, “I was angry at you for years. I won’t deny that. But... I always assumed there had to be a reason. That’s why I came here the second Crowley told me you were in trouble. I knew you couldn’t have done what they said you had.”

“Sammy...”

“It’s true. I mean, Dean – you have superpowers, and yet you still decided to bake pies instead of profiting from them. If that doesn’t tell people what kind of man you are...”

“I do help Crowley” he said sheepishly, because even though most of the time he felt annoyed that the P.I. had blackmailed him into working with him...

The truth was that he enjoyed it, enjoyed solving cases and seeking justice, helping families to heal after a tragedy.

And Crowley wasn’t bad company, either.

He only had to remember what had almost happened to prove that.

He sighed.

“Dean? I did interrupt you and Crowley, didn’t I.”

“Sammy, do me the favour and don’t ask.”

While the brothers were busy forging a new bond, the P.I., who had quickly returned to his own apartment after being interrupted, was busy trying to stomp all traces of a new-forged bond in his heart before it could become a problem.

Being completely unaccustomed to wanting someone more than in a physical manner, he was sadly not up to the task.

Normally when a day hadn’t gone the way he wanted, he would have visited the Pie Hole to see Dean, and that realization told him all he needed to know.

He was already half-way to... having feelings for the younger man, and he hadn’t even realized he’d begun to go down the slippery slope.

Crowley had always been careful not to grow attached to anyone. People simply didn’t seem to fit into his life.

And yet Dean Winchester had somehow managed to find a place for himself in Crowley’s existence.

It didn’t make any sense.

He’d best keep his distance for a few weeks, he decided, and solve a few cases on his own, just until those... feelings went away.

“Don’t look so glum, boss. I’m sure he’ll show up any minute now” Charlie said a few weeks later, but he could tell even her cheerfulness was forced.

There had been no calls or visits from Crowley since the night they had almost kissed, and Dean had early on decided that he had got the message.

That didn’t mean he didn’t at least want to know the guy was okay. Just... a little text or something saying that he was alright would have been quite enough.

Alright, that was a lie, but still, was it too much to ask to at least wanting to be told goodbye after over a year of them solving cases together?

Dean only now realised how much time he had actually spent with Crowley, how many late night stake outs they had had, how often he’d met him in the morgue to wake someone up.

How often they had hung out even after they had solved a case for no other reason than they could.

And Dean only now admitted to himself just how used he’d gotten to the status quo, and that he really wouldn’t have had anything against Crowley kissing him that night.

Of course he’d only know after the P.I. had already fled once and for all. Of course he would.

The one good thing that have come out of all this was that Sam was back in his life. He was even making plans to move back to Kansas, and Dean had talked to Uncle Bobby for the first time in years last week. Only on the phone, but still.

He hadn’t yet confessed the whole truth – was uncertain if he would – but it was a new beginning.

And if Crowley didn’t want to share that with him – that wasn’t Dean’s problem, except where it was.

He sighed.  

“Excuse me” a young man interrupted his thoughts, “Are you called Dean, by any chance?”

He looked up to find a young dark-haired man starting at him. “Depends on who’s asking?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just – my father’s in the hospital, he’s hurt rather badly, and when he woke up for a short while, he mumbled something about “peach pie” and someone named “Dean”, and I didn’t think much of it until I saw this place and thought I might as well ask –“

Dean’s throat felt suddenly dry. He swallowed. “You aren’t – he isn’t – your father’s not a P.I., is he?”

The man’s face told Dean everything.

Ten minutes later, after a hasty explanation to Charlie, who immediately agreed that she would stay behind and look after the Pie Hole, Dean was sitting in a taxi with – Crowley’s son.

“I didn’t know Crowley had a son” were the first words out of his mouth. He winced. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

All his years of staying away from human contact certainly hadn’t helped his social skills.

“It’s fine. Father and I never really got along. Mom raised me on her own, and after she was gone... I didn’t even know he had me listed as his emergency contact.”

“They probably told him he had to have one and he didn’t think he’d need it” Dean said.

“Sounds like him” Gavin said bitterly and he winced.

“I didn’t mean to say – he’s actually a good friend of mine. He –“

“It’s alright, you don’t have to pretend.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I know my father, and he wouldn’t just ask for any friend upon waking up. Never imagined he’d care enough for anyone to be that important to him, but still...”

“Did he realize you were there?” Dean asked, wondering if Gavin was feeling understandably jealous that his father had asked for someone else instead for him.

“Yes. Even squeezed my hand when I talked to him. The doctors say it’s a good sign.” He fell silent.

After a few moments, Dean asked, “What happened?”

Gavin told him.

The facts were these.

Fergus Crowley, P.I. and at the moment very frustrated man who would have liked to be someone’s lover except he was unable to admit that simple fact to himself, was once more chasing a man over a rooftop.

Except that this time, he was chasing a young man in his prime. Tobias Kemp, twenty-eight years, eleven months, one week, three days and seventy-two minutes old had no intention of falling to his death; and so he managed the jump between two high buildings.

Crowley, to his shame and unwelcome surprise, miscalculated the distance.

As he fell down from almost as high a building as Ellsworth had one the day he had first met Dean, he found he had only two regrets:

Firstly, that he had never tried to build a better relationship with his son.

And second, that he hadn’t kissed Dean that night.

So, when he became semi-conscious and realized one of his regrets might already be on its way to fixed, he uttered the other name that meant the world to him.

Dean didn’t really know what to do. Gavin had introduced him to the nurse’s as his father’s boyfriend – this time he hadn’t protested son he would be allowed in to visit – and gone off in search of the doctor, leaving Dean in Crowley’s room.

Of course he had enough money to get that.

It didn’t seem right to see him all wrapped up in bandages, pale and hurt in a hospital bed. Crowley was always on top of things. Crowley always came through.

“Hey Peaches” he managed to say, “Have to say, you always know how to surprise me. But this one’s not exactly the surprise I wanted.”

He stood at his bed, unsure whether or not to take his hand, then decided to go for it. “I met Gavin. Seems like a good man. By the way, mister, you’ll hear about this when you wake up. Charlie’s going to have your hide for not telling us you had a kid.”

He stuttered when he arrived at the word “when” and hated himself for it. Of course Crowley would wake up. He had to.

Whether or not he had to, he was destined to take his time to decide one way or another. Three weeks later, there had been no changes.

Dean didn’t know what he would have done without Charlie and Sam helping him support Gavin, or talking to Bobby on the phone.

But even with them – at this point, it had become pretty obvious that they knew about his feelings for the guy who had selfishly blackmailed him into solving crimes, and were remarkably relaxed about it – Dean couldn’t deny that sometimes – sometimes he thought...

“Do you think” he asked quietly one day, them having left Gavin at Crowley’s side to go back to the Pie Hole to rest, “if he doesn’t wake up, he’d still like to... wake up for a minute? To say goodbye to Gavin?”

Sam and Charlie traded a glance.

“I think” his brother finally said carefully, “Gavin wouldn’t be the only one he’d wish farewell.”

Dean looked away. His unspoken fear that he wouldn’t be able to –

“If it comes to that” Charlie said suddenly, “And I mean if it comes to that, I’ll be there, and I’ll push you two against one another if need be, so neither you nor Gavin have to feel guilty.”

His throat constricted. “Charlie –“

“It’s the least I can do” she said softly, taking his hand. “Dean, you could have thrown me out when I came here and told you I was being searched for, but you looked after me.”

“And vice versa” he replied.

She nodded. “So what’s one more little favour between friends?”

He laughed for the first time in days.

But there would be no miracle performed by the Pie Maker in order to bestow life upon Crowley for one more tearful minute.

Instead, he’d learn that sometimes miracles simply occur on their own.

For lack of a better thing to do, Dean was reading to Crowley while Gavin took a much-needed nap.

“With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs –“

“Frankenstein, Squirrel, really?”

The book dropped out of his hands. “Crowley?”

“Yes.” He looked at Dean and groaned. “Oh God. Am I alive?”

“Yes” he said, getting up.

“Will I be alive for longer than –“

“I didn’t touch you to bring you back, if that’s what you mean. You’ve been alive this whole time, and if I’ve got any say in the matter, you will be for some years to come!”

He rang for the doctors.

What followed was a flurry of Gavin sto9rming in as well as the professionals, people rejoicing, tests being performed.

It should take another three days for Dean Winchester and Fergus Crowley to be alone in his room together again.

More than enough time for a hardened P.I. to decide exactly what he was going to do.

Gavin had sent Dean in today, claiming that he needed to rest; but Dean had seen the looks he, Charlie and Sam were giving him.

He just didn’t know what they expected to happen. IF Crowley were interested, he’d have come around instead of falling of buildings.

“Hey, Crowley.”

“Dean. Would you please come here?”

He didn’t know what awaited him, but he did sit down on the chair next to Crowley’s bed.

He rolled his eyes. “I meant here” he said, patting the bedding with his right hand that miraculously wasn’t broken.

Dean obeyed, considering he’d almost died a month ago.

“What –“

Crowley gestured impatiently, then grimaced. “Help me out here. I can’t move that well yet.”

“What do you mean –“

“In case you haven’t noticed Squirrel, I take what I want. And right now, you’re slightly out of reach so...”

“Crowley...”

“May I kiss you, Dean?”

His heart started beating wildly. “That... would make everything complicated” he said slowly.

“Yes” Crowley confirmed.

“And I mean, your son is outside. You two will have to figure out where to go from here.”

“Yes” Crowley repeated.

“And then there’s Sammy, and Charlie’s still somewhat of a criminal if you ask the police, and did I mention my brother has an undead immortal dog...”

“How much longer are you going to talk, I’d really like to get to the –“

“My point is” Dean said carefully, “This sounds awfully like an adventure. IF we decide to go for it, that is. And you know how I feel about those.”

Crowley was silent.

“On the other hand, my life is already so crazy, why not?”

And Dean leaned forward and kissed Crowley.

It might have been a somewhat strange way for happily ever after to begin, but Dean Winchester and Crowley found they didn’t care.

Fifty years later

He didn’t wake up as he usually did unless there was an emergency – calmly, relaxed and ready to face the day; no, it was a sudden jolting into consciousness; and as he registered the mixture of love and grief on his husband’s face and the distance between them, as if Dean was careful not to touch him, he understood.

“One more minute?”

“More like fifty-five seconds” he said, his voice gentle. “When I woke up – you were already cold. I...” he trailed off.

Died in his sleep then, at the ripe old age of ninety-seven, next to his still dashing husband. Not a bad way to go by any stretch of the imagination.

They had talked about this, of course they had, a few years ago, briefly. He’d explained to his family he’d rather only have Dean at his side, as it had all begun, half a century ago.

“This is it, then. I have to say, it has been thoroughly entertaining. Give the others my love, would you?”

Now and then he’d thought about what he’d say to him during the last minute of his life. Now, after he’d told him this, he found himself simply looking at Dean, cherishing the sight while he still could. There was nothing to say, he realized, because they’d never left anything unsaid during their time together.  

Dean smiled; there were tears gathering in his eyes, and Crowley ached to wipe them off but forced himself not to. “It was quite the wild ride, wasn’t it.”

He nodded.

Dean swallowed. “You better wait for me, mister, wherever you end up because I am going to find you.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

They looked at one another; the seconds ticked by; and Crowley knew it was time to go. “You were the first kiss in my life that truly mattered. Want to be my last?”

Dean smiled through his tears. “I love you, Peaches.”

“And I love you, Squirrel.”

Dean leaned in and Crowley closed his eyes, accepting his kiss.

Sometime later

He’d got used enough to the memories of Dean that he shared his Heaven with that he knew immediately this was different. He’d just woken up from what he still stubbornly called “A good night’s sleep” and opened his eyes to find Dean watching him.

“You could have woken me up” he said as he reached out and confirmed that his husband was, indeed, here with him.

“You’ve been waiting long enough, figured I could do a little waiting myself” Dean answered, leaning into his touch.

“I missed you” he confessed.

“Right back at you.”

“How did you –“

“Same as you, in my sleep. Emma woke me up to say goodbye to them all.”

Dean had been hesitant at first to father a child, since he’d been scared she’d inherit his abilities; Crowley had assured him again and again that they’d deal with it when it came to it, and they had, admirably, if he said so himself.

“Gavin told me to look after you so you don’t get into trouble in the afterlife” Dean added with a fond smile on his lips.

“Ready for eternity, Squirrel?”

“With you, Peaches? Always.”

Dean rolled over him so he lay on top, grinned, and leaned down to kiss him.

At this very moment in their own personal Heaven, Dean Winchester and Fergus Crowley no longer cared about how old they both were.

They had all the time in the world.

[percyinpanties]

just posted some jercy to patreon and since I’ve been so inactive in may I decided to post it here right away too.

When something small and sharp hits his cheek, Jason only blinks slowly.

For a few seconds, he isn't sure where he is, what he's doing, or what could have possibly hit his cheek in the first place. Maybe he has imagined it?

His thoughts are sluggish and it takes several times opening and closing his eyes before his bleary vision clears up and the room around him comes into focus.

 The library.

 Right. Finals.

Jason has come here right after school to grab some books on topics he wasn't all that sure on and hide away in one of the study corners to force the info into his brain.

It hasn’t helped that Jason didn’t get much sleep last since he clearly is paying the price for that now. There is only so much his brain can do under the circumstances.

Even now, shaken out of his daze by whatever has hit him, Jason's mind is slow to process what is happening.

 How long has he been sitting here? Was he asleep? Did he even read anything before his mind went to a place far far away from where it should be this afternoon?

 Jason looks around.

 On the table, between unreadable notes and two open books, sits a small paper airplane. Jason doesn't have to see the culprit to know who sent this thing flying into his cheek: The airplane is made of vibrant blue paper and there is only one person at this school who’d even carry those kind of supplies around to begin with.

 “Did I wake you?” The whisper, teasing in tone, comes as if on cue somewhere to Jason's right.

 Jason aims for a glare when he looks up, but instead ends up meeting Percy's gaze with a weak smile. Unfair plane attack or not, Jason hadn't really been doing anything anymore. It is probably for the best if Percy's here to distract him.

 “What are you doin’ here?” Jason mumbles as Percy pulls out the chair next to him and sits down. It's only then that Jason realises how empty the library is now. Jason could swear that just five minutes ago, it was brimming with other students and staff, so busy that he hardly found a space to occupy with his own study notes.

 “You didn't answer any if my texts.” Percy says casually and Jason thinks he imagines there's some concern in Percy’s tone too. “And Thalia said you hadn't even come home yet. So I thought to myself: Where does one find a nerd two weeks before his finals?”

 Jason huffs and playfully punches Percy's arm. There's no heat behind it and judging by the little laugh that escapes Percy, the other boy knows it too.

 “How late is it, exactly?” Jason asks, quieter now, and closes his eyes.

 Most likely, he wasted the entire day sitting and doing nothing without even realising. He can’t afford losing time like this. His marks have been good throughout the year, and he wants to keep it that way. His parents, especially his father, have expectations that he needs to meet if he doesn’t want to disappoint them.

 Anxiety creeps up in Jason’s chest. Two weeks is nothing, especially not considering how many topics he still wants to cover again. He knew the content when they were tested on it before, but some of that is months back now and frankly, Jason doesn’t trust his long-time memory all that well.

 A hand gently covers one of Jason's lying on the table and stops his thoughts in their tracks. They had been spiraling out of control again, and maybe some of that has shown on his face too.

Jason's heart stutters for a few beats, then resumes its rhythm faster than before. Part of Jason wonders what this means, beyond being a calming gesture, but the larger part of him is too scared to question it.

 When Percy speaks, his voice betrays nothing.

 “Half past six.”

 Jason groans. Of course, he wasted the entire day. He’ll have to stay up again tonight if he wants to make up for it, which means he’ll be tired tomorrow and…

  “Which is exactly why I'm here. You need a break, my dude. Let's get some food somewhere?” Percy sounds half joking, but this time Jason realises it's only to hide the concern. When Jason looks at him, Percy is watching closely, brow furrowed.

  Food sounds tempting. Jason was supposed to be home for dinner half an hour ago and while his mother will hardly have noticed, but Jason knows his father won’t be pleased about him coming late. Now that Jason thinks about it, he realises he hasn’t eaten all day…

  Jason doesn't know how to answer, mainly because Percy's right. Jason hadn't done himself any favours by not taking any breaks, especially with the lack of sleep. He hadn't gotten anything done that he meant to go over today, however… Spending time with Percy now will be time he’ll be missing later.

 Slowly, Jason turns his hand over under Percy's palm. Percy doesn't hesitate lacing their fingers together, but he doesn't say anything. Jason doesn’t really want to face his parents yet, especially when he can’t even tell them he came back late because he lost track of time working...

 It's very quiet for a moment, then Jason sighs.

 “Fine.” He says, defeated. Percy squeezes his hand. “I’m starving anyway.”

 Percy smiles. Jason finds himself smiling back.

   Fifteen minutes later, they're walking down the halls of the school toward the car park. Percy is carrying the books Jason has checked out of the library, and even though Jason insisted earlier that he was fine carrying them himself, he's glad now for the weight lifted from his arms.

His thoughts are still running wild, but he’d be lying if he claimed that Percy’s presence didn’t make it easier already.

  “You're a smart cookie.” Percy says and nudges his shoulder against Jason's lightly. Neither of them have spoken in a while, so Jason it takes Jason a moment to process that Percy is speaking. “You'll be fine, you're stressing way too much.”

 Jason knows that, objectively, Percy is right.

That does nothing to lighten the anxiety that comes over him every time someone so much as mentions exams though. Most of the pressure originates in his own perfectionism, Jason knows that, but even so he can't bring himself to care even a little less. Failing is not an option for him.

 When Jason doesn't answer, Percy keeps talking.

He is speaking quieter and slower than he usually does, which Jason and his tired brain are grateful for. Little by little, Jason finds himself relaxing. Percy’s voice is soothing, there’s no edge to it, no hidden jab or teasing. Jason wonders if Percy knows how much he appreciates this right now.

 The walk to the car park isn’t far. Percy has parked his crappy old car close to the entrance and Jason jogs a few steps ahead to open the trunk for Percy to dump the books in.

 “Perfect. Now, Chinese?”  Percy asks and Jason frowns.  He still has a hand on the back door of the car, halfway pulled down to close it again. It takes him entirely too long to realise Percy is asking about food.

 He should probably text Thalia and his parents and apology for missing dinner, Jason realises. And tell them he’ll be back even later...

 “Or…” Percy adds with a drawl, grin growing on his face. “We could get milkshakes.”

 Jason perks up at that. He knows Percy is thinking of the a fast food joint not far from here, and Percy must know it’s Jason’s favourite.

 “I want a milkshake.” Jason mumbles before he can stop himself. He looks at Percy with his best attempt at puppy eyes, and given his current state he probably looks more convincing than on an average day.

 Percy smiles at him, reaches over and gives Jason’s arm a little squeeze before he’s pulling away.

 “Milkshakes it is then.” Percy declares and turns away from to get into the car. It does nothing to hide the pleased grin on his face, which infects Jason with a smile of his own as he closes the trunk and walks past the side to get into the passenger seat.

  Seconds later, the car starts with a sputter.

Jason makes a small humming sound at the back of his throat and rests his head against the backrest. The rumbling of the motor washes over him, calms him. As they drive, he isn't quite asleep, but not a really awake either.

 Percy doesn't seem to mind.

 He doesn’t speak this time, but turns the radio to some random station on a low volume and starts humming along under his breath as soon as he recognises the song. It makes Jason’s lips twitch with a smile, and when he turns his head to the side he can see Percy dancing along to the song as well.

 Percy catches Jason looking, looks back and winks at Jason quickly before his eyes are back on the road. Jason feels his cheeks warm, but even so Jason’s gaze lingers a little longer, taking in Percy's profile with his plush lips and long lashes. He’s pretty, Jason thinks, then bites his lip. He shakes his head lightly as if that would help stray his thoughts away from the dangerous path they’ve threatened to go down on just now.

sorry for funny formatting, i have to use gdocs instead of word atm bc f my laptop. also sorry about the ending, this was supposed to be a mini fic so i had to it cut off before it got more out of hand lol

[gyratingeonian]

JANE: -Guess who's in the kitchen again? It's this gal. She's been occupying much of her time this way; it's largely to burn off anxious energy in waiting for the fated crew to arrive, but also because she just can't stand boring meals day after day.-

JANE: -She isn't baking right now, surprisingly. She's slowly cooking a nice pot roast for dinner, ingredients fresh from one of her many pieces of portable Crocker tech. Her apron reads "Hot Daddy"; an artifact salvaged from somewhere in the pantry.-

JOEY: =She'd been lying upstairs, staring at the ceiling for hours. It was hard being able to sleep soundly without the threat of being discovered for her human qualities, and at times it was hard to believe she had a family again. Mostly everyone all together and all in one place, too. She'd heard some quiet rummaging in the kitchen below until the vapors rose and holy shit, whatever it was smelled delicious. She's sneaking down the stairs like a kid on Christmas Eve, carefully poking her head around the corner.=

JANE: -She doesn't notice Joey immediately; while the food cooks, she's leafing through a business book she found on a shelf and laid out on the counter before closing it back with a sigh. There's not much point in studying business when the business in question is currently being run by an evil alien sea queen, is there?-

JANE: -She scans the room, and then double takes at a pair of eyes around the doorway.- Oh!

JANE: Good... morning? Not really, but I haven't made any breakfast yet. Sorry. I wasn't sure if anyone was up yet.

JOEY: =She finally came out of hiding and stepped the rest of the way down the stairs, smiling in greeting.=

JOEY: nah its fine im not usually up around this time anyway

JOEY: the jet lags been awful =joke=

JANE: The mysterious interdimensional portal-lag, you mean. Hoo. -It's not that funny, but she's trying to make the most of it.- I understand completely.

JANE: Do you like eggs and bacon?

JOEY: =She perked at this=

JOEY: you mean to say

JOEY: you guys actually have that here?

JOEY: =eyes the refrigerator= 8o

JANE: Well... Sort of.

JANE: I conveniently happen to have a very good storage unit on my person.

JANE: -She's already pulling out pans- How do you like your eggs?

JOEY: =when was the last time she had anything that wasn't grubloaf lathered in grubsauce?= JOEY: oh jane you dont have to go through all that trouble—

JOEY: =fusses.=

JOEY: ....

JOEY: sunny side up

JOEY: =she's WEAK=

JANE: -snrrrk- Me, too.

JANE: Don't worry. This is better than sitting around, stewing in potential doom scenarios. -she produces a package of bacon and cuts it open while the pan heats up on the stove-

JANE: And I could use some breakfast, too...

JANE: Shucks. All I've eaten this morning is a bite of leftover cheesecake.

JOEY: that wont do at all! heres to proper sustenance hahaha

JOEY: =she approacheth= it is only right of me to ask if you need help with any of this

JANE: Hmm...

JANE: Actually, I do need help with something. -glances over at her- I've been pretty curious about all this... estranged family business.

JANE: I just never felt like there was a good time to corral you all and ask about it. Actually, the image itself seems pretty rude.

JOEY: oh

JOEY: well... =she leaned back against one of the counters and sighed, laughing a little helplessly as she dragged a hand down one cheek=

JOEY: where to even start?

JANE: Perhaps the beginning?

JANE: As a genuine suggestion, not a sassy remark.

JOEY: =she glanced up at her and soft laughter replaced her expectant expression.=

JOEY: yeah thats always a good place

JOEY: we were little then

JOEY: dad was an explorer so he was gone often

JOEY: our aunt came to stay with us - mom jude tess and me - she had a baby with her

JOEY: bout a year later some people at her work did something that scared her off =she shrugged= and so she left

JOEY: i guess she didnt want us getting caught up in it but it happened anyway =Joey smiled, shaking her head= from that point on we got really good at camping

TESSERACT: =Soft boof as he comes wagging his entire body down the stairs. He smells FOOD.=

JANE: ... -She can sort of guess what that means, but...- Oh hi, doggy. -casually braces herself against a counter-

JANE: No bacon for you yet!

JANE: Um-- So you-- lost your home? Because of... a bad business venture?

JOEY: yeah—

TESSERACT: boof! =Whines up at jane=

JOEY: :O down tess

JOEY: you know better that that

TESSERACT: =WHINES again but lays his head down right on Jane's foot. licks her leg and looks up with those big puppy eyes=

JOEY: we couldnt really go back to it for a while but soon enough they left us alone and we got to go back

JOEY: guess they figured what could a woman her kids and their dog do? not much of a threat, you know

JANE: A... threat?

JANE: This sounds a little more dastardly than I was imagining.

JANE: Was it... you know... them?

JOEY: =she nods=

JOEY: the same people that have taken over skaianet

JOEY: it was our dad and aunts lifes work

JOEY: and they took it out from under them so easily

JOEY: =she ran her hand on the edge of the counter, just feeling the texture there=

JOEY: one day dad never came home

JOEY: i thought for sure because of his connections theyd gotten to him somehow

JOEY: not very long after that mom never came home either(edited)

JUDE: -at some point during the conversation, jude had come up from the basement, but when he heard the topic of discussion, he wound up lingering in the hall just outside the kitchen. hearing their skeletons get dragged out made him anxious, but it was important that jane knew exactly what they were dealing with -- what his whole family had always been dealing with. he runs his hand along the wall, awkwardly stuck in place.-

JOEY: but we claire-leys don't know when to keep our heads down and mouths shut(edited)

JOEY: jude tess and i went off for some daring do and picked up where dad and aunt jo left off

JOEY: it was better for me to think they were dead cause nothing can hurt you when you expect the worst, right? but jude flat out refused to believe that =She shook her head= he was so much stronger than me - bouncy little optimist

JANE: -Jane can't help laughing a little at that description, despite the story itself.- Well... you can sure tell you're related.

JANE: And... if you don't mind me saying so, I'm sure you gave him plenty of push he might not have had alone. -At least, when she met him, he hadn't really been outside in years.- I think it all works out.

JANE: But how did you end up... Elsewhere?(edited)

JOEY: we both had that effect on each other =she glanced down at the counter again= JOEY: it was a whole stack of things but aunt jos research to put it simply JOEY: its what they were after all those years

JOEY: or one of the things at least

JOEY: that research led us to the portal downstairs which in turn led to skaianet finding out jude and i werent so harmless after all

JOEY: =she shrugged her shoulders, but it was more like brushing off the uncomfortable feeling of that distant memory than to indicate something like indifference=

JOEY: they wanted what we knew and if it hadnt been for jude they would have gotten what they wanted(edited)

JANE: ... I have a feeling this tale is nearing its bitter conclusion. -She watches Joey, brows knitting with some concern at the way she seems more uncomfortable the further this story goes.-

JANE: You don't have to tell me all this if you don't want to. My curiosity isn't worth digging up too many bad feelings.(edited)

JUDE: -with an exhale, he finally moves to join them in the kitchen, eyes down cast but he looks up after he gets his hands on a cookie.- ...

JUDE: hello

JUDE: sorry for interrupting...

JUDE: and also for

JUDE: eavesdropping

JANE: !

JANE: Jude.

JANE: I didn't hear you creeping up.

JANE: ... I didn't mean that the way it sounds.

JOEY: =Her back was to the stairs and she turned, a smile lifting as she saw it was her brother. Wow. She has to get used to them being in the same place again.= hey...

JOEY: =she's relieved he was here. The events leading up to everything were easy to say, and of course on Alternia she changed up a few things to suit her trollsona's history. But she'd never gone so far to explain the separation itself other than that it happened. The fear of never seeing her brother again didn't hang heavy over her head and the past didn't hurt quite so much=

JUDE: -catching a glimpse of her smile, he can't help smiling too.- it's alright

JUDE: creeping is probably technically a good way to describe my... general movement

JANE: Well... as long as we're all agreed. :B

JANE: -drapes a paper towel over a plate and starts piling the cooked bacon on it-

JUDE: heh... -cookies and bacon... part of a balanced breakfast. he didn't think this through.-

JUDE: -also sweats because he disrupted the conversation, which makes it his responsibility to initiate it again.- ...

JUDE: so...

JUDE: bacon

JOEY: =she's staring at Jude, and it's obvious she's staring. Her smile is growing by the moment.=

JOEY: yes! and eggs!

JANE: And cookies, apparently. -gives Jude a GAZE.-

JANE: How do you like your eggs?

JUDE: -HOW YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS... FRIED OR FERTILIZED...-

JUDE: sunny side up

JUDE: to match my sunny outlook on life

JOEY: =she just...smiles at him. How can she not?=

JOEY: good answer.

JANE: -SNORTS-

JANE: I'm glad we are all still in agreement, despite serious flaws in your argument. -cracks another egg in the pan-

JANE: How are things going down there?

JUDE: well... none of my other long lost relatives have jumped out so

JUDE: uneventful, mostly

JUDE: which is fine I guess

JUDE: but I'm still anxious for the UU to get here

JUDE: I feel like they should be here by now

JUDE: what if something happened? maybe alternians attacked their ship and their technicians hacked into all their accounts, pouring over records of everyone's speech patterns to perfectly replicate them when they talk to us

JUDE: or maybe... it was never really them to begin with

JUDE: and they knew we were going to contact them

JUDE: and they've lured us here to back us into a corner and now they're waiting for the perfect moment to extract the portal and do away with us once and for all

JOEY: ...

JOEY: jude

JOEY: you know ive always trusted your gut

JOEY: even though those are a whole lot of maybes, maybe we should take precaution

JOEY: is there an easy way of storing the portal if we have to make a quick getaway?

JOEY: plus, if this place is as heavily fortified as it looks, shouldnt there be another way to exit the building than the front and back doors?

JANE: -She swears she's going to find a camera somewhere to stare in, just watch her.-

JANE: Maybe Jamison would have some ideas? Perhaps a rational suggestion or two.

JUDE: I've been able to store it pretty efficiently but

JUDE: maybe I should dismantle it for now

JUDE: if they do show up we can study it with them

JUDE: ... I've mapped out all the escape routes too

JUDE: I mean I found some of James' blueprints of the house but I

JUDE: also physically went around the house looking for exits...

JUDE: but more eyes help... my dad is really good at finding weaknesses in designs so yeah thanks for the suggestion jane

JOEY: theres no harm in taking precautions

JOEY: should we practice drills?

JANE: -SIGHS-

JANE: -slides eggs onto plate-

JOEY: hehehe you never know, jane!

JANE: Well, let's wait until after breakfast for the main course of hubbub. :B

JOEY: good plan!

JOEY: one should never act on an empty stomach :)