#does it count as a team if it's twelve mons

[phobiadeficient]

Hi!!! Would you be interested in doing something with either spy and engineer, or really whatever pairing you felt like writing, and the prompt of “appreciating old scars”? You put such an emotionally lovely twist on the things you write, I just bet it’s a concept that would look great in your writing.

me, zeroing on the word “emotion” and immediately fishing through the Bag of Hurt/Comfort for some truly sappy shit: oh you have fucked up my friend

(minor warning for discussion of past amputation, past surgery, and past severe injury, as well as some insecurity over prosthetics)

-

He felt a burning sort of tingle on his back, and he looked up, turned, and caught Spy’s gaze on him. Surprising that he’d catch Spy staring—more surprising was that he didn’t stop, despite clearly being caught.

The Engineer tried to figure out where he was looking, but the answer was fairly obvious. He was looking at the Engineer’s arm. Rather, he was looking at the place where his arm ceased to be.

The Engineer flushed and quickly set about putting on the Gunslinger and glove.

That was the issue with most of the outpost bases—at the main base in New Mexico, he had his full workshop, a storage space within repurposed as his own room, an area there that he tended to use for a shower so he wouldn’t need to deal with any of the hustle and bustle of the locker rooms beyond hosing off his shoes so he didn’t track into the base. Plenty of privacy and space.

But up in Snowplow? Not so much.

The singular set of showers was the worst part, in his opinion. Three shower stalls total, and two toilets, and three sinks to shave at. He tended to shower in the evenings, so he only usually needed to deal with Heavy, Spy, and occasionally Pyro, as opposed to the chaos that happened in the mornings with everyone else, and generally Sniper had to shave twice daily if he wanted to maintain a clean face, but it was still a bit close for comfort at times.

Not much privacy.

The team all knew about the Gunslinger by then, had all seen it. Everyone—even Scout—was just polite enough not to ask about it, other than a surprised reaction each of their first times seeing it. The Medic asked a few questions during his mandatory physical, but they were all entirely professional—��Is the artificial limb removable,” “What is the standard regiment of care for the site of amputation,” “Are there prepared replacements in the event of prosthetic malfunction,” “Can the replacement limb be exposed to water and other such environmental factors,”—things of that nature, entirely reasonable questions for his primary care physician to be asking. And then exactly one non-professional question, his asking if the limb was capable of strength more than that of the average human, and the Engineer nodded, and he seemed pleased, even if he didn’t press the matter any further.

Largely, he kept it private. But then suddenly he had to shower with everyone else, and he couldn’t let the Gunslinger get too wet, so he had to take it off and leave it outside of the stall. And then as he was drying off enough to put it back on his arm, Spy was looking at his lack of arm, very openly and obviously.

Thinking back on it later, hunched over the meager desk he had available in their minuscule base, he decided Spy didn’t exactly look disgusted or horrified by the lack of a limb. And he didn’t look, even worse, pitying over it. He just… looked. Observed. Took note, maybe. And when he’d looked back up at the Engineer and met eyes with him, he didn’t seem guilty or smug, it was just… recognition. It was just the sort of look to say, “Yes, I was looking at you. Yes, I know you saw me. And there’s really nothing wrong with either of those things. Do you disagree?”

He did, a little.

It was maybe coincidental that over the course of what eventually turned into a camaraderie, and then a true friendship, and then a romantic relationship, the first time they fell into bed together was when they’d once again rotated back around to being stationed at Snowplow. They kept their voices low, aware of the thin walls, rooms pressed close together, the threat of being heard very present. And the Spy slowly stripped off several items of his own clothes, one by one, exchanging long, slow kisses in between, and had only freed the Engineer of his goggles and hat before his fingers fell to dwell at the edge of his rubber glove questioningly.

The Engineer allowed himself a sigh before he pulled the glove off, revealing his robotic arm to the meager light, sunset drifting through the boarded windows of the room and striking light across exposed skin like stationary flashes of lightning, harsh and surprising even in longevity.

The Spy moved to line up his own gloves fingertips with that of the hand’s, finding the task a little difficult due to the slightly odd offset of them. The Engineer waited impatiently for words, for something, and ended up breaking first when none came. “Aren’t you going to ask me how it happened? Where my arm went? How I built this?” he prompted, tone gentle, words defeated.

The Spy tilted his head back up to regard him, and a beam of light crested just across his bottommost eyelashes. “Would you like me to, Dell?” he asked gently.

No, was the answer to that question, but that was irrelevant. “Don’t you want to know?” he asked instead of answering.

The Spy tilted his head very slightly, and the light moved to only catch against his cheekbone. “Ah. But there is a very distinct difference between what I want to know and what I must know, mon cher,” he said easily. “I want to know everything, everything that there is to know, everything in the world. But I do not need to. Non, I think the only thing I need to know…”

Hesitation, gently threading his fingers into the prosthetic’s.

“Will this ever hurt me?” he asked, and looked back up at the Engineer.

“Only if I want it to,” the Engineer said, and squeezed very gently to demonstrate. “So never.”

Spy smiled a little at that, and the motion in his face adjusted his cheek just so, until at once the light could touch his eyelashes and cheek both at once, and Lord, but it was gorgeous. “Never is a very considerable promise, mon beau,” he warned.

“I know,” the Engineer said, and it was enough, at least for then. And he never did get around to taking off his socks, and the Spy only stripped as far as his bottoms, pulling them some of the way down his legs, leaving on socks and garters and gloves and mask and undershirt alike as fervor overtook them both.

It was later, days later, that more discussion happened.

“It doesn’t make you nervous?” the Engineer asked, watching Spy once again idly trying to line up his hand with the false one as they laid together, Spy having coaxed him into resting for some part of the middle of their day off.

Spy hummed in question, looking up at him for but a moment.

“This thing,” he said, demonstrating with a roll of his fingers. “It doesn’t… put you off?”

“Not particularly,” Spy shrugged. “At most, I am occasionally startled by the texture of the glove when I forget which side it is on, or the sudden coolness of it. But I suppose you tolerate my own cold feet, so… assez juste.”

“Not just the feeling of it, the… the being of it.”

Spy tilted his head a little. “You are worried I do not… like it?” he asked, seeming a little confused.

“More that it… makes you nervous.”

A little laugh. “Dell, just because I cannot immediately see it, that does not mean it disappears entirely from my memory. We have been stationed together for years, now. Surely if it was something that bothered me—which is never has—I might have said something?”

He flushed. “Well… why wouldn’t it make you nervous? I’ve got my goddamn arm lobbed off, Spy, that’s… turned folks away before.”

Spy raised an eyebrow. “You think that amputation—or perhaps prosthesis—makes one undesirable?” he asked.

“A little bit,” he admitted.

“Well, count me surprised to learn you find me so hideous.”

Engie frowned. “What?”

Spy sighed, moving to tug off his gloves in two smooth motions, then promptly holding his hands out, palms-up, to see.

The pinkie finger of both hands, the last knuckle onward of his left ring finger, and the entirety of his right middle finger all shone an entirely different color and texture than the rest of his hands, visibly not made of flesh, but instead artificial.

“As they often do, the last finger of each hand simply follows the fourth,” he said, demonstrating by curling and uncurling the fingers in question. “To curl my center finger, I push down some of the way with the pointer and finish curling with my thumb. See? A few years of practice, and I hardly ever even needed to think about it. These are replacements and work roughly as well as organic—I got them during a short trip to Australia shortly after I signed on with Mann Co. as a mercenary—but still, I do things this way by habit. And luckily, since then I also have once again trained myself in piano.”

Engie was at a loss for words. “How many years have they been gone?”

Some quick mental math. “By now… hmm. I spent six without prosthetics, then perhaps twelve with standard, then ten until now with upgrades.”

Almost thirty years. The Engineer was shocked.

“And that’s not to speak of that which has been replaced in reconstructive surgery,” he said, tone still calm and casual, starting to point at his own face. “I lost the majority of my nose, and much of my right ear. The entire shell of my ear and all parts below the bridge of my nose were reconstructed.”

“Why? When?”

“Almost immediately following the accidents causing them.” The Spy tugged lightly on his mask, readjusting it absentmindedly. “It is very easy to identify and pick from a police lineup the man without an ear or a nose. Unless they took me for an undead Van Gogh, I would be entirely out of luck.”

“You’ve got red hair under there?” Engie asked, trying for a joke.

“I’ve had many different hair colors,” he said, turning his nose up a bit, and the Engineer laughed a little. “Regardless, these things happen. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

A hesitation. “What if… what if the changes are more… intentional? And not caused by an accident?” he asked gently.

Spy arched an eyebrow. “A sort of… extreme form of body modification?” he asked. “That would not be terribly shocking either.”

“What do you mean?”

A little laugh. “Dell, you have seen me naked. Surely you have noticed my tattoos.”

His head was spinning. “What?”

Spy hummed, sitting up, moving now to unbutton his dress shirt and pull himself free of the undershirt beneath. “I suppose I was facing you the whole time, and my legs were largely unexposed,” he said, even as he struggled a bit with the fabric. Then he was turning to face away from the Engineer, squaring his shoulders, and he leaned in, surprised.

Some were symbols and markings, no doubt earned from stints infiltrating prison gangs, or perhaps as proofs for insurgents. But others were clearly decorative—roses, phrases, patterns. He didn’t quite get a proper look at them all before Spy was standing, pulling himself free of his pants, and moving fabric aside to show the further decoration on one hip, and up the other thigh. Large, intricate tattoos, weaving and twisting. And across several of those tattoos, scars, and along several of the scars tattoos, the scars not so much ruining several of them as becoming further decoration, further artistry.

“I also have a black spot etched into the bottom of my foot,” he said, lying back down with the Engineer gracefully. “But I choose not to count that one, as it was put there against my will. Forgive me for not stopping to show you that one, I’m sure the sight of my bare ankles would be absolutely scandalous.”

“Might just faint,” Engineer agreed sagely.

“Of course,” Spy agreed, laughing a little. He reached a hand up to stroke across the Engineer’s cheek, and he wondered how he’d never noticed before, the shift in firmness between his flesh fingers and the other ones—mostly wooden, by the feeling of them. Maybe the leather gloves were padded. He wasn’t sure. “Dell, what I am saying is that you do not frighten me. Not your body, at least—I would have to be an idiot to be left unintimidated by your intelligence.”

“You’re intimidated by my intelligence?” he asked, earnestly a little surprised.

“Hm. Some amount intimidated,” he agreed, and then he was up, straddling the Engineer, hands pressing into either shoulder. “The rest, aroused, but I have not entirely made up my mind on it yet.”

“Could be more,” he decided, hands finding Spy’s hips, eyes drifting over where Spy hadn’t yet risen to full hardness in his undershorts.

“So I could,” Spy agreed. “But instead, I think you have deserved a night of attention, mon beau.”

“How’d I earn that?” he asked, stroking his flesh palm up across Spy’s chest.

“I’m sure I could make any number of excuses, but to be entirely truthful, I just very much want it to happen.” He squeezed the Engineer’s shoulders. “Indulge me?”

“Go ahead,” he agreed.

He expected kissing, and perhaps a lengthy session of stroking, being teased to the edge at a languid pace and held there for some time until Spy finally pushed him over it again.

He didn’t expect downright oral worship.

Spy stripped him bare, taking the time to lay kisses in the wake of his hands, moving so slowly that it might have been unbearable if the Engineer was a little younger, a little more wound up. As it was, it was soothing, like some kind of ticklish massage.

Spy paused at one point, glancing up at him when he shivered and shifted slightly. He took note of the goosebumps rising on his arms, and gave a parting kiss to his navel before standing and looking around briefly.

He returned to bed with a large, thick blanket, and draped it around his own shoulders as he laid down, then took the care to lay it out over the both of them, tugging and tucking as needed. The shift of his bare thighs against the Engineer’s as he kept adjusting surely wasn’t intended to be so sensual, but he found it sending a ticklish feeling up through his body, something like butterflies, but they didn’t linger in his stomach. Instead they prompted him to reach up and stroke a hand over the Spy’s chest again. But then Spy was taking that hand and pushing it to lie up next to his head, leaned over him with a little grin.

“I believe I already said this night is about you, mon chou-chou, he purred. “Surely you don’t want to inturrupt it?”

“Just feel a bit strange, just… lyin’ here and all,” he admitted, shifting a little.

Spy hummed, considered that. Then he was bracing elbows on either side of the Engineer’s head, moving to nuzzle along the pit of his neck and press teasing kisses at either pulse point. “Dell, if your concern is with reciprocation, I can assure you that I am very much going to enjoy this,” he purred, breath warm and soothing against his skin, and his goosebumps were no longer from the chill of the room.

It took him a little while to understand the game Spy was playing. He pressed further kisses and feather-light scrapes of teeth and kitten-licks in gentle lines and patterns starting at the wrist of his flesh-and-blood hand, taking the time to move up and pay special attention to each fingertip and knuckle. Then he was moving down along his arm, pausing for long moments in seemingly random places.

He paused for a long moment at the Engineer’s elbow, and it was an odd enough choice that he finally pieced it together, pulse jumping.

What had to be in common between his hands, those random spots along his arms, his elbow? Scars.

The majority of scars on his hands were from mistakes when building, an unavoidable part of often working with power tools and machinery. His fingertips were scarred enough in some places that he largely didn’t have feeling in them anymore. Then along his arms, one place where he’d been bit by a dog years ago, and from mishaps that had happened when cooking with oil and grease, stray splatters that left little blotchy patches, especially visible given the distinct lack of hair that coated much of the rest of his arm.

He knew he was a fuzzy man. He was aware. It was just made all the more obvious, he thought, by the way hair tended not to grow over old scar tissue and marks, leaving them patchy, further drawing the eye.

Usually he would probably feel self-conscious, noticing such a thing, but Spy had moved along up his arm, still kissing at him as tenderly as if he was worried about reopening decades-old wounds, and he couldn’t find it in him to want to squirm away.

Reaching his shoulder, Spy laid a simple kiss to the apex, and looked over at him, and as of reading his mind, he murmured a simple “Handsome.”

“Aw, hell,” he mumbled, covering his own face with his hand, flushing, very much wishing he had his goggles on just then to help hide his expression a little.

Spy just laughed, not a mocking thing, not at him, more just… a wordless vocalization of how much he was enjoying himself, making the Engineer flush and fluster.

Then he dipped down and started lying kisses over the Engineer’s abdomen below his ribs.

It had been years since he got his appendix out, but the scars were still there—a few little ones, maybe an inch or so wide. And Spy paid gentle attentions to them, drawing his tongue flat against them then kissing so very gently, more a brush and press of lips than anything else. Then a pause, and he was dragging teeth gingerly over a larger web of scars marring the space there at the bottom of his ribcage to one side, the site of an accident that had required extensive surgery.

Then he moved up, paying some minute attention to either nipple—not for terribly long, the Engineer’s wasn’t particularly sensitive in that way—and then a gentle kiss just to his sternum before moving up further and concentrating for a few moments at his right shoulder.

He was concentrating on the two faded bullet wounds he had there, fingertips drifting around to brush against the exit wounds lightly enough that at first he thought it was his imagination.

“One of these days, you should tell me the stories you have behind these,” Spy suggested, glancing up at him briefly.

“Maybe if you tell me about yours,” the Engineer’s replied, smiling.

Spy snorted. “I’ll need to look into the status of several non-disclosure agreements and set aside a few days, but that’s fine by me,” he agreed, and kissed each scar again.

Then he was moving down along his right arm, and his breath caught.

Spy looked up at him briefly, gauging his expression, clearly trying to get a read on whether the Engineer was going to allow him to do this next part. Then, still maintaining eye contact, he slowly lowered his head to plant a brief kiss at the line between where flesh first connected with metal.

The Engineer swallowed hard. Spy looked at him. His expression had shifted away from playfulness at some point, and was a little more hollow, a little more serious.

he lowered his head again and pressed kisses all around the base of the Gunslinger, not quite rapid-fire, but certainly a departure from how slowly they’d been moving for the rest of the time. Then he looked up at the Engineer, hand squeezing around the wrist of his mechanical arm firmly.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said, tone entirely certain. “You are a handsome, intelligent, and very strong man who made a choice for himself, and there is nothing—nothing at all—wrong with that. Do you understand me?”

The Engineer’s throat was growing tight. He couldn’t seem to find words.

Spy noticed, and moved to straddle him again, sitting up to look him straight in the eye. The blanket slid, falling to drape at his waist, and his expression was stern. “I don’t know what gave you the impression that this would upset me—if that is my own doing, I apologize, I’ll apologize as many times as I need to if it means putting you at ease. But I love you, and that means loving all of you, natural-born or otherwise.”

The Engineer sat up on one elbow, eyes gone wide. His mouth hung uselessly for a few moments before he forced his voice out, dry and uneven. “You love me?” he asked, the shame he felt at his voice cracking taking a backseat to the absolute wonder flooding into his chest.

“Of course. Surely it is not that much of a surprise,” Spy said, voice falling to teasing for a moment, hand tracing up through the hair on the Engineer’s chest idly.

His mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to figure out a response.

Another snort of amusement, this time at his plight. “I understand if you aren’t ready to say it back,” he assured evenly. “I would not expect you to. I just wanted to make it clear that this goes beyond simply physical desire, or simply filling some void of loneliness. Besides your being very handsome,” he purred, and the Engineer laughed a little, “you are also very important to me. Irreplaceable. And I wanted you to know that, and hopefully it will put some part of your mind at ease.”

His face felt hot as he stared up at Spy.

Actually, everything felt hot. He hadn’t noticed—how hadn’t he noticed?—but somewhere along the line of Spy kissing and licking and nipping across his skin, and petting at his chest, he’d gotten hard.

Maybe there were words in the middle, but it felt like a near-immediate transition then, from Spy looking down at him to the Engineer seizing him by the hips and starting to roll up against him demandingly, made aware of the small desperation that had bubbled to the surface of his mind.

Spy managed to wriggle free of his undershorts at least, and spat into his hand to get the both of them slick, and then he was doing the majority of the motion, given that each time the Engineer tried to rock up into his grip he mostly just threatened to unbalance him. And once he had the reins, the rolls and bucks of his hips, sliding them together in languid motions, it was borderline artful, a mastery that had the Engineer’s head falling back within moments, simply gripping down near Spy’s knees and holding on for dear life.

He leaned up on his elbow and helped support Spy’s weight when he suddenly bent forward and kissed him, solidly, with heat and hunger that almost caught the Engineer by surprise. Kissing him, trying his best to keep up with the way Spy was sending his head spinning, it was easy to hear the transition from panting to gasping to allowing a small near-whimper on each exhale between them. Spy’s eyes were hazy when they pulled back for air, and he mouthed a kiss to the Engineer’s cheek as if unable to help himself, panting hot and damp against his skin.

He was fairly sure that a Spy finished first, choking down moans and simply gasping out his name over and over again, scorching at his cheek and deep in his gut—“Oh, Dell, Dell, s’il v-vous, pl… s’il vous plait,”, something he was fairly certain would be making an appearance in every wet dream he ever had for the rest of his life—but he followed quickly after, groaning his defeat, as quiet as he could keep himself, horribly mindful of the thin walls. Although, admittedly, the thought of being heard sent some minor thrill through him. Something to be explored later, maybe.

The blanket had fallen free of the two of them at some point, down near Spy’s toes, heavy on the Engineer’s shins. Spy was panting hard against his collarbone, pausing only when he swallowed hard, and once his breath was sufficiently back, he was pressing all sorts of gentle little kisses up the vein of his neck, murmuring endearments that were either exclusively in French or perhaps too mumbled for him to understand.

“Really oughtn’t surprise me that you get cuddly, after,” the Engineer teased.

“It has been quite some time since I’ve had the opportunity to lie in bed with a strong, handsome man. Indulge me,” Spy said petulantly, and then he was shifting, his chest nearly at the Engineer’s eye level as he reached to try and fish out a cigarette. The Engineer leaned up to press a kiss to his sternum, and Spy didn’t startle so much as allow some of the looseness of his limbs to fall away, becoming slightly more alert. He huffed a laugh, and then he was cuddled in at the Engineer’s side, nosing into his shoulder.

He put his arm around the Spy on instinct, and belatedly realized it was his metal arm. “Don’t you wanna move over to the other—“ he started to hesitantly ask.

“Non,” Spy cut in, and leaned up to press a cheeky kiss right on the tip of his nose. “Not at all.”

[scarletpan-moved]

All the aesthetic asks

Meme Mentioned: @little-mx-rayne // @kotafrost // @lukeriolc // @paladin-in-red // @jiminy-krispies

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

... I was in Captain D’s, and Pink came on the radio in there, and I was singing to myself under my breath while waiting on my food.

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

Am I going to be okay? 

It’s a general question, I know, but it’s all I need to know. If I could have the reassurance that, no matter what fucking hell I go through, I’ll be okay? I’d be 100% better off.

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Living to today. I think, when you’ve had a tough life, you’ve considered doing things that you shouldn’t, that living past that, living in spite of that, that’s a damn good accomplishment. And living to a point where I have days where I am happy? That’s pretty damn good too. 

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

When I hear happy memory, there is two things that come to mind. 

One: This past summer, going to Michigan, walking around [Town Name Redacted] with my partner. Seeing the water falls, the bears, all of that... 

Two: Theater, back in high school - being back stage and just being so proud, so excited, and so damn happy. I adored that mess. 

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

If I were to die in a year, I would message people. I would message people I hate, and tell them how they made me feel. I would message past squabbles and try to set aside our differences. I would message family members and tell them how their hypocrisy hurts me. 

But would I change anything? No. I’d just be more honest. 

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

Not a formal list, but there are a few things I would say I want to accomplish before I die. They rearrange occasionally, in my head, but at the moment I would say that my top three are 

- Visit Japan, or another country on my bucket list. - Meet people who have inspired me (beyond those who I admire, or those who’s work I enjoy, there are famous people who have inspired me. That list is smaller.) - Pet a sheep and/ or alpaca

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

A temper disproportionate to their height, but equal to their beauty. Protective, to the point of needing to be calmed, just as their zodiac would suggest. They are fierce, will gut you with their horns if you threaten what is theirs, but at the same time they are nurturing. When you are upset, your thought is them. When you are happy, your thought is them. No matter if it is your greatest joys, or your greatest sorrows, you want to share it with them. 

Now, that fits two people in my life, but they are equally as close, as important, and I couldn’t pick one. 

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

I think I had a childhood, which is more than many could say. I also think that childhood ended far too soon. 

I think it was okay, due to my naivety at the time. That being said, looking back on it I do not think it was a ‘good’ childhood by any means. It simply seemed that way at the time. 

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

Does over skype count? If so, last night while I was on a call with Rayne, due to something they wrote. If that doesn’t count, then when I found out about Vegas, being I cried in front of my mother. 

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.

Rayne. 

I picked Rayne because they don’t grow too restless with these things. They see the cheesy romance in typical, old fashioned dates. I picked Rayne because their imagination knows no bounds, and because they are likely to see things in the stars that I cannot. I picked Rayne because we could talk for hours about the ins and outs of the universe, and never once grow bored. 

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

It depends on the setting. If a stranger were experiencing something I have in the past? Of course. If it were to help them, I would have no qualms. But just rando #3? No.

lace: when was your last 3 am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

My partner, Rayne, and I were on skype last night at 3 am. We were talking about our roleplay plot, I do believe it was a plot about her character being in a coma and seeing people in purgatory (think the train station in HP when Harry temporarily died) before coming to.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

I would remind my partners I love them. If I could only tell one, I would tell one and have them remind the other of the fact. I don’t know what else I could want to tell anyone. 

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

I think they are under-romanticized. I think they’re beautiful, and they hold just as much spirit, emotion, and depth as blue or green eyes. I think brown eyes are beautiful.

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.

“Keep moving forward.” 

This has been my mantra for years, even more so since Mon/ty O/um died. Keep moving forward means the obvious, to keep moving and never give up, but also more than that. It means to always be looking at the next thing. It means not to let something get in your way, and instead move past that. It means not to move backward. It means that, once you’ve moved past something, keep going. And that’s a reminder I need.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

“An Eventful Life in Depression and Anxiety”? “Growing Up is for Chumps”? I’m not really sure

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

Hoard the fuck out of it. 

No not really. I would travel, some. I would take Rayne and Kota to cons, and buy cosplays. I would tip double at restaurants, and leave $10 in tip jars. I would buy Sta/rbucks every day. 

I would be happy.

I wouldn’t be in debt.

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

No. No no no, you see I try to be forgiving. And once upon a time I was. Now days? I’m passively bitter. I don’t have the energy to stay mad, so I don’t. But I refuse to forgive people and welcome them back into my life once they’ve hurt me. Fuck that. Fuck them. 

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

Dear 12 y/o Kerri, 

I know things are... off this year, or they will be soon. Just know a few things. If someone loves you, then they show it. Sage may be a dumb ass, but he's right, you should listen to him. Haley has a lot on her plate, you know what's going on with her mom, don't hold her immaturity against her. She's more important than he is anyway. And I know you like Math Team, but maybe you should quit.

Also? Mom isn't trying to ruin your life. I promise, she loves you. Please, don't... be so hard on her, okay?

                            We’ll Be Okay,                                          20 y/o Kerri

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

Pastel punk?? Like I enjoy both spectrum(s) of fashion, so I’m not sure.. I guess I lean more toward punk in physical style, right now at least.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

I love them. There are four tattoos I want, and I would love a few more piercings as well. body mods are a wonderful path for self expression.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

Yes?? I think it’s a normal amount, but on days where I’m feeling up to it I typically wear foundation, powder, contour, eyeliner, and mascara. 

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.

                    “You've got to make a choice                     If the music drowns you out                          And raise your voice      Every single time they try and shut your mouth” 

M//CR has always been a big influence and help to me throughout my life, but these lyrics always helped me. Honestly, these lyrics started my journey to speaking to be heard, instead of keeping quiet.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

Fuck uhm

That’s a lot of pressure.... I guess “We are all the same, stop implementing arbitrary differences, this is what divides us.” 

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

I’ve only really been to a few small ones. I went to B/oys Like G//irls, but that wasn’t my choice, and then I went to Skill//et - that one was amazing. It was my first date with The Boyfriend, and honestly the memory is one of my fondest ones. 

Other than that, I saw Jeff Will//iams in concert at RT/X, and I think that was my best concert experience so far. It was pure magic, and I hope I can see him again.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

My nana saying she bought me a car and is paying for my college, instead of being a greedy old-- 

Okay no, bad. 

Uhm, honestly? I’m not sure. I suppose getting a letter saying that my college was paid for, I’m... Not sure.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

I have a desk, but it’s a fucking mess. I have a shelving thing and some drawers on it, but they’re all a mess, honestly I need to clean it. Also cups. And pens. Cup + Pen city.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

Skype until it’s time to crash, wash my face, brush my teeth, fall down into my pillows.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

Hmn... Probably how far away I’m planning on moving. My dad probably expects it, but mom... I think she has this illusion that I’ll stay in-state forever and I really can not do that.

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

Mmmm I think I’d go back to purple? Or purple and blonde? Maybe purple with blonde streaks in the bangs? Or pastel purple?

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

Mmmm Kota, Jacob, Rayne... And then probably Kit and Cricket? We’d probably go to the gardens or the zoo, that sounds like something we’d all enjoy!

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.

I wish to be closer (physically) to Rayne, so that we can comfort one another better in times of crises. 

I wish to be better at understanding emotions, so that I can better help those around me. 

I wish for a voice acting opportunity, so that I can follow my true passion. 

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.

Hmm I really liked this one I had a few years ago. It was a witchy-esque dress, it had a hoop in the skirt that I took out, and then I did some soot-y makeup to go with it. 

I need to lose weight so I can wear it again...

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

Oh uhm

I think falling out of my chair while on skype with Rayne was probably the worst thing I did while high, but I can’t remember much of that night. WAIT I TOOK A TEST WHILE SOMEWHAT HIGH DOES THAT COUNT

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

Mmm, I would do a lot for that much. I guess kill / hurt an innocent animal, I’m bad but I’m not that bad.

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

Two Faced - Shannon Taylor (it’s suck in my head)... But as for a person, I can’t pick. I gotta have Jacob, Kota, and Rayne. I can’t pick one. 

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realize you’re in love.

Yes. 

It feels like everything clicks. It feels like conversation flowing like water. It feels like opening up faster than you ever have before. It feels like thinking about them at 3 am when you can’t sleep, but also at 8 am when you wake up, and noon when you’re busy in class. It feels like discomfort when you can’t check on them, and relief when they message. It feels like a warm bubble bath, every time you hear them laugh or see them smile. It feels right.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

I have really short hair, bitch.

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

Mmmm It depends. Right now I could go for a white chocolate mocha with an extra shot of espresso, oooor a PSL. And Kota could always order for me. 

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

My own emotional progression, and my relationships (with Rayne, Jacob, and Kota). Anything else is second fiddle. 

[nadiineross]

title: mutual friends: five, probably

pairing: kara/lena, lena/having actual real life friends

note:  no mon-el and maggie. alex is out and secure in terms of her sexuality. complete-ish; its just fluff. (read my tags if u want something extra lmao)

summary: Lena’s a little nervous, to be honest. Sure, she’s made friends, but if you really think about it, she can still only count that number with one hand. (To be fair, four of those friends work for a secret government agency, so it’s not that bad.)

It starts with Jess.

She’s beautiful and sharp, both mind and tongue. And the first thing she says to Lena after she’s hired is, “This will be the most unprofessional thing I will ever say to you, count on that, Ms. Luthor, but I won’t sleep with you.”

And that’s that.

Loyal as ever, Jess moves to National City with her, wordlessly stocking up her collection of alcohol at the end of the first week as she did back in Metropolis and forging a strange, mostly silent bond with Lena.

Jess is her first friend in a long, long while.

The next comes wrapped in pastel sweaters and plain button ups.

Kara Danvers, hair as golden as her heart, is a puppy.

Lena’s smart, though. She managed to survive the Luthor household, after all. Kara didn’t befriend her out of the kindness of her heart – Lena doesn’t doubt it’s there, no, she did is because she’s a Luthor.

It’s fine. She just has to prove them all wrong. Easy.

Okay. So it’s not that easy.

Literally the same month, she gets shot at in a helicopter (god, she knew flying was a mistake) and has her building attacked.

Still, it gets her a friend in Supergirl. Supergirl!

Who would’ve thought?

“You should be careful.”

Lena reaches for her glass, water, because she feels like she’s bordering on alcoholism, and regards Jess over the rim of it.

“Kara Danvers,” Jess clarifies, “The reporter.”

“What about her?” Lena asks, eyebrows raised.

Jess is thoroughly unimpressed. Under ‘Education’ on Lena’s Wikipedia page is a list of Russel Group universities. She doesn’t appreciate Lena’s attempt at playing dumb. “You’re a Luthor and she works at CatCo – Supergirl’s biggest fan club.”

“I’m a Luthor,” Lena says, almost amused. “And I haven’t done anything wrong. I have nothing to hide, Jess.”

“I’m not talking PR-wise.”

“Whatever happened to professionalism?”

Jess rolls her eyes.

Lena almost grins. Almost. She hides it behind her water, covered by her hand. “I can’t believe I pay you.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting Ms. Danvers manipulate you into friendship just so she can write stories about you,” Jess retorts.

Lena narrows her eyes. “You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you.”

“And how am I supposed to if I don’t give her a chance?”

Jess, mouth pressed into a line, turns around and opens the door. “Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Lena smiles, wryly. She picks her pen back up after transferring the water into her other hand – try as she might, she is not ambidextrous – and finishes signing off a contract.

The door closes as Jess snorts. Outside, Supergirl flies by, a grin on her face.

The air is colder up here, on her balcony, she notes as she pours water out of a half empty plastic bottle, the ones she left around for drop in meetings, into the one potted plant she has out here.

Jess had went home earlier, but not after insisting Lena left at most fifteen minutes later. That was an hour ago. She makes another note to herself to restrict Jess’s access to security footage so she won’t nag Lena about it tomorrow.

“It’s late, Ms. Luthor.”

“Supergirl.” Kara. Lena’s not stupid. It’s almost an insult, honestly. They’ve been friends for just short of half a year now.

Kara drops herself onto the balcony and offers her a tiny smile. “Why are you here so late?”

“Unfinished work,” Lena replies, dismissive. She crumples up the bottle before twisting the cap on and quirks both her eyebrows. “This brings back memories.”

Kara nods, straight faced. “I’m sorry you, well… Almost… Died.”

Lena laughs and steps back into her office, tossing the bottle into the bin by her desk. “I’m sorry you had to skip coffee with Kara to save me from plummeting thirty floors.”

Kara follows her in, closing the balcony door, and rounds the desk just as Lena takes a seat. “Any time.”

“My hero,” Lena says, almost teasingly, turning on her laptop. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but why are you here?”

“Oh.” Kara blinks. “Just checking up on you. Because we’re friends.”

That’s another thing, Lena’s jaw tics, because of the three friends she has in National City, two of them are the same person. The other, is her secretary. She sighs to herself.

Lena glances over at Kara and sees her peering over at a pile of CatCo magazines on her coffee table, all of which has at least one article she’s written. Well, at least she tries to hide it. “I’m fine,” Lena says, amused when Kara jerks around. “But thanks, Kara.”

Supergirl beams. “No problem, Lena.” A beat. “Ms. Luthor. Wait. Wait, what?”

After a fair amount of panic and two days of flat out avoidance on Kara’s part, she comes back with apologies spilling out of her mouth and bag after bag of take out.

For the next week, Kara tries to bribe Jess into liking her, because even though Kara’s proven to be a good friend, Jess still doesn’t like her.

Eventually though, Kara manages to find the secret, which is just twelve shots of coffee every morning and a quota of ten words per person spoken to her before eight.

And after that, Lena gets it. The invitation to what Kara makes out to be the most prestigious weekly happening in the entire city, if not country.

Game night.

There, she’s met with two not-quite-glares and two grinning idiots to make up for it. There’s Alex, Kara’s Rottweiler guard dog of a sister, and then there’s James Olsen. The other two are obviously Kara herself and Winn, the guy she’d met at her own gala.

She arrives five minutes late due to another IT disaster, despite wanting to show up at least five minutes early, and is disastrously overdressed.

Kara lends her a pair of jeans and a loose sweater to go over her dress shirt.

When she comes back out, James and Winn are still arguing over which game to start with and Alex is pouring herself more wine into a Mickey Mouse mug with her phone in hand. (Lena groans quietly out of the back of her throat, because, honestly, mood.)

They end up settling it when Kara declares that since it’s Lena’s first game night and it’s her choice, which implies there will be more game nights in which Lena doesn’t get first choice, making Lena want to bounce a little like Kara would. She doesn’t, instead, she gingerly sits herself down next to Kara and the arm of the sofa, and picks out Trivial Pursuit.

Kara wilts a little at the choice, but Lena’s in it to win it, so she just pats Kara’s arm – she’s not touching her leg, no way – and promises Kara that they can team up.

They split into two teams, Kara and Lena, and the other three. About four seconds in, it’s made clear to Lena that it’s really actually Lena playing and Kara’s still stewing over which president haunted the white house.

Still, Lena reckons she put up a good fight. She loses. Still.

Kara apologizes sheepishly when she realizes they’ve lost and she’s still deciding whether it was Washington or Jefferson – it’s neither, Abraham Lincoln’s ghost was supposedly sighted.

It’s only after Lena’s completely obliterated at Go Fish and they take a short break does one of the others finally talk to her.

“I love Kara,” Alex says as she sidles up to Lena in the kitchen, “But you shouldn’t have paired up with an alien for a game that was going to quiz you on human and pop culture.”

Lena, twisting the end of her borrowed sweater, smiles, softly, looking over at Kara who’s currently trying to throw chips into Winn’s mouth while James films the entire thing. “Who else was going to pair up with me?”

Alex snorts and mutters something with the word fuck. “I’ll do it next time. If you can even say no to Kara’s face.”

Lena grimaces and meets her eyes, stepping back a little at the slight hint of accusation there. “I–”

To her immense relief, Kara starts clapping her hands and hailing them back over before Alex can interrogate her more.

“We’re playing Monopoly now,” she announces, pulling Lena down next to her, except putting her in the middle, next to James, this time.

Winn immediately starts dishing out money and it doesn’t escape Lena’s attention when he slips both Kara and himself an extra hundred. Neither, apparently, does it escape Alex’s, judging by her indignant snort when Kara tries to hide it.

They don’t say anything.

James goes first, rolling the highest and scoring himself another roll, and buys out every property he lands on, screwing Winn over.

Unsurprisingly, Winn goes bankrupt first and spends the rest of the game trying to distract James as revenge.

Alex soon gets bored and runs herself into the ground on purpose, only to foster a renewed interest and starts helping Kara with strategies, leaving Lena as the last person who’s playing normally.

And with Alex’s help, Kara’s actually winning, so Lena, who’s already figured out they’re trying to get James out of the game with Winn, decides to help.

In the end, two hours of arguing and one noise complaint in total, Kara’s pouting into Alex’s shoulder as she tosses her last buck into James’s grinning face. He gives Lena a high five when she bows out and lets him have his victory and for once, she feels like she belongs.

“Thanks, guys,” Kara says after they’ve finally settled down and cleaned up (there was a lot of cleaning up, no thanks to Kara’s bad aim, or as she insists, Winn’s habit of moving every time she throws a chip to scam her).

She hugs everyone goodbye, first Winn, then James, and then it’s Lena, who she grapples around the waist and buries her face into. Lena doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to this.

Alex sticks around, giving Lena an awkward nod over Kara’s shoulder before turning back to the TV.

Outside, James and Winn wait for her, which is just… Well. Lena doesn’t want to say weird, because it’s sweet of them, really, but it’s weird.

“Thanks for letting me win,” James says with a wide grin, hand coming up to rub at his neck.

“My name’s Winn and you still let me lose,” Winn says as they wait for the elevator.  

Lena laughs and tucks her fingers into her sweater (Kara’s not getting it back). “I didn’t know you’d be that bad at Monopoly.”

“I resent that. Really. I do.” Winn pauses, leaving the atmosphere in the elevator silent and awkward and Lena shifts her weight onto her other foot. “Anyway, tell me about photonic crystals and the hot solar absorber you’re developing.”

Lena tenses. Her little IT problem that made her late. “Did you have anything to do with a cyber-attack?”

Winn’s eyes widen. “Uh. I mean, no. Technically, yes.”

James transitions from absolute bewilderment to a frown and smacks Winn over the head. “We talked about this.”

God, Kara and her friends are going to be trouble.

After that, she forms a bond with Winn over what is quite frankly, nerd-stuff.

She counts him as her third friend she makes in the city. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Alex is fourth when, the following Friday night, they team up together as promised for Trivial Pursuit and wipe the floor.

She’s still frosty at times, especially when she catches Lena smiling to herself at Kara doing something either really cute or stupid or both, but other than that she’s a formidable opponent in Monopoly and has a sense of humour Lena could appreciate.

James is last and it takes her three more game nights for her to finally understand why.

“Literally only Kara doesn’t know,” Alex says.

Lena gestures to her shelf of alcoholic drinks. “Help yourself, Agent Danvers.”

Alex happily pours herself a glass of whiskey and sits herself down on the couch. “Nice office.”

“Thanks,” Lena says. “Literally only Kara doesn’t know what?”

Alex gives her a look. Her entire body goes rigid until she relaxes when Jess steps in with a tablet. “Ms. Luthor, I have this month’s – oh. Hello.”

“Thank you, Jess,” says Lena as she nods for her to hand the tablet over.

“Both James and Winn know, Lena,” Alex says whilst Jess taps away at a second tablet, waiting for Lena to finish scanning over the reports. “About you.”

“Hm,” Lena hums, distracted.

Annoyed, Alex clinks her glass loudly. “And Kara.”

Ah. Her eyes moves rapidly from Alex to Jess and back to her tablet, she almost misses Jess’s scoff.

“Oh yeah,” Jess mutters under her breath, even if it’s obvious they’ve both heard it.

Alex smirks.

“I don’t know what either of you are talking about.” Lena returns the tablet back to Jess and pointedly looks over at the door.

“Of course, Ms. Luthor.”

Jess is a little shit.

When the door closes, Lena swivels around in her chair to face Alex. “Could you not embarrass me in front of my assistant?”

“She probably has more embarrassing stories about you than I do,” Alex replies. It’s true. Part of the reason why Lena’s stopped drinking after work is because she says some really stupid things without a filter. “Beside the point, Lena, everyone knows.”

“And what is your point?”

“That there are already three other people I know who are ready to kill you if you hurt her. Four, if you count Cat Grant,” Alex says, nonchalantly. “Also, just ask her out.”

Lena raises an eyebrow. She really expected more. “And you’re encouraging this, why?”

Alex gives her a funny look. “I want my sister to be happy, not a nun.”

Lena laughs.

“And by the way, even James agrees.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” Lena stares at her. “They used to date?”

That– Lena stares at her some more. That actually makes a lot of sense. As far as she can tell, Kara and James both have the urge to help and, well, there’s something between them. Something a little too stiff for people who’ve been close friends as long as they have.

Alex mutters a Jesus Christ and gets up. “You’re both blind.”

And that’s that.

Winn’s off to some nerd convention for the next game night, so they can finally play two-on-two. Kara attempts to be fairer; she sticks their names on a random generator she gets off Google and picks teams every time they play a new game.

It takes off perfectly, starting off with Pictionary and a strange team played game of Battleships (specially lined with lead, she’s no cheater) with Kara, followed by more single player games they’ve turned into twos, like Chess with Alex (apparently, Kara’s misplaced Trivial Pursuit), and then Clue with Kara, again (making up ludicrous murder scenarios much to all of their amusement).

And then it’s James. She’s paired with James four times in a row. Really, what kind of random generator puts her up with the ex-boyfriend of her current crush? And pits them against the Danvers sisters? A higher power is out to get her, truly.

“Uh. Hippo? No! Elephant!”

“Yes!”

“Alligator? Crocodile.”

“Yes! Did we win?”

Alex chortles and wraps Kara up in a fierce hug. “As if those losers could beat us. We’re the reigning charades champs, Kara.”

Kara mimes wiping dust off her hands and takes a seat, grinning smugly at Lena and James.

“Well,” Lena says, apologetically, “I’m not much of an actress.”

James smiles, warmly. “I’ve heard otherwise. Medusa had us all fooled.”

“Do you want to act first or should I?” Lena asks, a little stilted.

“I’ll do it,” he says. “Theme?”

“TV shows!” Kara shouts, even though she’s an arm’s length away.                                                                                

He does as told and turns to face Lena as she takes out her phone to open the app. “Ready?”

“As ever.” She doesn’t really have the time to watch TV, but she’s hoping for classics and shows that are so mainstream even she couldn’t avoid them.

James, always, always smiling, guesses to the best of his ability, even when she flounder a little on some of them. Unsurprisingly they lose, but by the time they’ve played four rounds, they’re only behind by a couple points.

They take a break before they launch themselves into legitimate single player games. Kara sprawls all over Lena’s lap as James makes conversation with Alex. “Are you having fun?”

Lena laughs, absentmindedly sticking a hand in Kara’s hair and working out the knots. “Yeah, of course.”

Kara hums. “Oh. Well… good.”

“Good,” Lena repeats.

“Okay. And you’re going to keep on having fun?” Lena furrows her eyebrows. “Because we’re playing Go Fish next.”

Ah. Lena bites back a laugh and fakes a huff. “I’m leaving now.”

“Lena.”

After that, James walks her to her car since it’s on the way to his.

“Have a good night,” he bids, waving as she tosses her bag into the passenger seat.

“You too,” she replies.

L-Corp’s finally announcing the new solar cells and she gives CatCo an exclusive.

Kara spends the majority of the interview gushing over a cat picture and mulling over the casual game of chess they usually play whenever she stops by the office. Jess drops in every now and then, leaving behind a snide comment before she leaves.

Then, she goes for a photoshoot with James (who insists on being the photographer).

She’s a professional and she’s had shoots before, whether it be with her family or for L-Corp, so the shoot flies by.

Lena lets a stuttering college student wipe the makeup off her face and smiles kindly when he murmurs a bye.

“Just a second!” James calls before she can walk out of the studio. “Don’t you want to look at the pictures?”

“I’m sure they turned out excellently,” Lena replies, turning a little. “I trust your abilities in photography.”

James jogs up to her, his camera in hand. “Yeah, but you’re not even a little bit curious?”

Lena bites her lip before sighing and inching closer to peer over at the camera. “Okay, fine.”

She was right. She looks like she can stab a man with a stiletto and still look meticulous. That’s not the image she really wants for herself, but it’s one that she must have to run her company. Besides, it fits with the sleek, modern thing L-Corp’s going for.

“I look… great,” Lena says, slowly, as he flips through more photos.

“Are you complimenting me or yourself?” James jokes.

“Me, of course.” He comes to a stop on the last one, where she’s her hand’s half way to her mouth and she’s laughing her guts out – probably when Kara dropped in and did something endearing. It looks… nice. Softer. “Oh.”

James grins and turns his camera off before she can comment on it further. “Hey, I get off work in five. Wanna go for drinks?”

Lena, taken aback, only blinks.

“Hello?” James waves a hand in her face. “You in there, buddy?”

“You want to go for drinks with me?”

James tilts his head. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He frowns. “Or do you not drink alcohol?”

“No, I do,” Lena says, hurriedly. “Yeah. Drinks. Sounds good.”

James chuckles. “All right, then. I’m going to put all this back in my office. I’ll meet you at the front?”

“Sure,” Lena says.

She almost texts Kara or Alex, or even Jess, to come be a buffer, but decides against it when she sees Supergirl zooming past overhead (she hopes it’s a cat stuck in a tree) and knows Jess would be a nightmare to put up with.

James comes out soon enough, tie loosened and customary grin in place.

He leads them to a bar walking distance away, so they don’t have to worry about transportation (she doesn’t really have to, because she’s technically still on the clock and has chauffeurs) and opens the door for her.

“Bar or booth?”

“Booth, please.”

James gestures to the one in the corner. “I’ll get us drinks. What do you want?”

“Oh, no, I can get my own,” Lena says. “I can afford it.”

“It’s fine,” James says, nudging her. “Come on, before a group of underage NCU students take it. You can buy the next round.”

Lena begrudgingly splits up with him after giving him her drink order, sliding into the booth and shooting a text off to Jess, telling her to head off early since she’s most likely not coming back to the office tonight.

Jess blue ticks her as usual.

“So,” James starts when he sets her glass down and settles down opposite her. “How’s business?”

She raises her eyebrows after taking a sip. “Friends talk about this in a post-work bar hang out?”

“Touché,” he replies through a laugh, and that’s how she makes her fifth friend, six months into living in National City.

They skip game night next week, because there’s an arson somewhere downtown and Kara and James have to rescue people as Alex and Winn work with the DEO. She feels a pang of incompetence in her chest when she sees all her exhausted friends the next day when Winn insists on a movie marathon to compensate, but she quickly pushes it away.

Winn’s apartment is as nerdy as she envisioned, and they mostly just leave the other three to geek over all his random gadgets he’s got scattered around.

Later, Kara flies everyone home individually.

It’s not the first time, the second actually, but it is the first time when Lena’s actually not dying.

Kara drops her off last, because Alex basically fell asleep two seconds into High School Musical 2 and Lena insisted that James go next, because Lena’s still trying to figure out how Winn got an entire airplane engine into his bathroom.

She hates flying, but she’ll take any chance to cling onto Kara. She’s desperate, so what.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks as Lena shifts in her arms to tuck her head into the hollow under her chin. “I can go slower.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Lena, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she replies, brightly, before hesitating. “I, uh, don’t know where you live.”

Oh. Lena reminds herself to invite them over for dinner or something, and then mutters out her address as Kara changes direction sharply.

“My bad. Sorry.”

Lena tightens her hold on Kara, patting her muscled bicep lightly. “It’s okay.”

When Kara lets her down on her balcony, she takes a moment to adjust, murmuring her thanks when Kara quickly scoops her purse out of the air when she drops it.

“Uh,” Lena finally says, “Kara.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have keys to my balcony.”

Kara blinks. “Oh. Right. That’s all right. Just give me your keys and I’ll fly down to let you in, this way you won’t have to fly again.”

Lena smiles a little, stepping up closer to dig into the purse Kara’s still holding and pressing it into her palm. “My hero.”

Kara looks almost dazed as she flops over the balcony with the keys.

It takes longer than expected. Kara apologizes when she finally barges into Lena’s apartment and twists the lock open. “The doorman wanted a signature.”

“It’s okay, Kara.” Lena whips off her cardigan, tosses it on her couch, and kicks her heels off. It takes her about two entire minutes for her to realize Kara is staring curiously at her walls. “Not what you expected?”

“Well, no. But it’s nice.” Lena gives her an amused look, padding to her kitchen for a tub of ice cream she’s not going to eat, seeing as she bought it for Kara ages ago from a brief trip to Europe but never found the time to give to her. “No, really, it’s nice,” Kara says, earnestly.

Lena takes a spoon from a drawer and turns, juddering back into the fridge when she finds Kara right there.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Lena laughs and thrusts the ice cream into Kara’s hands. “Eat up, Supergirl.”

Kara takes one look at the label and is a goner. Lena can tell. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Says the superhero to a Luthor,” Lena says, dryly, shuffling around Kara to hoist herself up onto the island.

“You know I don’t see you as a Luthor, right?” Kara asks, frowning and holding the half-finished carton aside. “Sure, you’re Lena Luthor, that’s your name, but you’re not… You know. A Luthor.”

“It was a joke.” It was. Kind of. “Seriously, Kara, enjoy the ice cream and your out of this world metabolism.”

Kara giggles, appreciating the pun, and scoops a literal quarter of the carton on her spoon, stuffing it in her face. Lena shakes her head and turns to grab a roll of napkins.

“Come over here,” she says, one hand coming up to Kara’s neck once she’s close enough and the other with a napkin dabbing at her bulging cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thanks,” Kara says around a mouthful of ice cream. A glob lands on her suit, just over the crest, and Lena quickly swipes that up before Kara can move her head more.

After that, Kara takes it slower, taking tinier spoons as Lena scrunches up yet another used up napkin.

It’s warm and quiet in here, surrounded by framed CatCo articles written by Kara, pictures from various game nights, and even one of her and Jess a gossip site had gotten when she’d first moved here. (She forgets to think about the one she has of Lex at her high school graduation hanging proudly by the door.)

When Kara finishes the carton and sets it next to the pile of napkins, she leans into Lena, sandwiched by her thighs. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”

“I always go,” Lena replies, eyes flicking from Kara’s still hopelessly sticky jaw to her eyes.

Kara’s hand rises up to cover Lena’s, still on her neck. “You work too much.”

Lena almost laughs in her face. “You have a day job and a night job.”

Her hand tightens on Lena’s. “Yeah, and I’m an alien who doesn’t need as much rest as you.”

“Your night job is beating the ever living shit out of criminals and charging into exploding buildings. We’re even.”

“Lena Luthor.”

“Kara Danvers,” Lena retorts, swiping her finger lazily over Kara’s pulse point. She wonders if Kara’s heart beat is just really slow or her skin is too dense for her to feel for it. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Not a problem,” Kara reassures, immediately and vehemently. “That’s what friends are for.”

Lena smiles and is so close to kissing her that she almost feels like crying when Kara jolts violently, head swiveling around.

Kara’s mouth is open, ready to say something, to apologize, but Lena hops off the counter and swipes twice at Kara’s shoulders. She pushes some hair away from Kara’s face and tugs her lower so she can kiss her forehead. “Go get ‘em, Supergirl.”

Kara gapes, then it morphs into a grin. “See you tomorrow, Lena.”

A moment after Kara’s jetting off, Lena falls back onto her counter, sagging. That was a disaster. A big gay disaster.

Lena sighs, takes the empty carton and spoon, and throws them into the bin and sink, respectively. She’s 100% certain the only reason she’s gotten so bold is because prolonged exposure to Kara and her friends have really boosted her confidence.

She’s not sure if she likes it.

“I heard through Winn who heard through Alex that you kissed Kara.”

“On the cheek,” Lena says, not missing a beat. She’s exhausted.

James hands her a whiskey, because that’s a thing now, they go for drinks every Monday and she finds that it’s an effective bonding experience and also an excellent time to bitch about businesspeople. He can really relate now that he’s been stand in chief at CatCo for half an entire year.

He’s somber, odd for him with his usual cheerfully charming disposition, but not in the slightest within this context. Lena sighs and hopes that this isn’t the end of their friendship. She doubts it, because James is genuine and accepting, and all-in-all the greatest guy she has ever known, and will ever know.

Lena’s sure of it. James pats her hand and Lena’s sure of it. “Now, usually, I wouldn’t help someone who’s head over heels for my ex by gossiping about said ex, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Lena Luthor.”

What’s with everyone and her full name? Christ.

Lena slumps lower in her seat. “And?”

“And the only reason why I know about this is because I heard through Winn who heard through Alex who heard through Kara talking about it for an entire hour and a half instead of choosing to eat the potstickers Alex brought for her.”

“Potstickers? Not, I don’t know, say, pizza?” Lena can’t hide the shock in her voice and she doesn’t really try to.

“Potstickers,” he confirms.

“Christ,” she whispers.

James nods in agreement. “Agreed. She’s in deep.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

For the first time that night, he laughs.

“You’re on your own on that one, buddy.”

Predictably, Alex stops by the next day just after Kara’s left (she tries her best to drop in every morning, firstly, so she can give Jess her morning coffee the way she likes it, and secondly, to bid Lena a good day). “I assume you’ve heard.”

“Hello to you too,” Lena says, sending off an email and returning to her inbox. “How did you get past the guard dog?”

An email from Jess pops up. In it, is a link to a shared company document and in that, is a long list of HR complaints, dated in chronological order starting from the conception of LuthorCorp. She’s pretty sure if she prints it out, staples the ends together, and throws it over the balcony, it would just reach the floor. Message received, loud and clear.

Lena closes the tab and starts up on an apology email.

“Jess loves me,” Alex says, they share a good natured laugh at Jess’s indignant scoff.

“Close the door, please,” Lena says, and after Alex kicks the door shut, continues, “I did hear. From James.”

Alex takes a seat opposite Lena and raises her eyebrow. “You should ask her out. Y’know, on a date. That’s how normal people do it.”

“She’s Supergirl and I’m a Luthor.”

“No, she’s Kara and you’re Lena,” Alex says, sharply. “Try again.”

Lena sends the email off to Jess and rubs her forehead. “She’s straight.”

“Didn’t you graduate from Stanford or something?”

“Only Met U for my bachelor’s and master’s and M.I.T. for my PhD, actually.” Lena props her chin up in her hand.

“All right, humble brag – actually, not even humble,” Alex says. “I did med school in NCU.”

“All right, humble brag – actually, not even humble.” Lena smiles as Alex rolls her eye at her. “And I knew that. Kara talks.”

Alex throws her head back and groans. “Don’t I know it, Luthor. She won’t stop talking about your cheek kiss. Just ask her out. Why are all you both so incompetent?”

Glancing around pointedly, Lena furrows her brows and forces herself to be stiff-lipped to stop herself from smirking. "I run a multi-million dollar company and your sister holds the safety of an entire city in her hands.”

“Exactly!” Alex points an accusing finger at Lena. “I expected more from you guys. Well, actually, not from Kara. It took her an entire year of pining over a taken man to get a boyfriend.”

Lena’s eyes widen. “A year? Taken? James was taken?”

At this, Alex positively cackles. “Oh, wait till you meet Lucy Lane.”

“What?”

Alex takes her phone out and holds it up to her ear. “Oh, what’s that? A real life emergency? Sure thing.” She gives Lena a salute, excellent form, because of course. “Ask her out or I’ll sue you and use the money to pay Kara’s favourite potsticker place to stop selling to her!”

James tells her their whole story when she requests a pre-game-night visit at her office, since Alex has proven to be unreliable and whenever she’s around Winn, they end up arguing over robot ethics or something. (She’s also not about to say anything about it to Jess or Kara.)

Throughout the entire thing, his expressions flicker through pure adoration, frustration, contemplation, and sadness, bordering on wistfulness. Lena gets it, to some extent at least. She puts a hand on James’s arm and pushes his drink closer to him as he comes to an end.

He chuckles, mirth not quite reaching his eyes, and knocks it back.

“I’m sorry that it ended.” She means it, sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “I guess some things just don’t work out the way we want it to, no matter how much we want it to.”

“Still,” Lena says, this time she means to say I’m sorry for violating the bro code or whatever that stupid shit is.

They fall into companionable silence as Lena switches her laptop off and halfheartedly organizes her desk into piles of paper.

When they go to game night, she sits shot gun in James’s car, instead of going separately.

By the time they reach Kara’s apartment, they’re back to easy banter. Kara opens the door to Lena’s red face, holding back her laughter and failing disastrously as James greets her happily.

“Hey, guys,” she says, carefully, “Come in.”

They’re early, so Kara lets them pick their spots first and dig into chips.

“Hey, Lena?” Kara asks when Lena’s rifling through the giant pile of snack foods for the cool ranch Doritos. “Do you want to change out of your work clothes?”

Lena curses under her breath as she straightens up, remembering that she left her casual outfit in her own car. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes. Can I borrow something?”

“Of course,” Kara responds, instantly, and leads them to her room. “Do you want jeans or sweatpants? Shirt or are you fine with just a sweater?”

“Jeans and sweater. Thank you.” She’s seen Kara’s ducky sweatpants and she’s not going to be caught dead in those around Winn and Alex.

“Any time.” Kara hands her a pair of jeans and opens another drawer to pull out her sweater. “So, um…”

She adjusts her glasses nervously.

Lena smiles, patiently, hoping Kara doesn’t bring up the cheek kiss. She’s not ready. “You’re going to have to finish the thought, darling.”

Kara blushes fire engine red and glances down at her feet. Pet name slip, oops. “Right. So are you and James… a thing? Or…”

“I’m – Kara, I’m gay,” Lena says, mildly. She came out publicly at least two years ago. This explained quite a lot, actually.

“Oh, Rao!” Kara blinks in quick succession and stumbles a little more over her speech, some not even spoken in English, or in any human language, for that matter. “Sorry. For assuming. That’s great! Good. That’s good. For you, I mean.”

Lena laughs and her chin bobs as she nods slowly. “Thank you, Kara. I do enjoy lesbianism.”

“Right.” Kara pushes her glasses higher, despite the fact that they’re at a reasonable height on her face. “I’m just gonna – I’ll go and let you change.”

That could have gone a lot better. It also explains why Kara herself hasn’t asked her out yet. Because Lena kind of wants that, she does.

When she goes back out, Alex has arrived and Kara’s on the phone with Winn in another room. She stuffs her folded dress into her purse and takes a spot next to James, who’s found the cool ranch, bless him.

After Kara walks out of the apartment to help Winn carry something up, Lena clears her throat. “Kara didn’t know that I’m a lesbian.”

Alex chokes on her sour cream and James lets out a long, suffering sigh.

“That clears up so many things for me,” Alex says. “I should’ve known. She basically told me I didn’t find the right guy accidentally when I first came out. She’s kind of awkward and just generally unaware about people’s romantic lives. Unless it’s on Sitcoms.”

Lena blows out a puff of air.

James gives her a thumbs up, though. “Maybe she’ll ask you out like you want her to.”

Here’s hoping.

“I’m learning so much today.”

Once again, because Kara’s magically found it, Lena wins at Trivial Pursuit, this time with Winn. It’s clear that Kara’s been reading up, since she actually contributes more to her team’s efforts. (Or, more likely, Alex tells them, when Kara goes to the bathroom, that she’s memorized as many answers as she can – later, she stomps out the bathroom and very emphatically tells them that Alex is a lying traitor.)

They try charades again, with one person sitting out every round to assign topics. When it’s Lena’s turn to pick, she gives Kara a choice between movies and animals (and she thoroughly enjoys Kara’s medley of the Little Mermaid songs), and James a list of occupations to act out for Alex.

To Winn, she gives musicals, because while he can sing, he doesn’t know anything about it and she’s still bitter that he’s declared himself the winner of their robots ethics discussion. Alex gets TV and she thanks her profusely. James and Alex win that particular round, seeing as James runs a magazine, so he knows his pop culture and Alex spends every other night binging on Netflix with Kara. Also, Winn flops spectacularly.

Next, Winn rotates off, putting James with Kara and Lena with Alex.

He gives Lena impressions and accents. Needless to say, she loses the game for them.

Judging by the unstoppable force of her laughter, Alex doesn’t necessarily mind.

Lena grins, good natured, and joins James. She’s going to destroy Winn, later, when she tells him what the fuck else she’s brewing up in her labs, which are very carefully guarded on her unhackable servers, thank you very much.

They’re nearing the end of a game of poker (Kara is as bad as expected; Lena is as bad as unexpected) when Kara hears some trouble a couple blocks away. It’s a mugging that Supergirl can handle on her own and faster than the Guardian can, so she goes alone, telling them they can stay as long as they want.

Still, Lena ends up going home early because she still has responsibilities, and Jess will kill her if she cancels another early morning Saturday meeting. James drives her and only starts off down the road when the doorman closes the door behind Lena.

She’s already asleep when Kara flies past her window.

It only takes Kara about an entire month before it happens. It’s almost winter now and Kara’s been wearing more sweaters in an attempt to fit in.

Lena herself is decked out in coat after trench coat. (Jess mutters something that sounds like, “There’s no in between with you two,” but she’s apparently never saying anything unprofessional to Lena, so she’ll give Jess the benefit of the doubt.)

There’s about a hundred articles written on her love affair with Kara, so they’re not necessarily fazed when a random kid takes pictures of them out on various lunches (on the ongoing hunt for National City’s best restaurant, not that it exists), but it’s not something Lena’s happy about.

Kara avoids the camera, self-consciously nudging her glasses using the tips of her fingers, before flat out frowning at the guy until a waiter notices Lena Luthor’s accompanying glower and kicks him out.

“How’s your week been?” Kara asks.

“You saw me yesterday,” Lena says, affection warming her tone. Seriously, they had game night literally less than twenty-four hours ago.

Kara puts a single index finger on the tip of Lena’s glass of iced lemon water, and Lena knows there’s not a chance in hell she’ll be able to lift it without breaking the cup. “How’s your week been?”

Lena laughs and wraps a hand around Kara’s. “Now? It’s great. How about yours?”

“Glad you asked,” Kara says, “Do you have, by any chance, a jerk detector you need testing? I know a guy. Snapper.”

“I’m sure I can start development on one.” Lena gently pries at Kara’s hand until she gets the point and moves away from Lena’s cup so she can take a drink.

Pouting, Kara splays her fingers over her face and slots her chin into the concave in her palm. “I can’t wait till Ms. Grant comes back.”

“Do you know when that is?” She’s still holding Kara’s other hand

“Well, no.” Kara grips a tiny bit tighter. “But I have hope that it’s soon.”

Lena’s pretty sure that’s enough to bring Cat Grant back. That’s one of Supergirl’s strongest powers, after all. She isn’t aware she’s said it aloud until Kara’s blushing and just about ready to haul Lena right over the table. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Lena says, fiercely. She has an unwavering faith in Kara, that’s only trumped by Alex to the best of her knowledge.

Kara beams before she nibbles at the edge of her lip and uses her free hand to fiddle with the tablecloth. The abrupt change in demeanor makes Lena knit her brows together and take another sip from her water. Are they going to talk about the coming out this now?

“Lena?” She hums in acknowledgement. “Can this be our first date?”

Her water goes down the wrong pipe and she coughs into her hand, so no one sees it dribble down her chin. Kara, almost knocks over her own drink when she stands abruptly to help Lena wipe her face and pat her back.

“I – I’m sorry,” Kara says, panicked. “We can ignore that.”

“What?” Lena croaks out, shooing her away, so she can just take seat and let Lena process. “No.”

“No?” She’s got the kind of wince that makes her scrunch up one side of her face in a pained smile.

Once Lena’s sure she’s not going to spew more water all over the place, she clears her throat and straighten up in an attempt to gather her dignity. It’s shattered. Spilled all over the floor. “I mean, if you want to ignore it, then… But I don’t. Because I would love it. If it was our first date.”

Kara’s entire body shakes with nervous energy as she bobs into her nod. “Yes! Definitely. I would be honoured.”

There’s a brief pause.

Lena giggles and then, after a second passes, Kara follows.

“We’re a mess,” Lena says.

“Gosh, don’t tell Alex, she’ll never let me live it down.”

“She’ll never let me live it down. Or Winn.”

“Pact to never tell them?”

“Done.”

[barpurplewrites]

Distress Call

Pretzel Week : Forced Partners Trope in Sci-Fi AU

RumBelle

OUAT/Star Trek

-x-x-x-

Ensign Avon Belle was certain she’d offended the Prophets, she wasn’t sure what she’d done, but she was being punished for something. It was the only explanation for the misfortune of the past twelve hours. Actually that wasn’t true; it was more likely that Lieutenant Mills had given her this assignment as punishment for pointing out her calculation error. She refused to feel bad for having done that; unchecked Mills’ error would have rendered the stellar-cartography data of the nebula worthless. She said a quick prayer of contrition for doubting the Prophets and got back to dying slowly from asphyxia. It really had been a terrible day.

 Twelve Hours ago

Belle made it to morning briefing with twenty seconds to spare, but Lieutenant Mills glared at her as if she’d been an hour late.

“Thank you for joining us Ensign Belle,”

Belle refused to rise to Lieutenant Mills deliberate misnaming. She kept doing this to try and upset her, but the rest of the science team thought it childish and addressed Belle correctly. When she had no response but stony looks from the rest of the shift Mills continued; “Now everyone has finally arrived. The duty roster for today is unchanged from yesterday, with one exception. Ensign Be…Avon you will be taking Doctor Pel to check the deployed sensors. Shuttle Maine is waiting for you in hanger bay two.”

Belle could have groaned at that, but Mills was watching her closely hoping for a negative reaction so she could berate her in front of the shift. Belle kept her face neutral and acknowledged her orders with a simple nod, which made her ear-ring shift and catch the light. Mills’ eyes narrowed but she couldn’t say a damn thing about that since Captain Blanchard had given all Bajoran crewmembers permission to wear the spiritually significant item while in uniform. The briefing finished quickly and once they were dismissed Belle sighed quietly to herself, but not so quietly that Ensign Re’d couldn’t hear her. It wasn’t that surprising, Re’d was from Lupine 9 and had exceptional senses of hearing and smell.

“See the Queen is still narked at you.”

Lieutenant Regina Mills had the nickname of ‘the Queen’ among her staff. It wasn’t original since her given name, but it was accurate for her attitude. It also was not in any way complimentary, but that too matched Mills’ interaction with anyone she thought beneath her.

Belle shrugged; “When isn’t she?”

“You should hustle, don’t want to get on Pel’s bad side before you start you shift.”

“Does the man have a good side?”

Re’d gave her an odd look and loped away to her duty station. Belle headed to the shuttle bay wishing she’d had time for a raktajino.

Doctor Pel was already in the shuttle performing pre-flight checks, his gold-grey skin shimmering in the console light. Not for the first time Belle wondered if his race actually needed sleep. Had he been more inclined to chat she would have asked him that and the hundred other questions she had about his home world of in the Nona Nebula, but his cranky nature made even her reluctant to satisfy her curiosity.

A heavenly scent assailed Belle’s senses.

“Is that raktajino?”

Pel didn’t look up from his checks, but he waved a black clawed hand at the mug in front of her station.

“The computer informs me you were reviewing last cycle’s data until 0200. I doubt you had time for your morning beverage before reporting for duty.”

Belle was surprised; this kindness was out of character for Pel. She took a grateful sip, it was perfect, and exactly the way she took it, hot and strong.

“Thank you Doctor Pel.”

He snorted at her; “Well, you’re no use to me if you fall asleep Ensign.”

Ah, there was the cranky scientist she’d come to know.

 Now

“E..Ensign A…Avon. Wak…ke up.”

The panic in Pel’s voice was clear even through the chattering of his teeth. The temperature had dropped as life support failed which was bad news for his biological functions. The cold had slowed his reptilian body to the point that his thinking was sluggish, had he been warmer he would have thought of this sooner. Belle opened her eyes and gave a slight jump of surprise to find him so close to her. He wrapped his hand around hers and managed to say; “Breathe in as I breathe out.”

She looked understandably confused, but nodded and did as he asked. The first lungful of oxygen rich air he exhaled drew her closer, hungry for more. He couldn’t keep this up for long, not when he was this cold, but the Misthaven would be here in less than five minutes; this would keep her alive until their rescue arrived. Of course he might not be alive to benefit from that, with the next breath his vision began to fade

 Eight hours ago

“That drone is out of alignment, Ensign.”

Belle’s fingers were already flying over the console as she made the correction.

“I’m correcting now.”

“No, no, no you’ve altered the sensor angle. Start again.”

She ground her teeth together and snapped; “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

Pel cocked his head at her and frowned; “Why would I want to catch flies. I’m not hungry.”

She gave him a curious look. Not much was known about Pel’s species, the Enmork were a very private race and relatively new to the Federation. She had to wonder how much effort anyone on the Misthaven had put into getting to know the visiting Doctor.

“It’s a human phrase; it means you get better results from people by asking nicely rather than being rude.”

His sharp mossy teeth nibbled at his lip as he thought about what she had said.

“Would you please not disrupt the sensor angle?”

She smiled at his attempt, it wasn’t perfect, but he was trying, “I will do my best.”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

They worked quietly for a few moments until Belle’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Do you really eat flies?”

“Hum, oh yes. On Enmork we have a type that is as big as your head and tastes rather like that sal-mon I had at the welcome reception.”

“I didn’t know that.”

He snorted; “Not surprised. The only person who has asked anything about Enmork is Lieutenant Mills, and she was only interested in our mating habits,” He gave a dramatic shudder that told Belle exactly how well he had received Mills’ questions, “With her attitude I suspect she does not catch many flies.”

From the corner of her eye she could see him watching her to see if he had correctly employed the phrase he’d just learned. Belle laughed and shook her head; “She does not.”

Warning. Incoming Radiation Wave

They both focused on the console. Pel made a string of sounds that the universal translator ignored, so Belle suspected they were curses.

“We are registering a Cherenkov Radiation surge. The sensors have no idea what is about to hit us.”

Belle jabbed two codes into the console. One sent a distress call to the Misthaven and the other activated the seat restraints.

“Brace for impact!”

 USS Misthaven NCC - 815

“Shuttle Maine in visual range, Captain.”

Captain Blanchard rose from her seat as the image of the drifting shuttle appeared on screen.

“Life signs?”

Lieutenant Commander T’Vil reported; “I have Ensign Avon, but Doctor Pel is fading.”

Blanchard tapped her comms; “Bridge to Sick Bay prepare for two emergency transports.”

Whale’s voice answered curtly; “Sick Bay ready Captain.”

“T’Vil get them out of there.”

 On the shuttle Pel sucked in one last carbon dioxide heavy breath and held it while his lungs photosynthesised it. His eyelids blinked twice as he leaned in closer to Ensign Avon. This was the last oxygen he could give her; he had to make it count. He could only hope she understood the apology in his eyes as he sealed their mouths together and forced his last exhale into her lungs.

Belle staggered as they landed from transport. Whale’s medical tem swarmed around them yelling things that made no sense to her.

“Ensign Avon let go of him, now!”

She became aware of the tight grip around her hand.

“I can’t. He won’t let go.”

Whale appeared in her eye line.

“Blutige Holle! Was he breathing for you? In this state?”

Belle memories of the last hour were fuzzy, but Pel had somehow managed to produce oxygen for her so she nodded. Doctor Whale gripped her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye.

“Ensign Avon. Enmorkons cling to their family when they hibernate. Pel is clinging to you, he’s not dead. Hold on tight.”

The only response she could give was a nod. The medics accommodated her proximity as if it was normal to be dealing with to linked patients. Belle hissed as hyposprays were administered to counter the effects of oxygen deprivation and hypothermia, her eyes never leaving the now dormant form of Pel.

Her only coherent thought was; “By the Prophets let him live. Please, let him live.”