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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

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let's save the world

season two, episode six

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you attend a light supper with the hargreeves family- you’re confident to say it was a shit supper

warnings: cursing, the asshole reginald

word count: 4.5k

a/n: okay, i’m so sorry that this part took so long to come out (it’s also kinda short but that’s more because the episode focuses a lot more on the other siblings), at first i stopped writing for a week or two and then i kinda focused on requests because i didn’t want those people waiting too long, but hopefully i’ll be able to crank these out over the next week and finish the second season. which comes the question: when season three comes out, do you want me to continue this? it might be a while, and it will also depend if i feel like continuing, but i want to know what you want as well. thanks :) please enjoy

i’m also sorry if there are any inconsistencies. i realized i’ve had r go back to the cafe on multiple occasions when she said she wouldn’t be back- i went ahead and changed that. i might have to read through my own story to fix my mistakes 😪

after your drunken four person party at the hair salon, everyone went on their own ways to confront the issues they had so that they could have some semblance of peace before the six days you had were up.

you couldn’t exactly face your problem. it came in the form of a certain fifty-eight year old man that had fucked up both of your bodies, and you didn’t know where he was. sure, you could admit the problem and see that as facing it, but you wanted to at least tell five. you had no clue as to why.

for that moment, you allowed yourself to let it go. you were stumbling through the streets with the near empty bottle of champagne almost slipping from your grip. it was definitely a sight to see, one that would definitely be concerning to the passerby- only a few spared you a glance, though.

when you ended up at the cafe that you had missed, even after only being away for a day or two, you looked through the window from a few feet away. taking one last glance to the bottle, you quickly downed the remaining drink before tossing it into a nearby trash can and pushing through the door that rang a bell atop it.

stacy happened to be on shift, and when she looked over to see you, she had a smile at first- until she noticed your state. “y/n? what happened?”

waving your hand in dismissal, you push past the swinging gate. her face scrunches up as you move past her, “is that- are you drunk?”

with a shrug, you lean against the door to the back, only a push away from falling straight onto your back. “i’d like to think i hold my alcohol well,” you lick your lips, a small smile tugging your lips up, “it’s nice to see you again.”

before she had a chance to respond- to question why you were drinking, since she thought you to be a teenager, you had pushed through into the kitchen. you could walk to the stairs to the apartment with your eyes closed, and you nearly did. it was made a bit more difficult, since you were unable to balance fully on your feet, but you managed.

it only took you a few minutes to wrestle with the lock before you stumbled through the door and to the bed, falling onto the soft mattress, almost instantaneously passing out.

when you woke up, you had a killer headache, and you had to lay with your face in the pillow beneath your head- one that had a pool of drool sinking into the fabric, but you couldn’t care for that right now- for a few minutes to remember what you did yesterday that gave you the horrible ache. it came back to you slowly, and you sighed heavily as you sat up, running your fingers through your messed hair.

standing from the bed, you made your way into the bathroom, looking in the mirror hanging above the sink to fix you hair that seemed to have gone through hell, with how it had been messed up so severely.

you shook your head once you were done, fixing your shirt slightly and grabbing a pain killer before shutting the light off and moving to leave the apartment. your eyebrows furrowed when your gaze fell upon an envelope that looked like it had been slipped through the crack at the bottom of your door.

glancing around the small room cautiously, you slowly stepped towards it, snatching it up off of the wooden floor once you made it. it was plain, save for the circular golden sticker holding the flap closed.

you pursed your lips, hesitantly pulling the sticker off and pulling the card inside out. your eyes skimmed over the words written.

from the office of sir reginald hargreeves

to my pursuers:

i, reginald hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the twentieth of november, nineteen sixty-three, at half past seven o’clock.

-1624 magnolia street-

dallas, texas

“shit,” you mutter to yourself quietly, the envelope drifting to the floor as you release your grip on it to scratch your scalp. glancing towards the calendar, which had previously been used to count the days you were stuck here alone, your eyebrows furrow. “that’s today.”

you make your way to the address listed on the paper, looking at the tall building once you finally make it.

southland life.

reading the card once more to be sure this was the place, you sighed softly and walked across the parking lot to get to the entrance, not sparing another look up as you walk through the door.

looking around as you make your way up polished steps, you stuff the now folded card into your back pocket. as you get to the elevators, you see that one is already opened, so you quickly walk over to get in before it leaves you behind.

when you look into the opened doors, you stop for a moment when you see five. “oh,” you stare at him for a moment. “you’re back.”

“yeah.” he motions to his side for you to actually step in, and you realize that you hadn’t actually done that yet, practically jumping inside.

you stick your hands in your pockets. “you usually don’t just up and go like that on me.” you point out his previous actions, indirectly questioning where he had gone that was so important to leave you behind.

“sorry,” he glances to the ground, and you could tell he actually was. “i-”

he was cut off by the sight of a hand stopping the doors just as they nearly closed, “wait up.”

it’s diego who steps into the small space next, and you all look at each other in surprise and confusion, before the rest of the hargreeves family files in, all glancing at each other. it ends with luther, who you have to move to the side for.

the doors finally close on all of you, and there is a silence that you know is from the anticipation of what exactly is going to happen. the numbers over the doors begin to light up, one by one, each letting a ding echo through the space.

after a few seconds, a stench fills the air that has your nose beginning to scrunch up as you try not to breathe in- everyone else notices the smell, and soon it’s realized that luther was the one who had caused it. “sorry.” he stared straight at the numbers, not looking at any of you, “i’m nervous.”

the doors take way too long to open, but when they do everyone is rushing out, covering their noses to avoid smelling it any longer.

when you enter the floor, a sign hanging from a pole supporting the roof tells you that it is a tiki bar- if it wasn’t obvious enough from the beachy decorations surrounding you.

“alright,” five is the first to get to the table, standing by a seat surrounding the circle. “when dad gets here, i’ll do the talking, okay?”

it’s more of a statement than a question- you know that and you aren’t about to argue. the only thing you know about the man is what five told you when he was actually thirteen. that he was a man who cared for nothing but himself and creating a team that he could control. you believed it. it was hard not to.

“i’ve got a few questions for him myself.” diego tells him, and you know if he actually managed to ask any of them, this whole meeting would be over in an instant. he wasn’t exactly the calm and understanding type.

you shake your head as you turn to look at them, standing at the chair next to five, “we don’t want to scare him off.” you tell them, glancing over everyone, “he might be able to help us stop this new apocalypse and get home.”

the man isn’t so ready to cooperate. “no, y/n, we need to figure out why he’s planning to kill the president.”

“okay, this is a matter of life and death, you imbecile!” five argues back, and you can tell this supper is going to be a real shit show.

“okay, maybe we should take turns talking?” vanya suggests, everyone looking to her as she grabs one of the decorations, “alright, whoever has this conch shell gets to talk.”

you run a hand down your face. this family and their terrible communication. “vanya, we don’t have time for a debate, okay?” five tells her, already seeming to begin to lose his patience.

“maybe i should lead.” allison walks forward and takes the shell from the other girl, “we all know i’m a much better public speaker than the rest of you.”

diego looks at her from where he paces, “okay, daddy’s girl.” the jab is small, but you know it’s going to set off a lot. you look to five, your expression showing all of what you think. he just shrugs.

“oh, jealous number two?” the girl questions, raising an eyebrow at him.

the man moves around the table, “hey, no more numbers.” he glances around, “no more bullshit. we’re team zero.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion. what is this crap? team zero?

“uh, diego.” luther speaks from his seat, “you don’t have the conch.” he motions to the object in allison’s hand.

you have to look down at the table to hold in your laugh at that.

the man gives a tight lipped smile, holding his finger up for a second before taking the conch from allison and... throwing it, letting it shatter against the wall.

you’re about to finally let your laugh out, until the door comes swinging open, reginald swiftly making his way to the table as everyone stares. he sits and everyone is silent as they take their seats as well, and you fidget with your fingers.

“you have not only burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose,” his tone is serious as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves, “conned your way into the mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked me,” you didn’t realize how much you had really done until you had gotten the list from the old man, and you see that he has brought a notebook with him when he brings out a pencil. “but you have, on numerous occasions, called me...”

klaus is pulling a chair out next to him, a drink in hand. of course he had gone to the bar already. “hey, pop.” he smiles as he sits and leans back in the chair, “how’s it hangin’?”

reginald barely looks at him when he intrudes his little speech, his eyes moving to look around at all of you. “...dad.” you glance to your side to see how five’s doing, and as you had expected, he was annoyed. you could tell by the way his jaw had begun to lock in it’s place. “my reconnaissance tells me that you are not cia, not kgb, certainly not mi-five, so.” he places the pencil on the table, “who are you?”

everyone is silent, not sure exactly what to say, but five speaks up after a moment. “we’re your children.”

“except for me.” you cut in, holding up a finger just so he knew. you did not want to be associated with this man.

his gaze falls on you two as five takes a quick glance in your direction, “we’re from the future.” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him, “in nineteen eighty-nine, you adopted us and trained us to fight against the end of the world.” the old man looks around, seemingly not believing what he was saying. “called us the umbrella academy.”

his gaze continues to move around, “why on earth would i adopt six-”

“seven.” he is cut off by allison, “one of us isn’t here.”

diego is staring at the table, “dead.” he informs, looking up, “one of us is dead.”

“yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba, enough of that now,” klaus speaks from his chair and you all look to him, slightly confused as he had turned to talk to what seemed like an empty space behind him. he turns back to the table, waving his hand in a silent sign to continue.

reginald laces his fingers together on the table, “regardless,” he looks away from who looked like a crazy person, “what would possess me to adopt seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“we all have special abilities,” you lean forward on the table with a pursed smile on your face, “but, once again, you didn’t get me.” you wag your finger in the air, feeling the need to reassure that point.

“special?” reginald seems to ignore your second point, an eyebrow raised in interest, “in what sense?”

“in the superpower sense.” luther speaks from beside him, giving a small smile as he nods.

the old man looks to him, “call me old fashioned, but i’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence.” he returns his gaze to everyone, “show me.”

allison picks up her drink, stirring it with her straw, “everyone wants to see powers all of a sudden,” she jokes, taking a sip.

“we’re not circus animals, okay?” luther informs him, “we’re not going to balance balls on our noses and... clap our hands like seals for your amusement.” he claps his hands together a few times. just as he finished speaking, though, a knife flies through the air, curving around reginald to stick in one of the wooden pillars.

it’s quiet as everyone looks at the knife, before reginald opens his notebook and begins scribbling something. everyone leans forward, “what are you writing?” diego questions quickly.

he looks up from the paper, “you are zero for two, young man.”

allison giggles into her drink, and diego begins to push away from the table to go after their dad. you try to stand and stop him, but five gets there before you in a flash of blue. “stop!” he whispers to him, his hands on his shoulders for a moment to keep him from moving any further.

you sit back down in your seat, and look to reginald, who seems impressed. “now, that is interesting.”

with a sigh, five moves away. “alright, quick run down.” he begins to move around the table, pointing to each person as he gives away their powers, “luther: super strength, klaus can commune with the dead, y/n can create and control fire, and allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“but she never uses it.” diego takes his seat again, and allison rolls her eyes.

looking up from her drink, she looks to him. “i heard a rumor, you punched yourself in the face.” his eyes turn white and his hand balls into his fist before colliding with his face, and you cringe as he groans in pain, holding his head in his hands.

as he curses in pain, reginald seems to ignore it as he looks to the woman sitting next to him. vanya. “and you?” he questions her.

“uh, maybe we don’t take vanya for a test run.” luther suggests, and everyone seems to agree.

she looks nonchalant about it. “it’s fine.” she says with a shrug, “i can handle it.”

she reaches for a fork, and everyone begins to try to stop her, “handle it?” allison questions with a raised brow, “last time you handled it, you definitely blew up the moon.”

when she doesn’t seem to be stopping to everyone’s protests, clinking the metal to her glass, all of you begin to push away from the table, but it’s too late when the fruit at the center of the table explodes, covering the table and everyone around it.

you look to your shirt in disgust. she couldn’t have done something a bit less messy?

she smiles in her seat, shrugging her shoulders as she looks to the table. “oops.”

allison presses her lips together as she gets another drink and switches her straw over. diego stands from his seat, leaning onto the table. “look, we know you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.” he speaks, and you roll your eyes at his continued insistence to save the president, as if that wouldn’t change the timeline one bit.

reginald looks to him. “you were recently hospitalized, correct?” you can’t help but to clench your jaw at the mention, “you still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.” his tone is matter of fact.

you look to five, who also seems to be knowing the direction this dinner was taking. south. plummeting into a near-erupting volcano that bubbled at the surface.

“am i?” diego pulls the picture of their dad in the grassy knoll out of his back pocket, reaching over the table to put it in front of him. “that’s you.” he informs, pointing to his figure in the picture, “that’s two days from now on the grassy knoll, at the exact spot the president is going to get shot.”

picking the paper up, he looks to him after inspecting it for a moment. “well...” he looks around before passing the picture back over the table, “i suppose you’ve solved it. you have single handedly unearthed my nefarious plot.”

diego looks at him, and you bite your lip. suddenly, you feel bad for him- mostly because reginald was a bastard that you could easily burn for everything he had done. “is that what you wanted to hear?” he questions, “you fancy yourself a do-gooder? the last man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy?” everyone is silent as he continues, “this is a fantastic delusion. despite the reality that you are a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. more succinctly, a man in over his head.”

he had sunk back down to his seat throughout his father’s speech, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. you look to five and he returns your gaze, and you can feel the frown that sets into your face. he sighs softly, looking down to the table as diego stutters his denial.

everyone is silent for another few moments, and you shake your head. “look, forget about the president.” you wave your hand as if to swat the idea out of the air, “we have a catastrophic war coming in five days. we need to figure out how to stop it.”

reginald looks at you. “war? men will always be at war with one another.”

“no, this isn’t just some war.” five tells him from beside you, his fingers laced together on the table that he leans on, “we’re talking about a doomsday. the end of the world.”

the old man looks at him for a moment. “well,” he says after a moment, raising his hands to motion to the group, “you’re the special ones, aren’t you?” he smiles, but you can see the sarcasm behind it, “why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

you all stare at him, until from the chair next to him, klaus’ hands fly up into the air and he begins to shake, choked gasps escaping him. “is he having a seizure?” allison asks in concern, everyone looking at him in confusion.

“overdosing, probably.” diego comments.

luther’s eyebrows furrow, “should we do something?”

“klaus!” five whisper-yells at the man as he leans over the table, “now is not the time! what are you doing?”

he slowly turns towards where you’re sitting, and you grimace as you see the vessels that are beginning to pop out from beneath his skin, his face turning red from his choked breathing. “i’m...” the word is barely there.

“out with it, boy!” reginald exclaims.

“ben!” after the word is spoken, he goes limp and falls to the ground, shuddering from where he lays on the wood.

reginald closes his book, placing it on top of some folders that he had also brought, “well...” standing from his seat, he tucks the things in the nook of his arm, “thank you all for coming. i’ve seen about enough.”

as he steps over the barely conscious klaus, luther watches, “no- i-” after a second, his hands slam down onto the table, making you flinch slightly from the sudden bang. he stands, ripping his button-up open, “look at what you did to me!” he seems distressed as he shouts, “look at it!”

five lets out a slight huff, falling back into his seat. “oh, shit. why?”

you bury your face in your hands, unable to comprehend how broken this family is. what is wrong with all of them? you don’t think you’ll ever know.

you look back up as reginald glances around before pointing to five. “you in the culottes.” the young-looking boy lifts his head to look at him, “a word, in private?” he doesn’t give him a chance to answer as he turns to leave, walking away from the family.

watching as five gets up, you fight for words but can’t manage to say anything as he leaves you behind. he seems to enjoy doing that these past two days.

“check, please.” allison holds her finger up for the waiter to end this shit show already. you don’t even wait for the paper to come, standing from your seat to get in the elevator ahead of them all.

the numbers ticked down as you stare up at them, letting out a soft sigh in the otherwise silent space. when the doors slide open, you’re left staring out into the hallway for a moment before you finally stepped out and left the building to be hit with the chilly night air.

deciding to stay a bit to possibly catch five on his way out you move to the side of the entrance on the sidewalk, sitting down on the cold concrete. you can see the cars waiting in the parking lot. you think one of them must be reginald’s.

a few minutes later the other siblings exit the building, and you watch silently as they begin to make their way away from the building- but diego and luther come to talk to you first.

“you’re not heading back to elliott’s place?” the knife thrower questions, raising an eyebrow at you as you look at him.

shaking your head, you pull your knees to your chest to get a bit more warmth. “i’m going to try to wait for five. i’d rather he not leave me behind for something important again.”

it’s quiet for a moment as the two nod, before luther claps his hands together. “alright, then. we’ll see you when you get back.”

you play with your fingers as they walk away and one of the car leaves- vanya had gotten in, so you assume it was her ‘farm frau’ as klaus had called her. the rest of the siblings quickly disappeared to... wherever they were going, and you were left alone (aside from the car that awaited reginald’s exit).

after waiting for you don’t know how long- maybe about twenty minutes or so- you see the flash of blue that signals five’s arrival and you quickly jump up from the concrete.

“oh, finally.” you sigh, brushing off your pants as he does the same with his uniform jacket, “it was starting to get too cold. what did the old man say? does he know how to stop this thing?”

the frown on his face tells you otherwise, and he sighs softly. “he didn’t help with anything. just told me what i already know.”

you run your fingers through your hair, staying quiet for a moment. “so, what do we do now?” the question almost makes you sound weak, and you hate it. you were just tired of having to save the world from something that you don’t even know.

“now, we make a deal.” he tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he glances to the ground. “the handler told me she would give us a briefcase in return for a favor.”

you feel your shoulders slump slightly at the mention of the woman. “i can’t believe this.” you shake your head with a sigh, but you’re already grabbing his hand so he can flash you to wherever she may be.

when he doesn’t do it, you look at him with a raised eyebrow. he looks surprised, for some reason. “you’re not going to ask what it is?” he asks, wondering why you just blindly agreed.

“i trust you.” you shrug, and you yourself also find it incredibly stupid. the deal could be a death trap that you didn’t know about, yet you’re ready just because he thinks it will help save everyone’s ass.

after a moment of quiet, he nods. “okay.” he blows out some air, and you feel his hand tighten around yours slightly. “you should know, though. she wants us to kill the board.”

that is what really gets you. “the board? how are we even supposed to do that?”

“she knows when and where they’re meeting.” he tells you, and you purse your lips.

“alright.” you take a deep breath, “let’s make this deal before i change my mind.”

he nods, and without another second, you’ve appeared in front of the door of a room that looks to be in a very fancy hotel. you keep hold of his hand, not able to deny the nervousness that washes over you at this task. but you could do it. you were one of the best assassins, so what’s killing a few more people?

after five knocks on the doors a few times, they open to show a smiling handler. “ah!” she exclaims, and you can tell she had been waiting on the two of you. “just in time for a nightcap.”

she walks away from the door and you finally release his hand when you step in and close the doors behind you. “to be clear.” five speaks as the handler holds a cocktail out to him, “we take out the board... you get us all home. no doomsday, no apocalypse.”

as he speaks she had moved to the bed, laying on top of the covers on her side as she takes a drag from her cigarette. holding a paper up in the air. “that’s the deal.”

“we’re in.” you tell her before you can think any further, just knowing that this was a way to get home, the only way you knew of at the moment. if you didn’t take this, who knows if you would be able to stop this. the first time around you didn’t even stop the apocalypse, only escaped it.

when she waved the paper, you stepped forward and took it, unfolding the invitation. five looks over your shoulder. there’s a seal of a bird at the top, and you quickly skim over the words.

the lonely lodger inn

oshkosh wisconsin, 1982

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @ purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five #number five #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #lstw #let's save the world

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kitkat1003 · 4 years

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Everything is Blue

Chapter 1: His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him. He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out! I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au. Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr! It even has a sequel! Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her. A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it. He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point? She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories. He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead. Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing. If anything, MK thought he’d be older. He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them. Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time. DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young. Powerful. Weak. Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin. Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops. His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face. The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot. It’s a miracle he’s even standing.

What is this?

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters. The empty canisters. There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?

Is this? Wher e it w e n t?

Wha t i s . . . ?

It’s hard to think. His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel. Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea. He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze. How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face. He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here. Then again, he doesn’t even know how he got here. He feels dizzy just trying to remember.

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss. Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time. He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing. There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little. He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost. He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before. Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands. He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy

“Here, kid. Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever. Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown. MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight. MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying

Leave.

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air.

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm. Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again. He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain. The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque. MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little. Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second.

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud! Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone. Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him. He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know? Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool. You uh...you bring anyone with you?”

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No? Unless-Oh no, is there someone here? Is it a demon guy?” What if he led a bad guy here? What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved. MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves. Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh! That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head. “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt. But! If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker! Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.

“Sure, why not? If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow.

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin. “Totally! I’m, like, the best at meditation. I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects. MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits. Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks. A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move. It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise. “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out. Nothing else matters but the energies around you. Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,”

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride. “I’m a pretty powerful guy. DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too. Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath. The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin. Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King. Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding. He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already? You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope! Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?” He shrugs, and then stands, looking around. Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip. “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong? I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself. “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud. I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off. MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei! She’s...very green. Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid. Not surprising. Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts. “You’re freezing. It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal. Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe? I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately. Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again. “You’re probably fine. Just, take it easy the next few days, alright? Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job. When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely. MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay. Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.

Monkey King deliberates. Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what. We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago. Kay?”

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home. He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find. He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold. He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest. For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat. There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice. He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training. It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore. MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work. Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries. It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day. He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy. Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so.

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam. Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing. He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake. Cruel, to yell at one so young. Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump. Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down. He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it? When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

It’s probably nothing. After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments. When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings. When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating. When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up. When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days. When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you. They want you gone. They’re plotting against you. They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that. He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying. He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues. He knows that he’s not a good enough successor. And that just makes him want to do better.

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense. He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know? He’s the Monkey King’s successor. He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager. If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part. Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be. He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter. He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough. He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often. If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week. He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier. Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades. He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet. He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right? That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right? He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough. They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room. He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore. He’s losing feeling in his fingers. He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him. And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out. If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him. He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?

Listen to me.

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it. The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice. He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them. They try to kill him, but it’s never personal. He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him. He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder. They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him. And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close. And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age. And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son. It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen. Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in. Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon. They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat. After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task. So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm. You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around. He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad. Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number. Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text. He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before.

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape. They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt. MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK. You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it. He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth. He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them. That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently. He sips the tea. It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says. “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt. If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea. A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away. Apparently MK is too cold for its liking. He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning. Mistakes are bound to happen. Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever! You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is. “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool. Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with. MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright. Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced. Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang. I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories. I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back. He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble. Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it. It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay. The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by. Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled. Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly. MK tilts his head to the side. “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh. So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits. Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK? You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah! What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled. They thought he had killed an innocent girl! He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him. The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit. She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather. Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up. Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently. “More than once. Not that it matters.”

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends. “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better. But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side. “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right. Eugh, gross. Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down. “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter. MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind. He stumbles a bit while walking. He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time. He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing. She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating. Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt. His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue. He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours. Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her. He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon. There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet. He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there. This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face. Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud? You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it. MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful. And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward. The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second. “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something. There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward. Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house. When did they get there? Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid. Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch. Warm. Safe.

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked. Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks. “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK. MK blinks in confusion. He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear. It’s nice, sometimes. Mean other times. MK wonders if that’s his fault. Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him? How can he be better? He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on. MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away. Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote. Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off. It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream. He stands on ice. Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles. He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer. The closer he gets, the more he can make them out. “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls. His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants. He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow. Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face. It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself. He misses the contact. He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him. It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else. Her face is ice cold, yet inviting. He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay? Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly. Of course that’s what he wants. More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration. He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity. She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it. The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm. It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired. He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero. He is warm. He is ready.

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before. Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps. The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin. MK has never felt better. He knows what to do now. He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will. He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while. He forgot he had to. He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching. He remembers, now, how to look at auras. He remembers a lot of things now. It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first? He needs to get all of them, keep them secure. It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first. We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense. MK grins to himself. It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing. He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance. He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory. Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash. They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough. They’re demons. Dangerous. He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.

He heads to their home, not in a hurry. There’s no rush to the inevitable. Is this what self confidence is? The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you? It feels very gratifying. He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.

His phone buzzes. A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is. He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff. Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps. That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh. “Step two, take the staff from him.”

As if they could. MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door. Polite. He still has manners, after all.

“Huh? Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice. MK pats the statue with a fond look. He’ll chip away the extra pieces later. This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise. He can get better at it with practice. Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other. Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes. He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders. Where is he going to put them? There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed. What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave? The old villain hideout?

That’s perfect! After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right? Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan. Gosh, he’s so smart. Because this is him, all him. He finally is smart enough to know what to do. He has to clear out the cave, first. It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers. There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses. He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right? He can fix anything, given enough time. That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release. He nods to himself, and heads off. He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon. That stops him short. He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now? He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away. The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time. The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter. “On it!”

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart. Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times. “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion. A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders. He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind. Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven. The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work. The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going. He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree. Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live. MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim. The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be. Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel. The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up. Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet. Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white. He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool. He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn. He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up. Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually. The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers. They seem new? Why hasn’t he used them before? How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he? MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy. It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right. MK nods to himself. Now, time to get Yin and Jin! Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them. He has to consider DBK’s size. Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady? He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut. Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes. But first, rest.

Right. He needs to head back to his house. Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon. He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one. MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays. The spider demon isn’t easy to find. He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will. He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him. Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing. MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished. It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch. It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers. He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes. Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction. The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver. “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine. Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes. “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern. He tilts his head to a side in confusion. “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all. He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway. “I’m trying out some contacts. Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits. “But those look cool!”

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade. Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind. Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory. Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away. He’s too cold for them.

He needs contact.

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade. Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising. Someone hurt his friend. A demon? A scan of the area reveals no such thing. Just a mean person. He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up. He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town. Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight. When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough! Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable. He heads to his room and paces. How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks. Now, there’s an idea. But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever. Just until they know how to behave. Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment. Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it. Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that. Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out. However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends. This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair. Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her. He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember? Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway. Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to. The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence. He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right? MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her. She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back. “Ooo, we’re rough, now? Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all. Huh. His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot. “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.”

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle. The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her. MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down. Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder. MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard. The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up. “What’s the occasion? Is there something new you wanted to teach me? Is there a demon we have to fight?” We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself. Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun! He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond. Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week. “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know? And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him. But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left! Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re? Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch. Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out. It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all. He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns. He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine. You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days. Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.

“Anyway, get some rest, bud. You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off. The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all. But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans. Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all. He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city. How it will look, when he’s done. He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this. So he sketches. Pins the piece to the wall.

Squints. He doesn’t like it.

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied. But there is no time to waste. So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture. He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part. Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder. It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place. He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects. But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly. He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure. After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything. There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure. There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos. MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums. He wonders if they have statues, a shrine? He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow. MK listens in with interest. What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him. He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply. “He barely knows you, and he’s young. He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them. The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders. MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily. “But, anyway, could you hold still? This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually. DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness. “We are in your debt for helping save my husband. However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire. Volcanoes. She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry. But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles. The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder. Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there. He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges.

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground. MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy! What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son! I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor. Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him. “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore. You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks. He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that. He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts. “But, I get it. You don’t understand. You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming. For a moment, something rises within him.

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency. MK blinks, tries to remember where he is. Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan. He got them! Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm. It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him. He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right. Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously. “What…happened to you? You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts. “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK. What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. “I stopped all the bad guys! See?” he gestures to them. “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice. Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion. “Kid, how are you doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand. “And the-my head voice gave me the idea. Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar. “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains. “It-it told me how to do it. And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here? He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in.

“You shouldn’t have any deviations. Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash. “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever. “I’m just fixing things, okay? I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror. “He’ll be fine! It doesn’t hurt. I’ve been freezing for ages! It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal. His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach. His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it. “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now. Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point. “It’s mine.” Right? Because Monkey King gave it to him. Gifts can’t be taken back, right? MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it. ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud. C’mon.”

Another step forward. MK grips the staff tighter.

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong. His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun. It’s too soft to be true. “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble. MK’s eyes are wild.

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it! I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts. Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder. Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go! Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected. Why is everyone so terrified? This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot. MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart. And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused. He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard. The ice is up to his chest. “Get out of here. Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over. “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets. Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets. The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends. They have to understand. This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other. The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.

She groans, her bike suit torn. He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt. Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is. Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places. Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Where does it hurt? I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps. He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.

Gosh, humans. They’re so annoying! If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting. MK nods.

Right. A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash. It crawls over and into everything. Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes. He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice.

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet. With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops. Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud. “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading. He just wants to do right. Why don’t they understand? Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy. Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream. At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises. It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain. Something warm and different and yet familiar stings. Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go! If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else. He doesn’t know who he is. What’s right? What’s wrong? How can he tell?

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat. No, this isn’t right. You froze good people. Innocent people! You froze Tang and Sandy! You made Pigsy cry! You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet. Monkey King is notoriously stubborn. He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet. All you have to do is wait for them to come back. And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.

The voice sounds so self assured. The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin. He chokes on his own breath. It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Everyone’s gone.

He’s alone.

This can’t be right.

It is. You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands. The need to do more, be more. It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet. He feels a hand brush his hair back. He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.

MK stands. The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then! Let’s get to work!”

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages. He doesn’t think he can. He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue. He has to fix that, it’s unsightly! Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head. It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel. We’re going to do great things together.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #possession au #monkie kid mk #sun wukong #monkie kid monkey king #monkie kid mei #monkie kid red son #red son #kitkat1003

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per-ineptia-ad-astra · 4 years

Text

Star Trek Episode 1.24: This Side of Paradise

AKA Yet Another Creepy Utopia Planet

Our episode begins with the Enterprise heading in to orbit around an Earthy-looking planet named Omicron Ceti 3. Omicon Ceti is a real star, by the way—also known as Mira or Mira A, it’s a red giant and part of a binary star system with its sister Mira B. It’s not a real likely place to go looking for such a nice homey sort of planet, though, because Mira is a pulsating variable star, which means its size and brightness is constantly fluctuating, and it’s hard to evolve life when your sun keeps flickering like a neon sign in a noir movie all the time.

Uhura reports to Kirk that she’s been transmitting a contact signal every five minutes just as he ordered, but she’s only getting dead air in response. Kirk tells her to keep it up until they get into orbit, then moves on to talk to Spock. “There were one hundred fifty men, women and children in that colony,” he says. “What are the chances of survivors?”

Looks like the chances are, uh...not great. And by ‘not great’ I mean ‘nonexistent’. Spock explains that ‘Bertold rays’ are a recent enough discovery that there’s still a lot not known about them, but one thing that is for sure known is that exposure to these rays causes living animal tissue to disintegrate. Nasty. Evidently this planet is heavily exposed to these rays, because a group of colonists-- “Sandoval’s group”-- came here only three years ago and Spock says there’s no possibility they could have survived. Well why the heck would anyone build a colony in such a place? All Spock can say is “They knew there was a risk.”

Kirk questions whether they can risk sending a landing party down under such conditions, but Spock says the disintegration doesn’t start immediately, so they’ll be alright if they don’t stick around too long. The helmsman reports that they’ve successfully established orbit, and he’s found a settlement—or at least, something that was a settlement at one point. Kirk tells Spock to equip a landing party of five to accompany him down there, including a biologist and McCoy. That’s gonna be a fun mission briefing. “Yes, we're beaming down to a planet bombarded with deadly radiation, but no need to worry, crew, your tissues will probably only disintegrate a little bit."

Sometime later, the landing party—Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Sulu, a blueshirt and a goldshirt—materialize into a meadow near a dirt path and a picket fence. They’ve thoughtfully arranged themselves into a nice alternating pattern.

[ID: A shot of a sunny meadow with a dirt road, a few trees and a white picket fence in the background. Newly beamed down are six Enterprise crewmembers standing in two rows: in the front are Kirk and Spock, in the back are McCoy, a goldshirt, a blueshirt, and Sulu.]

The goldshirt, incidentally, is DeSalle, who we last saw back in The Squire of Gothos. The character was originally written for this story as Lt. Timothy Fletcher, but was changed to DeSalle after the production crew realized they’d cast an actor who had already appeared in the series. Yes, really. AGAIN. The blueshirt is Kelowitz, who showed up briefly in The Galileo Seven and Arena, and likewise started out as another character but was renamed after being cast. I don’t know how this situation managed to happen so often on TOS, but apparently it did. At least they both seem to have managed to hold onto more or less the same positions that they had the last time we saw them, a rare feat for any minor TOS crewmember.

The group walks forward towards some nearby farm buildings arranged around a dirt yard, with a horse-drawn cart sitting out in front of one of them. But there’s no horse to be seen, and no people either. They wander through the yard and over toward what looks like a paddock, but without any animals in it. Everything seems quite thoroughly deserted.

Kirk leans on the paddock fence and glumly muses, “Another dream that failed. There’s nothing sadder. It took these people a year to make the trip from Earth. They came all that way...and died.” Hold on, it took them a year? What, do they not give colony ships warp drives? Did they have to hitchhike here?

“Hardly that, sir,” someone says, and suddenly we see three men in green jumpsuits standing at the edge of the yard, looking very relaxed and also very not dead.

As the landing party all turn around to stare in shock the man in front strides forward and says, “Welcome to Omicron Ceti 3. I’m Elias Sandoval.” McCoy looks like he’s getting ready to spray the dude with holy water.

After the titles, we get a brief captain’s log to sum things up, just in case everyone forgot what happened during the commercial break:

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 3417.3. We thought our mission to Omicron Ceti 3 would be an unhappy one. We had expected to find no survivors of the agricultural colony there. Apparently, our information was incorrect.”

The colonists start happily shaking hands with the landing party—but happily as in “oh, it’s so nice to meet you” not “oh thank god you came to rescue us we’re all on the brink of death”. Sandoval says they haven’t seen anyone outside the colony since they left Earth four years ago, although they’ve been expecting someone to come by for a while. Apparently their subspace radio didn’t work right and they don’t have anyone who could “master its intricacies”. Now, I’m no expert on establishing colonies on alien planets, but ‘person who can work our only communication device’ does rather seem like a position you would want to make sure was filled before you left.

Kirk has to explain that they haven’t come to visit because of the dead radio. He does not explain why they did decide to come when they did. Spock’s comment about the colonists knowing there was a risk indicates that whether or not Bertold rays specifically were known about before the colonists left, they at least had reason to believe there was something dangerous about the planet. So why’d the Federation let them go and then wait another three years before sending anyone to check up on them? Eh, probably just another failing of twenty-third century space bureaucracy.

Sandoval’s not bothered about it, though. He tells Kirk that it doesn’t make much difference—the important thing is the party is here now and the colonists are happy to see them. Then he invites them on a tour of the settlement and casually strolls off, leaving the landing party to stand there and try to process what the hell they just witnessed.

“Pure speculation, just an educated guess...I’d say that man is alive,” McCoy says. Thanks Bones.

Spock says that his scans show that the planet is getting ray’d just as their reports indicated, so that’s not the issue. Under this intensity, the landing party could safely hang out here for a week if necessary, as per the usual Star Trek rule that you can be exposed to a deadly thing and be just fine up until the exact moment it kills you, but there’s a mighty big difference between a week and three years. Or as Kirk succinctly puts it, “These people shouldn’t be alive.”

“Is it possible they’re not?” Sulu asks. Great out of the box thinking there Sulu, love it.

Kirk takes a moment to consider that, which is fair—compared to the kind of weird shit they’ve encountered so far, the walking dead wouldn’t even stand out that much. But McCoy points out that when they shook hands with Sandoval, “His flesh was warm. He’s alive. There’s no doubt about that.” Spock fires back with a reminder that, “There’s no miracle connected with [Bertold rays], doctor, you know that. No cures, no serums, no antidotes. If a man is exposed long enough, he dies.” Okay dude, calm down, all McCoy said was “he’s alive” not “my god! Bertold rays have been fake all along! wake up sheeple!"

As Kirk points out, this whole debate is pretty pointless anyway for the moment—they’re arguing in a vacuum, and they’ll need more answers if they want to get anywhere. So they go to follow Sandoval, who leads them towards a nearby farm house, while a few colonists do various farm chores nearby. Sandoval explains that the colonists split into three groups, with forty-five people at this settlement and two more settlements elsewhere on the planet. Apparently they thought that arrangement would give each group a better chance for growth, since if some disaster struck one group the other two would probably still be alright.

“Omicron is an ideal agricultural planet,” he says. “We determined not to suffer the fate of the expeditions that went before us.” It’s rather vague what expeditions he’s referring to here, since at no other point in the episode are any previous attempts at settling Omicron Ceti 3 mentioned. But given that Sandoval specifically mentions the possibility of disease afflicting one group as a reason to split up, and Spock earlier said that Bertold rays were a recent discovery—and that the colonists knew coming to Omicron Ceti 3 was risky-- it seems possible that previous groups tried to settle the planet and, without knowing about the Bertold rays, mistook their effects for some kind of disease native to the planet. Of course that doesn’t explain why this group of colonists decided it would be a good idea to try to settle here again anyway, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few months, it’s that not everyone sees the possibility of dying to a terrible disease as a compelling reason to change their plans in any way.

As they stand in the farmhouse talking about this, a woman steps forward from another room in the house. She’s in soft focus, just in case we might forget she’s a woman, and instead of the green jumpsuit all the male colonists are wearing, she’s wearing green overalls over a lavender shirt, a combination that somehow manages to be an even worse fashion disaster than the jumpsuits themselves. She starts to say something to Sandoval, then stops in surprise as she sees the landing party. But for once the romance-o-vision isn’t for Kirk—it’s Spock that the camera zooms in on as the woman stares at him.

“Layla, come meet our guests,” Sandoval says cheerfully, oblivious to the wistfully romantic background music. He introduces her as Layla Colomi, their botanist. Layla says that she and Spock have met before, but “It’s been a long time.” Kirk gives Spock a bit of a side-eye for that, but Spock offers no details.

Well, all romantic tension aside, they do still have a mission to attend to here, as Kirk reminds Sandoval. Sandoval tells them to go ahead with any examinations or tests they want. “I think you’ll find our settlement an interesting one. Our philosophy is a simple one: that men should return to a less complicated life. We have few mechanical things here, no vehicles, no weapons. We have harmony here. Complete peace.” Oh yeah, that bodes well. Remember the last place we saw complete harmony and peace? At least that explains why everyone on this farm is using equipment straight out of Stardew Valley, which is presumably not the most advanced agricultural technology available by the twenty-third century. I’m not sure why Sandoval’s idea of a simpler lifestyle excludes vehicles, though. They’re not exactly the most recent thing on the timeline of human technological advancements.

Sandoval tells the landing party to make themselves at home, and they all head off. All except for Spock, who lingers just a few seconds more to give Layla a completely neutral look before walking away as well.

Everyone goes off to conduct their respective investigations. Sulu and Kelowitz wander through a yard over towards another farm building. Kelowitz isn’t sure what exactly they should be looking for, though. “Whatever doesn’t look right—whatever that is,” Sulu replies, climbing up to sit on a railing on the building’s porch. “When it comes to farms, I wouldn’t know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me.” I hope you enjoyed that line, because “didn’t grow up on a farm” is about all the backstory TOS is going to give us for Sulu until the movies.

[ID: Three screenshots showing Sulu pulling himself up to sit on the railing of an old-fashioned farmhouse as he says, "When it comes to farms, I wouldn't know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me." Growing up from the ground nearby are two large plants with thick brownish-purple stems and large pink flowers on top.]

Hey Sulu, what's that about two feet from you? Oh well, I'm sure it's not important.

Kelowitz opens up a nearby barn and notes that there’s no cows there—in fact, the barn isn’t even built for cows, just for storage, and indeed it only looks big enough to be useful for holding cow, singular. Having a storage barn isn’t itself that weird, although the fact that there is nothing currently stored in the storage barn is a bit strange. But also, as Sulu points out, come to think of it, they haven’t seen any animals here, native or imported. No cows, no horses, no pigs, not even a dog. Which is a bit odd for an agricultural colony. They must have had or expected to have animals at some point—otherwise what was pulling that cart?

Back in the house, Sandoval is asking Layla about Spock (once again referred to as a ‘Vulcanian’). She says that she knew Spock on Earth, six years ago. Sandoval, apparently having noticed the dreamy background music by now, asks if Layla loved Spock. She says that if she did, “it was important only to myself...Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me. It is said he has none to give.”

“Would you like him to stay with us now? To be one of us?” Sandoval asks. Layla smiles at him. “There is no choice, Elias,” she says. “He will stay.”

Elsewhere in the house, McCoy is scanning a colonist. He doesn’t look exactly happy with the tricorder result he gets, but all he says is, “That’ll be all, thank you very much,” and the colonist leaves, passing Kirk coming in. Incidentally, I can’t help but note that this room contains two paintings on the wall and what appears to be a cabinet full of china. I suppose the paintings could have been done by a colonist, but the china could surely only have been brought there. Who decided to pack fancy china on a year-long space voyage to an agricultural colony?

[ID: A shot of the interior of a farmhouse with blue walls, with a large wooden table in the middle of the room, a cabinet with china and glassware in the corner, a wooden desk with a copper tea kettle and some other kitchen items on it against the back wall, and a painting hanging on the wall showing some blurry trees. Sandoval, a middle-aged white man with short brown hair wearing a green jumpsuit, walks past the camera as he says, "Oh, captain, I've been looking for you."]

Kirk asks if McCoy’s found anything yet. McCoy replies that he’s surveyed nine men so far, ranging in age from twenty-three to fifty-nine. And they’re all in perfect condition. Not just healthy—perfect. Textbook responses across the board, from all of them. “If there are many more of them,” McCoy muses, “I can throw away my shingle.”

At that point Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s Spock, calling in from one of the crop fields. He’s made the same observation as Sulu—there’s no life on the planet aside from the colonists and the plants. No animals, no insects. Spock doesn’t have any explanation yet, so Kirk tells him to carry on with his investigation and hangs up.

McCoy notes the absence of animals as peculiar, and Kirk says it’s especially so because the expedition records show that they did bring animals with them to raise for food. And pull their carts, presumably. But it seems none of them are still around. McCoy says he’d like to see the expedition’s medical records, a request Kirk has apparently anticipated because he’s got the floppy disc on hand with him.

Sandoval comes in and says that he’d like to take the two of them on a tour of the fields, to show off what the colony’s accomplished. McCoy says he’ll have to bow out, since he’s still working on the medical examinations. “However, if I find everyone else’s health to be as perfect as yours...”

“You’ll find no weaklings here,” Sandoval says, which uh, sure is a hell of a way to phrase that. “No weaklings! None of those miserable, pathetic sods with imperfect health! Only the strong survive! THE SLIGHTEST BLEMISH SHALL BE CAUSE FOR EXILE!”

Leaving McCoy behind, Kirk and Sandoval head out to the fields, where Sandoval gushes to Kirk about how great this place is: they’ve got moderate climate, moderate rains all year round, and the soil will grow anything they stick in it. Which is pretty miraculous, considering there’s no such thing as growing conditions that are perfect for every plant. But as we’re about to see, that’s not the only weird thing going on with their farming practices.

The conversation is interrupted by DeSalle arriving to give Kirk the biology report. Sandoval excuses himself to attend to work elsewhere, leaving Kirk and DeSalle alone to discuss the report. At first, it seems to be just as Sandoval said: they’ve got a variety of crops growing here successfully. The weird thing is that they don’t actually have very many of those crops. There’s enough to keep the colony going at the size it currently is, but barely more than that. Which tracks with what we’ve seen of the place so far: a couple of tiny fields that look more about the size for someone’s backyard garden than for a prosperous farm, tended by the occasional person idly scratching at the ground with a hoe. For a supposedly bounteous agricultural colony, that’s pretty weird. What have they been doing all this time?

“It’s like a jigsaw puzzle all one color,” Kirk muses, taking a moment to stroll a few steps away so he can say this dramatically in the distance instead of actually talking to DeSalle. “No key to where the pieces fit in. Why?”

Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s McCoy, saying Kirk had better get back over there. “Trouble?” “No, but I’d like you to see this for yourself.” Of course. No one can ever just explain something over the phone, can they.

So Kirk heads back to the house, where the thing that Kirk just absolutely has to see for himself turns out to be McCoy just telling him what he’s found out, but he definitely couldn't do that over the communicator for, uh, reasons. What he’s found out is pretty interesting, though: McCoy checked up on Sandoval’s medical records from right before the colonists had left, which said that Sandoval had had an appendectomy, and had scar tissue on his lungs from childhood pneumonia (the weakling!). Yet when McCoy scanned Sandoval himself today, the results came back just as perfect as all the other colonists’. Kirk’s first thought is instrument failure, but McCoy says no, he thought of that and tested it by scanning himself, and it recorded him just fine, down to “those two broken ribs I had once.” Which sounds like an interesting story. But Sandoval’s scan? No scar tissue, and one healthy appendix. That’s right, Sandoval’s apparently managed to regrow an entire organ. Do you think you would notice that happening? Like, would it itch?

While Kirk and McCoy try to figure that out, Spock is hanging out in a field scanning with his own tricorder, while Layla stands nearby smiling ominously at him. Spock muses that there’s “Nothing. Not even insects. Yet your plants grow, and you’ve survived exposure to Bertold rays.” Yeah, how are those plants growing without insects? Presumably the native plants have evolved some way around that, but the ones the colonists have brought from Earth would need some help. Are the colonists just manually pollinating everything? Maybe that’s why they haven’t grown very much.

Layla says this can be explained, but when asked to do so, she just says, “Later.” Spock looks annoyed and remarks, “I have never understood the female capacity to avoid a direct answer to any question.” Hey! Cut that bullshit out. No one on this colony has directly answered a question since you got here, there’s no call to go ragging on a whole gender for it. Besides, just saying “Later,” is hardly a stunningly deft diversion, it’s not like she threw a smoke bomb down and disappeared.

“And I never understood you,” Layla says, walking over and placing a hand on his chest. “Until now. There was always a place in here where no one could come. There was only the face you allow people to see. Only one side you’d allow them to know.”

[ID: Three screenshots of Spock and Layla, a white woman with a lot of long blonde hair wearing a lilac shirt and green overalls, standing outside in a field with a large tree in the background. Layla, seen from behind, is pressing her hand to Spock's upper chest and saying, "There was always a place in here where no one could come." Spock replies "you know that's not where my heart is right".]

If Layla was hoping this little speech would prompt Spock to cry out that yes, she’s figured him out, he does love her but has never been able to show it! she’s disappointed, because he just looks uncomfortable and steps away. He tries to steer the conversation back onto the mystery of the colonists. “If I tell you how we survive,” she asks, “will you try to understand how we feel about our life here? About each other?”

That’s a pretty vague thing to make a promise about, so Spock deflects by saying that emotions are alien to him; he’s a SCIENTIST. “Someone else might believe that—your shipmates, your captain—but not me,” Layla says. Oh sure! Obviously none of the people who have lived, worked, and risked death alongside Spock can be expected to know anything about Spock. Only you are the Spock Expert, gifted with incredible insight by virtue of having a crush on him.

“Come,” she says, sauntering off through the field with her hand outstretched to him. Spock rather pointedly folds his hands behind his back instead and follows her.

Back in the house, Kirk and McCoy are struggling to have a conversation with Sandoval. Kirk tells Sandoval that he’s received orders from Starfleet Command to evacuate everyone on the colony, since, y’know, deadly rays and all that. He expects Sandoval to start making preparations. But Sandoval, calmly, casually, says, “No.” It’s not necessary, he insists—they’re in no danger.

But...but the Bertold rays. Sandoval is unmoved, pointing out that as McCoy’s own instruments show, the colonists are in perfect health and there have been no deaths. Okay, what about all those animals? What happened to them? “We’re vegetarians,” Sandoval says blithely. Which, as Kirk points out, does absolutely nothing to answer the question. Actually it raises further questions.

Sandoval remains thoroughly unbothered and thoroughly unhelpful. “Captain, you stress very unimportant matters. We will not leave,” he says, and goes back to gazing out the window, evidently considering the conversation over.

Elsewhere, Spock and Layla are still walking, and Spock is getting annoyed that Layla still hasn’t explained just what it is they’re going to see. “Its basic properties and elements are not important,” Layla says helpfully. “What is important is that it gives life, peace, love.” Oh boy.

Spock is dubious, but Layla pulls him forward, over towards another one of those large pink flowers. “I was one of the first to find them,” Layla says. “The spores.”

[ID: A gif of Spock approaching a large pinkish-purple flower and saying, "Spores?" The flower then sprays a cloud of white spores all over his face and torso while Spock recoils.]

For a moment Spock just looks startled, but then he starts clutching his head and falling onto his knees in the grass, dropping his tricorder and gasping, “No--” For the first time all episode, Layla’s absolute serenity starts to fracture slightly. Over Spock’s agonized protests, she insists that it shouldn’t hurt—it didn’t hurt any of them. But, as Spock gasps out, he’s not like them. Whoops, did the biologist forget to account for biological differences before handing out a facefull of spores? I bet you didn’t even check if he had any allergies first, did you?

Just as it’s looking like this might put actually put a crack in Layla’s blissed-out impassivity, Spock stops thrashing about and starts seeming less anguished and more confused. Layla’s concern vanishes once again, and she goes back to smiling happily while stroking his face. “Now...now you belong to all of us...and we to you. There’s no need to hide your inner face any longer. We understand.”

Spock still seems unsure, but then he takes Layla’s hand in his and smiles. Not the slight hint of a smile or sardonic quirk of the lips you’d expect to see from Spock, but a huge, broad grin from ear to ear. “I love you...I can love you,” he says, and then he kisses her.

Hoo boy.

After the break, we get a quick Captain’s Log to recap:

“Captain’s Log, supplemental. We have been ordered by Starfleet Command to evacuate the colony on Omicron 3. However, the colony leader, Elias Sandoval, has refused all cooperation and will not listen to any arguments.”

Sure enough, we see Sandoval exiting the farmhouse, followed by McCoy and an extremely frustrated Kirk. “Captain, your arguments are very valid, but do they not apply to us,” Sandoval says, as calm as ever. He tries to walk off, but Kirk grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“My orders are to remove all the colonists,” he says, “and that’s exactly what I intend to do with or without your help.”

“Without, I should think,” Sandoval says, and strolls off, leaving Kirk standing there fuming.

Sulu and Kelowitz come walking up to report that they’ve checked out everything and it all seems normal, except for the missing animals. Of course, they also both said they had no idea what to look for in the first place, so maybe take that with a grain of salt. Kirk tells them about the evacuation orders, and says he wants landing parties to start gathering the colonists and preparing them to leave. And by the way, where did Spock and DeSalle go? Sulu says they haven’t seen either one in some time, but McCoy says DeSalle was going to examine some native plants he found. Native plants, huh? I think we can guess what happened to DeSalle.

Since Spock still hasn’t reported in, Kirk gives him a call. Or tries to, at least—Spock doesn’t pick up. On the other end of the line, we see why that is: Spock's communicator is laying abandoned on the ground, while Spock himself, now dressed in the same horrible green jumpsuit as the colonists, is stretched out on the grass with Layla, watching clouds. The communicator beeps away while Spock happily describes how one of the clouds looks like a dragon. "I've never seen a dragon," Layla says. BEEP BEEP. "I have." BEEP BEEP. "On Barengarius 7." BEEP BEEP. "But I've never stopped to look at clouds before." BEEP BEEP. "Or rainbows." BEEP BEEP. "You know, I can tell you exactly why one appears in the sky, but considering its beauty has always been out of the question." BEEP BEEP.

"Not here," Layla says (beep beep), and they smile dreamily at each other before going into another makeout session. Meanwhile, Kirk is still on the line, and not getting any happier about it. Layla finally picks up the communicator and holds it up for Spock, who takes a break from kissin' to say, "Yes, what did you want?"

Naturally, this throws both Kirk and McCoy for a loop. While McCoy stands there with a "what the fuck" look on his face, Kirk takes a moment to recover and then demands, "Spock, is that you?"

"Yes, captain, what did you want?"

"Where are you?"

"...I don't believe I want to tell you."

[ID: Three shots of Kirk and McCoy standing in front of the farmhouse, Kirk holding his communicator while McCoy looks on. Kirk has a stunned expression on his face and looks around with his mouth open, trying to figure out what to say.]

Kirk plows on ahead, telling Spock that, whatever the hell he thinks he's doing, he's got orders: they're getting the colonists out, and Spock is to meet back at the settlement in ten minutes.

"No, I don't think so," Spock says casually. "You don't think so, what?" "I don't think so, sir."

Kirk has to take a moment after that one. It's rather amazing that McCoy's made it this far into the conversation without saying anything himself. Presumably he's just in shock. Eventually Kirk tells Spock to report in immediately, but by now Spock and Layla have gone back to kissing, leaving the communicator open but abandoned in the grass once more.

"That didn't sound at all like Spock, Jim," McCoy says, putting in his bid for the Enterprise’s bi-weekly Massive Understatement contest.

"No, it--I thought you said you might like him if he mellowed a little."

"I didn't say that!"

"You said that."

"Not exactly,” McCoy protests, and then somewhat grudgingly adds, “He might be in trouble.”

I'm sure McCoy did say that, or something like it, but "I hope Spock has his brain taken over by alien spores" was presumably not where he was going with it. He obviously sees this sudden change of behavior as something to be concerned about--even moreso than Kirk, who seems more irritated than anything. But then, it's only been a couple episodes since McCoy had his own run-in with an alien influence making people act a lot more mellow than usual, and he didn't enjoy that experience at all, so it's not surprising that "trouble" is his first thought here.

Kirk tells McCoy to take over the landing party detail and start getting the colonists up to the ship, and to make sure the party works in teams of two, with nobody being left alone. Meanwhile, Kirk himself takes Sulu and Kelowitz and heads off to find Spock, using the open frequency from Spock's communicator as a homing signal. They follow a dirt path out of the main settlement and soon find said communicator, laying open and abandoned in the grass just off the path. As Kirk picks it up, they hear laughter nearby, and Sulu points in astonishment further down the path, where Layla is watching Spock dangle upside-down from a tree branch like a kid on a jungle gym.

[ID: A shot of Spock and Layla among some trees at the end of a dirt path. Layla is standing on the ground and holding hands with Spock, who is hanging upside-down by his knees from a large tree branch, laughing.]

For a moment all Kirk can do is stare weakly at this weird spectacle. Then he collects himself with a stern AHEM and marches over like a principal about to deliver some very serious detention.

Meanwhile, back at the main hub of the colony, the landing party seems to have gotten well underway with preparations for departure, with several colonists and crewmen piling up luggage and equipment in the middle of a field while McCoy stands nearby overseeing everything, a job I’m sure he’s enjoying since we all know administrative work is McCoy’s favorite thing. Then DeSalle arrives, carrying a couple of the spore flowers and tells McCoy to take “a good, close look” at them, because they’re very interesting. McCoy steps forward to check them out right before the scene cuts away again, leaving us with little doubt as to what’s about to happen next.

During that little interim, Kirk and his crew have made it over to where Spock and Layla are cavorting. Spock just grins happily at Kirk, clearly not bothered one bit, even as Kirk asks if Spock’s out of his mind. He didn’t report to Kirk, he says, because...he didn’t want to.

Kirk glances back and forth between Spock and Layla, who’s standing there smiling rather smugly, and tells Layla that she’ll need to come get ready to evacuate with the rest of the colonists. Spock cheerfully says that there’s not going to be any evacuation. “But perhaps,” he adds, “we should go and get you straightened out.”

That really doesn’t bode well, but rather than ask just what Spock means by that, Kirk tells Sulu that Spock is under arrest in Sulu’s custody until they get back to the ship. Which will certainly work out well because it’s not like Spock is strong enough to chuck Sulu all the way across the field barehanded or anything. Not that Spock seems especially perturbed about being under arrest; instead he just shrugs, drops down from the tree, and says, “Very well. Come with me,” before heading off across the field, leaving else to follow in confusion. That’s how you arrest someone, right?

Of course, Spock leads them right to another group of spore flowers, which the group stops and stares at obligingly for a moment. Then the flowers explode a bunch of spores at them. Somehow, even though he’s standing right next to Sulu and Kelowitz, Kirk manages to totally avoid getting any spores up his sinuses, while the other two are immediately affected. “Yes...I see now,” Sulu says blissfully, with that trademark Very High grin that George Takei does so well. “Of course we can’t remove the colony. It’d be wrong.”

Kirk grabs him by the shoulders—Kirk’s go-to method for snapping people out of it--but when this somehow fails to bring Sulu back to his right mind, all Kirk can do is say that he doesn’t know what these plants are or how they work, but “you’re all going back to the settlement with me, and those colonists are going aboard the ship.” This stern proclamation has absolutely no effect on anyone. The whole group just stands there happily watching Kirk stomp back toward the colony. “I can see the captain is going to be difficult,” Spock remarks.

Kirk’s day isn’t about to get any better, because upon making it back to the colony he’s greeted by McCoy, who we can immediately tell is under the influence as well because his accent is absolutely out of control. It’s so thick even the subtitles pick up on it.

[ID: A screenshot of McCoy walking through a meadow with his communicator out, saying, "Sho’nuf."]

“Hiya, Jimmy boy!” McCoy very happily says to a very unhappy Kirk. “Hey, I’ve taken care of everything. Now all y’all gotta do is just relax. Doctor’s orders!” With a very resigned look, Kirk asks how many plants McCoy’s beamed up to the ship, and McCoy says it must be going on a hundred by now.

So Kirk beams up to the ship and heads right to the bridge, where he tells Uhura to put him through to Admiral Komak at Starfleet, though what he expects Komak to do about all this I don't know. But it’s too late. Uhura turns around to show that she’s smiling as happily as everyone else, and says, “Oh, I’m sorry Dave, I mean, captain. I can’t do that.” She’s short-circuited all the ship’s communications, except for ship-to-surface, since they’ll need that for a little while yet. Then she leaves, pausing in the door of the lift to tell Kirk that it’s really all for the best.

Kirk stands there seething for a moment, then stomps over to grab a plant that’s been left in Spock’s chair. He throws it across the bridge, and the camera lingers ominously on it as Kirk heads back into the lift.

Things aren’t any better on the rest of the ship. Kirk soon finds a long line of crewmembers of all different shirt colors, patiently waiting to transport down to join the colony. Out of what I can only assume is some desperate futile hope that someone will follow his orders if he just keeps trying, Kirk orders them all to go back to their stations at once. Unsurprisingly, they all ignore him. Kirk points out to one of the redshirts that this is MUTINY! but it doesn't get him very far.

[ID: A gif showing a young white man with brown hair wearing a redshirt as he says, "Yes, sir, it is." The camera then zooms in very dramatically on Kirk's stunned face.]

So...they’re all going down to join the colony? All four hundred thirty of them? Or four hundred twenty-nine, I guess, if Kirk refuses to join the fun. That’s almost ten times the amount of people the colony currently has in it. That seems like it could present a bit of a problem, because if you’ll recall DeSalle told Kirk earlier that right now the colony’s growing enough food to feed their current population, with little left over. How are they going to handle such a large and sudden influx into their population? Do they have housing for all these people? Or are they just all going to eat dirt and sleep on the ground because they’re all too high to notice anyway?

After we’ve had a commercial break to contemplate this shocking turn of events, Kirk takes some time out to give vent to his feelings in a captain’s log:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.5. The pod plants have spread spores throughout the ship, carried by the ventilation system. Under their influence, my crew is deserting to join the Omicron colony, and I can't stop them. I don't know why I have not been infected, nor can I get Doctor McCoy to explain the physical, psychological aspects of the infection."

And indeed, just in case we had any doubt, we then see McCoy strolling through the field and happily telling Kirk, “I’m not interested in any physical, psychological aspects, Jim-boy. We all perfectly healthy down here.” Kirk grumbles about how much he’s been hearing about things being perfect lately. “I bet you’ve even grown your tonsils back.” “Sho’nuf!”

Kirk tries desperately to get McCoy to do something to figure these spores out—run a blood test, take a scan, type the symptoms into WebMD, something, anything—but McCoy is more interested in rambling on about mint juleps. Meanwhile, back in the farmhouse, Sandoval’s having tea with Spock while they talk about how nearly everyone’s beamed down from the ship and things are “proceeding quite well.” Kirk storms in and demands to know where McCoy’s gotten to, and Spock says he went off to make that mint julep. Which could prove quite difficult unless this tiny half-assed farm colony has somehow managed to set up a working distillery around here somewhere, but Kirk’s got bigger concerns right now than where McCoy’s going to get his bourbon.

Sandoval wants to know why Kirk won’t join them in their private, spore-sponsored paradise. Kirk asks where these spores came from, anyway, and Spock exposits that there’s no way to know—they just drifted through space until they arrived at this planet, which is perfect for them because it turns out they actually thrive on Bertold rays. The plants act as a repository for the spores until they can find a human—or half-Vulcan—body to inhabit. No explanation is forthcoming as to how Spock knows any of this.

Spock and Sandoval insist that the planet is “a true Eden” with belonging and love and no needs or wants for anyone, but Kirk is skeptical. “No wants, no needs. We weren’t meant for that. None of us. Man stagnates if he has no ambition, no desire to be more than he is.” Of all the things wrong with this situation I’m not sure “BEING TOO HAPPY IS BAD FOR YOU” is the take I would go with, but okay. Spock says that Kirk doesn’t understand, but he’ll come around...sooner or later.

Kirk, disgusted with this whole conversation, goes back to the ship. The bridge is dark, silent, and utterly empty. We get a slow pan of the blinking lights and displays of the consoles, with no one left to man them. Kirk walks over to his chair, hits the intercom, and starts calling one part of the ship after another, with no response from any of them. With nothing else left to do, he sits down in his chair and starts glumly recording a captain’s log so angsty it could be a LiveJournal entry:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.7. Except for myself, all crew personnel have transported to the surface of the planet. Mutinied. Lieutenant Uhura has effectively sabotaged the communications station. I can only contact the surface of the planet. The ship...can be maintained in orbit for several months, but even with automatic controls, I cannot pilot her alone. In effect, I am marooned here. I'm beginning to realize...just how big this ship really is, how quiet. I don't know how to get my crew back, how to counteract the effect of the spores. I don't know what I can offer against...paradise."

Hold on hold on HOLD ON what do you MEAN the ship can be maintained in orbit for several months? Every time someone takes their hands off the controls for five seconds we get told that the orbit is decaying and they’re gonna plummet into some hapless planet within a few hours at most but now all of a sudden it’s fine to hang out up there for several months? MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

Kirk gets up to go sit at the helm, just to get a change of scenery mid-mope, and as he finishes his log/rant the camera slowly pans down to reveal the spore flower that he chucked across the bridge earlier. Which is weird because we just got a wide shot of the bridge and that flower definitely wasn’t there then.

[ID: Two shots. The first is a wide shot showing Kirk alone on the empty, darkened bridge, preparing to sit down at the helm. There is nothing in on the floor in front of the helm. The second shot is a closer shot of Kirk sitting at the helm with his chin in one hand, now with a large spore flower poking up in the front of shot.]

The flower promptly shoots Kirk in the face, and for a moment he just continues to sit there with spores in his hair and a “yeah, this might as well happen” expression. But then he slowly starts to smile, suddenly as happy as everyone else. Exactly why Kirk’s been unaffected by the spores up until now, even after hanging out for quite a while on a ship that’s supposedly been thoroughly contaminated by them, is never really explained. Maybe he's just on a lot of Zyrtec. But it seems even Kirk’s determination to not be happy can’t hold out against a point-blank spray in the face. He calls Spock to say that he finally understands now, which Spock is happy to hear. Kirk says he’ll be down just as soon as he packs up a few things, so Spock says he and Layla will wait for him at the beamdown point.

So Kirk goes off to his quarters to pack up a suitcase, the contents of which seem to mostly consist of uniform shirts. Apparently paradise for Kirk does not include one of those green jumpsuits, which, really, who can blame him. He opens a small vault by his bed and pulls out a couple of black cases, one of which he opens to reveal a medal. This seems to stir some sense of conflict because he sits down and stares at it for a long moment, but then puts it aside and heads to the transporter room, where he puts the suitcase on the platform and then prepares to set the controls.

But then Kirk hesitates, and stands there for a moment looking conflicted. Possibly he’s still having feelings about those medals, or maybe he’s having second thoughts about whether he packed enough shirts. In any case, he eventually exclaims, “No...No! I...can’t...LEAVE!” Then he punches the console for good measure.

Apparently this little emotional outburst is all it takes to cure the spores, because Kirk gasps a little, looks momentarily confused, and then seems to be back to his old self. “Emotions...violent emotions. Needs...anger,” he tells the empty room. “Captain’s log, supplemental. I think I’ve discovered the answer...but to carry out my plan entails considerable risk. Mr. Spock is much stronger than the ordinary human being.” Then he treats us to this remarkable line:

[ID: A shot of Kirk in profile at the transporter controls as he says, "Aroused, his great physical strength could kill."]

Down on the planet, Spock and Layla are still waiting at the beamdown point when Kirk calls Spock up and says he’s realized there’s some equipment on the ship that they’ll need for the colony, and he needs Spock’s help to get it all beamed down. Really, you’d think there’d be quite a lot of equipment on the Enterprise that a farming colony could make good use of, but I guess they’re really determined to stick to the whole no-technology approach. Despite this, Spock cheerfully accepts the explanation, gives Layla a quick smooch, and beams up.

But upon materializing, Spock is greeted not with a smiling Kirk ready to go move some equipment with his bro, but Kirk standing there holding some nonspecific heavy metal rod thing that he’s smacking threatening against his hand. “All right, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized half-breed,” he says, “we’ll see about you deserting my ship.”

Spock reacts to this bar-brawl-starter with nothing more than a nonplussed expression and polite correcting Kirk on his syntax. Kirk, determination unshaken, continues laying into him with a stream of insults that would have made that fucker from Balance of Terror go, “Whoa, hold on there a minute.” Undeterred by not being able to use any actual expletives, he compares Spock both to a machine and to various fairy-tale creatures, makes fun of his ears, and rounds it all off by having a go at the entire Vulcan race. He even insults Spock’s parents.

[ID: 1. A shot of Spock standing in the transporter room looking perplexed as Kirk, off-camera, says, "Whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?" 2. A gif from Monty Python and the Holy Grail of John Cleese as the French knight on the battlements yelling, "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"]

Spock stands there taking it all stoically for quite a while, even as the background music gets increasingly tense. He finally starts to crack when Kirk goes after Spock’s relationship with Layla, and when Kirk keeps going despite Spock angrily telling him, “That’s enough,” Spock finally flips out big time. You know what that means, it’s time for a STAR TREK FIGHT SCENE! This one’s got it all: close-up shots of the actors intercut with long shots of very obvious stunt doubles; cardboard props getting punched; even people picking up random unidentifiable bits of starship equipment that may or may not have ever been there before to use as weapons. The only thing we’re missing is Kirk doing some kind of weird wrestling move.

[ID: Three gifs showing a fight scene between Kirk and Spock. First we see a long shot where Kirk and Spock are clearly being played by stunt doubles, as Spock punches a metal rod Kirk is holding, bending it in half. He then punches Kirk in the jaw, sending him careening into the wall. Then a close-up of Nimoy and Shatner as Spock advances on Kirk and throws a punch but misses, denting the control panel in the wall behind Kirk. Kirk dodges out of the way towards the console, and Spock throws another punch that hits the side of the console. Then back to a long view with the stunt doubles as Spock throws Kirk into the opposite wall, which Kirk careens off of, falling on his back on the floor, while Spock picks up something resembling a square metal stool or stepladder and raises it over his head. Finally, we see Nimoy and Shatner again as Kirk lays on the floor looking up at Spock, raising the thing he's carrying over his head.]

We dramatically cut to black as Spock stands poised above Kirk, raising whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is over his head threateningly. Apparently the ad break gives him enough time to cool down, though, because instead of bringing the thing down on Kirk’s skull, he hesitates.

“Had enough?” Kirk asks. “I didn’t realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours.”

Spock slowly lowers the thing, looking a bit regretful about having to do so. Kirk says he doesn’t know what Spock’s so mad about, anyway. “It isn’t every first officer who gets to belt his captain...several times.” Dude, you just stood there and unleashed a screed of personal and racial insults at your best friend here. A “sorry” probably wouldn’t go amiss here.

“You did that to me deliberately,” Spock realizes, and then realizes that the spores are gone. “I don’t belong anymore.” Kirk explains that since the spores are “benevolent and peaceful,” violent emotions overwhelm and destroy them—that’s the answer. Which...definitely makes sense, chemically speaking. Sure.

Spock, still looking pretty glum about all this, points out that Kirk’s method might have worked out alright for curing one person, but they’ve got over five hundred infected people down there, and trying to pick a fight with all of them probably isn’t going to go so well. But no worries, Kirk’s got another plan. He wants Spock to rig up a subsonic transmitter that they can hook up to the ship’s communications system and then broadcast to all the communicators. Spock says he can do that, but hesitates as Kirk turns to leave. “Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense,” he points out.

Kirk mulls over that one for a moment. “We-ll...if we’re both in the brig, who’s gonna build the subsonic transmitter?” he says, and Spock concedes the point. Besides, it’s a bit late to be worrying about striking fellow officers now.

[ID: A gif from The Naked Time of Kirk and Spock standing in an Enterprise conference room. Kirk slaps Spock across the face, and Spock retaliates by backhanding Kirk so hard he is thrown across the table in the center of the room and falls onto the floor on the other side.]

But what with the insults and the punching and de-sporing and everything, it seems that something has clean slipped Spock’s mind: Layla’s still down there waiting for him to come back. As she stands around the field, McCoy wanders over and asks what’s up. When she tells him that she’s been out here for some time now waiting for Spock and Kirk to come back, he gentlemanly offers to fix that for her and calls the ship. Spock picks up, and Layla asks if everything’s okay up there.

With obvious discomfort, Spock tells her that yes, he’s...quite well. Layla, oblivious to anything being wrong, asks if she can come up there, because she wants to talk to him, and besides, “I’ve never seen a starship before.” Wait a minute, never seen a starship before? You’re on a planetary colony! What, did you drive here?

Spock asks if she’s still at the beamdown point, and if McCoy’s there. Layla says yes to both, so Spock tells her to give the communicator back to McCoy, since she won’t need it to transport, and he’ll have her beamed up in a few minutes. One might think that at this point they might take this easy opportunity to also beam up McCoy and get him cured (it shouldn’t be hard, McCoy is already 85% comprised of negative emotions to begin with), so he can start investigating these spores, just in case Operation Go For the Eardrums doesn’t work. But they don’t. Kirk awkwardly asks Spock if he’s sure about talking to Layla while she’s still spore’d, but Spock just nods and heads to the transporter room.

He beams Layla up, and she happily runs over to give him a hug—they’ve been parted ever so long, after all—but when he just stands there stiffly, not reacting at all, she slowly pulls back and says, “You’re no longer with us, are you?”

Spock says it was necessary. Layla begs him to come back to the planet and belong again, but he says he can’t. She starts crying and saying she loves him. "I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. But we're happy here. I can't lose you now, Mr. Spock, I can't." Look, if the only time the relationship you want can possibly work out is when the other person is being mind-controlled by alien spores, I think it may be time to consider whether this is really a relationship you should be pursuing in the first place.

“I have a responsibility to this ship...to that man on the bridge,” Spock gently tells her. “I am what I am, Layla. And if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else’s.”

Layla soon realizes that all this anguish has resulted in her getting de-spore’d as well, and she’s not happy about it. “And this is for my own good?” she demands angrily. Well...yes, I mean, it is, but Spock doesn’t say that. Nor does he respond when she asks, “Do you mind if I say I still love you?” but she hugs him again anyway.

[ID: Layla tearfully embraces Spock and says, "You never told me if you had another name, Mr. Spock." Spock replies, "You couldn't pronounce it."]

ROMANCE

We’re obviously supposed to read this little story arc as the tragic tale of true love destined never to be, because Spock is only able to express his feelings for Layla under the influence of the spores. He has experienced paradise, but alas, he cannot linger there, and so on. It’s never set all that well with me, though. The problem is we never really get Spock’s side of the story and so it leaves open the question of how much he actually did want this relationship in the first place. Layla said earlier that “Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me” so evidently he never outright said “I love you but I can’t be with you” or anything of that sort to her. When they’re alone in the field before Spock gets spore’d he seems stiff, standoffish, awkward, and deflects all of her overtures with what appears to be discomfort, even annoyance. He clearly has no interest in talking about whatever history they had together, even when they’re all alone. For all that Layla goes on about how she can see a side of Spock that his crewmates don’t, we see interactions with those crewmates multiple times throughout the show that prove that Spock is perfectly capable of showing people that he cares about them, even if the ways he does it are usually a bit atypical. We don’t see any of that in his initial interactions with Layla.

If we accept the premise that the spores only make people act as they would if they had no inhibitions or fears holding them back, then yes, Spock saying he loves Layla after he’s been spore’d would indicate that he did secretly love her all along. The problem is that we know the spores make people do things that they would not ordinarily want to do. You think all of those four hundred thirty people on the Enterprise secretly longed for a quiet life among the soil but all chose to instead join the space navy for some reason? Should we believe Scotty is actually deep down perfectly okay with abandoning his beloved ship to a slowly decaying orbit? I doubt that Kirk has always harbored a subconscious desire to give up exploring the final frontier to pursue a peaceful agrarian lifestyle, but he very nearly does do just that. So the question of how much a relationship with Layla is what Spock “really” wanted seems to be a bit hazy.

Mind, I’m not saying this makes Layla an evil person who deliberately drugged Spock so she could have a relationship with him or anything like that. It’s clear throughout the episode that the spores induce those who are infected by them to spread them around to anyone nearby who’s not in the spore fandom yet, so there’s no reason to believe Layla would act as she did if she wasn’t under the influence herself. I just personally find it hard to buy into the tragic romance of a star-crossed relationship when the thing crossing the stars is that one of the participants is only enthusiastic about the whole thing when they’re not fully sober. It makes me question how much of their previous relationship really was Spock having feelings for Layla but being unable to express them, versus Layla projecting a lot of feelings onto him and writing off his disinterest or discomfort as denial.

Kirk and Spock go back to working on the signal, while Layla deals with her heartbreak by disappearing into thin air for the rest of the episode. Spock says that the sound they’re going to send out is on a frequency that won’t be heard so much as felt, but apparently it will be felt quite emphatically. Kirk compares it to putting itching powder on someone. Which may seem like another silly technobabble deus ex machina, but speaking from personal experience, driving someone into a frantic frustrated fit by playing an obnoxious noise just on the edge of hearing sounds totally legit. All they need to complete the sensory overload meltdown experience is find a way to simulate some flickering florescent lights and put tags on the backs of the uniform shirts.

And indeed, as the device starts to work, we see Sulu and DeSalle working in one of the fields—for a certain value of ‘working,’ anyway, they’re kind of just digging around aimlessly—when Sulu accidentally elbows DeSalle in the back. He apologizes, but DeSalle shoves him back, and before long they’re having a full-on brawl right there in the field, which can't be good for the crops. As the device on the ship hums away, two more crewmembers start their own fight over by the farmhouse, and when a third tries to break them up he promptly gets dragged into it as well.

The effects haven’t quite reached everyone just yet, though, as we see McCoy chillaxing under a tree with some unspecified concoction. Sandoval strolls up and says that he’s been thinking about what sort of work he could assign McCoy to. When McCoy protests that he does one kind of work and that’s doctorin’, Sandoval says that he’s not a doctor anymore—they don’t need any doctors here.

This does not go over well.

[ID: A gif showing McCoy reclining against a tree in a grassy meadow, a stalk of grass in one hand and a grass of something brown with several leafy stalks in it. Sandoval is standing over him. McCoy says, "Oh, no?" and then slowly stands up, tosses his grass stalk aside, looks Sandoval in the eye and says, "Would you like to see just how fast I can put you in a hospital?"]

Undeterred, Sandoval says that he’s the leader and he’ll be assigning McCoy whatever work he wants to, but when he tries to walk away McCoy pulls him back and snarls, “You’d better make me a mechanic. Then I can treat little tin gods like you.” Sandoval throws a punch at him, but McCoy dodges and whacks Sandoval in the stomach, putting him out flat on the ground. See, I told you it wouldn’t be hard to cure McCoy. Everyone else on the Enterprise was perfectly happy to give up their careers to go do a bit of light farming, but tell McCoy he can’t be a doctor anymore and no amount of spores are going to save you.

While Sandoval is busy rolling around on the ground, McCoy stands there looking confused for a moment, then—presumably having only just now noticed that instead of a mint julep he’s actually been drinking a coke with a bunch of cilantro in it—throws his drink aside and admits that he’s not sure why he just clobbered Sandoval. But Sandoval has other concerns for the moment. With a look of dawning horror familiar to all us chronic procrastinators, he abruptly realizes that they haven’t actually been doing anything all this time. “No accomplishments, no progress. Three years wasted. We wanted to make this planet a garden...”

McCoy points out that the colonists really will have to leave—they can’t survive here without the spores handling all that radiation for them. But the dream’s not over; the colonists could be relocated to start again somewhere a bit less deadly, if that’s what they want.

“I think I’d...I think we’d like to get some work done,” Sandoval muses. “The work we set out to do.”

McCoy calls Spock and says that Sandoval wants to talk to Kirk. Spock notes to Kirk that the crew are all starting to rather sheepishly call in by now. Sandoval tells Kirk that the colonists will fully cooperate with the evacuation now, and Kirk tells him to start making the preparations. Real ones, this time.

Sometime later, everyone’s back on the bridge getting ready to head out. McCoy reports that he’s examined all the colonists and they all remain in perfect health. “A fringe benefit left over by the spores.”

One would think that this would have been quite the eventful afternoon for the medical sciences, given that they just discovered spores with such incredible healing powers that they can make people regrow organs, and McCoy just confirmed that anything healed by the spores stays healed after the spores are gone. Sure, they’ve got some side effects, but Kirk’s already discovered a simple way to get rid of the things once they’re no longer needed. Strap someone to a bed, give em a facemask full of spores, let them lay there for a while having a nice buzz while they heal their cancer or whatever, then play an irritating noise at them until they sneeze the spores back out again. Boom. Done. You’ve solved medicine. Or, y’know, we could vacate the planet and never speak of it ever again, that works too.

Notably unmentioned by anybody during this little denouement is the fate of the other two settlements on the planet that Sandoval mentioned back near the beginning of the episode. The length of the timeskip isn’t specified, so it’s possible that the crew went and collected them as well in the interim, but we never get any details as to how that little adventure went, assuming that it did happen and that the Enterprise isn’t about to get halfway to the next starbase before Kirk realizes he forgot something.

As they watch the planet diminish behind them on the viewscreen, McCoy muses that this was “the second time man’s been thrown out of paradise.” Kirk disagrees. "No, no, Bones, this time we walked out on our own. Maybe we weren't meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to fight our way through--struggle, claw our way up, scratch for every inch of the way. Maybe we can't stroll to the music of the lute. We must march to the sound of drums."

Spock remains unimpressed by this bit of philosophizing. “Poetry, Captain. Nonregulation.” Kirk notes that they haven’t heard anything from Spock about this whole ordeal, since, y’know, that definitely seems like something Spock would want to talk about. He says he’s got little to say about Omicron Ceti 3.

[ID: A close-up of Spock on the bridge as he says, "Except that for the first time in my life...I was happy."]

oh my god someone needs therapy

On that INCREDIBLY CHEERFUL note, the Enterprise flies away and the episode ends.

It’s somewhat baffling to me that of all the quite reasonable objections available to the whole situation with the spores, the main problem that Kirk—and by extension, the episode—seems to have is that “the spores make things too EASY and mankind was meant to STRUGGLE!!!” I mean, effectively what we had going on here was people being drugged without their consent into a state that overwrote their own desires, ambitions, emotions and much of their individual personalities and replaced them with bland, happy conformity to a goal and lifestyle none of them actually chose. That seems a bit worse to me than “people weren’t working hard enough.” Kirk goes on and on about how the spores made things too easy, but what they really did was make people apathetic to whether they succeeded at anything or not. Sandoval’s horrified when he’s cured of the spores because the colonists had much different plans for their colony; far from making those plans easier, the spores made them impossible. The dreams and desires of the Enterprise crew for a life of exploration among the stars would have been forever unmet if they had permanently joined the colony, they just wouldn’t have been able to care. Kirk seems to believe that the ultimate evil of the spores is that they deprive people of ambition; to me it seems that the worse evil is that they deprive people of their individuality and their autonomy.

Then there’s the fact that while the spores make people happy and friendly, they also make them remarkably blasé about the well-being of anyone who isn’t part of their collective. They have to be—caring about whether someone else is upset or hurt would make them unhappy, after all. Spock and McCoy are completely unconcerned with the mounting distress of their best friend, and beyond peer pressuring him to get with the program and take the spores like everyone else, they don’t seem to much care if he remains the only unhappy person on the planet. The colonists seem completely unbothered by the fact that all the animals they brought with them died a rather grueling death by radiation poisoning. Everyone on the Enterprise is happy to abandon the ship and join the colony with no message left behind for Starfleet, with apparently not a thought to spare for any friends and family back home, who would only ever know that their loved ones disappeared into space never to be seen again.

Or at least, they would if things actually went according to plan, which they probably wouldn’t, because the spores also made everyone cheerfully oblivious to the idea that anything could potentially cause a problem or pose a threat to them. After all, if Kirk hadn’t had a recovery at the last minute, the Enterprise would have been left unmanned in orbit around the planet, with no way for anyone in the colony to get back onboard. Uhura also goes out of her way to make sure that they no longer have any off-planet communication. So it’s probably not going to be long before Starfleet notices that one of their prize starships has abruptly gone incommunicado, and I’m willing to bet they’d be a bit quicker on that investigation than they were about checking on a tiny backwater colony (although it is Starfleet, so who knows, really). And since they know exactly where the ship was headed on its last recorded mission, it probably won’t take them long to find it. If Starfleet sends another ship along to investigate quickly enough, they’ll find the abandoned Enterprise hanging out in orbit around the planet, and Kirk’s log clearly lays out what happened, so all the other ship has to do is figure out how to neutralize the spores and everyone’s going to get rescued from Omicron Ceti 3 pretty quickly whether they want to be or not.

If Starfleet doesn’t show up in time...Kirk says the ship can be “maintained in orbit” for several months, but then what? It can’t stay up there forever. Sooner or later, the orbit will decay and the ship’s going to crash into the planet, and if it crashes anywhere near one of the colonies, their magic healing powers are going to be put to the test. Also their magic agriculture powers--rich soil and mild weather is all well and good, but is that going to be enough to carry all those crops through the ensuing environmental effects of an impact that big? Especially since, as already mentioned, the colony has enough to feed them and that’s about it—so they really can’t afford to lose any crops for very long.

Sure, maybe the Enterprise wouldn’t crash close enough to any of the colonies to ruin them, but why take the risk? All they had to do was have a helmsman set it on a course out of orbit, then take a shuttlecraft back to the planet. Doesn’t occur to anyone, evidently. Nor do we see anyone bothering to bring any supplies or equipment from the ship to the colony, even though there’s gotta be lots of stuff up there that would be useful. All in all, it seems quite likely that Paradise would have eventually collapsed in on itself simply because the spores make people unable to pay attention to any potential threats or obstacles long enough to do anything about them.

So what’s the moral here? ‘Society can’t survive if everyone is stoned all of the time’? I mean, okay? Sure? Cool? Glad we sorted all that out.

That said, despite having ranted for the past nine hundred words about the weird moral, I’m not saying this episode is bad. As a serious point about human nature I don’t find it especially compelling—YMMV, but I just personally tend to side-eye stories that center around the idea of “wouldn’t it be awful if we all had it too easy??”--but as fifty minutes of extremely Star Trek-y silliness it’s glorious. We’ve got Spock hanging from a tree and talking about dragons while making out in the grass, McCoy going full Georgia and wandering about with something he thinks is a mint julep, Kirk stomping around in increasing agitation as he tries to get some sense out of somebody and then making emo log entries while he sits on the bridge alone...it’s great.

The original draft of this episode apparently had the romantic subplot be for Sulu, who would have been motivated to stay with Layla after having been diagnosed with a serious medical condition that was cured by the spores, kind of like the eventual plot with McCoy in For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky. D.C. Fontana rewrote the story to focus on Spock, since if you have an episode about something that causes a strong emotional reaction, throwing Spock and his ever-present internal conflict into the mix is kind of the most immediately obvious way to generate some pathos and drama. The spores originally granted those affected with them telepathic abilities, enabling them to link with everyone else who’d been spore’d and form a hivemind. There are some traces of this in the final episode with spore’d people talking about “joining us” and “being one of us” and so on, but without the telepathy part it just kind of makes it sound like they’re in a cult. Also, the cure for the spores would have been consuming alcohol, so presumably in that draft McCoy never got infected.

For the purposes of the Trek Tally I’m going to count the spores as a Space Disease, which might be broadening the umbrella of that term a bit but hey, close enough. Next time we’ll be looking for life, Jim, but not as we know it, in The Devil in the Dark.

#star trek #star trek TOS #star trek TOS season one #recap tag #star trek TOS recaps #1.24 This Side of Paradise #1.24 This Side of Paradise recap

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia CH. 10

Even with the fatigue you felt after your laughing tic, you couldn't go to sleep at all last night. Which isn't a big deal, after all you are a chronic insomniac who has had an on off sleep schedule this week.

After twelve fifty-two hit and you still weren't tired or even close to doing your tired tics you did the only thing you could think to do on this technical Saturday morning. You started on your weekly tidy of the house. Bless whatever powers at be that you ended up in this cottage outside of town rather than an apartment unit surrounded by neighbors. The amount of complaints you would've gotten would have surely gotten you evicted.

It's not like you could stop this behavior, well you could but if you start doing nothing when you have spurts of insomnia you'll get lazier when you need to be productive. Banking on the fact that you'll just do it when you have insomnia. It happened all the time when you were in school, and while that worked for a while it wasn't a healthy way to cope with your sleep disorder.

You've found doing productive things or anything you would do when the sun was up typically helps you regulate you circadian rhythm faster than it ever did when you just laid in bed praying for sleep to take you.

It isn't at all surprising when you finish your chores around two forty that morning. With nothing better to do and not being at all in the mood to do any attempt at art or reading. You decide to settle in to watch a movie. It starts with scrolling through Netflix and seeing Coraline, then that turns into Paranorman, which turned into Corpse Bride, several episodes of the old Twilight Zone.

By the time you were finished with the fourth episode it was already one in the afternoon. You really needed to start baking if you wanted fresh cookies for the movie tonight. Setting up your monster movie hard drive to play a movie for background noise you set out on baking.

It's a super simple recipe you started using back in high school but it's always a hit at parties. Maybe it's because you fold candies, chocolates, nuts, or whatever topping into each cookie individually. You can't say for sure but everyone loves them, and you think that's nice.

Creaming butter while the sounds of a woman screaming in agony as a zombie eats her lower intestine seems very much on point for you. However, you soon find yourself drowning out the movie as you hyper focus on the mixing of ingredients. You tripled the recipe, hoping to make a mixture of mini sugar cookies, mini chocolate chip cookies, and mini mini M&M cookies. If you had thought about it more you might have grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries to add them to the mix. Although you think three batches of mini cookies might be a little excessive so four may have been overkill.

'Oh well, no turning back now.' you think preheating the oven for four hundred degrees and roll tiny half inch dough balls while you wait.

After about fifteen minutes you assume the oven is hot enough to start baking. You line the first tray up all with sugar cookies. You only get two thirds of the bowl down on that tray. It was your biggest one too. Setting a timer for ten minutes so you could turn the cookies to let them bake for another three after that, you turn your attention to folding a handful of chocolate chips into the next bowl's dough balls. Placing the new chocolate chip dough into the bowl holding the rest of the sugar cookie dough as you go. You nearly finish that when the timer goes off to spin the tray. Honestly at this rate all your dough will be ready before you even have one bowl down. You hope you can finish baking in time for the movie.

It's five o' two by the time you put the last batch in the oven. You've been cleaning as the cookies baked and now your kitchen is nearly clean once more. Just a few more dishes to do after that batch comes out and you pack up the cookies.

Letting the most recent batch have a chance to cool you start placing all the cookies in your three largest containers. You'll need to grab a fourth container for the last of the cookies, but all the cool cookies are now ready for transport.

And with how early in the evening it is you should eat something now so you can have some room for snacks later. Time to finish off that pizza. Taking a slice out to the bins and placing it neatly on the ground for Chonk, whenever it is he decides to come and claim it, you turn back around to finish baking and get your dinner. After pulling the cookies out and setting them to cool you reheat your dinner for tonight.

Sitting down, plate in hand, you're just able to catch the shift into the next movie. Teen Wolf 1985 starring Micheal J. Foxx. Not a scary movie by any means but you keep it in the storage drive for rainy days. And even though today isn't raining you think it'll be a good watch.

You can not believe how utterly painful that was to have just watched. It was so average that it might as well not had the werewolf aspect at all! The acting was average, makeup was ok for the time, but the writing was just the worst. And the ending basket ball scene? It felt like a cheesy early 2000s Disney Channel original movie. You're pretty sure if you combined several Disney movies you'd have that exact plot. Hell Don't Look Under the Bed was scarier than that, and it was a better story too.

Checking the time you see you have about the average length of a Disney Channel movie before you have to leave. Good because you really want to watch Don't Look Under the Bed now. Switching over to your Disney+ account you find said movie and rush to put everything up as it runs through the beginning credits. With cookies packed away and the containers stacked and ready you plop back on your couch to immerse yourself in the early 2000s “horror”.

Just as the hand comes from under the bench to caress Fran a knock rings through your home, effectively startling you. Your eyes shift over to your front door, it's nearly eight thirty on a Saturday who or what is all this far out? Getting up from the couch you make your way over to your door, unlike every horror movie you have your phone and contacts pulled up and ready to dial. Phone behind your back and thumb hovering over Hollis' contact you open the door. Where three figures greet you.

Tim stands in front of the other two, dressed in dark jeans a gray tank top and red flannel with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Brian stands behind him and to his right, he's wearing regular jeans and an olive v-neck. Jesus fucking Christ is it 2012 and no one told you? Toby off to Tim's left is in black jeans a black t-shirt with a green short sleeve button up that has a little alien head pattern. Well, they don't look like they're here to murder you with an ax, so you move the hand from behind your back and let it rest by your side.

Missing the two tense gazes as you move the appendage.

“...Um, hi?” what would normal people do in this situation? Was this even a normal situation to find yourself in, what with three men you've just met at your front door.

Tim seems to be looking for his words, he must be out of his element as well. On the other hand Brian seems content to let Tim flounder around for a bit, all the while Toby wrings his hands together. You can't tell if it's from nerves or his tics.

“Hey..uh, so you mentioned Saturday Dead. But we're new so..and we..” Tim is even worse with human interaction than you are.

“We were wondering if 'stop it' if you wanted to ride with us and give us directions.”

Oh that makes sense.

“Yea sure thing, c'mon in. I'll go get ready.” You give the men some space to enter your home. Then lead them to your living room,

“Make yourselves comfy.” you say as you leave them to change.

Once in your room you lock the door, although you believe you have a good reading on Toby to not be the type you can't be too safe around new men. You opt to change into the first shirt you grab from your closet, black t-shirt with several flatwoods monsters on it along with the phrase 'squad goals' and a pair a black joggers. Perfectly comfy for a chill movie night at the crypt.

“That was fast.” is the first thing you hear when you reenter the living room.

Toby had no problems making himself comfortable in your home, since he is sitting on the couch, seemingly watching the movie with your fidget cube in hand. Brian and Tim, on the other hand, were leaning on the wall separating the living room and kitchen.

“What d'you mean?” you asked Tim confused, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, uh” he seems embarrassed by this for some reason, “women normally take a long time changing is all.” Ooooooh now you get it he's a misogynist.

The room goes quiet with Tim's stupid opinion. Toby ceases all fidgeting, Brian however looks as though he's a cat that caught a canary. He must enjoy the pain and embarrassment of others, the dick.

“Mmmh I don't think that's true,” you'll let this one slide but Tim's on thin ice, “Anyway I'm not a woman. I'm trans agender.” Tim has the decency to look embarrassed for stuffing his foot into his mouth. But it isn't really his fault you never mentioned your pronouns or lack of gender to him, and you mix and match your masculine and feminine days. Understandably you won't blame him for not knowing your pronouns but that misogynistic comment will still be marked as a red flag.

“I am so sorry.” and he truly does sound sorry for the slip up.

You shake your head and shoo away his apology, “It's good, you didn't know.”

“We ready to go?” you ask looking around the room. Tim and Toby nod, the younger man moving off the couch to stand with you all when Brian speaks up.

“Actually, Toby don't you have to use the restroom?” Said man pauses on his way over to your little group, “No.” voice laced with confusion and irritation.

Tim jumps in with a stern, “I really think you should.” Toby cuts his eyes at Tim and Brian.

As weird as it is for one grown man to tell another to go to the bathroom, let alone two grown men, you quickly remember Toby's CIPA.

“Dude the drive itself is gonna be nearly an hour plus the two hour movie. The Cryptonomica only has one bathroom and like thirty people will be there tonight.” You assumed you'd also get a glare for insisting on the matter. But you only get Toby's furrowed brow in response and he looks uncomfortable right now, not intimidating. He's probably embarrassed that his new acquaintance...friend? Is also present for the topic of his bathroom habits.

With another glare to Tim and Brian, Toby pushes past you and down the hallway. Normally this would leave you in an awkward situation but thankfully you have escape tasks!

Marching over to the entertainment center you turn off the TV. Spotting your fidget cube on the table where Toby left it, you decide to pocket it just in case he'd want to use it for the movie.

A loud thud startles you and you look up to see Tim picking up a few books that fell from the bookshelf.

'Weird...' you think as you watch him place them back onto the shelf they fell from.

“A...sorry.” as he places them back you notice one side of the shelf is tilted downwards. It must've just lost that little nub that holds the shelf up in that corner. You probably have a few spares floating around in one of your trinket holders.

You give Tim a small 'it's fine' as you pass him on your way to the kitchen. Cookies all set on the counter you go over to your fridge and grab the popcorn bag off the top. Opening the fridge and retrieving the Surge for Kirby you are all set on your snacks for tonight.

Placing the Surge and popcorn on top of your cookie containers you go back to the living room to join the boys in waiting for Toby. Who is already coming out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his jeans....He knows you had a towel for that right?

“We should be good to leave now.” Brian says turning from Toby to you.

“Ok yea, after you guys.” you side stepped back into the kitchen doorway to let the men pass you.

“Want some help?” Toby asked as he walked closer. And as much as you wanted to say no you had it, you really didn't want to drop the Surge and have a big mess everywhere.

Nodding to him, thinking he was just going to take the things at the top or even the top container with them. Toby reaches out and barely brushes your hands at the bottom before taking the entire load into his own arms.

It felt like someone rubbed sandpaper across your knuckles and fingers where his hands touched. The burning sensation persisted even long after his hands had moved away.

It's the first time you've gotten bad vibes from Toby's touch. He's probably in a bad mood, his touch hasn't held much intention before but this hurts. Or you could totally be reading too much into this with too little sleep and you just aren't having a tactile day. You never have tactile days really just small windows where if someone is lucky they can squeeze a pat on the shoulder or a high five out of you.

“Hey, that's not helping.” you call out following the men out of your home.

“It's not?” he asks, “Then what is it?” why's he have to sound so smug about this.

“Condescending.” Toby blinks in surprise at the no nonsense tone of your voice.

You weren't harsh with your words...at least you don't think so. You were just stern in how you said them, wanting to get your point across.

Turning from the men you lock your door and check twice to make sure. When you turn back to face them you grab the top two containers of cookies, and subsequently the popcorn and Surge laying atop it, from Toby.

“This is helping. I could do this much at least.” Toby nods dumbly as you pass them and make your way to the cars.

“We can take ours, we'll drive you back.” Tim says unlocking their little sedan.

That seems fine, after all if you ended up wanting to stay later Kirby would totally let you crash on the couch in the basement and take you home in the morning. Or whenever he woke up tomorrow. And that way you wouldn't be keeping the boys too late. It is their first Saturday Night Dead and first time meeting most of the young adults in town. The night was bound to get draining.

You agree and hop into the back seat on the driver's side, Toby sliding in from the opposite side, leaving Brian to take the passenger seat and Tim to drive. You and Toby place the cookies in the middle seat and you thank him for his help. He quickly nods and looks out the window, knee starting to bounce slightly.

“Where am I going?” Tim asked as you all got buckled in.

“Ok, so we can either drive all the way through town or drive through the forest and across the river.”

“Which is faster?” Brian chimes in as Tim bristles.

“Forest.” You do catch Tim's reflection rolling his eyes at your reply.

To be fair with this group you wouldn't chance getting stuck in the forest on your way to a horror movie night. Like that's kind of a horror movie cliché right there. You and Toby are young enough that you're sure someone would mistake you two for late teens, in fact you know it's happened to you several times in the past week alone. While you're fine going into the forest at night by yourself it's only because horror movies don't center around one person dying in a forest by some ancient entity.

'But they do start that way.' that thought almost makes you want to cut back on your nightly hikes, unfortunately you have no other coping mechanisms for your insomnia other than hiking or driving. So you'll ignore that thought for now.

The car is quiet as everyone waits for someone to respond. Toby's knee bouncing is more obvious as it begins to jostle the car. He's also staring down at his hands, still red from his picking yesterday, wringing them together. Clearly the stationary car is getting to him, he breaks the silence.

“Will someone fucking say something?”

“Sorry,” you say gently to him, “Yea we can just go through town. Tim do you know where Whistle's Auto is?”

“Uh yea,” you catch his quick glance towards Toby in the rear view mirror.

“Cool just head in that direction and keep on Highland Street.”

That's all you had to say before Tim was shifting gears and driving off. You notice quickly that he's a faster driver than Toby was. It's yet to be seen if that should make you uneasy, you'll have to see how well he breaks.

When you guys had made it through town and Tim came to a stop in front of a sign proudly stating 'Welcome to the Cryptonomica' they were understandably concerned by the lack of a building or any other cars. You get out of the car and grab two of the cookie containers, when you made a grab for the other two and the snacks on top Toby kept them out of your reach and exited the car as well.

“So where is...everything?”

“Oh we have to hike. The shop's further in the forest.” you say as you walk on past Tim.

“You said people were gonna be here.” Brian chimes in.

Right this now looks like you have dragged them to a parking lot in the middle of no where in a small town that they don't really know people in. Great going YN. Way to look like the bait for a weird cult looking for sacrifices.

“Yea the Hornets. They're the local “biker” gang.” the stunt group probably had the dirt bikes out today, it was nice enough for it.

Understandably the men hesitated before following you. Toby was the one who quickly caught up with you, perks of longer legs, and matched your speed to the shop. It didn't even take five minutes before you saw the shop and a few Hornets out front smoking or just plain loitering.

A chorus of “YN!” “Hey we missed you last week.” “Yo, did you hear..” rang through as you greeted the group. Upon seeing the containers of cookies the chorus was replaced with cheers and you were given excited praise as they made way for the four of you to be let in. So embarrassing, you flush under the praise getting a little energy boost from it as well. Your mood however changes when you lock eyes with the person running the booth tonight. Keith Warren, second in command and assistant manager of the Hornets. Despite having no beef and all the same friends you two have never clicked. It's almost your thing to be completely rude to each other when you do interact.

“Warren.”

“LN” his disdain is clear too, “Ten dollars bucket.” he hadn't even looked at you the jerk!

“Forty tonight, brought friends.” you placed the containers you had on the table as you dug the money from your wallet to pay for you all.

Keith does look up at that, literally the only time more locals come in is during Halloween when they want to get into the spooky season. So he's surprised to see three new faces attending Saturday Night Dead.

“Hey there, name's Keith.” you roll your eyes as he introduces himself to the group, you'll just slip away now since you already paid.

“Rude!” Kieth calls out, “Small talk!” you respond. You vaguely hear the rest of the introductions and Keith waving off the guys when they try to pay again. Oh maybe you should have actually told them you'd pay for their tickets, you thought it was obvious you invited them and they even drove you here. It's just polite that you cover their tickets this week.

Soon Toby is back by your side, you have a feeling you won't be able to loose him tonight if you tried, as you walk through the shop and towards the trap door in the back. The trap door that leads to the panic room converted into movie theater on Saturdays. Once you get down you bee line for the table in the back that is already half filled with snacks and some sodas. With Toby still following you he copies your moves of opening the containers and placing them on the table. You take the Surge and popcorn away from Toby, throwing the popcorn over in the direction of your corner seat and bring the Surge over to the man working on the white screen set up.

“Present.” Kirby pays no mind to you as he struggles with the screen. So you wait silently for him to just kick the thing and move on. Like clockwork Kirby kicks the bottom cover and the rest unravels perfectly.

“I need to replace this.” he says, just like he does every week.

“Oooh thank you.” he grabs the battery acid marketed as a beverage and spirits off. Weird guy.

“That's Kirby, he runs this place. Normally very chill but between the Picnic and movie night he ….just needs a break.” it's the nicest way you can put it. Toby just nods and scans the room wringing his hands together uncomfortably. You've noticed he hasn't ticced once since leaving the car, maybe he's suppressing them despite how anxious he clearly is.

Doing your own scan of the room you see that Tim and Brian haven't made their way in yet, Keith probably talking their ears off. Better them than you, you suppose. You're about to ask Toby if he wants to find them when the local power couple walks in.

“Party starting soon my dudes sit tight!” Jake announces as he and Hollis walk in to take their usual seats.

“Op spoke too soon babe, YN's here.” Hollis let out a chuckle when you rolled your eyes.

“Came without a soap box, hope cookies are suitable.”

And both are already grabbing a few of your mini cookies before they've even sat down. You really are glad you made them. Remembering Toby's with you, you introduce him to your friends.

“Tobais these are my friends Jake,” the blonde smiles warmly, “and Hollis.” They cover their mouth and toss a peace sign up as their mouth is still full. “And this is my friend Tobais.” he raises a hand to greet them.

“Hey, you're the new guy over at Auto right? You fixed Katrina's bike up quicker than Lewis ever does.” When Toby nods Hollis continues, “Man she's been saying how much smoother it rides now. Think I can stop by this week and get you to take a look at mine?”

“Yea, that should be fine.” and with that the two began to talk shop, literally. They just started talking about Hollis' bike. Normally all the Hornets do their own maintenance on their bikes but their motorcycles still need inspections and what not. This is really working out for you, your friends all getting along.

Thankfully it seems the topic calms Toby down a little, and you can see a head twitch or two make it's appearance as the two speak. Hollis being the chill person they are, and being used to your own brand of tics, makes no comment or acknowledgment of his tics.

Jake pulls you into a conversation about plans for a hang out at H2Woah that was fun, later after all the picnicing was done. Said he wanted to try surfing in the wave pool, you aren't sure about it but you agreed you'd teach him at least the basics of surfing if he taught you how to snow board. Didn't take much for the deal to be sealed.

Tim and Brian finally made their way down to the basement and you raised a hand so they could find you and Toby. Really it wouldn't have been too difficult but with everyone starting to pack in you didn't want anyone to be out of the group. Introductions had been made and everyone took to their seats.

You were already in the corner opening your popcorn when Toby sat down on your left blocking you from the rest of the room. Thinking on it if Toby wanted to eat he'd probably be too self conscious of his scar to take his mask off.

“Hey...actually would you mind if we switched?” he just gave you a lazy look before standing up and letting you scoot into his previous spot before sitting down in your spot. This way you could in theory block the view of his scar later.

You notice how his eyes dart in the room, despite Brian and Tim being just behind you two Toby still seemed on edge in the space. He has looked a bit uncomfortable all night, maybe that's why he was sticking to your side. You're way less outgoing than Brian is and Tim seems content to let him do his own thing. You feel bad, like you pressured him into coming and now he's paying for it. Toby looks a few minutes away from ripping the skin around his nails off again and you don't want a repeat of that.

“Here.” you whisper as the lights go off, handing Toby the cube from your pocket.

It's a quiet moment between you two as the trailers of the DVD play out and Toby focuses in on the cube. You note how he gravitates to the marble and joystick sides the most, always moving his thumb across each in a counterclockwise motion before reversing for a beat. Counter counter switch counter counter switch counter counter counter switch.

Once he found his rhythm with the toy you see tension leave his shoulders a little. Is he even able to feel the tension in his muscles?

You shift focus to the screen as the opening credits play out. And if you weren't sitting so close to Toby you'd missed the clucking sound coming from him. Knowing he'd get more anxious about his tics in this “quiet” setting you opt to ignore them and focus on the movie. After all the more relaxed he is the less likely he is to tic meaning the less anxious he is and more he can enjoy himself tonight.

About a third of the way through the movie you catch Toby sliding his mask off one ear, letting it shield his scarred cheek, and grabbing a handful of popcorn. You can't hide the giddy grin on your face from the action. To say you were worried about Toby not enjoying tonight was an understatement. But he had to have felt some comfort to slide his mask off in public, right? Your reassurance comes in the form of another handful of popcorn, as Toby pays no mind to you and only to the demon currently dancing on the screen.

With a terrible movie playing and a less anxious friend at your side you settle down a bit more yourself. Barely noticing when your head falls on Toby's shoulder as you slip into unconsciousness.

You wake up to the roaring of Kirby's snores and popcorn in your hair. A typical Sunday morning for you since arriving in Kepler.

#A cure for insomnia #creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #brian thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #timothy wright #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky #hoodie

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starship-squidlet · 4 years

Text

Twelfth Night: Chapter 9, Ladies Dancing

Summary: ✨ S T A R W A R S ✨

Word count: 2,441

Disclaimer: Twelfth Night Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @prettyinlimegreenboots @fifty-for-the-racer @wormsiewithablog (ask to be added/removed)

A/N: Yes, I really did cry through 2 hours straight of Star Wars Episode IX Rise of Skywalker. Star Wars means a lot to me, okay? xD (I did wind up super dehydrated afterwards and had a headache for the whole next day as I tried to replace my fluids. It was a time.)

Previous chapter: Maids A-Milking

Next chapter: Lords A-Leaping

Elaine smacked her hands down on the top of Finch’s console—which she could barely see over—making him and Mush jump. “Finch! What are you doing Sunday after the show?”

“Uh… Driving home for Christmas?”

“We’re going to go see Star Wars if you want to come.”

“I can’t. I’m driving home.”

“Okay. Mush, do you want to come?”

“I’ve never seen a Star Wars movie, so I’m going to pass.”

“You’ve never seen a Star Wars movie?”

“No. And when people react like that, it makes me want to never watch any of them, just to make a point.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “Whatever. Weirdo.”

Alan appeared behind her. “Who’s a weirdo?”

“Mush.”

“Definitely.”

“Thanks,” Mush glared at Alan as he wandered into the wagon house. “So, you guys are twins?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t really look alike.”

“Yeah, we both look like Alden and our mom, but not much like each other somehow.”

“I definitely would have guessed that either you or Alden or the two of them were the twins, not you and Alan.”

“We get that a lot.”

“Do you guys have twin telepathy?”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “No. That’s not a real thing.” She stuck her hands in her apron pockets and rocked back on her heels. “So, do you want to make this your first Star Wars movie?”

“Absolutely not.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough. Hey, JoJo!” she turned and trotted along behind the other boy as he headed into the wagon house. “Do you want to go and see Star Wars with us?”

“Who’s us?” JoJo asked.

“Uh… Me, Alan, Alden, Will, Jack, Crutchie, Elmer, and I think Sarah and Davey?”

“Sounds fun! When are we going?”

“Sunday after the show? It’ll be kind of a long day, and it’ll be a push for me and Crutchie and Sarah to get there with laundry, but we should be able to make the last showing for the night.”

“Okay! I’ll be there.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

Sunday was the last show day before Christmas. They had three full days off in a row for Christmas: the Monday that they normally had off, in addition to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. JD had finished his finals and Elaine drove him to the airport to fly home early on Sunday morning, meaning that the apartment would be quieter than normal when they got home that night, between everyone else’s exhaustion and his absence. The Sunday show felt like the longest show they’d done since the start of the run. Everyone was jittery, full of nerves and anticipation for the day off.

At intermission, Jack, Albert, Race, and Elaine were crammed into the little alcove that housed the washers and dryers, doing their best to ignore the sulfuric stench seeping out of the washers’ drain pipes.

“That is just… so bad,” Race pinched his nose and stepped away from the pipes.

“I think,” said Albert, leaning forward to fruitlessly peer down the pipe, “that part of the drain must sit too high or at the wrong angle to drain properly, and that means that water just sits there without draining and just, like… stagnates.”

“You’d think with how much we run the washers it would flush it out, though,” Elaine grumbled. She was fiddling with the tiny bulb in the bite-light around her neck, trying to adjust its position so she could see better when using it.

Albert shrugged and leaned back, waving his hand in front of his face as if it would do something about the stink in the air. “I don’t know. That’s just my guess.”

Elaine shrugged, dropping her bite-light to adjust the dress laid out on one of the dryers for quick-change purposes.

“Hey, Finch!” Jack called, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you coming with us tonight?”

“I can’t,” Finch groaned. “I have to be home by seven tonight for family Christmas stuff.”

“Aw, are you sure?” Elaine leaned around Jack to peer at Finch.

“Yes,” Finch sighed. “If I’m late, my mom might actually kill me.” He glared at her. “I told you this the other day.”

“Did you? Probably.” Elaine sighed.

“I’m going to try and go see it Christmas Day,” he said. “But no spoilers before then!”

“Yeah, I’m going with my brothers tomorrow,” said Albert.

“Race, are you going tonight?” Finch asked.

“Nah,” Race shrugged. “I don’t care enough about Star Wars to brave the theatre on a weekend evening right before Christmas, which also happens to be the weekend directly after the movie opening.”

“That’s pretty valid,” Elaine admitted. “I wouldn’t for anything less than Star Wars.”

Race took a half-step away. “Star Wars isn’t worth it”—

“You get back here and say that to my face, Race Higgins,” Elaine snapped. She started to move towards him, but he danced away and Albert and Jack both reached out to stop her—Jack with an arm around her shoulders, Albert by grabbing the side of her apron.

“Them’s fightin’ words with Elaine,” Albert laughed.

“You bet they are,” Elaine grumbled. She jerked backwards and turned away to sneeze into her elbow, both of the boys taking a step away from her on each sneeze. “Ugh,” she groaned. She blew her nose and put hand sanitizer on, then went back to fiddling with her bite-light.

“Well, none of you better spoil it for me,” said Finch.

Elaine held her hands up. “Spoiler ban until at least after Christmas. Probably longer, depending on how many people see it over the break.”

“Good,” Finch nodded. “I guess, since I can’t go to Star Wars tonight, I’ll take a bad joke.”

Elaine’s face lit up. “Really? Okay, hang on, let me think of a good one. Um… What’s big and grey and can’t fly?”

“I don’t know. A whale?”

“No. Well, technically, yes, also true, but the answer I was looking for was ‘parking lot’.”

“Why the fuck would I have guessed parking lot?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the answer to the question,” she shrugged. “Have a good show!” She slipped out from between Jack and Albert, lifting her bite-light to her mouth as she stepped backstage. Seconds later, they heard spluttering, and she returned, face twisted into a grimace. “I got hand sanitizer on my bite-light…”

.*.*.*.*.*.

“I can’t believe you’re all going to the movies tonight.”

Elaine, Sarah, and Crutchie traded glances, then grinned up at Medda from where they were seated on the wagon house floor, waiting for the laundry to be finished. They had changed out of their uniforms, into far more comfortable street clothes, while waiting, and had already clocked out upstairs so they wouldn’t have to go back up in the crunch of time they had to get to the theater. “Medda, come on; it’s Star Wars,” Elaine laughed. “I personally won’t make it more than a few more days without seeing it. I’ll explode.”

Crutchie laughed. “That’s a definite possibility here.”

Medda shook her head, grinning. “That’s commitment.”

“The wash is almost done, and then we’ll be out of your hair, Medda,” Sarah said. “We already clocked out; we just need to hang up the shirts and tights and we’ll be gone.”

“We thought we timed it better to when the wash would be done,” Elaine sighed.

Before anyone could say anything further, there was a buzz and a chime from the direction of the washers. Elaine and Sarah leapt to their feet and Sarah darted towards the washers while Elaine helped Crutchie to his feet. Medda laughed to herself and headed off, shaking her head, to turn off the lights on the stage and in the house. By the time Crutchie was up and heading towards the z-racks and drying rack on the carpet, Sarah had pulled everything out of the washer and dumped the load into a basket. She shoved it to Elaine as the second washer began to chime; Elaine took the full basket over to Crutchie and the racks while Sarah filled the second, and they got to work.

Soon enough, all of the dress shirts had been hung on the z-racks, while all tights, fishnet stockings, dance briefs and undershorts, show bras, socks, and the brightly-colored elf leotards and undershirts were draped over the drying rack. The men’s undershirts went back into a washbasket and were tossed into a dryer with the sweat towels. Elaine powered on the washer while Sarah ran onto the stage to call to Medda that they were leaving, and then they were scurrying down the outside stairs, into the parking lot, and piling into Elaine’s car.

“Everyone buckled?” Elaine asked, not waiting for an answer as she shifted the gears and started driving.

“Wait!” Sarah giggled, clicking her seat belt into place.

“Elaine, have I never been in your backseat before?” Crutchie asked, pulling a beanie baby spider with giant, sparkly eyes out of the pouch on the back of Elaine’s seat.

“Uh, probably not,” she said. “We usually stick you in the front.”

“Ah, sorry!” said Sarah.

“No, it’s okay!” Crutchie said. “You get motion sickness. I don’t.” He reached into the seat pouch again, this time producing a large plastic box full of half-melted crayons. “Elaine, I have some serious questions about some of the stuff you have back here.”

“Wait, what did you find?”

“Melted crayons? Which kind of explains why it usually smells like crayons in here, actually…”

“Oh, I forgot about those. A lot of that stuff is leftover from the babysitting and nannying jobs I did back in Boston.”

“Like this spider?”

“Oh, no. He’s my friend. Give him here.” She reached her hand back, and Crutchie put the spider in it. Elaine set him on the recessed part of her dashboard behind her steering wheel, in front of the gas gauge. “Well, that makes it a little hard to see how much gas I have, but that’s okay.”

Crutchie and Sarah laughed. “You know you’re crazy, right?” Crutchie teased.

“All the best people are,” Elaine sang out as she pulled into the theatre parking lot. “Wow, it’s busier than I was expecting.”

“I hope we can still get tickets,” said Sarah.

“Alan said he and Jack and Davey got tickets for us already,” said Elaine. “He texted me before we left. They wanted to make sure we’d be able to get in.”

“Oh, good,” Sarah grinned.

Elaine parked the car and they all clambered out, heading for the theatre building. Inside, they found Alan, Alden, Will, Davey, Les, and Jack all waiting for them. JoJo and Elmer arrived just after them, and joined the group as Alan was talking:

“So, we weren’t able to get all of the seats together,” he said. “Most of us are in the third row. Jack and Davey said they’d take a pair of seats that’s a little further back, and then there’s another single seat a few down from the rest of us, but we’re going to try and just get the people in between us to swap for that one.”

“Okay,” Elaine nodded, accepting the ticket Alan handed her.

“Can I sit at the end of the row?” asked Crutchie. “It’s easier to get in and out, and I don’t want to have to walk past a bunch of people with my crutch.”

“Oh, yeah, Jack said you’d probably want that one, so I saved this ticket for you,” said Alden, passing the slip of paper to him.

“Okay, does everyone have a ticket?” Alan said. “Great. Let’s go. The movie starts in five minutes.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

When they all filed out of the theatre, Les and Alden in particular were chattering excitedly to each other, but the others were all talking over each other as well. The only one silent was, surprisingly, Elaine, who stood quietly tucked up against Will’s side, under his arm, eyes and nose red and cheeks tear-stained.

“You okay, Laine?” Jack teased.

“Shut up,” she sniffled.

Will laughed and rubbed her arm. “She got a little emotional during the movie.”

“‘A little’?” Alan repeated, laughing. “She cried for two hours straight through.”

“Wait, you could hear that?” Elaine gasped, mortified. “I thought I was being quiet!”

“You were quiet, just not… that quiet,” Crutchie laughed.

“Oh no…” she groaned.

“Why were you crying?” Jack asked.

“Leia,” Elaine sighed. “Look, Carrie Fisher was my idol as a kid. She’s the only celebrity whose death has made me cry”—

“Also for several hours,” Alan interjected.

—“and seeing her on the screen again was just… I mean, episode eight was bad enough, but this one was just… you know. Hard to watch, but in a good way. And the ending of a series, especially one that has meant so much to me as Star Wars has, is always an emotional time to me, so.” She shrugged.

“She also cried after the last Hobbit movie,” said Alan.

“And rewatching Return of the King,” said Alden.

“The last Jurassic World movie,” said Will. “Although that one wasn’t the last of the trilogy.”

“No, but it was traumatic,” said Elaine. “All the dinosaurs dying, and then the ones they rescued almost dying? Awful.”

“Don’t forget Detective Pikachu!” Alan piped up. “We went to see it for our birthday this year, and she cried the whole way home.”

“Can we not talk about how easily I cry please?” Elaine laughed. “Anyways, the reason I was crying then wasn’t so much about Detective Pikachu—even though that movie did make me weirdly emotional—I had a lot of things on my mind and the movie just kind of pushed me over the edge.”

“That’s valid,” Crutchie shrugged.

“Moving on,” said Jack, “who’s driving home with me?”

“You can either take Alan, Alden, Will, and Crutchie straight home, or take Davey, Sarah, and Les to the theatre to get Davey’s car,” said Elaine. “I’ll take whoever you don’t.”

“You should probably take the Jacobses,” said Jack, ignoring the twinge of reluctance in his stomach. “Your car is smaller. Don’t want to cram too many people into it.”

“Yeah, sitting in your back seat when it’s full is not fun,” Alden laughed.

“Okay, that’s fair; it is pretty tight back there,” Elaine agreed. “Let’s go, then. Davey, you’ll want to sit behind me; more leg room.”

“‘Cause she’s so short she has to sit inside of the steering wheel to reach it!” Alan called after them.

“Shut up!” Elaine yelled back.

“Make me!” Alan retorted, sticking his tongue out. “Oh, wait; you can’t! Your legs are too short. You’d never catch me!” He took off running towards Jack’s van in the distance.

“I hate it when he’s right,” Elaine grumbled.

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tw-anchor · 5 years

Text

15. Arguing and Making Up

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 2x03; Ice Pick

Word Count: 5,512

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, arguing

Author’s Note: Olivia and Stiles continue to argue but don’t worry, they make up :) Hope you enjoy this chapter. Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

Stiles stared out the windshield of his Jeep, his eyes narrowed as he tried to ignore the inquisitive look his best friend was giving him. He didn't blame Scott for being confused; lately, his moods went back and forth and even he was getting whiplash.

The reason for his bad moods? Derek Fucking Hale.

Well, it wasn't just Derek, but if Stiles really thought about it, it all came down to the new alpha.

First, Derek just had to kill Peter and be the new alpha in town. Then, he bit Isaac and now Olivia was in his pack and keeping secrets. And, yeah, Stiles and Olivia weren't super close, but he thought they understood each other and had begun a tentative friendship, especially after the night of the formal.

Apparently, he was mistaken.

It was his growing love for Olivia and his current anger with her that had him going back and forth. Because one minute, he was scowling over the fact that Olivia was close with Isaac and helping him out with his control and had picked him and Derek over Stiles and Scott. The other minute, he'd look over at Olivia and catch her staring at him; she'd give him a small, hesitant smile that had him practically melting on the inside and he was a goner until he remembered her pack allegiance.

So, yeah, it was Derek's fault.

"So..."

"So what?" Stiles snapped as he pulled into the school parking lot.

"You're still pissed at Olivia, I'm guessing," Scott assumed, giving Stiles a pointed look; Stiles pressed his lips together. "Dude, it's been a week. She's Derek's cousin, of course, she's gonna be in his pack."

Stiles grunted, pulling into an empty parking space.

"And, you know, she doesn't really have to choose," Scott went on, surprising Stiles with how mature he was about the whole thing; he guessed it was only him that was offended with Olivia being part of Derek's pack. "She can be friends with us and still be in Derek's pack. She's not the enemy."

Stiles sighed. "I know she's not the enemy but it feels like she betrayed us," he admitted. "I mean, remember how Derek lied to you about Peter?"

"Olivia didn't have anything to do with that."

"I guess," Stiles conceded, turning off his car. "I don't know how I feel but I'm not pissed at her..."

"Why haven't you been talking to Stiles lately?" Lydia asked from beside Olivia, clad in a pink jumpsuit that looked more for fashion than for the gym class they were currently in.

Olivia looked away from where she was watching Scott and Allison climb the dreaded rock wall and frowned at her cousin. "He's pissed at me."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Stiles Stilinski is pissed at you?" Olivia nodded and Lydia chuckled. "So, there's trouble in paradise?"

"Well, there was no paradise to begin with," Olivia shook her head. "Why do you ask about Stiles?"

"He's been sneaking more looks at you than usual," Lydia shrugged and smirked, nodding over to where Stiles was standing.

Olivia looked and wasn't surprised to see Stiles quickly look away from her, just like he had been doing all week since the full moon. She knew that he was mad she was in Derek's pack but what was she supposed to do? Abandon one of the only family she had left? She was falling short of relatives, especially since Peter died, and she wanted to spend time with her family for as long as she could.

Plus, she didn't know what was going on with her, so it seemed like a good choice to stick with Derek, who had more experience with the supernatural than she did.

Besides, Stiles didn't understand that Olivia wasn't not on their side, too. Why did she have to pick between Derek and her friends?

Olivia looked away from Stiles and back to the rock wall just in time to see Allison kick Scott off of it. He fell down to the mat, his harness stopping him just a few inches away from the protective material.

The class erupted into laughs, Coach being one of the loudest.

"McCall, I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy," Coach commented joyfully as Allison hovered down the wall. "All right, next two! Stilinski and Erica, let's go."

Olivia's eyes went right back to Stiles as his name was called and smiled in amusement as she got a better look at his t-shirt; it was blue and had the word "stud" with a cartoon muffin underneath it. After Allison gave him the harness, he slipped it on.

As Erica was putting on her own harness, Allison approached Lydia and Olivia, coming to stand next to him.

"Congrats on your win," Olivia smirked at her. "I can't believe Scott fell so far behind."

Allison shrugged and grinned back at her. "Some of us are more talented than others."

"True," Olivia conceded, thinking of her own climb with Lydia by her side. Neither one of them were fantastic at it but Lydia somehow still beat her.

Coach told Stiles and Erica that they could start climbing and Stiles took off immediately. He climbed the rocks surprisingly fast and it left Olivia amazed because she didn't know Stiles was that athletic.

Maybe he just acted like he was bad at lacrosse.

Stiles had already climbed down the wall and was celebrating by the time Erica got halfway.

Olivia knew of Erica but she had never spoken to her more than three times. She had chemistry with Erica and she knew she had epilepsy because she had a seizure in class a week or so before winter break. Mr. Harris had been an asshole about it and let people record her seizure on their phones—Olivia and Danny had been the ones to roll her onto her side and make people back off.

Erica was not well-liked at school and Olivia thought that it was stupid how people made fun of her just because of her epilepsy. She knew the blonde was smart because she almost all of the same classes as her and Lydia and she seemed pretty nice. Olivia also knew that Isaac was friends with Erica and he spoke highly of her.

Erica stopped climbing and started shaking, a sob escaping her throat. She started hyperventilating, catching Coach's attention. Unfortunately, that meant the whole class had a front-row seat to watch her freak out.

"Erica?" Coach called up to her. "Are you dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

Olivia rolled her eyes at him. "Coach, vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear," she corrected him. "Maybe she's just scared."

"Erica!" Coach looked back up to the hysterical blonde. "Erica?"

"I'm fine," Erica responded shakily.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe," Allison spoke up, her worried eyes on Erica. "You know she's epileptic."

"What?" Coach grunted, annoyed. "Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff? I have to—" he shook his head and looked back up at Erica. "Erica, you're fine. Just—just kick off from the wall. There's a mat to catch you."

Erica hesitated for a few seconds before she slowly and carefully hovered down the rock wall. As soon as her feet touched the black mat, Coach patted her on the shoulder.

"See, you're fine. You're on the ground," he said softly and Olivia thought that he was actually being a decent human being for once. Until he spoke again, "You're all right. Let's go, shake it off."

The class, minus Olivia and her friends, started laughing at Erica as she unbuckled her harness and walked out of the gym. Olivia shook her head; she hated high schoolers.

Erica wasn't in the locker room when the rest of the girls went in to change into their normal school clothes. As they got changed, Olivia, Allison, and Lydia chatted about their plans for that night. The three of them, along with Stiles and Scott, were going ice skating at the local rink that Stiles was renting from an employee they went to school with.

They were all excited—Lydia and Olivia because they took ice skating lessons together as children and Allison because she could be with Scott without trying to hide their relationship. Olivia was also looking forward to clearing the air with Stiles; she was tired of him being mad at her.

A loud scream that came from the gym caught their attention. Everyone ran out of the locker room and into the gym, where Scott was holding a seizing Erica in his arms. Olivia pushed past some of the boys that were just watching and crouched down next to them.

"Put her on her side," she urged Scott, helping him turn Erica over. "It's better for her."

Scott nodded and held onto Erica as she gripped his arm to her chest.

"How'd you know?" Olivia asked him, giving him a confused look.

Scott shrugged. "I just felt it."

When Erica's seizure ended and nine-one-one was called, Olivia backed away from the crowd. She went back into the locker room to pull on her cardigan and took her phone out of her purse.

She needed to talk to Derek about Erica.

Stiles slowly walked into the cafeteria and looked around, spotting Boyd sitting at his usual table. He made his way over to him, trying to look inconspicuous, his hand hidden in the pockets of his purple hoodie.

"Boyd," he greeted his classmate as he sat across from him. "You got the keys?"

Boyd didn't speak as he held out the keys to the skating rink. Stiles grinned and tried to take them from him, but Boyd held them out of reach.

"This isn't a favor," Boyd reminded him. "It's a transaction."

"Right, yeah," Stiles agreed casually, slipped his wallet from his jeans. He pulled out a twenty-dollar-bill and set it on the table. "Absolutely."

Boyd gave him an unimpressed look. "I said fifty."

"Really?" Stiles asked innocently. "I remember twenty. I don't know. I have a really good verbal memory and I remember twenty," he nodded jerkily. "I remember that distinct 'twa' sound. Twa-enty."

"I said fifty," Boyd said sharply. "With a 'fa' sound. Hear the difference?"

"Uh—"

"If you can't, I can demonstrate some other words with the 'fa' sound," Boyd offered.

Okay, that was a good one, Stiles had to admit to himself.

"Uh, okay, I think I'm recalling it," Stiles chuckled, pulling out another twenty. "Maybe I just got it confused with for-ty."

Boyd didn't budge; he stared blankly at Stiles as he popped a Dorito in his mouth.

"Come on, man," Stiles sighed, exasperated. "have you seen the piece-of-shit Jeep that I drive?"

"You seen the piece-of-shit bus I take?" Boyd replied, unsympathetic.

He got me again.

Stiles pulled out a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and added it to the forty already on the table. Boyd smiled pleasantly and held out the keys to the skating rink.

Stiles gave him an annoyed smile and took the keys. "Thank you."

Boyd didn't reply, so he left the table and made his way over to his usual spot where Scott was already sitting. "Got 'em," he slid the keys over to Scott. "Pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink, cool?"

Scott went to reply but he was distracted by someone walking into the cafeteria. Stiles looked, too, and was surprised to see Erica strutting into the room with a smirk on her face.

She didn't look anything like the Erica that was having a seizure that morning. Her face had cleared up and she was wearing dark red lipstick that went well with all the black leather she was wearing. It seemed like her legs went on forever in the leopard-print heels she wore and Stiles had to admit she looked pretty good.

Erica walked up to some random guy and bent over, stealing the apple from his tray. She bit into the apple and smiled seductively, wiping the juice from her lips, and then tossed the fruit back to its owner.

Lydia stormed up to Stiles and Scott's table, a calm Olivia by her side, and slapped her hands down on the surface.

"What—the holy fuck—is that?" she spat, glaring daggers at the blonde as she walked back out of the cafeteria.

"It's Erica," Olivia supplied.

Scott abruptly stood up and Stiles followed him out of the cafeteria, both of them trying to catch up with Erica. She was already out of the building when they pushed through the doors out of school, and they stopped in their tracks when they saw her walking around Derek's Camaro.

Erica smirked at them as she slid into the passenger seat and Stiles' blood boiled when Derek flashed them a grin as he drove off.

The door opened behind them and Olivia stepped out; Stiles and Scott turned around to look at her, both of them angry.

"You told Derek about Erica?" Stiles practically exploded. "What the hell is wrong with you, Olivia?"

Olivia tried not to flinch away from his anger. "Erica had epilepsy. I was just—"

"Just ruining her life," Scott spoke up, his jaw clenched.

"Erica chose this," Olivia said indignantly, thinking that their anger with her was unjustified. "Besides, the bite is a gift."

Stiles scoffed, unable to believe that Olivia was spouting off the same shit her dad did after he bit her. "Yeah?" he said mockingly. "and how's that working out for you, Olivia?"

Olivia stiffened and her gaze narrowed though Stiles could see the sadness in her cobalt-blue eyes. He almost regretted bringing her bite up but then she opened her mouth to retort and his anger rose.

"You know what?" he said before she could say anything. "Do me a favor and don't come with us tonight."

Olivia reared back like she had been slapped and, to her, it felt like she had. She had been looking forward to making up with Stiles and hanging out with him and the rest of her friends and now he didn't even want her to come.

She just didn't understand why he was so angry at her. And she also didn't understand why it her hurt so much to know that he was angry at her.

Stiles didn't want her around and she had never felt so out of place.

Olivia rubbed her sternum where she could feel her rapid heartbeat. "Okay," she finally whispered, looking away from Stiles' cold glare. "I won't come."

Stiles jerkily nodded and walked away, Scott following after he sent a hesitant look.

Arriving to the skating rink felt bitter to Stiles now that Olivia wasn't going to be there but he had Scott, Allison, and Lydia counting on him for tonight, so he couldn't exactly bail on them. He and Scott waited outside the rink until Lydia and Allison arrived and when they finally pulled up, Stiles unlocked the doors.

Allison and Scott grinned excitedly and even Lydia gave him an impressed look as she walked in. Once everyone got the correct size skates, they sat down on the bleachers to put them on.

Allison and Scott finished quickly, leaving Stiles alone with Lydia.

As Stiles finished up tying his last skate, Lydia shivered.

"Could it be any colder in here?" she asked bitterly.

Stiles unzipped his backpack and pulled out an orange hoodie, holding it out to her. "Here."

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm wearing blue," she said like she was talking to a preschooler. "Orange and blue? Not a good combination."

"But it's the colors of the Mets," Stiles objected and he felt like he was having déjà vu.

Lydia nodded as if she was remembering something. "Right, Liv told me you were a fan," she recalled as Stiles pulled a candy bar out of his backpack to snack on. "Is that a Mounds bar?"

Stiles froze and looked over at her. "Yeah."

"Liv is the only one I know that eats those," Lydia cocked her head, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

"Really? I didn't know that," Stiles lied, rubbing the back of his neck. He had brought the candy bar especially for Olivia until she told Derek about Erica. "Did Olivia really tell you that I like the Mets?"

"Yeah," Lydia nodded, noticing how shy he seemed. "She couldn't believe that you preferred them over the Dodgers."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Of course, she'd like the Dodgers."

"So, why didn't you want her to come?" Lydia asked him as he absentmindedly unwrapped the Mounds bar. "She said you were pissed at her."

"I am," he mumbled, biting into the candy. He grimaced at the bitter dark chocolate but found that the coconut really sweetened it up.

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

Lydia sighed. "If you tell anyone I'm giving you advice right now, I'll kill you," she warned him; Stiles nodded with wide eyes. "Olivia is oblivious sometimes. It's like she has blinders on for some things and for other things, she sees clearly."

"And she also always thinks she right—we share that trait, so you can imagine how complicated game nights at our house are," Lydia continued with a fond smile. "I'm telling you this so you can understand why she can get lost in her own head sometimes. She's oblivious to the fact that you like her and she doesn't understand what she did wrong for you to be so angry with her."

"She knows I like her," Stiles pointed out. "I told her at the winter formal."

"Yeah and both of us were attacked that night," Lydia reminded him. "Some things get lost in the details. Look, I'm not trying to convince you to not be mad anymore. That's not my place. I'm just saying...Liv's been lost since you started arguing and though she doesn't realize why it's easy for me to figure out."

Stiles nodded, trying to absorb everything that Lydia was telling him.

"Come on," Lydia stood up. "I came to skate and since Liv's not here, you'll have to do."

Olivia picked at the pasta she had made for the pack, her appetite nowhere to be seen. She had felt sick to her stomach since school ended and it only got worse when the time when she was supposed to meet up with Lydia, Allison, Stiles, and Scott passed.

She felt left out but she also felt annoyed—at Stiles and herself. She was annoyed that Stiles was so mad at her and she was annoyed at herself for being so upset that he was mad at her.

And she did feel somewhat sorry. Stiles and Scott felt like she had betrayed them and she could understand where they were coming from—only a little bit, though. Because from her point of view, Erica needed to be a werewolf. She had epilepsy, for crying out loud, and it wasn't like Derek forced her to get the bite. Derek had explained everything to Erica just like he had told Isaac.

It was Erica's choice to take the bite—not Scott McCall's or Stiles Stilinski's.

"Thanks for inviting us over, Olivia," Erica spoke up shyly as she finished her dinner.

Olivia, realizing that she had spaced out, smiled at her. "No problem, Erica. We're pack now and I was lonely. Aunt Natalie's on a business trip and Lydia's out."

Olivia's tone must have sounded sadder than she realized because even Derek noticed how down she looked.

"Are you okay, Ollie?" he asked, setting down his empty water glass.

"Stiles uninvited her from their ice-skating group date," Isaac spoke up, having gotten the whole story from Olivia herself. "That's where Lydia is."

Olivia glared at him; she had told him that in confidence.

"I'm not upset," Olivia very obviously lied, fooling no one.

"What's their problem, anyway?" Erica asked, out of the loop.

"Scott has a problem with minding his own business sometimes," Derek told her. "He and his sidekick are taking it out on Olivia."

Stiles is not a sidekick, Olivia thought bitterly, though she didn't speak up.

"Well, I guess they'll be a problem when you bite Boyd tomorrow," Erica frowned.

Olivia raised her eyebrows at the new information and looked over at Derek. "You're biting Boyd? Vernon Boyd?"

Derek nodded, looking sheepish. "Yeah, Isaac and Erica are friends with him. They said he's interested."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Olivia asked, confused.

"Because I know that Stiles and Scott are giving you a hard time," Derek reasoned with her. "and I know that you're actually friends with them."

Olivia pursed her lips and muttered bitterly, "They're not my friends."

It was clear that no one at the table believed her; Isaac even rolled his eyes.

Olivia gasped as her body started to tingle again; the feeling was pretty much familiar to her now, but it always caught her off guard when it happened. A weird sensation, like something was trying to crawl up her throat, made her flinch and then she heard whispering.

Lydia. Lydia. Lydia.

"Lydia," she breathed, blinking rapidly.

She ignored the looks of shock she was getting from Derek, Erica, and Isaac, and stood up, grabbing her phone from the charger in the kitchen. She hurriedly dialed Allison's number, knowing that Stiles and Scott probably wouldn't pick up, and waited for her friend to answer.

"Hello?" Allison answered, sounding stressed; Olivia could hear sobbing in the background. "Liv?"

"Is Lydia okay?" she asked quickly "Is she hurt? What happened?"

"How did you—" Allison paused for a second, bewildered, and continued, "She's safe but she started freaking out. She said she saw something in the ice."

"She saw something in the ice?" Olivia repeated, confused. "Okay, can you just bring her home, please?"

"Yeah," Allison agreed immediately. "Liv...how did you know something happened?"

Olivia frowned. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't know."

Olivia and Allison quickly ended their call and she turned back to see that Derek had followed her into the kitchen.

"Lydia was freaking out," she explained, setting her phone back on the counter. "Allison's bringing her back here, so I think you guys should leave."

"Sure," Derek nodded. "But, Ollie..."

"Yeah?"

"When you said Lydia's name, your eyes turned purple."

Stiles quickly walked into the cafeteria, on a mission to find Scott.

All day he felt like there was something missing and most of that, he knew it was mostly because Olivia hadn't shown up at school, but there was also the fact Boyd was absent too. Boyd, who hadn't missed a day of school since the third grade other than the week he was gone for his little sister's funeral in middle school.

He just knew that it had something to do with Derek; Boyd was a loner just like Erica and Isaac and the two of them happened to be his best friends. It couldn't be just a coincidence that he happened to be absent from school the day after Erica turned into a werewolf.

He rushed toward Scott, dodging Allison who was walking away from him, and slid into the seat next to him.

"Scott, do you see that?" he pointed to Boyd's empty table.

"What?" Scott shrugged. "It's an empty table."

"Yeah, but whose empty table?" Stiles prompted; a look of realization came over Scott's face. "Yeah, it's Boyd's."

"Shit," Scott cursed, standing from his seat.

He and Stiles rushed out of the cafeteria, intending to find Boyd to discourage him from taking the bite.

"I'm going to the ice rink to see if he's there," Scott informed Stiles. "You go to his house. If he's not at home, call me, okay?"

Stiles hesitated, thinking it through. What exactly could they do to stop Boyd from taking the bite if he really wanted it? Maybe it wasn't really their business...maybe Olivia was right.

Scott saw his indecisive face. "What?"

"Maybe we should let him," Stiles told Scott. "Boyd, you know? You and Olivia said Derek's giving them a choice, right?"

Scott shook his head and slapped Stiles' shoulder. "We can't."

"You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good," Stiles continued. "You know, the word 'sensational' comes to mind."

"Yeah? How good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?" Scott pointed out.

"All right," Stiles conceded. "all I'm saying is maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility."

"They all are," Scott disagreed. "and you know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible."

"All right, I'm with you," Stiles gave him a supportive smile. "And I also gotta say, this new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you."

Scott rolled his eyes at the playful smirk on Stiles' face. "Shut up."

"No, seriously," Stiles chuckled. "do you wanna just try making out for a second? Just to see how it feels?"

It was only twenty minutes later that Stiles pulled up to Boyd's house after dropping Scott off at the skating rink. He ran out of his Jeep and bounded up to the house, knocking rapidly on the door.

"Hey, Boyd?" he called, tapping his knuckles against the flaking paint. "Hey, Boyd, it's Stiles!"

When there was no answer, he bent over, peeking into the window right next to the door. Unfortunately, curtains were blocking any view that he was hoping for. He sighed and knocked on the door again before turning around, gasping when he ran into Erica.

"Wow!" he gasped, taking a step back.

Erica giggled, both of her hands behind her back. "What are you doing here, Stiles?"

"Uh, n-nothing," Stiles stammered nervously. "I was just looking for, um..."

"Boyd?" Erica supplied, smirking.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded jerkily, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. "Yes. Boyd."

"You know what you're doing right now that's kind of funny?" Erica grinned. "You're only looking in my eyes."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "That's funny?"

"Well, yeah," she giggled. "because it's the kind of look where you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes."

Stiles had to admit that she was right, but it was kind of hard not to be attracted to a nice pair of boobs. Erica just happened to have nice boobs that were practically popping out of her jacket.

"But you want to look, don't you?" Erica went on. "You want a nice, long, hard look."

"Not really, no," Stiles said stubbornly, continuing to look at her chocolate-brown eyes.

"Oh, so it's just my eyes?"

"Yes, you have beautiful eyes."

"I have beautiful everything."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "And a new-found self-confidence," he snarked. "Congratulations, Erica. I should get going."

He went to walk around Erica but she stopped him, pressing her hand forcefully against his chest.

"You're not going anywhere," she said harshly.

Stiles winced. "Why not?"

Erica grinned and held up the other hand she had been holding behind her back. In it, was something that looked suspiciously like the starter in his Jeep.

"You're having car trouble."

Stiles didn't react in time when she thrust the starter at his face. It slammed against his cheekbone and he dropped to the ground, falling unconscious.

When he woke up hours later, it was to the voice of an angel.

Scott. Isaac. Erica. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

Olivia's whole body tingled as she walked down Baker Street, following her gut. She was looking for something—no, someone—but she didn't know exactly who they were. The whispering in her head that was driving her crazy was trying to give her an answer.

Scott. Isaac. Erica. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

Olivia was exhausted; after Lydia got home from the ice rink, she had been a mess and needed comforting all night. That was fine with Olivia, she was very worried about her cousin and wanted to stay with her to make sure she was feeling all right. She even stayed when Lydia eventually fell asleep, keeping watch to make sure she had no nightmares.

When the sun rose and Lydia went to school, Olivia stayed home. After what Derek told her about her eyes the night before, she was freaked out. She wanted to know what was happening to her, so she skipped school to research what Google had to say about purple eyes and tingling bodies.

There wasn't much, so Olivia fell asleep around lunchtime. She woke up four hours later, feeling like she was laying on a vibrating massage table. That was when the whispering started and she felt like taking a walk.

It as like she was on autopilot as she made her way through Beacon Hills. It wasn't until she saw Stiles' Jeep that she realized she was looking for him.

"Stiles?" she called, looking around the area that the Jeep was parked in. "Stiles, are you there?"

It was quiet—except for her own voice calling Stiles' name—for a minute or so as she continued searching until she heard groaning coming from the dumpster across the road. She whipped around and saw some of the garbage moving, so she started walking over to it.

"Stiles, is that you?" she asked loudly. "Stiles, are you there?"

There was another groan and then, "Livvy?"

Only Stiles would call her by that stupid nickname. She quickened her pace and stood on her tiptoes so she could see into the dumpster. Stiles laid in the pile of garbage, a red mark of the side of his face.

"Stiles, oh, my God, are you okay?" she gasped; he grunted. "What happened to you?"

"Erica, that bitch," he spat, slowly sitting up. "She tore out my starter and decked me with it."

"Erica?!" Olivia exclaimed in surprise; what had she missed while she was sleeping? She grabbed Stiles' hand and helped him jump out of the dumpster. "What'd she do that for?"

"Ugh," Stiles groaned, rubbing his cheek; Olivia gave him a sympathetic look and wrinkled her nose from the horrid smell coming from him. "She's psychotic, that's why."

"Should I call an ambulance?" Olivia asked worriedly, reaching up to rub her thumb over the red mark on his cheek; Stiles froze, looking at her with wide eyes. "You might have a concussion."

"N-No, uh, I-I think I'm fine," Stiles stammered and Olivia's cheeks flushed as she realized what she was doing. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

Olivia pulled her hand away from Stiles' face and shoved them into her coat pockets. "Honestly, I don't know," she admitted. "I woke up and felt the need to come here. I didn't know why; I just heard your name in my head."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "You heard my name?"

Olivia nodded. "Yeah and Scott's, Isaac's, and Erica's," she told him, biting the inside of her cheek. "It's...something's been going on with me lately."

"Is that what happened last night?" he asked, remembering Allison's bewildered face when she said that you knew that Lydia was freaking out. "When Lydia was upset?"

"Yeah. Derek said my eyes were purple," Olivia inhaled sharply, her eyes starting to sting. "Um, do you want to share an Uber? I don't know much about cars, but I'm pretty sure you need a starter for it to run."

"That's fine," Stiles saw her eyes start to water and he felt his chest tighten. "Are you okay?"

"Um," Olivia pressed her fingers against her forehead, trying to stop the tears building up in her eyes—it wasn't working. "Yeah, I'm just freaking out, honestly. This whole thing is stressing me out, you're mad at me, I think something weird is going on with Lydia..."

Stiles frowned and reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug. Olivia didn't care about the smell of garbage coming off of him as she took his comfort, basking in the warmth his body provided. There was something so comforting about being in Stiles' arms, she realized. She felt safe in them like nothing could ever hurt her.

"I'm sorry," she cried into his chest, her tears finally falling. "I'm sorry for not telling you about Erica and Isaac."

"It's okay," he cooed, pressing his uninjured cheek against the puff on her winter hat. "we were both being stupid. It was their choice, anyway. It's none of my business."

"I hate when you're mad at me," Olivia admitted, pulling away from the hug to wipe her tears and look Stiles in the eyes. "I don't know why, though, because usually, I couldn't give a fuck if someone was mad at me."

Stiles grinned, remembering what Lydia said about her feeling lost. He felt the exact way without her and he loved that she was beginning to think of him like that.

"It's because you like me," Stiles teased her, nudging her shoulder.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You ruined the moment," she stated flatly. "and you smell like garbage."

"Handsome garbage?"

"Seriously, Stiles?"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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whereisten · 5 years

Text

The Agreement

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: Vampire!Sicheng needs a new toy and he just so happens to find you, a struggling college student that would literally give up a few drops of blood for some quick cash. An agreement is reached, you are told that you are strictly forbidden from falling in love. You are to only show up, give blood, get money. Seems pretty easy, right?

Pairing: Vampire!Sicheng X female reader

Genre: (emboldened words signify what this specific part has): angst, smut (nothing intense, mostly suggestive), fluff, violence (very brief)

Chapter Warnings: some cursing, alcohol mention

Word Count: 5.8K

(A/n: Frat Boy!Jaehyun returns! This is the same Jaehyun and y/n from It Only Takes One Night, you can read that one first to get a little back story, but they broke up and now he’s back, hopefully this makes sense)

——————————

Bella watches as you separate the M&M’s in your ice cream sundae by color. You frowned and pushed the red to the left and the blue to the right.

“Okay..so do you wanna talk about it?” Bella sighs.

“What happened with you and your boss?”

It’s been several weeks since you’ve seen Sicheng. That night paused your daily visits because he claimed that you’d be drawn to him and it wouldn’t be healthy.

“Nothing..” you held your head in your hand and looked at the melting ice cream. It reminded you of your heart and body, melting and without proper form. You not only missed Sicheng, you yearned for him.

Your body didn’t function properly and your mind couldn’t focus on anything for more than four seconds.

“You didn’t even say anything in Edwards’ class when he called on you today and you know participation is like fifty percent of our grade...” Bella tapped the table in the ice cream parlor, Scoups Ahoy. She was slightly annoyed at how short and off you were being.

You couldn’t explain it to her, there’s no way she’d understand. And even if she did, the first thing she’d do is go after Sicheng and scold him for doing this to you in the first place.

“It’s..nothing Bella, I promise. I—just have a lot on my mind.” You looked up and gave a small smile.

“So you’re taking a break from your job..I think that’ll be good for you..I mean, it’s good money, but you should focus on school first.” Bella gave you the motherly talk like she always did. And while on most occasions, it did help to ease your anxiety, it didn’t on this one.

But you had to pretend.

“Thank you, Bella.”

Bella nodded then started to talk about how cute the ice cream guy was and then she started to talk about a new basketball player she had a crush on.

Your mind started to drift again. You saw Sicheng’s beautiful, dopey smile, the way his mouth moved when his deep voice left his soft lips, the way his eyes creased when he laughed. You missed the feeling of his soft, cold fingers against your skin when he inserted the needle. His scent, the smell of sandalwood, just strong and prevalent enough that it filled his house. Oh, and his cute, elf-shaped ears, and—

“Hey! Over here! I’m talking to you!” Bella waved a hand in your face, you didn’t notice that you started smiling as you thought about Sicheng.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, I’m kinda tired..”

Bella crosses her arms. “You slept for most of the day”

“You have a point, but I promise I was listening!” You sat up straight.

“Oh really? What’s his name?” Bella asked.

“His name’s Sicheng and he’s super cute and nice..” you melted in your seat and put your chin in your hand. But you looked up to see Bella’s look of disappointment.

“...oh, wait, you meant the name of the uhh basketball player or the ice cream guy?” You closed your eyes and prayed that Bella would let you live just this once.

“Huh...so that’s what’s going on..you’ve fallen for your boss? Really, y/n!” Bella gasped.

You sighed. Oh no.

“No, no..I haven’t..fallen for anyone since you-know-who, it’ll stay that way for a while.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Hmmm..sure.”

“I wanna go home, I should—study.”

But you didn’t need to study, you needed to see Sicheng. You craved him.

—————

It was the next day when you decided to see Sicheng for the first time in three weeks. You couldn’t take it anymore, you had to see him. You would’ve gone to him the night before, but you knew Bella would’ve asked too many questions, so you waited until today.

She went to her class while you decided to skip yours and take an Uber to him.

You’re nervous and fidgety as you wait for Sicheng to open the door, but when he finally does you nearly jump out of your skin.

Sicheng looks even more radiant than usual. His eyes are deep and sensual, his button down shirt reveals his chest and his dress pants hug his waist nicely. He’s such a gentleman, you forgot that sometimes he felt more comfortable dressed this way, even when inside his own home. And God, does he smell good.

why did he look so good? did he find someone to replace you already? You became jealous at the thought that Sicheng would have someone else over to feed him, but you weren’t sure why. He had to survive with or without you.

You want to hug him and hold him, to feel his hands on your body, but you can’t. You stand there stupidly.

“I—uh—Sicheng,” you took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry...but my chest is on fire..I had to see you.”

Sicheng parts his full lips and looks at you sadly. He wished you hadn’t come back, he wished to never see your beautiful face again. “I know..”

From the moment Sicheng opens the door, he can already tell from the expression on your face what you need him to do, but as much as he’d love to do it, he can’t hurt you like that. Giving in will only make the addiction worse.

“Sicheng, I need you, I’ve tried to stay away but I can’t.” You begged but he shook his head.

“Y/n...I told you we can’t. It’s not gonna get better...it’ll only get worse.” He searches your tired eyes. You look weak and dull, the bags under your eyes told him you were really having a difficult time. He wants to hold you, but he doesn’t.

He knows he can’t just leave you outside or alone. You could find someone else, someone like Ben to satisfy your craving for the feeling, and he knows that they’d gladly do it too.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay..come inside.”

You smiled and happily walk in, taking your usual seat while Sicheng walks behind you.

He hooks up the machine that takes out your blood.

Your head falls back as you focus on the feeling of your warm blood leaving your veins and entering the blood bag. It feels good, not as good as Sicheng, but the feeling is enough to satisfy your longing for a bit.

“The only thing we can do is go back to our regular schedule, that way, you’ll get used to giving your blood this way alone.” Sicheng’s tone is very serious as he sits down on the couch across from you.

He can’t help but think about the other lives he’s ruined by growing too attached to them. He only hopes to help you, and not hurt you in the end.

He knows he should’ve never made direct contact with you, for you both start to feel a craving for each other.

You frown and look at the floor after Sicheng doesn’t turn on the TV like he usually does and doesn’t talk to you.

“How have you been?” You ask, trying to break the silence.

“Good.” Sicheng says through a tight mouth.

“Why don’t you play your favorite Twilight Zone episode?”

“It’s alright.” Sicheng got up from the couch and walked upstairs.

You wondered what did you do wrong. It seemed like he couldn’t stand to be around you. Did he dislike you now?

It’s during your third visit since you’ve started again that Sicheng starts to act normal.

He watched the Adams Family with you and you two laugh together.

He still gets sad when he looks at you, but he is happy to see that you are already feeling better.

“I’m doing better in class Sicheng, thank you.” You smile at him while he sits on the couch in a T-shirt and pajama pants. He looks very relaxed for once.

He doesn’t say you’re welcome because you should’ve never started doing poorly because of him in the first place.

He nods and smiles softly,making your chest go wild with butterflies when he looks your way.

Over time, the bond between you two strengthens each day you go over. You start to spend more time at his place, eating whatever he cooks and listening to his stories even after you’ve given him the lood he needs.

“How many guests do you cook for? This baked potato is the BOMB.”

Sicheng blushed. “You think so?”

“Yeah! It’s almost as good as my mom’s cooking! You have to try it one day!—oh..I’m sorry.” You paused when you realized your mistake.

Sicheng only laughed. “It’s okay, dear.”

You sighed and put your plate down. “I’m very excited for winter break, I finally get to go home and see her, I miss her..a lot you know.”

Sicheng looked to the TV and frowned. “You should tell her you love her and visit her often. Life..goes by quickly.”

“I will, and thanks to you, I can actually send her gifts and give her everything she deserves.” You grinned. You thought of how happy your mom was now that you made more money and are able to completely support yourself. She didn’t have to be so stressed all the time and you were thankful for that.

He smiled “good.��

“And to answer your question, you’re my only guest so I have to make sure I get these meals right.”

—————

Sicheng starts to get used to you asking many questions about his life.

“The vampires won the war for Americans but they’ll never teach you that at your fancy college.” Sicheng told you about World War II while watching you eat the chicken Alfredo he made. He was quite a good chef for a guy that thought all food tasted like pig lard. He always seemed to know the right amount of seasoning and salt to put into his food.

“Why didn’t you guys claim the victory? Why do you hide?” You swallowed hard and waved your fork.

Sicheng laughed at your stuffed cheeks. He thought you were so cute, especially when you innocently asked questions.

“We feel it is best to be in the shadows, for humans have a tendency to ruthlessly kill what they don’t understand and/or control. We could easily overrule you, but you’re also our main food source.”

You raised your brows, “well, you do have a point.”

The next visit, you watched Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Veritgo and laughed at the strange angles and overly dramatic turns and gasps.

“This movie was quite the game changer back in my day, and here we are, laughing at it.” Sicheng turned to you, watching your eyes focus on the screen.

He felt something in his chest as he watched you. You were innocent, kind, and beautiful, unlike any other actress he’d ever seen.

“‘Back in my day’ yeah okay, old man.” You tease him, and poke his side while you both laugh. You didn’t notice that as you had more visits, you started to get closer and closer physically to each other on the couch.

His icy body cools down your heated one. You still crave his touch and the feeling of him draining you, but it’s not even remotely as strong as it was before.

You were happy to just be with him again, and without much thought, you blurt out a question you probably shouldn’t have asked your “boss.”

“So, remember when I said I couldn’t wait to go home for the holidays?”

“Yes.” Sicheng turned to you and looked at your lips. They were so close to his, he got distracted for a moment but quickly looked up to your eyes.

“So..my mom’s...uh having this...Christmas dinner..it’ll just be the two of us, but..I” You looked to the art on the wall behind Sicheng to distract yourself, but his gaze was too strong, you had to look back at him.

You pushed yourself up on the couch more, folding your legs under your butt.

“..I was wondering if you’d like to come over..I mean since you’ll be alone, you know.. and my mom is really sweet and I told her about you..she wants to meet you..and...and you wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone..”

Sicheng wanted to say yes, he had spent so many Christmas’ alone, he wanted to have an experience with a family for once. And he wanted to meet your mom, whom he was sure was just as adorable and kind as you were, but he knew he shouldn’t.

He frowned as he came to the realization that you saw this more than a boss and worker relationship. You saw this as something more and he did too. You two were getting too close and he felt he had to stop it.

“No, y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

Sicheng looked away from your sad face and to the TV.

“We should keep our relationship professional.”

You scooted away a bit and nodded, trying to hide the pain you felt from his abrupt answer and unusually cold tone. “You’re absolutely right, I’m sorry...well..I should get going.”

Sicheng is devastated by your somber tone and almost immediately hates himself for making you upset, but it had to be done. He wanted to protect you.

As you were about to leave, Sicheng turned you to face him. He lowered his face towards yours and looked into your eyes deeply.

“When will you be back?” Sicheng asked, eyes glued to your lips.

“In January...I’ll call you.” You were distracted by his full lips just inches away from yours. You were still hurt that he said no, but being this close to him made you weak. There was something so magnetizing about him.

Your large eyes looked up to him, waiting for him to close the gap.

He nodded and forced himself to pull back and away from you.

He smiled as he watched you walk briskly to your building to avoid the sharp breeze and cold temperature he was so accustomed to.

But the ache he felt in his chest as he watched you leave worried him. Perhaps things have already gone too far.

—————

You jump into your mom’s arms when you open the door to your house. You’ve finally made it back him for Christmas, and you are beyond excited to spend time with her.

“Oh, my baby!! I’m so happy you’re home! But—look at you, are you eating well? Are you sleeping?” Your mom’s worried face move closer to yours as she pinches your cheeks.

She’s looking at every wrinkle and every pore to make sure you’re okay.

You had to admit, you did look kind of tired since you had been giving blood three days out of the week.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine mom! It smells so good in here!” You hug her tightly and walk in.

The two of you talk about school and work. She starts to ask about the enormous cash flow you’ve gained, so you try not to give too much information away.

“So..this job, what kinda boss has you go to his house?” Your mom asks as she puts the green bean casserole in the oven.

You lean against the door frame and look at the apple you’re munching on. “Well..I kinda have to go into his house if I’m getting paid to clean it, mom.”

You told her that you just had to clean the house of a bachelor who had parties and guests over frequently. You had to be there three days out of the week because the place would get too messy after every party. But this was far from the truth. You hated having to lie to her, but telling her that your boss was actually a sugar daddy that needed blood and not sex wasn’t really an option.

“Oh, but honey are your sure it isn’t tiring? How do you have time to study and eat?”

She turns to start washing some dishes.

“It’s alright. I’m managing everything pretty well, actually!” You said with a full mouth. She gave you a look and you laughed before swallowing.

“Sorry..”

Then you heard a knock on your door.

“Who’s that? Do they really send Jehovah witnesses out on Christmas Day now?” You asked.

“Oh no..that must be..” your mom hesitated.

You looked at her questioningly.

“Um..sweetie, I hope you don’t mind that I invited Jaehyun over for dinner.”

“You WHAT?” You nearly bit your tongue when his name left her mouth.

Jaehyun was your ex-boyfriend, the you-know-who that you decided to never talk about. He hurt you, so you broke up with him a year ago. The pain was still fresh, but your mom didn’t know that part. You decided not to tell her why you and Jaehyun broke up so she didn’t understand the magnitude of it all.

She always loved Jaehyun and found him to be adorable and sweet. She loved it when you took him home and the three of you spent time together. She thought he was perfect for you and that you’d eventually get married some day, but she was wrong. The dimpled and irresistible boy wasn’t as sweet as he seemed.

Your mom quickly dried her hands and walked towards you. “You know, he has no one to spend it with since his father passed away in March and his mom went back home to Korea. It’ll be his first Christmas without a family and—I just couldn’t bare to leave him on his own for today.”

“Mom! You know how I feel about him! How could you invite him without asking me first?” Furious was an understatement. You knew your mom just wanted to be nice and she thought you ended things on good terms, but she was wrong. She always had a good heart and wanted to do what was right, but why did it have to be at your expense?

“Honey..I’m sorry, but it won’t be that bad..it’s only for a few hours, okay?” She brushed past you to get to the front door.

“Are you sure he’s not your ex?!”

You rolled your eyes, but she waved a hand to you before unlocking the door.

“Oh, hello!! Jaehyun, it’s so nice to see you.” Your mom hugged the grim reaper with a killer smile tightly as he stood in your door way. You watched from far away. Part of you wanted to drop kick him back outside and into the cold, the other part wanted to cry. You avoided him on campus successfully and now, here he was in your house, hugging your mom who was just too nice sometimes.

He smiled and handed your mother a large and neatly wrapped box.

“Thank you for having me, I’m..very grateful.” His smiled made your mom blush as she took the gift and placed it under the tree.

He took his coat off and placed it on a hook by door before walking towards you. He stopped before going to hug you. “Y/n..it’s nice to see you again.” he said smoothly.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “I can’t say the same, but it’s Christmas, so welcome to my house.” You gave a sarcastic smile.

He chuckled and looked down at you fondly. “Nothing about you has changed..”

“I’m not the one that needs to change, Jaehyun.”

“You’re right, but I did miss you.” Jaehyun’s eyes grew as he searched your face and stepped closer.

You waved your hand. “Don’t...you’re having dinner with us, and you’re leaving.” You whispered so your mom wouldn’t hear.

“We’re never speaking again after tonight.”

Jaehyun gave a small smile and nodded. “As you wish, princess.” Your mom cut around the corner and hurriedly walked to the kitchen. “Everything is almost ready!” “What can I help you with?” Jaehyun asked your mom, still engaging in your stare down. “Oh, nothing really, honey, I just have to mash the potatoes.” Your mom yelled out from the kitchen. “Oh great! I’ll put these strong arms to good use!” Jaehyun smirked and walked past you while rolling up his sleeves. Your mom and Jaehyun laughed and conversed in the kitchen while you sat on your couch, staring through the window. It was difficult to not think about Sicheng and how badly you missed him. You wondered what he was doing, if he was spending time with anyone else. You wanted to text him, but the old man rarely had his cell phone on him. You opened the text box to wish him a merry Christmas but remembered the look on his face when you said goodbye. He looked upset, nervous. You both knew that you were getting close and the boss-worker relationship without emotional investment that you tried to maintain was failing. All the glances, the smiles, the soft touches and unnecessary closeness of your bodies told you that there was something more. But you couldn’t break his rule. You signed an agreement, however, your heart couldn’t stop itself. You sighed. You knew you would just have to deal with the consequences of your easy heart feeling stupid things again. That’s when you notice a car pull into your drive way. You sat up on the couch and wondered who else was here for dinner, your fourth grade crush maybe? The car was nice, expensive, and as it pulled in closer you recognized the gold logo on the hood. It was a Lamborghini. Sicheng? You jumped up and threw on your jacket before heading out. He turned his car off and opened his door before stepping out. “Sicheng? What are you doing here?” Your face beaming, you never thought you’d see him. He looked amazing as usual. He wore a black suit and black turtle neck. A gold necklace hung from his long neck and shiny gold Rolex stuck out on his slim and pale wrist. His hair was parted to reveal his forehead and brought out his flawless face. He smiled when he saw you. You hugged him on impulse, wrapping you arms around his neck and tip toeing up. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Sicheng patted your back and smiled, but cleared his throat. He had to remember to keep his distance. You pulled away. “Oh—I’m sorry.” Your smile faded. He couldn’t help but smile when he looked at you, even cold-hearted vampires had a weakness for soft, beauties like you. And what was wrong with a simple hug. “It’s okay..I quite liked that, actually.” You chuckled. “How did you find me?” “I have connections, it wasn’t difficult...and I only came to uh..make sure you eat healthily.” Sicheng looked up and put his hands in his pockets. “I know some college kids let themselves go during the Holidays and I can’t drink blood with too much fat in it..” You smirked. “Riiiight. I’m sure that’s why you came.” You took his hand and led him inside. “You gotta meet my mom!” You introduce Sicheng to your mom who is more than delighted to see that he could make it. Jaehyun, on the other hand, looks at Sicheng in irritation. For once, he isn’t the main star. Jaehyun was gorgeous, he was like a model that just stepped out from a poster for a high-end designer brand, he was perfect. But Sicheng was equally as striking, he had no imperfections and had a killer smile as well. While the four of you are at dinner, Sicheng talks about what he does, of course, he makes something up to appear “normal,” but your mom is loving it. “Wow, you’re a well accomplished young gentle man.” Your mom says before handing him the bowl of salad. She’s surprised that he speaks like a jazz pioneer, but of course he does, he was born in the 1900s. She thought he was just “old school.” “And you sound so intelligent, tell me, are you sure you were born in the late 90s?” You choke on your egg nog and laugh. Oh the irony of it all. Sicheng laughs too. “Well, that is what my birth certificate says.” His eyes crinkle while you watch him and smile. Jaehyun rolls his eyes every time Sicheng speaks. He doesn’t believe anything that he says and is clearly jealous of the money he has. You smirk as you look up at him across from you, you’re happy now that Sicheng’s here and he’s annoyed by that. Sicheng pretends to enjoy the food your mom has cooked. You’re surprised and happy that he’s done that because he once described real food as tasting like fatty balls of salt, but he eats it and smiles because he doesn’t want to insult your mom. Your mom starts to talk about school with Jaehyun so you look at Sicheng as he struggles to swallow his food. “Thank you” You mouth and he winks.

The entire dinner is filled with smiles and laughter while you blush and look at Sicheng. Whenever you speak, he tilts his head and smiles as well, loving the way your mouth moves and your cheeks rise. It’s clear to everyone that he adores you. Your mom notices how he looks at you and suspects that there’s more than a business relationship. Without considering how awkward it would make the two of you feel, she blurts out “So, how long have you been seeing each other?” “Mom!” You yell out in an attempt to drown out her question. Sicheng only laughs and shakes his head. “Your daughter and I...we have a friendship that is dear to my heart.” You don’t know what you expected him to say, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t the answer you wanted. Friendship? Was that it? She nods and apologizes “I’m sorry, it’s just you two seem so close, but that’s what my daughter needs! She needs a good friend to look out for her.” Jaehyun laughs lightly before biting a slice of ham. His laughter is cut short, however, after you kick his leg under the table. You’re cleaning up in the kitchen while Sicheng plays a tune on your old and painfully out of tune piano for your mom. She coos and gasps at how well he plays. He’s doing the best he can, but can’t take it anymore as his enhanced hearing makes it sound wretched. You laugh at him and the faces he makes. “I—should tune this before I continue, I hope you don’t mind.” He asks your mom while you watch from the small opening above the kitchen sink. Your mom happily lets him tune it while you wash the dishes Just as you smile while watching Sicheng and your mom interact, Jaehyun enters the kitchen and stands beside you. “How’s school?” He tries to start a conversation, but your not having it. “Fine.” “You still into psychology?” He put his hands in his pockets. He wants to play catch up like you two are long distance best friends that haven’t seen each other in ages. But this wasn’t the case, and you really wanted nothing to do with him. “Yes.” You look back down to the dishes and give him short answers, you really didn’t want to speak to him. “So..who’s this rich bastard?” He asks annoyingly. “He’s not a bastard, actually he’s not like you at all” you spit out to him. “Ah I see, so you’ve got a sugar daddy now, you’ve become a true college girl” Jaehyun tilts his head as he looks down on you.

“Tell me, does he touch you as well as I did? Does he make you feel good?” he keeps asking, but you ignore him.

“Jaehyun!” You look up at him furiously. He reaches up and holds your face in one hand while caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about you and how much I miss you, your body, the sounds you make when you call my name.” He continues and touches your waist with his other hand. You push him away from you “Jaehyun, we ended things a long time ago, don’t take my mother’s kindness for an invitation to come back into our lives. I want nothing to do with you!”

You try not to say too loudly so that your mom will hear, but he persists. You’re pretty sure he’s had too much wine tonight as he slurs his words a bit.

“Oh please, I know you still like me, I’ve seen the way you look at me, I know he doesn’t make you feel good” he says as he steps closer and holds his hand out again, but out of nowhere comes Sicheng. You always forget just how fast he moves. And he forgets that not everyone knows what he is. “Shes not interested” Sicheng says while lightly pushing Jaehyun off of you. “And she’s interested in you?” Jaehyun looked at Sicheng with a disgusted look on his face. “Oh wait, she gets paid to act interested.” Jaehyun inched closer to Sicheng’s face. “You think you’re the big guy with your Lamborghini and tailored suit. But guess what, Gatsby, I didn’t have to pay her, I got it for free.” “Jaehyun!” You yelled but in a split second Sicheng grabbed him by the collar and pushed him into the wall.

Your mom rushed in when she heated the commotion.

Jaehyun was so shocked by Sicheng’s sudden movement, he looked at him with furrowed brows and a confused expression. How could someone as slim as Sicheng hold him up against a wall like this? He knew he was different.

“Jaehyun! It’s time for you to leave.” Your mom yelled. “How dare you talk about my daughter like that! Get the hell out of my house.” Neither of you knew that she heard the entire conversation, but you were somewhat glad she did because now she finally sees why you don’t talk to Jaehyun. Jaehyun looked up in disbelief and scoffed. He brushed Sicheng off and walked past you and your mother. He stopped when he passed her. “I’m sorry” he said quietly then continued walking. You heard the click of the front door and relaxed a little.

“I’m so sorry dear, I didn’t know he was such a jerk.” Your mom came up to you and held you in her arms.

You nodded “it’s okay, there was no way you could’ve known.”

You looked at Sicheng who still had tight fists. “Excuse me, I think it’s time for me to go.” He walked past you and your mother.

“Wait, Sicheng, don’t go” you turned to him with a sorrowful look on your face. You appreciated the way he defended you, but you wanted him to stay longer, you missed him and loved his presence.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment. I owe the neighbors a Christmas cake!” Your mom jumped up and hurriedly grabbed her coat and scarf.

You knew she felt the awkwardness of the moment and that the two of you needed some time alone to talk. You and Sicheng sat down on the couch together.

“I’m sorry he said those awful things, I’m sorry for coming.” he kept apologizing, and you didn’t understand why. “Sicheng, please don’t apologize, thank you for coming, he’s an asshole and I hate him, I prefer your company anyway..” you started. “Did you see his face? The asshole didn’t see it coming.” You laughed to try to break the serious mood. Sicheng smiled. “Yeah, I did move a little too fast.” Sicheng’s hair had fallen into his forehead during the whole ordeal, so you rose your hand and gently pushed it out and fixed the part. You felt his eyes on your face while your delicate fingers moved. He held your wrist to stop you. He watched your lips and you both moved closer to each other. “Sicheng..please don’t go yet.” You breathily said, eyes still on his luscious lips. “Why is your heart beating so fast?” Sicheng whispered in a low tone that made you shiver. He looked into your eyes while he held your wrist.

You leaned in closer.

Everything about him made you weak. You wanted to kiss him on your couch right then and there, could you hold back your feelings any longer?

“Sicheng..I.” He stopped you by kissing your lips. Finally.

You wanted to feel them on yours for so long.

You held your back while you held his face and deepened the kiss. His cold hands rubbed your back slowly, making the hairs on your hot skin raise. You picked yourself up and sat on his lap. He caressed your thighs while licking your bottom lip.

You panted and turned your head, enjoying the way his silky lips pushed against yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands held your waist while you grinded down onto him. “Sicheng..” you called out his name quietly. He placed sloppy kisses on your neck, ignoring the small voice in his head that told him to stop. He only listened to your whining and focused on the feeling of your body finally on his, the way your clothed, pulsing core rubbed against his covered and aching tip. He sucked on your collar bone, holding himself back from biting into your soft skin.

The sound of your heart beat and your delicious scent drove him crazy while he sat under you.

His pants kept him restricted, but he still felt your opening growing wet as you pushed down onto him. Your moans sounded like the most exquisite music to his ears.

His hands went to the back of your dress as you started to kiss him again, but stopped and looked at you.

You breathed heavily. “Undress me..please.”

Sicheng pulled the zipper down hesitantly and you let your mouth open slightly when you felt the cold breeze hit your back.

You raised yourself and pushed down onto him again, repeating the action as your heat built up and he grew.

You ran your hand down his rock hard chest and rested it on his bulge. He thrusted up into it while still kissing your lips fervently. You still moved back and forth on his lap while his hands gripped your ass to push you down harder. He groaned and felt a rumbling in his chest that told him to feed. His fangs grew and his eyes fluttered shut as he inched closer to your vein and dug his nails into your velvety skin. He wanted to drink from you and savor every drop. He wanted to make sweet love to you and feel your satin walls around him while listening to your heavenly moans, but he couldn’t.

He held your wrist and pulled away from you.

He batted his eyes and looked at your swollen lips, as if trying to focus on the words he was trying to say. “I-I should go.” You breathed heavily and looked at hip through wide eyes. “Why? We can go to my room if you want to.” Sicheng took you off his lap and placed you down gently beside him while fixing his pants and zipping your dress back up. “Y/n..I want to..trust me..I really do, but this isn’t good for us.” You exhaled, you knew that this wasn’t part of the agreement, but you wanted it so badly. He got up to leave, but you held his hand. “Sicheng, don’t leave..I think..I love—“ you muttered out without thinking. He quickly pulled away and clenched his jaw. “Don’t. I told you not to” Sicheng looked to the side. You silently cursed yourself. “Sicheng, I’m so sorry but-“ you continued and stood up from the couch, but he walked away from you.

“We cant do this anymore, this is over” he walked out the door and to his car, he didn’t look at you but you could tell he was upset by his somber and muted tone.

You threw your head forward and held it in your hands. “What did I just do?”

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unofficialkfamtranscripts · 4 years

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King Falls AM - Episode Three: Catch And Release

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Summary: June 1, 2015 - Sammy & Ben are live at Lake Hatchenhaw for the 55th Annual King Falls Bass Tournament with special guest Mayor Grisham.

[Podcast intro music]

[Banjo music]

Randy McMullet [heavy southern accent] Howdy y’all! It’s Randy McMullet from McMullet’s International Palace of Snake Skin Boots and I’m here to tell you we got some slithery savings this weekend! So much savings you’ll have a hissy fit! We’re not holdin’ anything back ‘cause it’s that time of year again! It’s our annual Snake Skin Blowout! I’m talkin’ ‘bout rattlesnake, copperhead, viper, black mamba, and boa constrictor. We got big snake boots at baby snake prices! Ya better hurry though before our inventory is extinct! So come on down to McMullet’s International Palace of Snake Skin Boots! We’ll be there from sun up to sun down this Saturday and Sunday at the corner of Route 72 and ol’ Bombin’ Range Road! McMullet’s International Palace of Snake Skin Boots! Where we fill your boots, with savin’s!

[Banjo music fades out]

[KFAM rock intro music]

Sammy Good morning! You’re listening to King Falls AM, that’s 660 on the radio dial. It’s twelve minutes to six and a beautiful 67 degrees out here at Lake Hatchenhaw.

Ben We are mere minutes away from the starter pistol going off signaling the beginning of the 55th annual King Falls Bass Tournament.

Sammy Ben! I couldn’t have said that better myself, you’re a natural!

Ben [“aw shucks”] Whatever, Sammy.

Sammy But you heard it, kids! The tournament’s about to get under way, but the festivities will be happening all day today. Be sure to swing on by the King Falls AM booth, pick up a bumper sticker, say hi to your favorite personalities, that sort of thing.

Ben And, of course, don’t forget to tweet us your pics today @KingFallsAM or Instagram us with the hashtag kingfalls, and we will repost those bad boys.

Sammy Absolutely, Ben. But just because this show is winding down, doesn’t mean we’re going to sleep on you! We’ve got a guest!

Ben We’re here with Ron Begley, of Begley’s Bait and Tackle. Sponsor of today’s outing.

[note: Ron’s voice can generally be described as “gruff”, any descriptors in transcription are more-so]

Ron [gruffly] Watch it, Ben. Outing is a big word. This is a gathering.

Sammy Hey, nice to meet ya, Ron!

Ron [sweetly] Nice meetin’ you too, Sammy! And always good to see you, Ben.

Sammy Now, Ron. For all the listeners on the fence about making their way down to the Tourney today, what would you tell ‘em to change their minds?

Ron Ah hell, if they aren’t here now, they ain’t coming.

Ben Metaphorically though—

Ron [harshly] Don’t use ten dollar words when a five dollar word will suffice, Ben. If the lazy bastards aren’t up an’ at em and waiting on Mayor Grisham to fire that pistol, then there ain’t no convincing them otherwise.

Sammy Well, you know what- We’ve got quite the turn out here it seems, so uh, maybe everybody made it down?

Ron [aggressively] I’ll give you fifty damn bucks if you show me Shell Snyder’s fat ass at this lake right now!

Ben Uhhh, I’m sure-

Ron I saw that lazy son of a bitch at the town hidey-hole last night, and I know he hasn’t drug his carcass outta bed.

Sammy Hidey-hole?

Ben Don’t ask.

Ron You want something that’ll put some asses in the seats? I’ll give you somethin’ and this one’s for free. Today we got the fishing tournament, we got the bouncy house for the kiddies, we got that weird food truck that nobody ever eats at but it still shows up to all the King Falls events,

Ben Aaand?

Ron [teasing] And you know where I’m going, Ben. And just last week out by the sunken pontoon boats… We had a sighting!

Ben By the BOATS? That is so close.

Sammy Alright guys. You got me. What did we see?

Ben Sammy—

Ron Why, the Lake Hatchenhaw monster, Sammy!

Sammy Monster.

Ron Why the hell didn’t you Wikipedia-Google-book this town before you moved your sweet ass to it?! Everybody in creation knows about the Lake Hatchenhaw monster!

Sammy Alright, *chuckles* I’m sorry. Uhhh, I don’t mean to be rude, Ron, but you’re talking about your own version of the Loch—

Ron Don’t. Say it. Don’t even think it! That fake sh[bleep]show of a lake monster has nothin’ on Kingsie.

Ben You’ll have to pardon Sammy. He doesn’t believe in the extra-ordinary.

Ron [softly for Ron] What a sad life you must live, Samuel.

Ben So, Ron. This will be the fifth sighting this year, is that correct?

Ron [happy/proud] Fifth this year! She’s been a busy one. Since I took over this shop from my dad, I don’t know that we ever got Kingsie more than twice a year.

Sammy Well, ya heard it here ladies and gents. Uh, If tournament, the bouncy house, and the weird food truck don’t get you down— Kingsie will.

Ron That’s the spirit!

Sammy *chuckles* Okay, about the tournament, Ron. What exactly is on the line here? Wha-Whats the prize today?

Ron Same as every year, Sammy! Brand new bass boat with all the fixin’s and a 500 dollar check from the King Falls Chamber of Commerce.

Sammy That is a hell of a prize! I might just put the mic down and have a go myself, guys!

Ron More than welcome! [gruffly] But you better bring Ben along so you don’t end up as a “fictional lake monster”’s din-din.

Ben *sighs* I’d love to be out on that lake today! Nothing like it!

Sammy Ron Begley, everyone. Uh, Ron, thanks for dropping by and adding some color to the end of our broadcast today!

Ron [quiet and angry] Is that a gay joke, Sammy?

Sammy Uh, I-I’m sorry, what?

Ben Ron, not. At all.

Ron [threateningly] I’m not going to come on this show, and have you talkin’ trash. I’m the only soul brave enough in this town to own my identity and I’m not going to take any flack about it—

Sammy Ron. Ron. No harm was intended. I-I didn’t even know.

Ron [angry, almost shouting] Well now you do so watch your mouth! I like f[bleep]in’ and I like fightin’ and I’m completely sure you don’t want any part of either!

Sammy I-I Ron. *nervous laugh* I mean—

Ron [pleasantly] I’m just jerkin’ your chain, Sammy! Keep up the good work, guys!

Ben *Laughing loudly* Oh, you should see your face!

Sammy Thanks, Ben. Uh—

Some Guy *Slurred* Heyy Ben! What up duuude?

Ben Heyy, uh, Matt! Uhhh. We’re-we’re kinda live here, buddy.

Matt Riiight on! … maintain brah…

Ben Sorry.

Sammy Oh, no worries, bro.

Ben Uh, uh- alright folks! You’ll never believe who we’ve got heading this way! The man of the hour, the man with all the power… Mayor Grisham.

Sammy Mayor Grisham. Thanks so much for taking some time out to talk with us today!

Mayor Grisham Oh, I’ve been wanting to! Believe me. But you boys are on so darn early! I just can’t drag myself out of the bed.

Sammy Understandable.

Mayor Grisham However, my assistant, Riley, transcribes every show for me. Seems like you’re doing a great job. The both of you.

Ben Oh! Thanks so much, Mayor Grisham!

Mayor Grisham You got it, Ben! Hey, how’s your mom doing these days?

Ben Great! She’ll be thrilled that you mentioned her!

Mayor Grisham Least I can do.

Sammy Now, Mayor Grisham, you’re joining us today because in just a few short minutes we’re gonna be kicking off the 55th annual King Falls Bass Tournament—

Mayor Grisham Absolutely! It’s one of the perks of the job that makes it all worthwhile. I mean, who could turn down a beautiful morning on the lake, with all the people of King Falls?

Sammy So, do you ever partake in the tournament yourself?

Mayor Grisham *chuckles* I wouldn’t want to put the King Falls residents to shame! I’m quite an avid outdoorsman.

Sammy Well, it’s nice of you to give everybody a sporting chance.

Mayor Grisham Oh yeah.

Sammy Now, before we let you go- and believe me I hate to break down the mood —

Mayor Grisham Then don’t.

Sammy Oh, *chuckles nervously* well I-I was just gonna ask if you had heard any recent news regarding…

Mayor Grisham Sammy. Another time and another place.

Sammy Well, Mayor Grisham. [floundering] We here, we—

Mayor Grisham That’s all at this time. Thanks for having me. Have your people call Riley and we’ll schedule something soon, Sam.

Sammy [confused and irritated] Heh… Okaay?

Ben What is he- he- can’t- we’re supposed to be here for another three minutes, Sammy.

Sammy *unamused laugh* It’s fine, Ben, uh- it’s not your fault.

Ben Well, no. You ran him off, *scoffs* [growing frantic] buuut he was supposed to stay with us until we went live! with the opening ceremonies!

Sammy Hey, hey. It’s okay.

Ben [worked up] I’m going to fix this. Uh- I got it!

Sammy Ben-Be- Well. That was Ben just leaving in a full sprint, kids. Uh, seems it’s just you and me now, uh, and the mayor’s assistant, recording our every word.

Voice in distance Shotgun Sammy!

Sammy *groans* Okay, so we’re about four minutes away from the top of the hour, and the tournament getting started. Uh, we’d like to wish all the participants today the best of luck, break legs, uh, you know catch fish, wh-what have you. Uh, watch out for Kingsie, obviousl—

Ben I got it! I got it! I’m back!

Sammy Oh, Ben’s back ladies and gents! And he has a friend!

Ben Sammy, King Falls, this is Mr. Herschel Baumgartner. Winner of last year’s tournament! How you doing today, Mr. Baumgartner?

Herschel Good, Benny. Real good. Just ready to get my spot and giveitago this year. Uh, you know it’s about to start, right boys?

Sammy So, Herschel, you won the actual tournament last year, is that correct?

Herschel Oh, you bet I did! Won it back in ‘92, and ‘89 as well. But don’t go askin’ for tips now, son. Now if you excuse me—

Sammy Oh wow! So you are a three time winner of the King Falls Bass Tournament lookin’ for big number four this morning!

Herschel [sarcastic] Huh, Big City can count. We’re T-minus three minutes here, boys. If you don’t have anything pressing…

Ben Uh, for the listeners, Mr. Baumgartner, wha-what would you say is, is, is, the-the most important part—

Herschel [suspiciously] Who put you up to this? Was it Cecil? [grumbling] Amateur, usurpin’ so-and-so-

Ben No! We-we just needed to fill some time.*nervous laugh*

Herschel You’re going to pull me out of my boat to fill time? You are a DUMB son of a b[bleep]!

Sammy [warning] Hey now!

Herschel Don’t you dad-voice me, son. I’ll put a boot rrright up your ass, just like I did those Krauts[1] back in WWII! [said “dubya-dubya two”]

Sammy [harshly] You know what? Great talking to you Herschel.

Herschel [grumbling] New-fangled radio bums, looking for a hand-out. I ain’t givin’ ya no tips! No spots, no tricks o’ the trade! How I flick my wrist [fades out as he walks away]

[woman screams in bg]

Ben Was… that a scream?

Sammy [laughing dismissively] I’m sure it was just someone seeing Mr. Baumgartner’s lovely personality.

Ben I think something might be up, Sammy. Seriously.

Sammy Uh, ladies and gentlemen, as always, we thank you for tuning in with us here at King Falls AM. We’re about to go live with the opening ceremonies at the 55th annual-

[another, longer scream. Someone in the bg yells “There’s a body in the lake!” followed by sounds of an agitated crowd and a lot of people screaming]

Sammy Folks, stay with us! It seems that a body has just surfaced here at Lake Hatchenhaw! Come on, Ben!

Ben [incredulously] We’re going there?

Sammy Cronkite. Brokaw. Ben Arnold.

Ben *huffs* Right.

[Deputy Troy yells incomprehensibly through a megaphone.]

Ben-at-a-distance Tweet us!

[screaming continues]

Sammy Alright, we’re on the dock. [aside] if we could just push past— There’s the mayor! Right there!

Deputy Troy [through a megaphone] Everybody please stay calm!

Ben [quiet,worried] What if it’s Tim?

Sammy Mayor Grisham! Can you confirm that there is a body here—

Deputy Troy [still through the megaphone] Sorry boys. I don’t want to, but the Mayor’s going to cut—

[audio cuts to static]

[KFAM outtro]

[CREDITS]

References

[1] Kraut - a derogatory term for a German, especially a German soldier, during WWI and WWII

#King Falls AM #King Falls #KFAM #sammy stevens #ben arnold #KFAM transcripts #KFAM ep3 #Ron Begley #troy krieghauser #mayor grisham #herschel baumgartner

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amysantiagoisfone · 5 years

Text

The Blanket

Hey, @amydancepants-peralta, I am your @b99fandomevents fix exchange writer! I really hope you enjoy this!! Thank you for giving me the idea <3

Summary: As Jake and Amy's relationship becomes more stable, they start to learn each other's annoying quirks and wonderful traits- which is just what Jake wanted to do this weekend. (Set just before s3's episode the cruise, where Jake and Amy admit that they love each other.) (word count: 2,074)

Read On Ao3

---

New York was never the hottest place on earth. It was a fact that Jake had to deal with, arming himself with expensive blankets (Too expensive, definitely not warm enough to keep a penguin warm in the Antarctic, as the commercial that got Jake to call in had promised) and warm PJs against the chill that started in September, fighting against the feeling of waking up in the morning with that gross half-cold that could last the entire day.

Sighing as he got out of the elevator, Jake could feel the AC heating up his nostrils, his hands, until he felt warm enough to take his coat off, draping it over his forearm.

His shoes made a squelching sound as he walked past Captain Holt, greeting him with that "Mornin' Cap'n" that would've granted him a lesson on how to say the word 'Captain' in the past, but now it was just ignored- Jake saw that as a definite victory.

"Peralta, why are your shoes making that sound?" Holt asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw set as if he were angry, but after three years of being under Holt's command, Jake knew that that's just how his face was usually set, making it super hard to understand if the Captain was actually mad, sad, or glad.

"Got out of my car and into a puddle, Sir. Just, straight in," He said, trying to sharpen the image of the incident with a motion of his hand, going downwards.

"Take your shoes off and put them outside," He commanded, an edge of annoyance in his voice that usually colored his speech when he spoke to Jake for more than a minute.

"With all due respect Sir, taking my shoes off is something we got's to avoid," Jake whispered quickly, piercing his lips as he looked at his Captain, wide eyed and waiting for his answer.

Holt huffed through his nose (disastrously dramatic) uncrossing his arms and putting one hand in his pocket. "Dry them off in the bathroom. I highly suggest you leave a change of clothes in the precinct with your track record."

Jake obviously knew what the Captain was talking about- Terry's Yoghurt incident, Charles' steaming pot of whatever-gross-thing-he-was-making, that one time he missed a d-hole (He blamed it on the fact that the donut hole was powdered. "I didn't account the weight of the powder in my calculations!" to which Amy said "You don't even know how to heat up leftover pizza.")

"Duly noted, Cap'n," But Holt was already walking away from him.

Before he'd go and dry his shoes, Jake decided to start his computer up. Even if he'll be gone for fifteen minutes with his shoes, he was sure he'd come back to the loading screen still halfway done. Amy was already sitting at her desk, working with the hard copy of a case until her own computer was ready to go.

When they wouldn't spend the night together she'd come early, and on the days where they did (nights that were becoming more and more frequent, to Jake's satisfaction) they'd come on time- Well, Amy would come on time, and Jake would come in five minutes later, to make sure Charles won't freak out.

"God, that noise is annoying," Amy said, without looking up from her file. She was smiling though, and soon enough she did look up at him, catching him in the middle of dressing his chair with his coat. He leaned in to press the 'on' button on the computer, before he stood next to Amy's chair, walking in place and grinning down at her while the sound of his shoes seemed to irritate her immensely.

"Ha, ha," She said sarcastically, even though her face seemed pretty entertained. Jake's own face seemed smug, because making Amy want to smile, seeing the edges of her lips forced down because we're at work, Jake, felt like the biggest, most definite victory of them all.

He leaned his hand on Amy's desk and looked around. Charles was in the breakroom, far enough for them to talk without his interruptions.

"I was thinking, maybe, a weekend in? Order take-out and watch something on Netflix?" A weekend in and something to watch was the next big step in a relationship, as Jake saw it. To him, it was the moment a relationship got serious- Fancy dinners, pretty clothes and hooking up was amazing, of course, but he wanted to see the more casual side of Amy. In all of his past relationships, that's what he liked best- the moment it went from dates to hanging out, to a routine life with someone he liked.

"On one condition," She said, leaning closer. "Uh-huh," Jake retaliated, biting his smile. "No Die Hard."

Jake huffed, leaning back and clapping his hands together. "You drive a hard bargain, Ames. Fine, you'll pick the movie." Amy's smile made her whole face scrunch up. Stupidly adorable. "I'll come over at Eight." He smiled as she agreed, before walking off to take care of his shoes, wondering where he could get a different pair.

----

At Seven-Fifty Seven, Jake heard the doorbell ring. It was nice to not have to straighten a buttoned-up shirt or check his breath. He opened the door to find Amy in a regular T-shirt and comfortable leggings, making his already wide smile grow wider. "Hey," She said, getting through the door and pecking his lips. "I ordered Chinese, extra Egg Rolls as you wanted. Should be here any minute," Jake sat on the sofa, and Amy immediately sat next to him. "Great, I'm starving. I didn't actually get to eat lunch today, too preoccupied with this case," Jake leaned his head closer, his arm around her shoulders, his attention all on her. "Rosa and I are working on a murder. A woman fell off a fourth-floor window. It seems like no one was in the apartment, but she had fresh bruises around the neck and forearms."

"There was definitely someone in that apartment. Maybe a partner? Got into a fight?" He suggested, and Amy nodded. "That's what we thought- but her husband was out of town. He's heading back to the city right now, we're meeting him tomorrow to go through our list of suspects."

Jake nodded, but tried to shut off his detective-brain. He definitely couldn't. "Any good suspects?" Amy sighed, shaking her head. "No signs of forced entry. If she did get murdered, it was someone she trusted."

Amy kept talking about the case, her hands gesticulating and her eyes shining and eyebrows raising at the ends of her sentences. Even though Jake listened to Amy and knew that what happened to that woman was horrible, he couldn't help but smile. "So there might be a conne- why are you smiling? Don't tell me you solved it," Amy leaned her head to the side and was smiling with him now. Jake shook his head no, "It's nothing. You're just adorable. Do continue," Amy didn't try to hide her smile now, kissing Jake for a moment before she continued all the same, only to be cut off by a knock on the door.

"If it's not the Egg Rolls I'll literally start eating the couch," Jake said, getting up to open the door.

---

Three hours of noodles, Sushi and teaching Amy how to use Chopsticks later, she was sleeping next to him, her arm around his stomach, lips parted, cheek squished to his chest. As much as he hated waking her up, Jake knew it was best to do so- sleeping like this will lead to a day of a painful neck. "Ames," Jake whispered, rubbing her arm. She let out a soft 'huh', her eyes still shut. "I can't believe you picked the movie and still fell asleep," Jake teased, and then her eyes looked up at him, so tired and comfortable. "C'mon, I'll give you the good lump." At that, Amy groaned. "You and your lumps," She muttered, getting up with Jake to his bed.

"A change of clothes?" Jake held out a warm shirt. Amy took it and turned away from him, which almost made Jake snort. He stayed silent, changing his own shirt and turning the AC on. The room was filled with the beeps of the AC as Jake flipped through the settings until he got to warm. "Thanks, I get super cold when the weather's like this," Amy said, kissing his cheek and getting into bed.

"Yeah, same. People that put their AC on cold are ruthless," Jake took his place next to her, wrapping himself with the best, warmest blanket he had. Amy was turned away from him, as she liked to sleep facing the edge of the bed. He looped one arm around her stomach as she settled, taking a bit too much of the blanket for Jake's liking- His thigh was peeking under, and when it comes to the cold, every inch of his body needs to be covered to survive the night.

Jake tugged at the blanket, just enough to cover up again, only for Amy to take the blanket- this time, she took even more, and he saw the bunched up fabric of the blanket against her chest. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply through his nose. "Blanket hog!" Jake whispered in a pointed manner, making Amy turn towards him.

"Your blanket's too narrow for two people!"

"It's not too narrow if you stop hogging it like the hog you are, you hog. This is MY blanket, it was too expensive for me not to use it."

Amy gasped, and with that she took more of the blanket. "No, no," Jake muttered as he pulled at Amy's bunch until they were both hugging the blanket to their chest, half and half, pulling at it until a tear formed in the middle of the blanket. The good news was that it didn't go all the way through, but it was definitely unusable for two people.

Jake gasped, then groaned, throwing his hand in the air. "I'll fix it up somehow tomorrow," He said, getting up and reaching for another blanket. This one was wider, definitely enough for two people (or a single human burrito)

The blanket was thinner than his normal one, but there were no holes in it. With this blanket, Amy could still (annoyingly) bunch the fabric up and Jake would have enough to be fully covered.

In the morning, Jake knew Amy was around even if she wasn't in his bed. He searched the room and figured she was in the living room. Making his way to the kitchen, Jake stopped himself when he went into the living room. Amy was sitting on the couch. Having moved the trash of last night's date, she sprawled the blanket on the coffee table, sewing it methodically.

"Coffee?" Jake asked, and Amy looked up from her work, her hands still on the blanket. "Please. Your machine kept beeping at me and I was scared it'd start splashing steaming water in my eyes." She went back to her sewing, and Jake joined her on the sofa a few minutes later, two cups of coffee in hand. "You really don't have to," Jake looked at her, wondering if she felt guilty and that's why she tried to fix the blanket. "I know. But I want to. It's a good blanket, and I want to keep it alive." Amy shrugged, piercing the fabric once more. "Besides, I could use the practice, not a lot of time stitching between work and dating and, well, everything else."

Jake looked at Amy for a few moments, at how her hands moved swiftly and steadily, before he turned the TV on. "Thank you, it's really nice that you're doing this for me."

Amy turned to him, pecking his lips quickly, then biting her own. "It's the least I can do after you gave me the good lump."

As the morning kept on going and the blanket was finished, the two cuddled under it, finally watching a movie that Amy picked, eating cold take out and ordering some more food.

That weekend, of being together and fighting, making out, talking, laughing and making it all feel so routine in the best way possible made Jake want to stay like that forever, as long as he had Amy with him, he could make do with no one else.

#b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #b99 #brooklyn nine ni #fanfiction #b99 fanfiction #peraltiago #peraltiago fic

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dontdietwd · 4 years

Text

Don’t Die, day 20

The sky had only just started to pale in the horizon when I left my tent. I had been asleep for many hours now, nearly passed out. I’d been feeling sick all those days, especially when night came – I surely had night sickness rather than morning sickness – and after throwing up alone in the woods, far from the camp, I’d stumble back to the tent and pass out until the next morning. Last night hadn’t been different. As I left the group that had been reunited around a small fire, not explaining to anyone what I’d do, I walked by Daryl, who was on watch duty just by the edge of the clearing. I gave him a small smile, which he didn’t give back. It was clear to me he knew something was wrong, and I am sure that if he weren’t on his post for a few more hours, he’d have gone after me. I was glad he didn’t. I didn’t want anyone thinking about what was happening to me; I wasn’t ready to tell anybody, to make it real, to admit it to myself. And maybe even more than that, I didn’t want to tell Daryl.

[MORE]

He and Merle were the only people I knew from the old life; the only people who had known me before, seen me young and growing up, who had some kind of history with me, even if a lame one. I didn’t worry about Merle knowing, because even though we could even be called friends now, I still didn’t forget the part he had always had in my life. What we had now didn’t erase the past. When he was present there, next door, he meant trouble. He meant offensive words when I didn’t deserve them – hell, when nobody deserved them! – so I didn’t actually give any a shit about what Merle thought of me. I knew I could deal with him; I had learned how to talk to him in those twenty days of this acquaintance-friendship.

But Daryl – Daryl was different, and I didn’t even know how. He’d never spoken offensive words at me – only eighteen years ago when his teenager version told me to fuck off, but that had been it – and he had always been a presence in my life, in the background, the boy from the other house, the one who’d disappear and resurge again on and on, a constant variable. Daryl was my only constant.

After the dead got up to eat the living, this frail and nearly inexistent relationship had shifted. He was there, I wouldn’t know how to explain it if I had to, but I knew he was there, in the amplest meaning of the word. In those little more than two weeks, Daryl was the one who’d talk quietly to me, look at me to confirm decisions, tell me things with his eyes when he didn’t talk much with words. He was comfortable and, yes I dared to admit, he felt safe. There was something blooming there, I knew it, there was no denying, but ever so slowly, like the way you have to approach a wounded animal because they are just so scared and defensive. That’s the image Daryl reminded me of. I didn’t know much about his life even having been there for so long, but I knew it hadn’t been good, it had made him be as closed up as he was. So whatever was going to happen, if it was going to happen, would have to be slowly, no rush.

So I didn’t want to tell him yet, just not yet, but I knew that when I was ready to tell anyone, it’d have to be him, even fearing he would judge me, look down at me, or worse: pamper me. I didn’t know him well enough yet to foresee which one it would be, but I dreaded any option. So I just kept throwing up out of sight in the woods, sleeping early only because I’d worked a lot all day, pretending nothing was happening.

The camp was quiet as I left the tent area to reach the clearing. Dale was on top of the RV, T-Dog walking around the edge of the clearing – he nodded at me with a little smile for a good-morning – Ed was ahead of the cars on the edge of the road, and Merle on the other side of the clearing, opposite T-Dog. I knew Jim was down on the quarry keeping watch there. This shift of watch was nearly over and the five men would be replaced and would have to eat something before going to sleep. Carol and Miranda were up and about, preparing food for breakfast – I had previously set shifts for that too, where the two were together for the first meal, Lori and Amy for lunch and Morales and I for dinner. He was the only man on these shifts because no other could cook in a satisfactory way.

In a way, slowly and discreetly, I had organized small jobs for everyone in camp. The cooking shifts, a person responsible for never letting the boiled water to run out – Jim – four to keep picking the best twigs and dry leaves they could find so the fire would never die out – the children – and even laundry duties. I had tried to make it fifty-fifty, men and women, but my feminist way of thinking hadn’t been much appreciated, for my dismay. I couldn’t understand the concept that men could to wash their own fucking clothes. The men had turned their noses at the idea, and the women had decided they’d only stand in their way and do it all wrong and they’d have to do it all over again anyway. Defeated, I also excused myself from this duty. I’d never done laundry by hand in my life, I’ve always just had to toss them inside my old washer and that was it. Everybody else who could shoot or use a knife and felt safe facing walkers were on watch duties, which meant almost all of them, but this had been Shane’s responsibility. He organized the weapons, the shifts, the points were each one would be, all the strategy around it. I was glad because this invisible line Shane and I had drawn made things more peaceful and had us knocking heads less every day.

“Morning,” I said quietly as I approached Merle.

“Hey, what’s up, baby face?” he smiled as he threw away the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking.

“All quiet here?”

“Yeah, heard twigs all over the night but was a raccoon or something like it. Gonna get it later.”

“Right, you guys gonna go huntin’ today?”

“Yeah, bring some protein for these assholes.”

“Not gonna rest a little before leaving?”

“Yeah, couple of hours be enough.”

“’Kay,” I nodded. “Hey, go on, I’ll take the watch now.”

“Ya gonna? Thought it was china-boy.”

“Glenn’ll take Dale’s spot.”

Merle handed me the rifle he’d been holding for the past three hours and left, crossing paths with his brother on his way. They just nodded at each other and Daryl approached me, an old metal bowl in hand. I looked at him just as he handed it over.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning… Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna eat,” I said refusing to take the bowl.

“Ya gotta,” he insisted. “Know you got sick last night. Canned meat balls didn’t agree with ya?”

“Uh, you saw that…” I moaned out instead of an answer.

“Not the first time. You ok?”

“Yeah, no, not sure…” I looked down, kicking the hard ground with the tip of my boot. “Didn’t know my stomach would bitch so much about all this fuckin’ change in eating habits.”

“Gotta get used to it, don’t see it turnin’ back to normal anytime soon,” and with that he tried to hand me the bowl again. I took it this time, reluctantly, still not looking at him. “Ya sure that’s what the problem is? Ya been getting’ sick since the road.”

I looked up then to find his eyes glued on mine, searching for something. He had asked that in a low voice, stepping a little bit closer, head a little lowered to get almost in level with mine. I felt my mouth go suddenly dry – or at least drier than it was before – and swallowed, looking down at the bow, escaping his gaze.

“Yeah. What else would it be?”

“You tell me.”

He didn’t move or say anything else. Daryl just stood there, waiting for me to say something, and I almost did. I felt like I wanted to tell him now, just say it and get it over with, but my throat seemed to be reminding me of the reasons why I didn’t want to voice it. I couldn’t admit it, not yet.

“I’m fine, Daryl,” I finally said and mustered courage to look up at him. “Really.”

For a moment he didn’t move, still fixing me a deep gaze, and finally nodded, really slowly, and straightened up. “Alright,” he said tightly before turning around and walking away without looking at me again, but saying “Eat. Ya sure as hell need it.”

I stood there looking at his retreating form for a long moment. Was it possible that he knew it? The way he asked, like he wanted me to be the one to tell him, as if he already knew but wanted me to trust him with the truth… Was that it? Was I not being discreet enough with my nightly episodes? I shook my head, looking down at the bowl – warmed up but already cooling brown beans and sweet corn stared back at me. No, he didn’t know. He didn’t even know me well; there was no way he had observed me that well. I looked up again, trying to see him one more time as if this would give me an answer, but didn’t find him. Was he observing the that closely? Did he care enough to do that?

I ate half of the food, only because I knew she needed it, but my stomach refused to eat more than that. I stood there on guard for nearly three hours as the rest of the people on camp started their days, until Jackie came to release me.

In the tent area, I found Merle waking up from the nap he had taken after his watch and breakfast, and Daryl handing him his share of guns.

“Any special request from the woods, pumpkin?” Merle said when he saw her approach.

“I would like veal, if you please.”

Behind him, Daryl snorted. “Did ya just do a British accent?”

“Shit, did I?” damn, I seemed to already be tired if I was cracking bad jokes.

I stayed with them until they had all they needed in backpacks to stay in the woods for a few days to hunt, and were ready to go.

“Hey, you realize it’s the first time in twenty days that I’ll be away from you guys?” I asked out of the blue before I could think of it, after being quiet for a moment when I just watched the Dixons organize their things and talk about the supplies they would need. As I said it, I felt my cheeks get a little pink. If I had stopped to think for just a moment, that was not something I would ever voice. Damn feelings.

“Ya countin’ days?” Merle laughed.

“Yeah, this is day twenty of the new fuckin’ world,” and I waved a hand, “Guess I’ll just stop doing it eventually.”

“Ya gonna miss us aren’t ya?” Merle said as he started to retreat. “Jus’ don’t fall in love, honey pie!”

I laughed and, when he looked back, gave him my middle finger, making him laugh more and send me one himself. Daryl was shaking his head at our interaction, not moving. Smiling, I looked at him and forced myself not to go all serious and keep smiling, but unconsciously my arms crossed over my stomach.

“I’ll see if I find your veal,” Daryl said quietly, a shy little smile playing on his lips, making the little pink in my cheeks grow a little warmer. My smile widened.

“Be careful out there, is all I ask,” I said and saw him frown slightly, he seemed surprised. “Ya know, there walkers in the woods…”

“I got it,” he answered dismissively.

“I know,” and I took a step closing most of the space between us, arms falling to my sides and a hand reaching out for his. I took a light hold of his wrist and saw him look down at my hand and back up at me quickly. “Just… Don’t die. Ok?”

He didn’t answer, instead started to bite on the skin of his lower lip, and after a moment he nodded slowly.

“I won’t.” he promised quietly.

“Good,” I answered in a whisper, only then letting go of his wrist. Daryl took a step back, eyes still on me, and then turned around to walk away, quick steps, towards where Merle had disappeared into the woods.

Ok, I was not kidding myself. There was a moment, right there. Wasn’t there? Damn, I wish I had a friend there right now, someone girl who’d look at me and say there really had been a moment there – but I had never had that friend in my life – just to let me know I was not seeing things, that this had not been my imagination.

Shit. I was definitely fucked. Because I really, really wished I had not imagined this.

* * *

“Ok, now, after taking these calming, deep breaths, you just have to relax and empty your mind,” Andrea tried saying in a quiet, calm voice while I sat by her side, Amy and Lori also around. She opened one eye then, looking at the others. “Or at least it’s what the instructor said. I was never able to do it.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I uncrossed my legs and leaned back, resting on my hands over the rock we were sitting on, by the lake. “How can a person just think of nothing?”

“I did it once,” Amy said, also moving from her meditation position and standing up. “I spent nearly five minutes thinking of nothing, just relaxing, until I noticed I had been thinking about my breath and how long had it been and about my itching nose all the while.”

“I did yoga before Carl was born,” Lori told us. “But never really went into meditation. I don’t think it would be useful now, you know, these days.”

“Yeah, I really don’t wanna be sitting on the woods with my eyes closed and mind faraway when a walker comes over. These eyes are staying wide open,” I pointed briefly at my own eyes.

“Oh, by the way,” Amy called. “I’ve heard you calling them walkers this whole time. How did this name come about?”

I rolled her neck from side to side, listening to its pop before starting to explain. I told the other three women about how I’d been hiding in the Dixon’s house for a while when we saw a neighbor of said name wander around the street, dead, and after that started calling all of them walkers.

“Wow… It’s kinda weird imagining being stuck in a house with those two for as long as you did,” Andrea opined.

“Why’s that?” I asked with a frown.

“I don’t know. Nothing against them, it’s just… They are a little…” the blonde woman thought for a moment before finishing. “Strange.”

“Strange?” I asked for confirmation. “What’s strange about them?”

“Well –”

“It’s nothing personal,” Amy cut her older sister off, trying to help her. “It’s just that they don’t really talk to anybody else here. Just you.”

“Yes, they’re always on the edges of the group, you know?” Andrea kept talking. “I mean, Daryl barely speaks to anyone, and Merle, when he does, it’s to be… Well, snarky.”

“Snarky?” I asked permitting the frown to fade away and give place to an amused smile. “You mean ‘asshole’, right?”

“Well, you said it,” Lori commented.

“They ain’t that bad,” I started. “They’re rednecks, ya know, they got their own ways. Merle really is an asshole, and a racist… And misogynist. And a drug addict.”

“Wow, is there something good about him?” Andrea laughed, but sounded worried at the same time.

“Yes. He’s loyal. He’s been looking after me since the first day, and even though he’s always been a jerk to me all the years I’ve known him, he never crossed a line. Never touched me. I didn’t in the beginning, but I feel safe around him now,” I paused, impressed by my own words and how honest they had been.

“Alright. What about Daryl?” Amy asked seeming more interested her body turning a little more towards me.

“Uh, well… You girls might not believe it, but Daryl is actually really kind,” I smiled. “He’s got this hardened exterior, he’s always had, but he seems to be a good guy. I guess he is, you know.”

“You guess?” Lori asked. “Did you say you know them for a long time, how many years again?”

“Eighteen. I’ve been their neighbor for this long, but we’ve never been friends. Never talked before that day, actually. We just ended up together by chance.”

“Oh. Oh, so you mean…” Andrea started, paused to look at her sister and then again at me. You and Daryl, you’re not together?” she seemed to find this idea strange.

“Together? You mean, together, together?” I asked and at Andrea’s confirmation and Amy’s emphatic not, I continued. “No. We’re barely friends… I mean, I guess we are now, but it’s been less than a month.”

“But do you like him?” Amy questioned yet again.

“Like this? Oh, uh…” damn the questioning. I never saw this conversation taking this direction. “I care about him, of course, but there’s nothing happening in that way.”

There, it was not a lie. Nothing had ever happened, and this was true. Didn’t have to say I didn’t feel anything, because that would have been a lie. Andrea and Amy shared a look that didn’t pass unnoticed, both of them going quiet.

“What?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Amy answered a little too fast.

“Amy has a crush on him,” Andrea told them.

“Andrea!!”

“You have a crush on Daryl?” Lori asked seemingly holding in a laugh.

“It’s no big deal! I just… I think he’s cute.”

“Cute? Really?” Lori meddled in again. “Daryl, cute?”

“Alright, I mean hot!” Amy confessed, her cheeks going pink, hands moving up to cover her face.

“Well, that’s more like it.” Andrea agreed. “See, the guy’s single, isn’t that what you wanted to know?”

“It doesn’t matter, ok?” Amy uncovered her face. “It’s not like I’ll do anything about it. A guy like that would never look at a girl like me.”

“Well, you don’t know that…” I said quietly, a bit shocked at these confessions. “He might. That is, I mean... How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four.”

What?! “Oh. Alright, you look a lot younger... He’s not that much older, I think about fifteen years.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter, nothing is gonna happen!” Amy assured again. “I just think he’s hot, that’s all,” and then she pointed a finger sharply at her older sister, “Andrea thinks the same thing about Shane!”

“Amy!!”

* * *

As the sun started to set on the horizon, coloring it beautifully with pink and orange shades, the fire that centered the clearing roared high, crackling the twigs and dry leaves the children had collected earlier. Carol was around it, setting cookers ready for Morales and I to start preparing the group’s night meal. Silently and with her head down, she worked not paying people around any attention, not noticing the ones who were standing guard, or the children running around and giggling without a single worry in life, or the four women who approached the clearing carrying two buckets filled with water each. Carol only looked up at them when some of the men ran towards us to offer and take the heavy buckets from their hands. They gladly handed them out, happily being released from the weight; except for me.

“Now ya’ll offer?” I asked and kept walking, leaving Shane with his hands extended trying to take the containers. “Don’t touch the buckets, I got it!”

I carried them over to the fire, now along with the men, and placed them on the ground.

“Do you really have to do it by hand?” Carol asked me as the others moved away. “Can’t you just take a car down there?”

“I don’t wanna spend any more gas than we have to,” I explained rolling my shoulder muscles to relieve the tension. “Cars should all be ready to go if we have to.”

“Right. But next time at least get the men to do that. Those are pretty heavy,” Carol struggled with the last sentence as she lifted one metal bucket to place it over the grill that had already been placed over the fire.

I barely heard her last few words. My eyes were trained on Carol’s forearm; the long sleeved shirt she had been wearing unintentionally rolled up. There, over Carol’s pale and delicate skin, four angry purple marks shaped perfectly as fingers.

“Carol?” I reached out instinctively and took Carol’s hand on mine. “What’s this?”

Carol looked down and immediately flinched, understanding what I had been looking at. She took her hand away from me and lowered her sleeve quickly, blue, watery eyes darting around checking if anyone else had seen in.

“It’s nothing,” she urgently whispered. “Really, I just hurt myself –”

“When did he do this?” I ignored her tentative excuse. “Gotta been last night, right? They’re fresh.”

“Sam, really, it’s nothing. I was my fault.”

“Yeah, and what did you do? Didn’t iron his shirt right?” I also whispered, but anger was clear even then.

“No! Sam, just let it go, ok? I’m the one who annoyed him –”

“You annoyed him?” I repeated, outraged. “He must have done it pretty quietly, huh? So no one else would hear it?”

“Sam, please, listen to me,” Carol’s whisper now sounded like a plea. “Just let it go. Please. I don’t want a scene, I don’t want to make things worse.”

I took a moment to breath, my anger tightening my throat dangerously. I saw terror in Carol’s eyes, and knew that acting on my outrage would really only make things worse at the moment.

“This man is nothing without you, Carol,” I announced instead of running to Ed’s tent and beating the fuck out of him. “Not a fuckin’ thing. He made you think that you need him, but you don’t. He is the one who needs you. You’d be just fine without him. In the past, you could very well leave, find help, get a job. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing in life really is, right? And now, you need him even less. You have this whole group to look after you and Sofia. You got me, alright? You don’t need him,” I took a hard breath and an angry laugh came out of my lips. “He, on the other hand… What would this useless fucker be without you, Carol? If you left him, he’d starve. He’d stink, live out of a can of beer and cup noodles, and he would never, ever again, find another woman who’d even look at him twice. He’d die alone and miserable while you rebuilt your life.” I looked around and gestured around the camp, moving on to an astonished looking Carol. “And here? He’s only here because of you and your girl. Nobody here likes him. Shane didn’t want him to come. If it wasn’t for you, he’d be out on the road, alone, eaten by walkers. He owes you everything, Carol, every fuckin’ little thing, now and then. He made you believe that you need him so you wouldn’t leave, because he is a fucking useless piece of shit.” I smiled despite Carol’s wide eyes and opened mouth. “You have no idea of the power you got over him.”

At the end of my speech, Carol blinked and looked down, wordless. I took a step back, staring to move away, and Carol look at me again, still not saying anything.

“I can teach you self defense if you want. You and Sofia. You don’t have to go thought it anymore, girl. Just say the word.”

With that, I turned around and walked away from Carol. I hoped, for Ed’s sake, that he didn’t cross my path anytime soon.

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