#even Cabal at this point uses it to bore himself to sleep someone help this man

[surfinthehighway]

Also as someone who has only read up to the second book, I find myself wondering how long Johannes Cabal knew his significant other for. Like Horst was trapped in the crypt for eight years, so she had to have passed away at least eight years prior to the first book. Johannes is in his late twenties, so we could say he was around eighteen to twenty years old when she passed away.

My point being, unless they met when they were children, it's very likely that Johannes has been trying to bring his significant other back from the dead for longer than he knew her.

[jamesedwinstark]

Ok James torture post 2. This is a different story altogether, basically a "villains win" au.

Again, it's NOT canon! Just a nightmare :)

Also tw for rape and torture, of course.

Loki's threads were coming loose. She watched, the picture of disinterest, as Sin executed another row of SHIELD agents. It was as if she was seeing it all happen through a veil, repetition having turned victory into a chore.

It had only ever started as something to do. She'd gone back to fucking Victor mostly out of boredom, had joined his little cabal to annoy Thor and cause some trouble. It was supposed to be fun. It wasn't until they'd bound themselves together with ancient blood magic that Loki realized she was in too deep with no way out, but by that time it was too late to turn back without appearing weak. It wasn't without reservation that she'd tied her fate irrevocably to the most vile people on the planet. Now she really was trapped; the spell had made her dependent on the rest of the cabal for her very survival. It had also made all of them too powerful to stop.

It was just a bit of fun. They weren't supposed to be actually winning.

"I think this sends a clear enough message, what do you think?" Sin asked, turning to Loki with a wicked grin.

Loki looked over the pile of corpses in front of her. These people were supposed to be decent at their jobs. They were supposed to stop people like her. That's the way the story was supposed to go, the way it always had gone. This narrative was... unfamiliar. Wrong. It left a bitter, almost metallic taste in Loki's mouth.

"You remain as subtle as ever." Loki replied.

"Subtlety has no place in war." Sin countered, "Besides, there's no reason for you to be a killjoy. You could try to have a little fun once in a while."

Loki pouted, "I'm tired. This is boring." That was the end of the conversation.

The flight back to Castle Doom was uncomfortable. Loki was sore all over; it seemed that she ached all the time now.

A voice that sounded a little too much like her father muttered in the back of her mind. It's guilt, Loki. Look at what you've done.

He was right. The cramping had started not long after they'd captured one of the Avengers. If it had been anyone else, Loki wouldn't have cared at all, but of course it had to be James.

They'd tortured him for days, trying to get information out of him. Loki had found any excuse to get out of the castle while it happened. Even now, the memory of his screams echoing through the halls made Loki's stomach turn. From what she heard, by the end of it he was weeping openly and begging for his father like a child. They all thought that was very funny.

After that, she'd tried to help him. She’d wanted to help him. She'd had him brought to her room, let him sleep in her bed instead of the floor of Victor’s dungeon, gave him food that was actually edible, let him bathe and wash the dried blood off himself. She took care of him, and asked very little in return. It wasn't so bad, was it? It wasn't anything they hadn't done before.

Another voice, this time her mother's, answered you know that isn't true.

When he was clean Loki had wrapped a warm, fluffy towel around James’ naked body, tilted his chin up gently to look at her.

I’ll take care of you, sweet boy. I'll protect you. I'm not like them.

He’d looked so tired, and small, and Loki had been reminded of how young he really was.

I'm not like them. I love you. You still love me, don't you?

He’d said yes, and it wasn't a lie.

And... you are grateful… that I'm helping you?

James’ gaze had always been scorching, uncomfortable. He never looked at anyone; he looked through them, inside them. He burned holes into you with his eyes. After a drawn out silence. She'd cupped his face in her hands.

I love you. You said you love me. I just need you to show me…

He’d said yes, and he’d meant no. They both knew he’d meant no. Neither of them did anything about it, though. Loki took what she wanted and James was taken back to his cell. That was weeks and weeks ago now, and she hadn't seen him since. She hadn't been able to look at him.

Loki buried her face in her shoulder and bit down on her quivering lip. Sin could not be allowed to see her cry.

It had never really been about helping James, had it? She'd just wanted herself back, the parts of herself that James loved, the parts that were not tied to anything evil. He was pure, and loving him made her clean. The aches and cramps had started soon after she'd used James to clean herself.

Victor was waiting for them when they landed. He and Sin discussed the mission, which had been an unparalleled success by their estimations, while Loki zoned in and out. All she really wanted was a nap and a pile of bacon. Then Sin left and Victor laid a very cold hand against her cheek and she thought that, since he was in the mood, she may as well get a depressing orgasm as well.

Loki did an excellent job feigning interest while Victor worked in her. He could get temperamental when she didn't fawn and and moan to his satisfaction, and she just didn't feel like dealing with his moods. She wanted to get off so she could go to sleep. There were a lot of things to be said about Victor Von Doom, few of them pleasant, but he knew what he was doing in bed. Loki always came hard when they used each other.

(There was something endearing about inexperience, though. The eagerness and overconfidence of it, and Loki found herself thinking of warmer, gentler hands on her body than Victor’s while she orgasmed. Victor felt so distant, always, even when he was inside her. He didn't seem to feel anything, certainly wouldn't have shared those feelings with her if he did. Loki wondered if she was ever going to feel intimacy ever again.)

“You know that I usually appreciate the way you shape yourself, Loki.” Victor said when they were done, “But I can't help wondering who you’re trying to impress with this.”

Loki winced when he touched her breast.

“Who do I have to impress but you, my love?” Loki asked, but honestly she didn't know what he was talking about. Her breasts were exactly the same as the ones she always made for herself.

Victor's eyes narrowed behind his mask.

“It occurs to me that keeping the boy in the dungeon is a waste of resources. We have allies now who might make use of him, and there are soldiers on our side who need...entertainment.” He said, “After all, why should you be the only one who gets to play with him?”

Of course Victor was going to find out about that. This made twice now that James had fucked someone Victor felt he had a claim on. Loki swallowed bile.

“...Oh.”

When she got back to her room, Loki spent a solid half hour lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. It was getting late, but Victor’s staff would cater to her every need whenever she wanted. She activated the intercom to order herself room service.

“Good evening ma’am, would you like the usual?” A heavily Latverian-accented voice asked.

‘The usual’ was bacon with a side of sausage, and lots of it.

“Yes, thank you.” Loki said absently, and then. “Wait, and also, I want oysters. I want as many oysters as you have. And… steaks. Bring me steaks.”

“Of course, how would you like them?”

For a moment, Loki could believe what she was about to say, but she found herself unable to imagine putting anything in her mouth except… “I want them raw.”

Something was wrong with her body. Something was very wrong with her body.

Loki stood up and staggered to the bathroom, heart racing. These last few weeks had seen her sore and exhausted almost constantly, and thinking back she realized her last period hadn't been much more than a few spots of blood, as if her body was shutting down. Gods, the cabal were all so powerful now, but where was that power coming from? Perhaps the rest of the cabal were siphoning Loki's life force, and that was the source of their newfound strength. Had she been tricked? Had she been tricked?

It took a while after she reached the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. She hadn't been able to since… but this was a matter of life or death, so she forced herself to look at her own reflection.

It was... different, but she didn't look unhealthy. If anything, she looked a little less pale than usual, and she realized now what Victor had meant about her breasts. They'd gotten huge, but Loki hadn't intended to do that. Why had she unconsciously increased her cup size? She'd thought that she'd finalized the design of her female form centuries ago.

Cold sweat broke out across Loki's forehead. What if she wasn't the one changing her body? What if her body was just changing of its own accord? Bodies did that sometimes. Women's bodies did that especially, and Loki had a woman's body. She'd created it to be functional in every way, down to the smallest detail.

Her hand fluttered over her abdomen. Those details didn't seem so small anymore.

Slumping to the floor, Loki forced herself to breathe. She couldn't be sure yet, but the evidence, the cramps and the cravings, pointed strongly in one particular direction. She wasn't dying, she was-

“Pregnant.” She said, quietly, just to see how it felt. It felt true. Shit.

Statistically, the child was very likely Victor’s. He apparently liked to fuck when he was winning, and he'd been winning very often, and Loki was there and convenient all the time. In all probability, Loki was carrying a little Von Doom, and their child would be marvelous and terrible to behold. Victor would raise them in his own image, and Loki would teach them all that she knew, and they would inherit the earth and rule it like a born monarch. There was no point considering any other possibility.

That Loki might have a smiling, sensitive child with soft brown eyes was too unlikely to even think about.

Cursing, she knocked her head lightly against the wall. If she thought she could get away with it, she'd say the child was James’ no matter what. When it came to which of them would be a better father, which she wanted raising her baby, there was no contest, and it wasn't as if one needed blood to be a family after all. Victor would want tests done, though, and if the child was his he would want to have it. It would be his most prized possession, a great achievement for him, though he certainly wouldn't ever call it his greatest achievement, because he'd have to share the credit.

And if the child was James’... Victor wouldn't want them, and Loki wouldn't have to watch her baby being turned into a monster like Hela, or like what she herself had become.

James would have to forgive her.

It was pointless to consider it, but she was considering it anyway. Having James’ child bound them together in the oldest blood magic there was, and wouldn't it make him happy besides? The child would be something they could both cling to, wrap the frayed edges of their psyches around. This was a gift. This was like finding an abandoned child on the edge of a frozen battlefield; a blessing after experiencing the horrors of war.

Perhaps she understood Odin a little better now. Maybe she had helped him heal from the war, let him become the wise and fair man that most of Asgard believed him to have been. That was a nice thought, to imagine she might have made someone better. This child could do the same for her. She could be better. Gently, she laid a hand over her abdomen and imagined she could feel something moving. What would a good mother do?

Activating the intercom again, she said, “Have the Stark boy sent up to my room.”

This time she would do things right. James could rest and she could tell him about the baby. She could give him that joy, and that would be enough. He didn't have to do anything in return, they could just be happy together.

Then again, when he heard the good news, surely James would remember how much he loved Loki, and then he would want to… if he loved her he'd want to, right? The soreness in her body wasn't guilt after all, but a symptom of her pregnancy. Maybe she hadn't actually done anything wrong? She wasn't like the others, after all. She wasn't a monster. He had said yes. Besides, something good had come out of it…

Something good.

Clarity hit Loki like a lightning bolt. Frigga would have never done this, and if Loki was going to be a mother she had to be better. She had to be the person that Thor believed she could be, the person James had always believed she already was… or, he had. Before she'd forced herself on him.

That's what it had been. Loki took a deep breath. Best to accept that, best to accept what she'd done. She sucked down more air, but it wasn't enough. Her mouth filled with thick saliva, and she leaned over the toilet and vomited.

That was just morning sickness; it had to be. James was going to forgive her. James always forgave her. He could forgive anything, and Loki would not hurt him again. Not like that.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

<><><>

(This next story is set a few years later, after the cabal have taken over most of the world, and have set up their home base in the Avenger's tower. Other supervillains have joined up, and they all pass James around and torture/rape him. Also Tony has also been captured and James keeps him in a magically induced coma so he doesn't have to think about what's happening.)

<><><>

The dolls were fighting. Saga yelled all the insults she had recently learned, imagining they were being said by the two little figures she had clutched in her fists. Finally, when she was satisfied that the argument had reached its peak, she took the smaller of the dolls out of the dollhouse and threw him against the wall to punish him. He smacked it hard and his arm snapped off.

“Oopsie!” Saga gasped, but it was alright. Mother would fix it. She retrieved the two pieces and put them in her wagon. Broken or not, the doll still wasn't allowed back in the dollhouse, even if he banged on the door and cried and begged to be let back in.

She put the other doll to bed so that the story could progress, but before anything more could happen, her mother came into her room and interrupted the game. Mother was wearing his armor, and if Saga looked at him from the right angle she could see all the purple halos coming off of it. She'd asked her parents what the purple halos meant, but neither of them could answer her. They didn't know what she meant, though Saga felt that her questions were more than clear.

“Precious, Mother needs to take care of some things. You've got to come with me, alright?” He explained. But Saga wasn't done playing.

“No thank you.” She answered, and it occurred to her that now was a good time to have her doll fixed. Taking the broken pieces out of the wagon, she handed them to her mother. “Fix please.”

Mother crouched down to Saga’s level. “Saga, be gentler with your toys.” He chided before taking the pieces and waving his hand over them. They shimmered green for a moment and then the doll was whole again. Mother put the doll in bed with the other one, which wasn't right, but things changed so quickly that Saga supposed it didn't matter. “Now, be a good girl and come along. I promise it will only be a little while and you can come back to your game.”

Well, Saga did want to be a good girl. “Okay.” She agreed, and Mother picked her up and walked out the door.

Saga very rarely left home, so the rest of the tower felt strange and unfamiliar. Saga loved it though. It was like an adventure every time, and she got to meet her mother’s friends sometimes. A few were very nice to her.

As Mother walked down the hall, Saga spotted Hyperion and Amora walking by in the opposite direction. She waved excitedly to them, and each of them smiled and waved back.

“Loki, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.” Amora cooed. “You’re always holed up in your room these days.”

“This one keeps me very busy.” Mother replied, nodding his head towards Saga.

“She's getting so big.” Hyperion said and then, addressing Saga, continued, “aren't you missy? Gonna grow up big and strong like your uncle Hyperion?”

Saga nodded vigorously raised both hands above her head and announced “Very big! Like my mumma!”

The adults all laughed. Saga liked when they laughed. It meant they liked her.

“You need a break, Loki. Come to the party tonight.” Hyperion said.

Mother pulled Saga a little closer and said, “I'm afraid, since my babysitter is the guest of honor at those ‘parties,’ I'll have to decline.”

“And you get plenty of one-on-one time with the boy, don't you?” Amora said, “We all wonder just what it is you do to him that takes hours and hours every night.”

“You’ll have to continue wondering.” Mother replied, and he was really holding Saga uncomfortably tightly now. She started to squirm out of his arms, but he was too strong. “Now, if you don't mind, I think Victor will have my head if I'm late for another strategy meeting.”

Saga waved goodbye as Hyperion and Amora went on their way. Mother took her into the elevator, and Saga gazed happily at the purple threads that seemed to pulse from every inch of the elevator’s surface. She had to keep moving her head, because she really could only see them out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed at them, but as usual they just slipped through her fingers like water in the sink. She wanted to touch them very badly, though.

“Saga, when Daddy gets home tonight we’re going to be extra good to him, do you understand?” Mother said suddenly.

That was confusing, because Saga was always extra good, but she said “Yes Mumma.” anyway, just to be agreeable. She hoped Daddy would play his guitar and sing with her when he got home, but sometimes he was too tired. Mother said to always let Daddy rest when he gets tired, but Mother didn't always obey that rule himself, so Saga didn't quite know what she was supposed to do.

They arrived at a set of big doors and Mother put Saga down. While they were both on the ground, he took her by the shoulders and said, seriously, “When we go in there you have to be very quiet and let Mother work. You can let me know if you need to be changed, but otherwise please don't interrupt. Can you do that for me?”

“I be good.” Saga assured her mother, earning herself a big smile and a kiss on the forehead. Then Mother stood and passed through the big doors, Saga following close behind.

In the middle of the room was a large table with projections emanating from it. Mother was trying to teach Saga the difference between magic and technology, but she couldn't tell yet whether the projections were holograms or illusions. Around the table stood some people Saga recognized: Mr. Osborn and Ms. Schmidt and that Mandarin man, plus some people Saga hadn't seen before or whose names she had forgotten. At the head of the table, in his very big chair, sat Doom. Mother talked about Doom all the time. He seemed to glow purple.

The group were all deep in discussion, but everyone turned to look at Mother when he walked in.

“You've started without me.” Mother observed as he led Saga into a corner and sat her down.

Saga watched Mr. Osborn’s face crinkle up. “You brought your girl?”

Mother summoned, seemingly out of thin air, a coloring book and some crayons, a juice box and a bag of animal crackers, which he laid in front of Saga. “It's called parenting, Norman. Some of us like to give it a go now and then.”

With that, Mother stood and headed towards the table. “What fresh hell has the General decided to send us this time?” He asked. One of the other adults answered him, but she used too many words that Saga didn't understand so she stopped listening and got started coloring a picture.

She flipped through the book until she found a picture of a kitty flying an airplane. She grabbed a blue crayon in her fist and started filling in the sky. Both Mother and Daddy liked it when she colored outside the lines, which was good because that was really all that Saga could do. She wanted the kitty to be yellow but the color seemed too faint, so halfway through she switched it to orange. The airplane she colored in gray, and added in the purple lines she knew airplanes had, because she had seen them flying overhead and felt the tingly sensation they radiated. She didn't know why she always had to add in the purple lines herself.

The picture had come out really well, and Saga itched to show it to someone. She glanced over at her mother, who was getting angry with one of his friends, and remembered that she wasn't supposed to talk to him unless she had a dirty diaper. She tried to make pee so she'd have an excuse to get attention, but nothing came out.

It dawned on her that this would make a really good gift for Nonno. He always liked to see her pictures, and even kept some next to his bed. He couldn't look at them very often because he was almost always asleep, but he said he liked knowing they were there. She would give him this picture and then he would tell her silly stories about when Daddy was a baby. Maybe he could explain what the halos were. He had a purple bloom sprouting from his chest, so he had to know.

After gathering her things, Saga set out on her journey. She made sure she was quiet when she left the room and shut the door behind her. Mother had told her to stay quiet, and she was a good girl. She started down the hall, but it didn't take very long before she realized she didn't really know where Nonno’s room was, or even if she was on the right floor. Sitting heavily on the ground, Saga sipped her juice thoughtfully. Whenever Daddy took her to see Nonno, they went down in the elevator and headed south, more or less. Mother had already taken her down in the elevator, so if Saga went south she'd find Nonno. That made sense.

Her plan in her mind, Saga followed along the paths that went north and south. The hallways were so long, and everywhere looked the same. It was so frustrating.

Looking at her crayons, Saga remembered one time when she had drawn a picture on her bedroom door and Daddy had made her sit with him while he scrubbed it off.

“When you do this, Daddy has to clean it up.” He'd explained. She remembered how battered and bruised his face was.

“Ouchie.” She'd said, pointing at him.

“It's ok, Princess. It looks worse than it is. Now, be a good girl and don't draw on the walls anymore.”

“Okay Daddy.”

Saga took a few of her crayons and started scrawling on the walls. If Daddy had to clean this up, that meant he'd have to appear, and then Saga could make him take her to Nonno. Mother would think she was so clever if he knew about her foolproof plan. She could tell him later.

As Saga drew, she thought about Daddy's angry bruises and bandaged arms, and wondered why it was only Daddies who came home with ouchies and not Mothers or little girls? She never really got a good answer to that question.

A distant sound of laughter and applause pulled Saga out of her thoughts. If there were people, she could ask for their help finding Daddy. No, wait, she'd been looking for Nonno. Either way. Adults liked her. They would help her. Maybe they'd want to see her picture too. She followed the sound of voices, even though it meant she wasn't going south anymore. As she got closer, she realized just how loud they were being. Maybe this was the party Hyperion had been talking about? Saga hoped so. A party sounded like fun. She could have cake.

Saga found the room that the party was in, but it didn't look much like a party. It was just a bunch of adults sitting or standing around in groups and talking. She didn't see any cake, but it seemed like a good idea to keep looking. Nobody noticed her when she wandered in, but that was okay. She wanted to find somebody she recognized before asking for help.

There was another room attached to the main one, but there wasn't any cake there either. It was just a bunch of adults sitting at a table playing a card game. The table also had a bunch of funny looking things on it that Saga couldn't identify. Some had halos. Most didn't. She recognized Mr. Hammer there, and Amora too, but what really caught her attention was who was under the table.

“Daddy?” Nobody heard her. Curious, she stayed in the doorway and watched what happened.

Daddy was wearing pretty lace stockings and gloves, like a lady in a movie, but he didn't have any other clothes on. That was silly. Saga could see more cuts on his chest that she'd never known about before. He also had bracelets with shiny chains that connected to each other, to match the thick necklace he always wore. All his jewelry had halos. His eyes were closed, and Saga thought maybe he was sleeping.

“Three of a kind! I win!” Mr. Hammer announced. As soon as he did, Daddy’s eyes popped open. Mr. Hammer whistled and snapped his fingers. “Here boy.”

Daddy crawled over to where Mr. Hammer was sitting, like he was playing pretend he was a doggy. He looked up and smiled, and Saga felt so relieved. It's just a game. Daddy is happy. Daddy is ok.

“What kind of reward would you like, Justin?” Daddy asked. In answer, Mr. Hammer pulled Daddy up by his hair and ran a thumb over his lips.

“I want you to put that pretty mouth to good use. How does that sound, Baby?”

Daddy kept smiling, “That sounds amazing, thank you. I love to suck you off.”

Amora tossed cards around the table, “It's so creepy how you make him pretend to like it.” She said.

Someone Saga didn't recognize added, “You're missing out on the best part: when he begs you to stop.”

“Nah, the best part is after, when I go tell Tony what the inside of his son's throat feels like.” Mr. Hammer replied. Saga didn't see what happened exactly, but Daddy put his face in Mr. Hammer’s lap and he gasped.

The adults talked about something while they played their game, but Saga was watching Daddy. Why didn't he get to play too? They needed to share and take turns. That was how friends played.

“Round’s over, Hammer. You gotta finish up.” Somebody said finally.

“Yeah, I'm almost-” Mr. Hammer sputtered out before making a weird sound and sighing, “Yeah.”

Daddy sat back. He was still smiling. “Thank you Justin. You're so wonderful.”

“Creepy.” Amora insisted.

“Hey, your boyfriend’s the one who wanted to have his goddamn baby. That's creepy. I just know what I like.”

“If you're done, it's my turn.” The man Saga didn't recognize, the one who said the best part was being asked to stop, stood and, reaching under the table, dragged Daddy out by the chain binding his wrists. Daddy wasn't smiling anymore.

“Don't break him, Bulls. It's still early.”

“Yeah.” Mr. Hammer agreed, “Break him later.”

“It takes all my willpower to shove things up his ass instead of through his skull. Be thankful.”

The bad man bent Daddy over the table and selected the largest of the strange objects. He took the object and arranged it in some way Saga couldn't quite see. Daddy saw what it was and started to cry, and Saga cried too. If the game wasn't fun for everyone, they needed to stop playing. They weren't being nice.

As soon as she began to cry, Daddy's eyes widened. He started looking around frantically.

“Wait! Wait, please. Saga’s here somewhere, I feel her, she's-”

The bad man didn't wait. He thrust forward and Daddy screamed.

Saga had never heard a sound like that before. He screamed and screamed, not making any words. Just communicating raw, unbearable agony in the only way he could.

Then she was screaming too. Saga wailed “DADDY! DADDY!” and curled in on herself, clenching her eyes tightly shut. Mother had never ever made Daddy scream like that.

“Oh shit, get the brat out of here!”

Suddenly, Saga was keenly aware of every fiber of purple light, which before had been so hard to see even with her eyes open. Unthinking, she reached for them and they slithered into her grasp. The bad man had the light inside him, in his arms and legs, but Saga was holding the light. It had to stop. The screaming had to stop. He was hurting Daddy.

There was a crunch, then someone else was screaming.

“Holy... shit.”

“Well, that’s a buzzkill.”

“Christ, somebody call medical.”

People rushed around her, their footsteps frantic. Saga’s eyes were still closed and she was still screaming when she felt herself being picked up and carried away. She thrashed to get free. Who was taking her? Was it the bad man? Was he going to hurt her too?

“DADDY! DADDY HELP!” She wailed, but if her daddy couldn’t save himself, how would he save her?

“Shh, shh Love. It’s me. It’s Mother.” Saga felt gentle hands stroking her hair. She opened her eyes. They were back in the hallway, she and her mother, but Daddy wasn’t there.

“Daddy?!” She pleaded between choking gasps of air. Her throat ached from crying.

“Daddy is alright, Precious. Daddy is fine.”

“NO!” How could Daddy be fine and scream like that? Why didn’t Mother understand? “Bad- bad man! Mumma, please! Stop- help- he screaming.” She didn’t know how to say what she needed to say, so she just threw her head back and wailed.

Mother bounced and rocked her, humming soothingly, but it was no use. Saga needed Daddy. The bad man would get her unless Mother did something, unless Daddy was safe. Why was this happening? She could hardly breathe. Everything was going dark.

No, not dark. Green. Shimmering green. Her throat burned. Had she been crying? She’d gone to the party and then… something had happened, and Mother had carried her out, sobbing. Because there was no cake. It was a bad party because there was no cake.

“Ah, there’s my beautiful, smiling girl.” Mother cooed. He handed Saga a fresh juice box.

“Want cake.” Saga demanded.

“Alright. Alright. Darling, precious, sweet little girl. We’ll have cake at home. Doesn’t that sound nice? It’ll be all better.”

Saga drank her juice. It felt good on her sore throat.

“Loki!” Saga heard someone hiss. She looked down the hall to see Amora headed towards her. She was angry. Saga buried her face in her mother’s neck.

“I know I need to watch her more carefully. A lecture is a waste of both our time.” Mother snapped. Saga tensed. She wanted to go back to her room.

“Are you feigning ignorance, or did you truly not see what she did to Bullseye?”

“Don't be absurd. Saga didn't do that. She's a baby.” Mother insisted. Saga didn't understand. Was she in trouble?

“A baby with mutant blood.” Amora said, then, after a pause, asked, “Why did you tell her that Stark is her father?”

“What?”

“She called him ‘Daddy.’”

Daddy? Where was Daddy? Saga needed him very badly, or… she thought she did. She couldn't remember now.

“Doesn't she have a right to know?”

“He's a toy, Loki.” Amora said, “Please tell me that you don't take him to your room every night to play at being a family. Like Hammer making him act like he's in love.”

“I am not like Hammer.” Mother seethed. Saga felt him lurch forward, imposing himself into Amora’s space.

“Loki he can't love you. You must know that.”

Were they still talking about Daddy? Daddy loved Mother very much. Why would Amora think he didn't? They must be talking about somebody else.

“I… I don't need him to love me. Of course. He is, as you say, a toy.” Mother explained. “I only need a nanny, and the boy is more cooperative when he gets to call it parenting.”

Amora laughed, “If you insist.”

“It's late. I want to take my daughter home.” Saga felt her mother sidestep around Amora and head back down the hallway.

“Doom’s going to want to know why our best assassin is getting scraped off the floor right now.” Amora called after them. “You might want to start coming up with excuses.”

They went home in silence. Mother ordered some cake for them as soon as they got back. Cake would be good. It would be like a party. She hoped Daddy would come home soon, and they could all have cake and have a party together.

Saga frowned. That didn't seem right. Something made her think that Daddy didn't like parties very much.

<><><>

“I'm sorry! I’m sorry! I'm sorry there's so much blood! Oh no, oh no.”

The strained voice of her daddy woke Saga up. Her tummy started to flutter uncomfortably, and she hid her head under her blanket and clutched her Bunny.

So softly that Saga could barely hear, Mother hissed, “I'm trying to stop the bleeding. Stop screaming, you'll wake the baby.”

“I don't wanna die, Loki!” Daddy cried, “Please don't let me die.”

A loud sob shook Saga’s body, and she buried her face in her pillow to stifle the sound. It would only get worse if she started crying. It always got worse if she started crying.

Her parents were speaking more quietly now, which was a good sign, but it meant she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Was Daddy going to die? Saga didn’t even want to think about that, about never seeing her daddy again, about having nobody to sing to her or play with her. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard Daddy walk towards her room with uneven steps, but instead of turning into his own room, he stopped. Quietly, her door opened.

“I know you're awake, Princess.” Daddy said. He sounded sleepy. Saga pulled her blanket tighter around herself.

The bed dipped as Daddy sat down on it. “You don't have to be scared. Everything is ok.”

“Don't die.” Saga pleaded.

“That's.. you heard that, huh?”

Saga just whimpered in reply.

“Come out from under the blanket, Saga.” Daddy coaxed, “You’ll overheat.”

Sniffling, Saga crawled out from her cocoon. Daddy was right, it had been too hot in there. She sucked in a breath of cool air, and the squirming in her tummy settled.

“You said-” Saga began, but started to cry before she could get the words she wanted out.

Daddy lifted the blanket and climbed into bed next to her, gently shifting her stuffed animals as he did so. “I know what I said, but it's ok. It's nothing you have to worry about.” He hugged her gently, and she nuzzled into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. All you have to worry about is being a happy little girl. Can you do that for me?”

Saga shook her head. She was too scared to be happy.

“Well, that's ok too.” Daddy said as he rubbed her back soothingly. “But you'll feel better tomorrow, Princess. We’ll all feel better tomorrow.”

Like magic, Saga was completely calm again. She closed her eyes and felt herself drift off to the sound of her daddy softly singing.

When Saga opened her eyes again, her room was flooded with light, and Daddy was gently snoring next to her. She rolled over and tapped him lightly.

“Wake up Daddy.” She whispered.

Daddy scrunched up his face.

“Daddy! Wake up time.” Saga insisted. She patted him on the chest, more roughly this time. “Daddy! Good morning Daddy!”

“Saga… ugh.” Daddy groaned. “Good morning. Please go bother your mother.” With that, he rolled over.

There was nothing else Saga could do. She hopped out of bed and made her way down the hallway and into the kitchen to bother her mother.

Mother was a girl again today. She was already eating breakfast, which for her consisted of mostly piles of bacon and sausage, served in the shiny metal trays that appeared with food every day and then disappeared without a trace. The threads of purple light surrounding the trays caught Saga’s eye, and something like a memory of a dream tickled the back of her mind. She’d been able to touch the light before… in that dream…

“Good morning, Sweetie.” Mother tittered with a smile when she saw Saga walk in. “I need to talk to Daddy. Is he awake?”

“He won’t.” Saga replied.

“Won’t what?”

Saga sighed, “Won’t wake up. He sleeping and sleep and…” She huffed. “Not get up.”

Mother’s eyes widened like she was about to be slapped in the face. She practically leapt from the table and dashed across the kitchen, brushing past Saga without a glance. Saga followed after her.

“No. Oh no no no. James? James?!” She called out, rushing into Saga’s room. Daddy was there, sitting bolt upright in the bed.

“Honey, honey it’s ok.” He blurted out. “What’s going on?”

“Saga said you wouldn’t wake up and I thought…” Mother sunk onto the bed. “Of course... you’re just tired, aren’t you my love?” She sighed and, cupping Daddy’s jaw in her hands, gently kissed him all over his face.

Daddy closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“There’s coffee in the kitchen. I’ll take care of Saga.” Mother offered, smoothing Daddy’s hair. “I need to talk to you, and it can’t really wait any longer.”

Without opening his eyes, Daddy nodded. Mother gave him another kiss, then turned around and focused her attention on Saga. Knowing what was coming, Saga reached up her arms and allowed herself to be scooped up by her mother and carried into the bathroom.

When Mother changed and dressed her, it was much quicker than when Daddy did it. Mother simply waved her hands and Saga had a new diaper and her pajamas became playclothes. Still, when Daddy dressed her, she got to pick what she wore. Today, Mother chose a red dress, but Saga wanted blue.

“No this please.” She said.

Mother just handed Saga her toothbrush. “It's fine, Saga. Mother’s in a hurry.”

Saga pouted and made sure to do a bad job brushing her teeth. That would teach Mother a lesson. The only problem was that Mother didn't notice. Was this lack of attention tantrum-worthy? In the time it took Saga to consider whether or not to scream, she found herself hauled out of the bathroom into the kitchen and plopped into her high chair. The moment had passed.

Daddy was already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with a soft smile on his face. The smell of coffee was so soothing; it always made Saga think of her daddy. After situating Saga in her chair, mother walked over to Daddy and lightly stroked his face.

“It's so nice to see you smile, my darling.” She said.

Daddy sighed. “I get that these aren't ideal circumstances, but all my… appointments... were cancelled.” He laughed, but it didn't sound like he thought it was funny. “I get the day off.”

“I know.” Mother answered as she started piling eggs and toast and bacon into a plate, “I'm going to do my best to keep you reserved all day so you can watch Saga. I need to smooth this over.” She thrust the plate in front of Daddy. He frowned.

“Hon, I don't-”

“You will not starve yourself while you're watching my baby.” She warned. “I'm not coming home to that again, James. Don't you make me.”

Daddy took a bite of toast and chewed it slowly. Was that how people were supposed to eat toast? Saga may have been doing it wrong this whole time.

“Please.” She said, reaching for the toast. She had to practice.

Immediately, Daddy cut up some toast and, for some reason, bacon into manageable pieces and left them for Saga on her tray. He also supplied her with a handful of raspberries. She went for the toast, though. If Daddy had toast, that's what Saga wanted.

“Is that good, Saga?” Mother asked, sitting down at the table. “Do you like that?”

Saga scrunched up her face. Didn't Mother realize she had to concentrate?

Mother turned to Daddy. “What is that face? What does it mean? Does she want something else?”

“Honestly, she's just really determined to eat toast.” Daddy replied, laughing. He always understood.

Mother smiled, but her smile faded almost immediately. “We have to blame somebody else for what she did yesterday. Nobody can know that she's…”

“So we’re sure?” Daddy sat up straight and leaned closer to Mother. “We're sure it was her? Couldn't it have been someone else?”

Mother shook her head, “Amora saw where the spell came from. Luckily for us she did and started telling everyone about it, or you would have been blamed.”

Saga was so tired of chewing toast. She opened up her mouth and let it splat onto her tray. The toast had been a failed experiment. Saga moved on to the raspberries, which she knew would be good.

“No way! They all think this collar inhibits my powers.”

“And how long would it take them to figure out that it really doesn't?”

“She's not even three…” Daddy said. He glanced over at her and noticed the toast mush on her tray. “Saga, when you put something in your mouth you have to finish it.”

Saga disagreed. “No.”

Daddy shot Mother a pleading look. She just laughed. "She's right, Love. She doesn't have to."

Exasperated, Daddy looked out into the distance for a second.

"It's polite, Princess." He clarified.

"Okay Daddy." Saga said, but she really had no intention of being polite. She scooped up a handful of berries and shoved them into her mouth. Mother and Daddy both watched her, their faces grim.

"That's roughly what Bullseye looks like right now." She said, indicating the berry mush in Saga's hands. To help mother emphasize her point, Saga showed off her hands, made purple by the juice. A blob of red slid off and splattered onto her tray. Her parents winced.

“She crushed his bones…” Daddy said very quietly. “They were reinforced with adamantium. I couldn’t even bend adamantium on my best day.”

“I don’t think she went for his bones despite the adamantium.” Mother replied, “I think it was because of the adamantium.”

“You think she’s like…”

Mother nodded.

Daddy seemed to think for a moment. "It's a miracle Bullseye's still alive."

"I'm not sure he'd agree." Mother said. Her mouth twitched up into a smirk.

"Loki, this isn't funny."

Mother huffed and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "He deserves it, doesn't he?"

Silent, Daddy stirred his uneaten eggs around on his plate.

“We have to discredit Amora and find a scapegoat.” Mother said after a long pause. What was a scapegoat? Saga tried making the word.

“Skake… spape… sapetote.” No, that wasn’t quite right. Why were words so hard? Grown ups didn’t seem to have any trouble. In frustration, Saga picked up her toast mush and threw it on the ground.

“Saga don’t throw your food.” Daddy said. Saga pouted.

“Let her do what she wants.”

“...Yes Dear.”

Triumphant, Saga tossed a few of her berries off the side of her tray, letting them hit the floor with a satisfying splat.

“Bullseye had plenty of enemies. A scapegoat is gonna present itself.” Daddy continued as if nothing had happened. That word again, what did it mean? Saga knew what a goat was…

“What skatepope?” She asked.

“Eat your breakfast, Sweetie. Mother will explain later.” Mother answered without looking away from Daddy.

“Everybody probably has their own theory about what happened. We just have to make sure His Doomliness believes literally anybody besides the person telling the truth.” Daddy went on. “Which won't be too hard since in this case truth really is stranger than fiction.”

Mother smiled. “Have I mentioned I love seeing you get devious?”

“I know you mean that as a compliment-”

“It is a compliment.”

“We’re scheming to get somebody ki- ah, in trouble,” Daddy glanced Saga’s way, “for something they didn't do.”

Mother rubbed her face like she was tired. “Surely you of all people must understand that every single one of them has got it coming.”

Daddy sighed and closed his eyes, and Saga thought he must have fallen asleep sitting up again, until he said, “We’ve all done terrible things to get here, Loki.”

Mother stood suddenly, and she looked so angry that Saga thought for sure she was going to hit Daddy. Tears welled in Saga’s eyes, but she knew crying would make things much worse, so she struggled to keep her mouth closed. However, instead of reaching over the table and smacking Daddy across the face, Mother clapped a hand over her mouth and walked away until she was leaning against the kitchen counter, her back turned.

Finally, Saga couldn’t help herself anymore. She started whimpering and gasping, still trying to keep the crying in but being unable to do so. The more noise Saga made, the tenser her mother’s shoulders got, the lower she hung her head. She was going to get so angry and hit Daddy, and it would be all Saga’s fault for crying and making her mad, and Saga just couldn’t seem to stop and it was getting worse every second-

“Oh, Baby Girl. Shhh, it’s ok.” Daddy’s soothing voice cut through Saga’s panic. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t cry, Princess. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I worry. I scared.” Saga explained, “Mumma mad and I think you get owies again.”

When she said that, Saga saw her mother’s shoulders start shaking.

“No, no owies. Don’t worry. Don’t cry.” Daddy smiled widely at her. That had to mean that everything was okay. Saga's breathing started to even out, and Daddy leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. “Eat your breakfast sweetie, it’s ok.”

Then, Daddy stood up and walked -limped actually- over to Mother and very carefully laid a hand against her arm.

“She thinks I'm a monster.” Saga heard her mother whimper.

“You're not a monster, Honey.” Daddy gently stroked his hand up and down Mother's back. “Your daughter thinks you're the be all and end all, ok? I do too. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.”

Mother knocked Daddy's hand away. Don't worry. Don't cry.

“Then why did you say that?” She whirled around and snapped in Daddy's face. He didn't even flinch.

“I meant me too.” He sighed. Mother bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands then, and Saga didn't know what she would do until she reached for Daddy's shoulders and pulled him to her, cradling him against her chest. She whispered into his neck, and Saga thought she heard her mother say “It's not our faults. We're trapped. We don't have a choice.”

Daddy didn't move until he finally pulled himself out of Mother's arms. “You're a dame?”

Mother tittered, and Saga knew that meant everything would be fine for now. “Oh darling, it really is sweet that you genuinely don't notice.”

As if unsure, Daddy reached out to touch Mother's body, but he pulled his hand back at the last second. His body completely rigid, he clenched both fists against his thighs.

“This is for Victor.”

“We both have to do what we have to do.” Mother said, brushing past Daddy and leaning over Saga’s high chair. She took a knife from the table and spread some of Saga’s berries over her toast. “You've got to eat, Princess. Don't you want to get big and strong? You come from a long line of warriors, you know.”

“Okay Mumma.” Saga agreed, and put some toast in her mouth berried-side first, getting her face sticky with sweetness.

Mother smiled down at her and without turning around she said “I can hear you pouting from over here. So cute that you still get jealous.”

Daddy worked his jaw. “Victor Von Doom has made my life a living h- has tried to make my life hellish for over three years now. That fact that you'd take him to bed is… I wouldn't call it jealousy.”

Mother sighed and cleaned some of the juice off Saga’s cheeks. “I don't want to.”

Daddy curled in on himself and Mother went to him. She gently cupped the side of his face. “You know I only want you.” She said.

Eyes wide, Daddy looked Mother up and down. “You- like this? Like…” he gestured to her body.

Mother cocked her hip. “Well, why not?”

“Oh, Honey you know I love you. I wanna be with you.” Daddy's eyes were nearly bulging out of his head, “I’m just… saying. Last time we did that like this we ended up getting a little surprise.”

Then both Saga's parents stopped and glanced her way. She waved to them.

“Not a bad surprise, though.” Mother said after a pause.

“... Loki what are you saying?”

“Just that she's getting to be a certain age, and sibling relationships can be so beneficial…”

Daddy clapped a hand over his mouth and slumped against the kitchen counter. “Hon. I know we do a good job playing house,” Mother flinched, “for the baby but I don't- do I? Do I have to remind you what happened yesterday?”

“Don't you patronize me.” Mother was getting that tone again. The bad tone. Saga put more toast in her mouth, because Mother has asked her to and maybe if she was good then nothing bad would happen.

“I didn't think I had to but,”

“I know that if I got pregnant again,”

“Then you started talking crazy about having another baby,”

“Victor would have to let me take you away somewhere.”

“Like we're not on thin ice already.”

“He wouldn't be able to stand it!”

“Victor Von Doom does not send people who displease him to live quiet lives in Norwegian villas.” Daddy said finally.

Mother frowned deeply. “Fine.” She said. “Then we won't make love when I get home. Assuming I remember to keep you booked all day.” With that, she stormed out of the room.

“You know I'm right about this.” Daddy called after her. The only answer he received was the loud, jarring slam of the front door. Saga’s toast fell out of her mouth and landed berries-side down on her tray. Everything was going wrong this morning. Saga couldn't take it. She started to cry again.

“Oh, baby girl I'm sorry. Did the loud noise scare you?”

“Toast!” Saga wailed, pointing to the food on her tray. She didn't eat her toast right and then Mother had been angry and made a loud noise and those things had to be connected. Why couldn't Saga just be good enough to make things go right?

“It's just toast, Saga, pumpkin.” Daddy cooed, “You can have some more. You can have anything you want. Oh, gee whiz look at us. Your mother and I forgot to get you anything to drink. How about some juice and fresh toast? Would that make you feel better?”

It wouldn't but Saga nodded. Daddy sighed, and Saga didn't think he was fooled.

“Juice and toast… and after, how about a bath? You won't even remember why you're sad anymore.” Daddy insisted sleepily. “We can go to therapy with your rubber duck. Contemplate the bubbles. Get pruny like an old man. Sound good?”

“Okay Daddy.” And it did sound good. Maybe today would be okay after all.

[vagrantblvrd]

Rock and a Hard Place (1/1)

Summary: The first time it happens is shortly after the Vagabond joins the crew.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who sent me the most amazing Ask:  I’ve been having a good time imagining the first time the Big Bad Scary Vagabond™ manages to doze off leaning against Gavin, who at first is quietly panicking because he doesn’t know Ry well yet and he’s still a creepy assassin and now Gavin is trapped by him and they’ve never seen Ryan sleep before and he’s trying to silently get somebody to help him escape, until Ryan starts doing very quiet lil snores and maybe mumbly sleep-talking and Gav starts to soften to their insane murderer a bit

...and then shenanigans happened, idk.

(Read on AO3)

The first time it happens is shortly after the Vagabond joins the crew.

========

He’s just returned from one of those seek and destroy missions Geoff’s grown wary of handing out to the crew because there’s no knowing how out of hand they’ll get.

Could be a quiet(ish) little affair they’re meant to be. Property damage and all that confined to whatever building their target’s chosen to set up shop in. Could be a slighter louder event, something that makes the evening news while the culprits sip their beer and bicker over who gets the first slice of pizza while Geoff angrily sips his diet soda and (quietly) regrets entering into a life of crime.

More often than not, however, it ends up as a city-wide disaster. Flashing lights, screaming siren, and live footage of the car chase through Los Santos’ streets and freeway system with Jack setting up a betting pool while Geoff (loudly) regrets meeting any of them, let alone recruiting them.

Looks a little singed around the edges like Michael and Jeremy while Ray looks untouched by whatever disaster they must have caused. Waves the three of them off when they ask if he wants to go out for bevs to celebrate not dying horribly yet another day.

Makes his way over to the couch where Gavin’s fussing with the brace on his left ankle resting on the coffee table. Injured it on a botch job a few days ago and it itches something fierce. Sits down next to him making these noises like a man three times his age and just.

Sits there.

Doesn’t say a damn thing, not even about the way Gavin’s frozen like a prey animal hoping to remain undetected as a predator goes prowling past.

Several minutes pass by without a peep out of him, and Gavin relaxes. Gets restless, bored, after    another handful of minutes tick by and pulls out his phone.

Contacts to keep up with, business to deal with that doesn’t wait, and his bum ankle slowing him down enough to get the chance to catch up on things for a change. He gets through a hefty chunk of it before he realizes he’s leaning to the side a touch?

Definitely not sitting upright the way he had been when he first tackled the mess of an inbox of his, and there’s this slight cramp along his side making itself known.

Gavin glances over, sees the Vagabond’s closer to him than before. Might be due to the state of Geoff’s couch, all the shenanigans it’s endured over the years (Roughhousing and the like, one of the other dive-tackling Gavin for some slight or inexplicable whim. Simple age catching up to it, cushions becoming compressed and all that, forming dips here and there where they sit most.)

“Er,” Gavin says quietly, too startled at the situation to do much more than that. “What?”

The Vagabond makes this odd little grumbling/snuffling noise, shifts about and let out this annoyed sounding sigh until -

“Um?!”

- he tosses and turns and contorts himself until he’s on his side, head pillowed on Gavin’s lap and dear God what does he do now?

Gavin stares down at the Vagabond in silent – it’s not terror, not that dramatic, just.

Dread?

Uneasiness?

The man’s this terrifying figure around the city, and Gavin’s seen some of it himself. In person and over the various camera feeds he uses to keep track of the others when they’re out on jobs and whatever else, just in case. (Adds to his workload like nothing else, but the peace of mind it gives him is worth it.)

Doesn’t know him all that well even though he’s worked a few jobs with the crew before this, but...Gavin’s mind is going in circles now, isn’t it.

Tripped up by the damn Vagabond snoozing away on him like it’s no big deal.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? The Vagabond’s worked with them several times in the past. Mostly quick little one-off jobs. Minor bit of prep work before hand – if any at all – and out the door with his cut the same day.

A few longer jobs, things that took more time and resources to manage. Some reconnaissance and all that. Had him loitering about the penthouse with everyone else or wherever they were working out of at the time. Long days, hours. Michael the others finding somewhere to nap if they didn’t have the luxury of going to their own places for a few hours.

Gavin can’t remember a moment in all that time where any of them come across the Vagabond hidden away somewhere for quick snooze.

He’s so focused on his predicament that he almost doesn’t hear the door to the penthouse open.

Almost doesn’t hear Michael and Jeremy and Ray shushing each other and laughing at something before all three of them go silent at almost the same moment.

Almost thinks one of the bastards will help him out of this awkward situation before the Vagabond wakes up and thinks – well, who knows really, but Gavin’s sure it won’t end well for him.

What he definitely hears is Jeremy’s quiet, “What the hell am I looking at here?” Ray’s “Aw, they’re adorable.”. Worst of all, however, is Michael’s mean little laugh before someone takes a picture of Gavin and the Vagabond with their damn phone.

“Don’t just stand there, do something!” Gavin hisses, freezing in place when the Vagabond makes that  snorting-snuffling noise again.

Snoring, Gavin realizes.

The Vagabond is snoring.

Tosses and turns a bit until he finds a comfortable position and lets out a quiet sigh as he settles down again.

Michael’s grinning, wide and delighted as he takes another damn picture before doing something on his phone. (Gavin hears Ray and Jeremy’s message notifications go off, so there’s that mystery solved, and Gavin sighs.)

Knows Michael won’t help him now, and by the way the other two are giggling to themselves they’re not about to either.

Michael just gives him a jaunty little wave as goes over to the kitchen counter to snatch up the wallet he must have left behind earlier. Pauses on his way back to Ray and Jeremy to take yet another picture of the sight Gavin and Vagabond must make to deserve so many pictures to commemorate the occasion.

“You’re the worst,” Gavin says, because he is.

Absolute bully, along with his cronies in Ray and Jeremy and just. Just awful.

“Yeah,” Michael says, like he’s proud of himself “I really am, aren’t I?”

That grin of his softens when the Vagabond mumbles something in his sleep. Goes all fond because Michael knew the Vagabond before this, didn’t he. Worked the odd job with him a time or two. Vouched for him when Geoff first floated the idea of bringing him into the crew on a full-time basis.

“Be nice”, Michael mouths, as though Gavin’s lunatic enough to bully the damn Vagabond of all people, and then he’s out the door with Ray and Jeremy on his heels.

Gavin can hear their quiet laughter as they walk away leaving him still solidly stuck where he is.

Lovely.

========

Michael thinks Gavin’s being stupid when it comes to the Vagabond. Insists the man’s just as much of an idiot as he is, if not more so.

“Seriously, Gav. Guy puts on a good front, but he’s dumb as hell.”

It’s reflex at that point to try and shush Michael, what with the Vagabond just across the room from them.

He’s frowning over the staggering amount of knives he carries on his person as he goes about sharpening them on by one. Nasty looking things, all shapes and sizes and while Gavin is no stranger to the practice of carrying weapons and so on, the Vagabond is one of those overzealous sorts.

Those damn knives of his and various guns he secrets on his person, walking arsenal and all that, which just makes him more unsettling to Gavin.

And yes, he knows Geoff would never have hired the man on if he felt he would be a threat to the crew,   but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. (The things he says sometimes. Side comments or jokes that make everyone else pause for a beat or two before moving on? Yes.)

“Michael, no,” Gavin hisses, hunching down when the Vagabond glances their way as Michael laughs at him for being an idiot. “He’ll hear!”

Michael just keeps laughing though, like Gavin’s being silly and the Vagabond won’t murder them in their sleep one night just because.

(Well. They’re an annoying bunch, which is good as reason as anything to kill them all and be done with it when you think about it.)

========

There’s a heist soon, all kinds of prep jobs and assignments.

Geoff and Jack take on the dubious honor of dealing with Lester and Agent 14 while they sent the rest of them out to handle the rest. Have clearly lost their damn minds because they insist on pairing Gavin up with the Vagabond up, send them on the more sensitive jobs.

Which.

To be fair, the Vagabond’s a better hand at stealth than Gavin expected, but it’s still the Vagabond, isn’t it? (Gavin may not live in terror of him anymore if he ever did, but he’s still an unknown to Gavin, and if there’s something Gavin’s not a fan of it’s not knowing things, so.)

Michael and the rest of the Lads do the heavy lifting, as these things go. Michael and Jeremy feet on the ground type feet on the ground types while Ray keeps an eye on things from above.

Lindsay and her cabal of B-Team misfits are operating in the shadows. Trevor reaching out to Alfredo and other independents like him to make sure Agent 14 is being as honest with them as expected from someone like him.

All hands on deck sort of situation because there’s no trusting the government to deal fairly with them if they expect to come out of things (mostly) unscathed.

“Er,” Gavin says, because the Vagabond is staring at him, head cocked just so. “Can I help you?”

The Vagabond’s been watching Gavin work. Hovering over his shoulder and making these little noises that sound like quiet approval as Gavin finesses the files they’re looking for out from behind encryption after encryption and passwords that are far too easy to crack.

Not the best time to have a leisurely conversation, what with the guards trying to break back into the room the two of them have barricaded themselves into. Angry guards and all their yelling and threats and shrieking alarms enough to give him a headache.

The Vagabond snorts, and turns as the guards break through the door thanks to the battering ram they’ve hauled up here.

Gavin watches as the Vagabond’s arm snaps up, sees him switch his aim from center of mass on the guard in front to the more difficult to hit target of his unprotected neck. Hears the gun go off and a moment later the guard swats at his neck and the red-tufted dart embedded there.

Eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet before the tranquilizer takes effect and he collapses.

Two more shots in quick succession and the guards that follow him into the room go down as well, and finally the yelling stops. There are more guards on the way, but if all goes well the two of them will be long gone by the time they get here.

“Oh, nicely done,” Gavin says.

Personal request from Agent 14 for them to keep the body count to a minimum, and these shiny tranquilizer weapons he brought them to make it more likely on their end.

The Vagabond looks back at him, seems bemused as though Gavin’s the odd one out for offering a compliment on something like that.

“What?” Gavin asks, feeling a bit defensive even though it was a lovely bit of marksmanship on the Vagabond’s part.

“Are you done yet?” the mas asks, strange note to his voice Gavin can’t quite place.

Not anger or annoyance, but clearly something to it, so Gavin decides to leave things well enough alone and checks to see if the files are down downloading.

========

There’s a fair bit of running after that.

Some skulking going on when they make it to the parking garage and have to sneak past armed guards on high alert.

The Vagabond’s hand on his back when one wanders a little too close to their position, quiet murmur of ”Easy, easy. He doesn’t know we’re here,” and Gavin’s heart beating rabbit-fast in his chest.

He’s no novice to situations like this. Started out as a bit of a thief and all, but back then he was smart enough to avoid moments like these, didn’t he? Kept away from the more dangerous jobs knowing there was no one to watch his back if he did, pull a daring rescue if he got caught.

“Okay, now,” the Vagabond says, and gives Gavin a gentle nudge towards a maintenance door they can use to reach the outside and safety.

========

The second time it happens, Gavin (almost) sees it coming.

========

It’s a long, grueling week. All heist prep and planning and so on. Mistakes and missteps and other little snags here and there which are all part and parcel of things for the crew.

Gavin and the Vagabond visiting sites and facilities to grab more files, intel for the heist itself while the others acquire vehicles and other lovely things.

The Vagabond moves on to help Michael and the others while Gavin stays at the penthouse to untangle the files and other interesting bits of information they’ve gathered. Pieces it all together so it makes sense, will help when they move on to the heist itself.

Spends long, tedious hours at it, the others moving around him as he does since he’s in the main room of the penthouse. (Summer and this perfect bit of light that comes through the windows, lets him soak in the warmth more than he would in what Michael likes to call the nerd lair.)

Dropping off energy drinks and takeout and reminding him sleep is a thing human bodies need, so maybe give it a try sometime, dickhead. (And he will, just a little longer.)

“Hey,” Gavin hears. Soft, quiet. “Maybe you should call it a night.”

Gavin looks up to see the Vagabond looking down at him.

He blinks, and winces when he realizes someone’s closed the blinds, pulled the curtain and all that due to the late hour. Everyone else gone home and Geoff off on a dinner date with Jack the two of them are passing off as a business expense Agent 14 will have to put on his report. (Can’t let the bastard think they’re thrilled with him using them like this.)

His eyes feel hot, dry, and his back aches. The coffee table is covered in cans of energy drinks. Mugs with coffee and tea and a smattering of empty takeout containers.

A damn mess, and sure sign Michael has been too busy to stop by the penthouse to yell at him for being a disgusting animal.

“Oh, uh,” Gavin says, brilliant rejoinder. “I will soon. I just want to get through this first.”

Annoying bit of encryption, stubborn as hell, although that could be the lack of sleep talking.

The Vagabond makes this grumbling noise that trails off into a sigh as he watches Gavin a moment more. Slips out of his jacket and tosses it over the arm of the couch as takes a seat next to Gavin with a tired little sigh.

Gavin watches him from the corner of his eye, sees him carefully scoot a coffee mug aside here, energy drink can there before he unlaces his boots and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Wriggles his toes a bit as he picks up the remote and turns the television on, clicking through the endless channels Geoff gets with the cable package of his and settles on what looks like an old science fiction show.

Dated special effects and overdone acting, the sort of thing that’s so bad it circles back around to good. Turns the volume down low out of consideration for Gavin, which is nice of him but unnecessary.

“You can put the volume up,” Gavin says, “it won’t bother me.”

He was good with tuning out distraction before he joined the crew, and just got better at it once he had, given the insanity that runs rampant with them. (Prime target for good-natured bullying they get up to and all that.)

The Vagabond laughs, this quiet little chuckle sort of thing.

“Nah,” he says. “Makes it easier to do interpretive lip-reading.”

That -

Gavin doesn’t know what to make of that, so he leaves the Vagabond to it and goes back to his own work.

Smiles to himself when the Vagabond laughs to himself as the show goes on, quiet little chuckle of his again or this odd croaky thing that speaks to the sort of exhaustion where the smallest thing is hysterical as all hell.

After a while even that tapers off, and Gavin glances over when he hears a soft thump. Sees the Vagabond listing to the side, clearly asleep, and the remote on the floor he must have dropped.

At some point he’d taken off that mask of his, tossed it onto the coffee table as an afterthought. Too tired to bother with it, or maybe felt he didn’t need it.

Either way, there’s quite a bit a bit of trust behind that small gesture of his, even if he’s still got his face paint of his.

Gavin watches as gravity and the worn out couch of Geoff’s do their thing, Vagabond slumping over to lean against Gavin, head tipping onto his shoulder.

Goes so very, very still when the Vagabond makes this noise in the back of his throat that sounds like something caught between a cough and a sigh, and wriggles about until he’s comfortable.

Makes little noises now and then, mumbles too quietly – and garbled – for Gavin to make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is doesn’t seem to be part of an unpleasant dream or the onset of a nightmare.

Gavin tries to focus on his work, but the Vagabond’s snoring and quiet mumbling are proving to be far more distracting than a full-fledged gunfight or any other form of chaos he’s been introduced to since joining the crew.

Loose strands of his hair that have come loose from his ponytail tickling Gavin’s neck, brushing his face. Steady sound of his breathing so close to Gavin’s ear, warmth of his body bleeding through the t-shirt he’s wearing, and it really has been a long week hasn’t it?

Gavin might have been cooped up in the penthouse the last little while, but he’s been working almost non-stop himself. Hunched over his laptop and squirreled away in the nerd lair for most of it.

Not enough time to stop for a proper meal or even remember to drink something without an indecent caffeine level.

Gavin sighs – seems to do a lot of that lately, doesn't he? - and squints at the screen of his laptop. The files he has up are so much gibberish at the moment and experience tells him it won’t get better if he keeps on as he’s been doing.

Another one of those clear signs, this one telling him he should pack it up for the night. Sleep, maybe, if he can get his brain to slow down enough for that.

He glances down at the Vagabond, big scary bastard that he is all snuggled up to him like the strays Lindsay’s always mucking about with.

Adorable, scrappy little balls of fluff and feisty as hell. He tries not to laugh at the thought of the Vagabond being much along the same lines at the moment because with his luck the bastard will just know about it somehow, but honestly? There’s a marked resemblance.

After the week they’ve all had he’s loathe to wake the Vagabond. Doesn’t begrudge him the chance to get sleep while he can.

He can feel his own exhaustion welling up like rising fog as he fully acknowledges it. Fights back a yawn as he considers the situation.

The Vagabond doesn’t seem such an imposing figure like this, and while he’s still unsettling and a bit creepy, he’s also -

Well.

Gavin’s not sure what he is, other than a little odd.

Not unlike the rest of them with their quirks and such, mismatched idiots the lot of them. More terrifying than the others, perhaps, but Gavin’s gotten to know him better this past week and he’s not the monster the rumors make him out to be.

Far from it, actually.

Gavin scratches his chin, grimaces at the untamed scruff he finds there and makes a mental note to clean that up a bit in the morning. (Morning, afternoon. Whenever.)

The Vagabond snuffles in his sleep, dragging Gavin’s wandering mind back on track.

Geoff’s couch is getting up there in age, sure, but it’s still comfortable. Strikes a balance between fashionable décor and simple human comfort, even with the sagging cushions and all.

The suite Geoff’s set aside for him here at the penthouse is a few floors down, assuming Gavin could get out from under the Vagabond’s not inconsiderable bulk without waking him. Not impossibly far away, but the logistics of it all are too much for him at the moment. (Can’t be bothered and all.)

So.

Gavin sighs (again), and saves his work before powering his laptop down. Finagles his laptop down to the floor and scoots it under the couch where it won’t get stepped on, and wriggles around himself until he’s comfortable enough he (probably) won’t end up with a crick in his neck.

Laughs as the Vagabond grumbles to himself, face scrunching up at being bounced about a bit in the process, and closes his eyes. (Just resting them, that’s all. Quick little break and then back to it.)

But he’s got the Vagabond’s quiet breathing in his ear, warm weight against him and Geoff’s damnably comfortable couch underneath him, and it’s not long before he falls asleep himself, too tired to fight it anymore.

========

The third time it happens – well.

To be fair, Gavin stops counting after that second time. Doesn’t see the point anymore when it all gets tangled up together with the times he falls asleep on the Vagabond.

This whole give and take thing they get caught up in to the amusement of the crew at large and Ryan in particular because he’s just that kind of bastard.

“You’re laughing at me again, aren’t you,” Gavin mutters, tired after a very long day of running and hiding and terrified yelling because Ryan is quite possibly the worst driver Gavin’s ever met in his life, including himself.

Ryan chuckles, and tugs Gavin’s laptop out of his hands to set it down on their coffee table. Picks up Gavin’s phone and turns it off before pocketing it, slowly and methodically divests Gavin of the various gadgets and whatnot he’s surrounded himself with while working.

“Just a little bit, yeah,” Ryan admits, looking down at him with his head cocked just so.

Familiar gesture after all this time, one Ryan saves just for him.

No mask or face paint, and his hair is out of the ponytail he keeps it in while he’s out and about. Looks soft and approachable in an old shirt and pair of sweatpants, and Gavin -

“Rude,” Gavin mutters, fighting a smile at the one Ryan’s giving him.

Quiet little thing full of fondness and affection and Ryan knows for a fact Gavin’s weak against it, cheating bastard that he is. Comes at Gavin with the big guns right off and so damn smug about it afterwards.

“Come to bed?” Ryan asks, holding a hand out to him as though he thinks Gavin’s answer will be anything but yes.