#except for Crow who’s like oh wow your life sucks. come back to my home and I’ll hand feed you grapes :)

[hawnks]

Spiritual opposite of junji ito wet dog

[foxtophat]

i dont have much to say about this one!!! it’s just a story about carmina’s tenth birthday, and how the town of fall’s end is coping a decade after the collapse.  uhhh there are some random children in it?  bean is there! and of course john shows up, too, because that’s KIND OF THE POINT of mercyverse lol

technically there’s a story that comes before this, but i don’t have the vibe yet for it so i haven’t worked on it in a while. instead, i’ll probably just keep moving forward and throw up that one if the rest of the plot becomes at all relevant to the real main storyline.  uhhh the next one will take place in the spring of 2029 and we’re going to start getting into some fun stuff that i’ve planned out for a while!!!

until then, uh, the usual: love you, please like/share/reblog/kudos/comment, whatever you feel good about doing, because i sure do love to share my universe with other people!  hope you’re doing well and hopefully i’ll see you with another fic in a few weeks!

also as usual: the story text is below the cut for those of you who wanna stay on tumblr :)

It's Carmina's tenth birthday, and there's a party in town. The two things aren't exactly related, sure, but Carmina's used to sharing her birthday with the Collapse, and she's not about to turn down a bunch of free food. How can she not go to a real Hope County barbecue after her parents had hyped the experience up so much in the bunker? She'd hoped that her ninth birthday would have gotten a similar treatment, but the town just didn't have the food or people for it at the time. Her parents had told her that next year would be better; Carmina does her best to keep her imagination from blowing the whole thing out of proportion.

They leave a little bit after breakfast. Since John is coming along, mom has no excuse not to let Carmina ride in the back with him. He's not excited to be heading into town, but then again, the town isn't usually excited to see him, either. And considering what day it is, they're likely to be extra rude to him. Carmina doesn't get it, honestly, but she's just glad that she can ride in back without her mom grabbing onto her at every pothole and bump in the road.

The first surprise of the day comes as her dad parks just past the church, giving her a chance to stand up and look out over the town. She hasn't been here in a while, and so she's surprised to see that they've cleared out a lot of the dirt lot behind the usable buildings — and there are a lot of people hanging out there. Carmina's never seen so many people at once — she loses count around twenty and can easily guess double that. It's enough to rattle her nerves for just a second, before she catches the looks on her mom and dads' faces and realizes that this is probably a good thing. Sure, John looks like he wants to hop back in the truck and go home, but he always looks like that around strangers. Her parents, on the other hand, actually seem happy for once, and that's what matters to Carmina.

The second surprise is just how many of the adults seem to know her. Her parents move slowly through the mingling crowd, usually coming up with names for faces before Carmina's even looked at the strangers who call her by name. She gets lots of comments like, "I remember when your parents were expecting you!" and "I was wondering how the Rye's little girl turned out!" and even a few, "Glad to see you made it," comments that make her parents side-eye each other pretty fiercely. She doesn't need to introduce herself to anyone, not even people who her parents don't know so well — it's like everybody's always known her, and her family. It's kind of cool — but also kind of weird. Pastor Jerome always said that their family was a pillar in the community, but this is first-person evidence, right here in front of her.

Plenty of the adults wish her a happy birthday, too, but she knows their hearts aren't in it. It's one of the big drawbacks to sharing her birthday with the end of the world — nobody asks how old she is, nobody wants to know what she did on previous birthdays, and all of them have to make some kind of depressing comment. Like trying to get her to relate to birthdays before the Collapse: all they want to do is tell her about all the things she could be doing, or would be doing, if only the world hadn't ended. They want to share their birthdays from the past, but Carmina's never been to the movies, she doesn't know who Disney is, and she has no idea why they'd need a cake and candles for it all. Somebody tells her she should be graduating to the fourth grade, and she just stares back because what even is the fourth grade? What does that mean?

They mean well, so Carmina does her best not to upset anybody, but she knows that nobody appreciates how little she cares about life before the Collapse.

At least there are other kids in town today. Her mom had been telling her about some of them — kids who don't have families, who the town looks after — but Carmina's only ever met one of them, and that had been only for a few minutes. But Carmina can see them hanging out in the field, and as soon as her mom lets her, she heads right out to them. It's about time that she met people her age — she's getting tired of only ever talking to old people.

Of course, meeting strangers is still difficult for her, but she's saved from too much embarrassment as she recognizes the chicken brothers hanging out in the small group. She can't remember which one is Tom and which one is Matt, but they seemed really nice when they helped her pick out her chickens. She also recognizes the oldest boy in the group, although she can't remember his name at all. She's never seen the others before — two teenage girls, another boy her age, and a kid a couple years younger than her — but hopefully she won't make a total fool of herself.

"Hi," she says as she approaches, waving.

"Hey, Carmina," Matt-or-Tom says, stepping aside to make room for her in their makeshift circle. "I thought we would see you today."

"Yep," Carmina smiles, "Here I am!" She sees the teenagers' curious looks and tells them with little fanfare, "Today's my birthday."

"Oh," the oldest boy says. "That sucks."

One of the girls elbows him. "Don't be mean," she says.

"No, he's right," Carmina says. "It does suck."

"Well, happy birthday anyway. How old are you now?"

"Ten."

"Wow," the girl says. She looks at the boy, then back to Carmina, and says sympathetically, "You weren't kidding. That's rough."

Giggling with relief, Carmina waves once more. "It's okay. My name's Carmina, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

Being polite works like a charm, and the oldest boy is quick to go around with introductions. "Well, I'm Jason — this is Caroline, and this is Flower. The little kid there —"

"Hey!"

"— Is Bean, and... Sorry, man, what did you say your name was again?"

The other ten-year-old looking boy frowns and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. "Luke," he says.

"Okay, Luke. And you know Tom and Matt."

"We were talking about the bison out in the field," Tom-or-Matt says. He points in the direction of home and asks, "Did you guys see the big one when you were coming into town?"

"The one that's all white?" Carmina asks, "With the big scar over its hump? We see that one all the time when we come out this way —"

"No, no," the other brother says, "Jason says there's a bigger one."

"I told you guys," Jason says, "I only saw it once, and it was late at night while I was up in the crow's nest. I don't think it comes out during the day."

Carmina frowns. "What big one? What do you mean?"

"Oh, boy," Caroline sighs, "Don't listen to him, Carmina, he's full of shit."

"Hey, language," Flower laughs.

"Look, I was pretty far away, but I had the sniper rifle and I wasn't sleeping on the job. Uh, so..." He points out over the field, towards a squat set of huts surrounding a tall, busted silo that's still standing. The view from up there must be great. "Jerome has me sit up in that tower sometimes, you know, to practice. So I was up there, looking around, and it was probably midnight or so... and I just see this glow out in the field. I think it's a fire, right? Maybe somebody made a camp out there on their way to town or something. So I look out through the scope — and it was a bison."

"A glowing bison?" Carmina asks skeptically.

"Yeah. Like, a monster bison. It was all dark and scaly looking, except for the way its belly glowed. I thought about shooting it, but..."

Caroline laughs. "He got scared. Or it wasn't real, and he's making it all up."

"I wasn't scared, and I'm not making it up! It's not like it could've hurt me up in the nest. It... just didn't feel right. You know, it was just grazing with the rest of the herd. And it moved off over the hill before I could change my mind or call anybody up to confirm it."

"Sure, Jason."

"I'm serious," Jason insists, "I really saw it, okay? I told Jerome about it and everything." He frowns at the dirt. "He said it might've been mutated after the bombs. Then he told me not to go looking for it."

"He's right," Flower says. "Even regular bison are pretty dangerous." She smiles. "That's why I like deer — they won't hurt you. If you sit really still, sometimes they'll even come up and lick your face."

"Oh," Carmina says. "I usually just shoot them. They eat all our vegetables otherwise."

"Yeah," Flower sighs, "Sometimes I do, too. But they're also nice to watch."

Tom-or-Matt looks to his brother. "I wonder if that's what we see outside at night?"

"What, deer?"

"No, dumbass." He turns to the group and explains, "Sometimes, when it's real late and I gotta use the bathroom, I'll see something glowing out in the woods. Dad's cut back a lot of space so it never gets very close, but... maybe it's another mutated animal."

"At least you'll see it coming when it tries to attack you," Carmina suggests.

"Gee, thanks."

Carmina knows he's probably teasing, but she still feels guilty for being so blunt about it. The least she can do is try to reassure him. "Well... most animals don't attack near houses, I don't think. When we first came out of the bunker, there were wild dogs and wolves that would watch us, and my dad was real worried about them — but now they mostly stay away from the property. I think it's because of the fence. You guys have a fence, right?"

"Yeah, plus a butt-load of chickens that freak out over anything out of the ordinary." Matt-or-Tom grins at her and asks, "Don't they wake you up with every little thing?"

Carmina briefly considers mentioning John being attacked, then decides against it. She also doesn't want to tell them that the chickens live mostly indoors at night now — the last thing she wants to do is kick off a whole big thing about the cult on her dang birthday! It's already hard enough pretending to care about them around her parents; she's not sure she could even force herself to bother here. And if she's not careful, the kids in town might start to think about her and her family the same way all the adults do.

"They're pretty docile, actually," she says, "And we only really see deer around our place... It's not like they eat chickens."

"Well.... maybe there's a mutant deer out there that wants to eat you," Tom-or-Matt teases.

Carmina rolls her eyes. "I'll shoot it before it gets past the hangar," she replies.

Of course, her dismissive confidence leads to a sprawling discussion on who might be the best shot out of the group. Carmina does her best to defend her skills, considering she can't prove any of it right now, but all three teens insist they're dead-eyes, and even Bean says he's "getting pretty good at the aiming part." On top of that, the kids from the town have gotten pointers from Aunt Grace herself, which means they might actually be better shots than Carmina expects.

"Maybe we should have a competition," Caroline suggests. "I bet Pastor Jerome and Aunt Grace would be okay with it."

"Sure," Jason laughs, "But you know they'd make us spend forty minutes disassembling and cleaning our rifles before and after. Like I don't know what I'm doing — I'm almost fifteen!"

"Have you guys been to Aunt Grace's?" Carmina asks. "She has a shooting range there."

"Maybe she'd let us use it!"

"I've never been to a real shooting range," Bean says.

"It's not a real shooting range," Jason points out, "Those all got blown up. Do you even know how to use a gun, Bean?"

"I just said I do! My dad taught me! I... just don't like the loud noises it makes."

Matt-or-Tom boasts, "We learned to shoot in our bunker. Mom collected Airsoft guns — they don't use bullets, so they can't kill you."

"What's the point of that?"

"I dunno, I guess practicing underground?"

Tom-or-Matt laughs. "Dad was convinced the Peggies were gonna get us, so he wanted us to know how to shoot."

The quiet kid, Luke, finally speaks up. "Lucky," he mutters, "Easier to learn underground, I bet."

"What about you?" Carmina asks. She tries not to cringe away when he stares back at her like he didn't expect anyone to hear him. Maybe he doesn't like people talking to him? "Um... my mom and dad had a bunch of gun magazines in the bunker, but I never got to shoot a real gun until we came outside. Mom and Aunt Grace have been teaching me, though, and I'm way better than my dad is."

Luke hesitates. "Kind of the same. We came up early, though. Had to."

"Me, too," Jason replies. "It was just me and my brother. I was five when we got stuck in the bunker — we went through our supplies in about three years, so we had to come back up."

"We... only stayed down until I could walk," Luke admits. "It was still really cold when we came up. And mom got real sick for a while."

"Yikes," Bean says, "That sucks!"

"Come on, bean," Jason snaps, "You don't say that."

"You just said it to her!" Bean shouts, pointing at Carmina.

"He's... right," Luke mumbles. "It sucked. It... still sucks. But things are getting better now." He looks up at them, then drops his eyes back to the dirt. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Carmina insists, "I asked first!"

"That's kind of the mood today," Caroline adds. "Don't worry. We can talk about something else."

The change in topic comes abruptly as Bean points towards the Church and asks, "Who is that with Pastor Jerome?"

Carmina doesn't need to look, but since the rest of the group does, she might as well too. John has his hat pulled low over his eyes, as usual, which makes him look suspicious, as usual. Knowing him, he probably didn't even leave the truck — just waited there for Jerome to come talk to him.

She can only hope that Tom and Matt keep their mouths shut since they're the only other kids who know what John looks like nowadays. Unfortunately for her, that hope is pretty quickly dashed.

"Oh," Matt-or-Tom says, like a jerk, "That's John, I think. Right, Carmina?"

"Wait," Jason says, "You're that Carmina?"

Carmina ducks her head. "Um... it depends, I guess?"

Flower, looking too sympathetic for Carmina's liking, tries to mediate. "He just means, well... Jerome talks about you sometimes."

"And he talks about that guy," Jason adds, pointing without any subtlety at all.

"Everyone talks about that guy," Caroline says with a sigh. She gives Carmina a sympathetic shrug as she does, as though she wishes she could stop the conversation from happening, too. That only makes Carmina worried that this isn't the first time the teenagers have sat around gossiping about John and the crazy people who decided to take him in.

"Wait," Bean gasps, way too loudly, "That's John Seed?"

"Oh my God," Matt-or-Tom sighs, "You gotta keep up with the conversation."

"Wait, what's he doing here? Why's he going into the church? I thought he wasn't supposed to come to town? I thought he was locked up!"

Carmina groans. "It's my birthday," she whines, "I don't wanna talk about John today!"

"We don't have to," Caroline says. "Guys, come on."

"I mean, he did kill a lot of people. Isn't he, like, a psychopath? Isn't it weird to live with a murderer?"

"Jason!"

Luke mutters, "I heard he used to cut off people's skin."

"That's true," Jason replies, "My brother has a huge scar from when it happened to him. Boy, I hope he doesn't see that jackass is here..."

Matt-or-Tom finally seems to realize what he's started, frowning as the conversation spirals crazily out of control. It's too late to stop it, though, and so he shuffles his feet and looks apologetically towards Carmina.

Fine. If she can't get around the subject, she's just going to have to tackle it head-on. Even if that sounds really scary. She doesn't think that these guys are going to flip out like the caravan last year did, but she's still a little worried that she might be in for a fight if she says the wrong thing about John.

"I know John used to be a bad guy," she says. "Like, really bad. My dad's got one of those scars, too. But he's not like that any more. All he does nowadays is help my parents with chores and stuff. And he's just like everybody else — he doesn't talk about what happened before the Collapse to me or anybody. So I really don't know anything more than you guys.

She probably knows less than them, honestly, but she's not about to say so and get a brutal lesson in everything John's ever done wrong.

"So he's just... different, now?" Jason asks, frowning unhappily at the church.

"I guess so," Carmina replies with a shrug. She looks over to make sure that John and Jerome are inside, just in case. "He's not... scary, or mean, or anything like that. Just quiet. Kind of... lonely, I guess. Ever since he found out his brother is alive but still crazy, he's been really beat up about it." He's also been literally beaten up over it, but now's not the time to try and make the others feel sorry for him. John would probably be irritated at the idea of a bunch of kids pitying him.

Matt-or-Tom is quick to help her out, which is nice. "She's right," he says. "The Father is still out there in the woods with all those crazies, but John's repented. Dad said he made amends with God, whatever that means. He... uh, still doesn't like us being around him, but when we helped him load the chickens in he seemed okay. Just real quiet."

"That's John, alright," Carmina sighs.

Bean looks seriously disappointed by the news. "You mean he doesn't talk about it at all?" he asks.

"No," Carmina says, snapping for good measure, "And he gets really upset when you ask about it, so don't."

"I'm not gonna go talk to him!" Bean gasps.

The idea that a kid might be scared of John is pretty funny, considering how uncomfortable he is around her, but Carmina's not about to say as much. John probably wouldn't like her sharing a weakness like that with a bunch of strangers, and she wouldn't want them using it against him later.

Flower slowly lifts her hand, looking embarrassed. "Some of the adults in town say the Bliss messed him up. Is that... true?"

Well, at least she's trying to be nice about it. "I dunno," Carmina admits. "He was super weird when he first started living with us, but that might've just been because he was stuck in his bunker for so long."

"Oh, that happened to a guy my dad knows!" Bean supplies helpfully. "Dad calls it bunker shock. Says living underground too long is bad for you when you're all alone!"

"Glad I didn't live in one long enough for that," Luke says. When everyone looks at him, he clams up for a second before continuing on. "A neighbor came up just this year. He's... real weird. I don't like him much. He still sleeps underground, hoping he'll wake up and it'll all be a dream." He scuffs his boot against the dirt, sniffing loudly. "That's what my mom says, anyway. I try not to be around when he comes by."

"He wouldn't be the first adult to be like that," Jason says. He gives the church one last look before nodding his head towards the party. "I mean, that's why we're all the way out here, instead of hanging out around the food. Right?"

"No," Bean replies, "I'm out here 'cos I can't eat another bite! I didn't know you could be this full."

Caroline laughs. "Yeah, the adults have been stockpiling for weeks, it looks like... I guess everyone was really looking forward to it — or, well, I guess that's what it is."

Flower gazes over at the gaggle of adults. Carmina recognizes her dreamy smile from the way her mom looks around the house sometimes, like she's getting a new, better look at the place.

"It feels like things are starting to look up," she says. "Maybe they can all be happier now."

"Hey, don't jinx it!" Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Bean looks around at the rest of them and for a second, Carmina is worried he's going to ask more about John and restart the whole ugly conversation. Thankfully, it looks like he's still a baby, so he's quickly distracted.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, pushing his too-big glasses up his nose.

Carmina has never actually played with other kids before, so she doesn't have any good suggestions — especially when shooting is off-limits. Thankfully, she isn't the only one. The teenagers don't know where their soccer ball went, and Luke says he doesn't even know what soccer is. Bean says he usually plays word games by himself. When Tom-or-Matt suggests they play something called "capture the flag," it manages to make its way to the top of the list just because Jason and Caroline have both heard of it before.

Well, at least something is better than nothing. The older kids explain how capture the flag works, using Jason's shirt for their team's flag while the other kids band together around Matt-or-Tom's sweaty tank top. Carmina imagines that one of them should sit out for even teams, but the older kids seem confident that they can handle it. Too confident, in Carmina's opinion — maybe they need to be brought down a peg.

Capture the flag turns out to be more fun than Carmina had expected — and a lot harder, too. Trying to outmaneuver the older kids is tough work, but she and Tom-or-Matt figure out how to flank them pretty quick. There's nothing better than the moment when Carmina manages to dive out of the way when Jason tries to tackle her, and even if she gets dog-piled by Flower halfway back to Bean at home base, she holds Jason's shirt up for another teammate to take.

Unfortunately, the game ends without a winner as a sharp whistle pierces the air. Bean looks up and shouts, "That's my dad! I better go!"

He runs off at full tilt without so much as a goodbye, and Carmina has to squint against the setting sun to watch him go. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get going, too," Luke says, sweaty and almost smiling for once. "I want to get another plate of food before we go home."

"Ugh," Carmina sighs, "And the chickens need feeding."

"Just make John do it," Matt-or-Tom says, apparently not learning his lesson about mentioning John.

"It's supposed to be my job," she says. "And anyway, he already feeds them in the morning when I don't get up in time."

"They're gonna like him more than you," Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Jason frowns. "He feeds your chickens?"

"I mean... yeah. He does whatever we need him to." Carmina shrugs, glancing back towards the church. She hasn't seen Jerome or John leave — maybe she should go see them before she rounds up her parents? Nah, it's better to leave them alone until the very last minute.

"Just... didn't think you'd let him near livestock, that's all."

"What's he gonna do, poison the eggs?" Carmina huffs. "He's good with them. I think he likes them 'cos they aren't judgey."

Caroline frowns, which tells Carmina she might've been a little rude. But Jason's been rude about John all day, so she's not going to feel sorry about it!

"Well, I guess if your parents trust him..."

"Sure they do," Carmina replies, even if that's not... exactly right. She knows her parents trust John enough to help around the house, but she thinks they only want to trust him with all the other stuff.

"I really better go," she says, pointing towards town.

"Sure," Flower says. "It was nice to meet you, Carmina."

Carmina gives them her best grin, relieved when it's returned from the others. Jason even waves like there's no hard feelings. "It was nice meeting you guys," she says.

"Happy birthday again!" Matt-or-Tom says, "And be careful!"

"Yeah," his brother laughs, "Wouldn't want to have a glowing deer attack you in the outhouse tonight!"

Carmina laughs away the dumb attempt to scare her, waving goodbye before turning to head for the party. Halfway there, she glances over her shoulder and sees the group turned back to one-another in conversation. None of them are looking back, but as she continues on, she's chased by an unfamiliar sense of discomfort. She can't help but wonder if they're still talking about John in the church.... If they're talking about her.

At least she can distract herself while looking for her parents. There are plenty of adults who say hello; some of them even point her helpfully towards her mom's last known location, or towards the table with the cookies her dad really liked. Some of them check in to make sure her birthday has been going well, too, which is nice of them, but a lot of adults are pretty drunk and deep in their own conversations.

She eventually finds her mom and dad standing around a grill with Marjorie, one of the adults in charge around town. Carmina's met her a couple of times. She's nice, but she can talk a lot. There's no telling how long they've been talking for, and if Carmina doesn't interrupt, who knows when they'll finish. While she could probably grab some food for the road, first she has to make sure that they're actually going to be leaving sometime before the next Collapse.

Besides, it looks like her dad's already got a box of leftovers in his hands. If Carmina wants to eat, she's going to have to interrupt.

"Hey dad," she says as she comes up to them, "The chickens are going to need dinner soon."

Her dad grins at her before handing over the squat, open cardboard box. There's chicken, ribs, corn and roasted potatoes, and even a handful of cookies and flatbread; it takes everything in Carmina's power not to make a desperate grab for more food. She doesn't have to worry about going hungry tonight, so there's no need to eat everything put in front of her.

"Here," he tells her, "You take this, alright? My arms are gettin' tired."

Yeah, right. As soon as she takes the box, he uses one of those tired arms to grab one of the ribs. When Carmina frowns suspiciously at him, her dad only shrugs.

"I coughed on it."

"Uh-huh..."

Laughing, her mom reaches out to give Marjorie a hug. It might've run a little long, but her mom obviously enjoyed the talk. "We'll be back in a week or two with the tractor parts," she says. "You're going to get the fields back in shape in no time."

"Already got a good start," Marjorie replies. She shoots Carmina a warm smile. "Happy birthday, by the way! Don't think I got to see you much. Hope those kids weren't giving you a hard time."

"No," Carmina replies., "They're all really nice. We want to practice shooting together, maybe have a contest. Jason said he's better than anybody else."

"I bet you're gonna give him a run for his money!" Marjorie laughs. "Well, the better a shot you are, the better off you'll be. You won't see anybody here stop you kids."

"Yeah, but tonight, I have to feed the chickens," Carmina says, just in case her parents need another chance to get out of here.

"We've got a few other people to say goodbye to," her mom tells her. "Why don't you take the food back to the truck? We'll meet you there."

"Should I get John, too?"

As soon as she asks, Carmina decides she probably shouldn't have brought it up. Too late, though; by the look on Marjorie's face, there's no way to pretend she didn't hear it.

Her dad shrugs. "Probably oughta," he tells her, as if he doesn't see Marjorie staring at them like she is.

Marjorie definitely doesn't like that, judging by the way she squints, but she doesn't say anything about it. "Well, I hope you had a decent enough birthday for once," she says, "Hopefully we'll be having a party around this time every year from now on."

"That would be nice," mom says.

"Just you wait, we're gonna turn this ship around one way or another." Marjorie gestures with her hands and says, "Alright, you better go, before those chickens of yours eat each other."

Carmina frowns. "They don't do that, do they?"

"Uh, let's get moving," her dad says. "See you soon, Marg."

"Take care!"

Her mom and dad have to stop a few more times to say goodbye to people Carmina doesn't know, but she pushes on without them and nobody stops her for more than a quick birthday greeting. She catches sight of Luke packing up some food with his parents, but he's too distracted to notice her. At least she isn't the only one carrying a box of leftovers out of here; it would feel selfish of her if they weren't sending leftovers home with other people.

Her parents haven't caught up with her by the time she reaches the truck, and John is nowhere to be seen. She figures he's probably still in the church — he and Pastor Jerome always take forever when they're talking. They'll probably be there until dad goes in and breaks them up.

Eating by herself in the back of the truck doesn't feel right, especially not within walking distance of the church. Leaving the food tucked in the corner by the cab, Carmina heads for the building herself. Even if nobody was in there, she'd probably go wander inside for a few minutes; it's a comforting, quiet place in the dry, dusty town. But right now, she's pretty sure John is hanging around inside, and he probably hasn't eaten anything all day, either. She should at least let him have first pick.

She knows a lot of the adults dislike the church, but Carmina personally enjoys how its sun-bleached siding stands out against the sky. Besides the house, the church is one of the few places Carmina wishes she could have seen in one piece. She's seen old, faded pictures from ancient newspaper clippings, but it's just not the same.

The doors are open wide enough for Carmina to slip in without a sound. The air inside is cool, almost chilly, and it smells like dirt and grass. From the entrance, there's only a narrow gap keeping Jerome and John out of sight. She doesn't mean to hide, but she doesn't want to interrupt Jerome mid-sentence...

It's too late, she's eavesdropping.

"It might not be much, but it's something," Jerome's saying. "He even stayed a few nights, when the wind got bad and brought too much pollen over the river."

"It would be better for everyone if he stayed here permanently," John replies. "Wallace went further down the path than the rest of them, and they clearly don't know what they're doing."

"They're trying, John. And we don't have a say in the matter. It's got to be his choice. Remember?"

John grunts, clearly annoyed. Carmina doesn't think she's ever heard him say so much before. Does he talk to her mom and dad this much? Is he really only quiet around her?

"I don't like it," John says.

"For what it's worth, neither do I. But Sharky's taking things seriously — they all are. You're going to have to trust them."

"Trust isn't exactly one of my virtues," John grumpily admits.

Jerome chuckles. "You just need practice."

Well, Carmina definitely feels guilty now. She had only been waiting for an opening, but if she waits any longer, she's really going to be breaking John's trust. Pastor Jerome's, too, for that matter.

Thinking on her toes, Carmina pushes on the already open door as though she's just showing up. Of course, the hinges squeal in protest as soon as she does, so she stops before she breaks something.

"Are you guys still in here?" she calls. She's pretty convincing about it, in her opinion.

"Yes, Carmina," Jerome responds, apparently none-the-wiser, "We're here."

John regards her neutrally as she steps into view, but he's always wearing his poker face around her. She needs to get better at reading it.

"I guess it's time to go, then," he says.

"Yeah. Um — I mean, I can meet you back at the truck. Mom and dad will be here soon..."

Jerome speaks up before John can get the chance. "No, you two go on. I think we were just about done ourselves, and I'd like to sit here for a little while, before it gets too dark." He and John shake hands, and then he comes over to give Carmina a hug. "Happy birthday," he tells her. "You be good for another year, alright?"

"I'll try," she says.

"That'a girl," Jerome laughs. "Keep an eye on her, John."

Sometimes, it seems like Jerome is the only adult in Hope County that doesn't think John is a bad influence on her. Even her mom and dad, who are basically the only people on John's side, get uncomfortable if she tries to talk to him too much. But Jerome is a special case. He used to be weird about anything John-related, but nowadays? Honestly, Carmina's pretty sure he's John's only friend at this point — well, okay, other than mom and dad, but they don't count.

John waits until they've left the church to speak. He's chilly and dismissive, as usual.

"How long were you listening for?"

"I wasn't," Carmina begins — but she can't lie to him. Lying only ever makes things worse. So she corrects herself reluctantly and admits, "It was only a minute. I didn't mean to... it just sort of happened."

"Hm."

Normally, Carmina can't get a read on John's poker face, but... huh. She can't help but feel like she might've... hurt his feelings? She definitely wasn't being trustworthy, that's for sure. And now he's trying to casually out-pace her on the walk back to the truck.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," she says, picking up her pace to match his. "I promise, I won't do it again."

John glares at her, but she's pretty sure he's not angry. Maybe just confused? She's not sure, he's never looked at her longer than two seconds before.

"I... appreciate it," he replies instead, which makes it the first time he's ever accepted an apology of hers. Usually, he just tells her not to worry about it.

Carmina grins at him, but he's already looked away, so of course he doesn't see it. Instead, he looks to the field, where the three teens from town are still hanging out. Carmina can't tell if they're looking this way or not. She sure hopes they aren't; John would know immediately that they gossiped about him, and she's already messed up with him once today.

"Have you ever played capture the flag?" she asks, hoping to distract him. "The chicken brothers taught us the rules but I think they maybe made some of it up."

John cracks a small smile. Well, Carmina will pretend it's one, anyway.

"The chicken brothers," he repeats.

"You know, Tommy and Matt."

"Do they know that's what you call them?"

"I mean, I've never said it to their faces..."

"That's probably smart."

They reach the truck, which marks the invisible barrier that keeps John out of town. Of course, mom and dad still aren't here. If Carmina climbed up on top of the truck, she might be able to spot them, but it's not like she could get their attention from this far away. So, she's going to have to kill time until they get back.

"Did you eat?" she asks, climbing up into the truck bed.

"I'm fine, Carmina," John replies, a little wearily. Like she's not the first person to bug him about it today — or, maybe like he lacks energy from not eating all day.

She rolls her eyes, but John doesn't see. "Uh-huh." She sits down, pulling the box of food into her lap as she leans back against the cab. "Dad was surprised that there were cookies. Um, not exactly the same, I guess? But still really good." She's not going to give him a chance to turn it down, grabbing one and shoving it in his direction. "Here, try one!"

John, leaning against the side of the truck like he is, is clearly more interested in looking for her parents than humoring her. He definitely looks like he wants to say no. But to her surprise, he actually takes the offered food. It would be weird to stare at him while he eats, so she goes back to debating between a chicken leg or one of the last ribs in the box.

"Not bad," John comments, which is like, crazy, because Carmina definitely isn't goading him into talking.

"They're kind of crumbly," Carmina says, "I dunno if that's what it's supposed to be like. But all the food is really good." She counts the chicken legs out again, just to make sure there's one for each of them. "Um... hey, John? Uh... do chickens eat each other?"

John frowns, chewing the question over with the rest of the cookie. He swallows, then says, "Most animals cannibalize their own if they're desperate enough."

"Oh."

"They would need to be left alone for a lot longer than a few hours," he points out. "Or they would have to be sick. It's more likely a dog will get them before they turn on each other."

Well, at least Carmina can trust John to tell her the truth, even if it's probably not the way her parents would want him to do it. She doesn't even mind him being so blunt about it, either; she's just surprised he's willing to talk to her. She can't help but wonder if this is going to be a normal thing, now that she's ten — is he going to stop being so weird around her? Or is this just a special treat, because of the day? She sure hopes not. It'd be a lot less awkward if John didn't act so scared of her all the time.

Her parents finally join them at the truck. Her mom wrinkles her nose at Carmina sitting in the back again, but she doesn't say anything. Her dad doesn't seem to mind; once he spots the box in Carmina's lap, he reaches over to grab one of the shortbread cookies for himself.

"Sorry about that," he says, "We got held up a couple times. John, you try one of these yet?"

"I did."

"Crazy having home-baked goods again, right?" Her dad waggles the cookie in John's face; John rolls his eyes and circles back around to the tailgate, climbing up into the bed. "Here, Carmina, give me that box so the food doesn't get too cold on the way home."

"You're just gonna eat everything," Carmina objects, handing over the box anyway.

"Nah, come on. Here, you guys grab something for the ride home." He nudges Carmina's shoulder with the box. "You probably worked up an appetite bullying all the older kids out there — and I bet you didn't eat much of anything, either," he adds in John's direction.

"I had a cookie, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'll bet nobody forced you into it, either."

Carmina grins as her dad winks at her. Her mom rolls her eyes, but doesn't keep dad from bullying John a little. "Grab something so we can get going," she tells John, "And make sure she doesn't stand up once we're in drive."

John reluctantly takes a towel-wrapped ear of corn and a single rib, while Carmina goes right for that piece of chicken she'd been eying from the start. That helps her make peace with sitting safely, at least this one time. Next year, she's definitely going to get to ride in back by herself, she can feel it, and she is going to do it standing up!

As Carmina watches the town shrink behind them, she congratulates herself on another successful birthday. It'd been better than she'd expected — she was a little uncomfortable around so many people at first, but now she's pretty sure she can say she's made some friends? And seeing the town full of food and laughter and music... It had been sort of what Carmina imagines Fall's End used to be like. Her parents probably wouldn't agree, but maybe that's okay. Maybe when she's older, she can try and prove to them that things can be just as good as they used to be — even if it's a different kind of good.

[samiii-p]

miss temptation (I don’t think you know) 1/?

aka The Maryan Roommate AU no one asked for 🙃 ao3

“You need a home address by next week or I’m writing you up.”

Fuck

Scratching an 'X' over another available apartment listing in the newspaper, Ryan grunts, blacking it out in her frustration. This one was her last true option within her price range and it was about the size of a walk-in closet with a communal bathroom to boot.

And no, just no. God no.

At least the last one had a view. It was a brick wall of the neighboring apartment but one nonetheless.

“You know for someone who needed this job, you sure don’t look the part.”

Sucking her teeth, Ryan glances up from her troubles, spots Luke in his custom three piece suit, grumbles and glances back at the paper where the only options left cost an arm and a leg to stay. Gotham wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but selling her organs on a monthly basis just to get by didn’t seem all that appealing either.

“What do you want, Luke?”

“Can’t a guy just stop by?”

“Sure.” Ryan says, flipping the newspaper to the next page, maybe she could find something outside of town. The commute would be hell, but at least she’d have an address and her parole officer would finally get off her back. “I take it that’s not what you’re here for though.”

She hears him harrumph and nothing else. He does it a second later, again … and again.

“Okay, how can I help you?” She asks, sliding her current issues down the counter. Another 18 months in jail won’t hurt, let alone leaving the city in shambles when Batwoman disappears again .

Luke tilts his chin, hard line forming between his brows, a look Ryan has grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Even though he’s apologized and promised to give her a chance until Kate’s return, there's still a tiny bit of friction lying beneath the surface no matter how much they both try to ignore it.

Reaching into his breast pocket he unearths a photo and slides it across the bar into Ryan’s line of vision. A picture of a black mask, outlined like a skeleton, stares up at her with cold hard eyes. In the corner a coiled snake is drawn with Luke’s handwriting underneath.

Snakebite - fear toxin/mushrooms

“Um, who or what am I looking at?”

He thumps the photo twice. “I was hoping you could tell me. You said you run in similar circles-”

“- ran.”

“As Victor Zsasz, I was hoping you could tell me a little about our friend here.”

“Sorry to tell you this but, no.” She pushes off the bar with a huff, nodding at the photo. “Whoever this person is, is new in town. At least to me.”

“Yeah, well his snakebite is hitting the streets like a plague and no one knows its source. There’s only this photo as a possible supplier but there’s no name, no facial recognition, no origin or leaks, no nothing.”

“So what do we do?”

“You suit up.”

Heat signature enabled, Ryan takes a look around the abandoned building noting two low level street hands Luke identifies as TJ Pillar: 1 to 3 strike for armed robbery and Curtis Armstrong: out on parole for possession.

“Come on, dude.”

She totally gets how uneasy it is to get back on your feet after spending a little over a year incarcerated but at least try to do better.

“What?” Luke asks through the coms, Ryan ignores him, scouting more of the building. It’s been over an hour and nothing. They wouldn’t be here if no one was coming but it’s growing closer to midnight and she has to be back at work at nine.

“Can’t I just bring them in? It’s late.”

“I mean you could, but it’ll be a waste of time. The guys on the street don’t know anything except to wait for the drop here.”

“And we couldn’t call in Gotham PD or the Crows for surveillance because..?”

“Hey, you wanted the job, this is what it entails.”

Behind the mask, Ryan’s eyes roll, mocking this is what the job entails meh meh, like she's a child grounded for the night, which, all things considered…

“Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Okay! Okay!” Over the coms, Ryan hears hushed voices arguing, a muffled ‘no’ then the sound of chairs being switched, Luke’s voice replaced by Mary’s, “heeey, girl. How ya’ doing?”

She smirks, attitude vanishing the moment the heiress speaks. Call it a general preference to all things sans-Luke based but she’d one hundred present rather talk to Mary until the butt crack of dawn instead of Mr. Kate would do it like this and Kate would do it like that. For starters Mary’s a lot nicer. Calmer. Funnier, I mean the girl’s one liners are top tier, bone tickling funny.

And well, she was a hell of a lot prettier too.

“Oh, you know, just pulling an all-nighter right before my day shift.”

A hiss sounds dramatically over the intercoms, the image of Mary’s twisted face pops up and Ryan can almost see the apple of her cheeks bunching and her eyes closing in that cute ass scrunchy face she makes when she’s thinking hard or embarrassed clear as day.

“Don’t worry about it, you can always come in later.”

“You enable her by making exceptions.”

“Luke!”

“What!?”

More muffled noises, a bang and yelp later Mary comes back on. “What I was getting at is that if you want to come in a little bit late, it’s totally fine or we can even change your schedule to mid-day, as your boss and fellow bat accomplice, I would totally understand.”

The corner of Ryan lips quirks up, “you don’t have to do that.”

“I do. We don’t know for sure how long you’ll be out tonight. Coming in afterwards is going to be draining-”

“It’ll be draining for all of us.” Luke yells.

“Shh!”

Unfortunately, Luke has a point. It's not fair on the team if she’s the only one taking the easy way out when they all have lives and responsibilities outside of the cave to adhere to, and a mid-day shift would never work anyway. Mid-day is Officer Steven’s favorite time of day to intrude on Ryan’s life.

“No that’s okay,” Ryan says, “Luke’s right. I have to put on my big girl panties and suck it up like everyone else, besides, I’m going to be too busy selling body parts for an overpriced cardboard box in the foreseeable future or it's a one way ticket back to Black Gate-”

“Wait, what-?”

“Oh, hold up.” An engine alerts Ryan to an incoming vehicle speeding into the warehouse disrupting their conversation. “We got action.”

Censors pick up on a lone body inside, facial recognition scanners kick on and work to identify the driver’s profile as well as the car’s make, model design, vehicle number and license plate number are all shot over to home base for further analysis. She twitches them off once complete just in time to see a window roll down and a hand throw two duffle bags out the window before speeding off.

“Did we get anything?”

A beat passes before Mary’s back on, “Not yet. Gotham PD and the Crows database has no facial identification, Luke’s expanding the search but the car is unmarked, plates false, even the tires vin numbers have been scrubbed. Whoever this person is, really doesn’t want to be found.”

From Ryan’s personal experience, news like that is never good. Someone that deep undercover either has a checkbook large enough to make themselves disappear or an iron grip so ruthless the utter mention of their name is probable cause for permanent removal. This was going to be harder than any of them expected.

“Keep me posted.”

Kicking off the beam she leaps down sticking another perfect grand entrance; hoping the acclaimed symbol printed on her chest will be enough to scare off the bad guys for once.

She is really tired after all.

Unfortunately, Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb both reach for guns, shooting before she can warn them to stand down. And there goes her ‘early’ night. Figures.

“Ya’ll know I’m fucking bullet proof, right?”

Another bullet ricochets off the suit as she takes a step forward. Idiots. Surprisingly they keep at it until the clip clinks, empty, and Ryan comes face to face with Curtis who tries throwing a punch she easily ducks, coming back up to head butt him so hard his knees crumple. His coworker steps up and he’s a bit more of a challenge throwing blow for blow with her until she ducks up under him and comes back with a roundhouse kick to his Adams apple. He clutches his windpipe, now down on one knee she delivers the final blow to the bridge of his nose.

She picks up the bags and hightails it out of there, latching onto a high beam for an easy escape, and heads towards G.C.P.D where she drops the contraband with a note attached of where they can find the assailants tied up and ready for arrest.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re homeless!?”

Ryan wonders if disrupting her day as a civilian was going to become normal protocol for Luke and Mary going forward and on a recurring basis.

“I wouldn’t say homeless.”

“How else would you classify living out of your van down by the docks?”

“Surviving on wheels – ow!” Ryan giggles, rubbing her shoulder and doesn’t know whether to cower or soothe the frustrating scowl rapidly spreading across her friend’s face. “How’d you find out?”

“I had Luke track you after you left last night.”

“Wow, talk about invasion of privacy.”

“And for good reason, why didn’t you say anything?”

Ryan flips an empty glass, dries it out before placing it on the rack and considers how to move the conversation forward, possibly far, far away from this topic all together. The best she comes up with is, “it’s handled.”

Handled ends up being a 200 square feet one room apartment Mary demands to see. The bedroom, kitchen and living room are all one in the same but at least she has her own bathroom. The walls are paper thin, she’s pretty certain the constant dripping sound is coming from the kitchen, one she can easily fix after a YouTube tutorial or two, and a hotter than hell furnace the landlord warns her not to touch when the temperature is anywhere over 60 F unless she enjoys suffocating.

She watches Mary take in the room, the petite brunette moving in a slow swirl on her heels, lip turned down and Ryan just knows it’s not good when they make eye contact.

“Nu-uh.”

“What do you mean nu-uh?” Confused, Ryan watches Mary storm past her and out the door. “Mary! Mary, what does that mean? Mary!?”

Mary breaks her housing contract. When Ryan tries to object she quickly learns that all 5’2 of Mary Hamilton-Kane is nothing to play against and a powerhouse forced to be reckoned with.

… It kind of gets Ryan hot under the collar watching Mary tell her landlord exactly what’s about to happen, and cutting a check like it's nothing in the process.

Assertive has always kinda been her type.

“You’ll be staying here.”

Mary says, showing Ryan around her penthouse in the upper echelon of Gotham City. The apartment is just shy the size of a department store, the lounge being big enough to take up most of the square footage, built in with four bedrooms, one now officially hers, one for guests and another used for office space and three huge bathrooms big enough to house a football team.

“Jesus,” the name slips under her breath as she takes it all in. This place is – is. It’s too much. “I can’t afford this.”

The carpet under her feet probably cost more money than she'll ever see in her lifetime.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to pay anything.” Ryan quickly gets shut down as Mary carries on, “until you can save enough money to get back on your feet. It’s the least I can do. Being this city’s vigilante is hard work. The last thing you need to worry about is where you’re going to lay your head at night.”

It makes sense, but still. “I’m not comfortable asking you - I won’t use you.”

“You’re not.” The med student emphasizes. Mary takes the box out of her hands and places it on a dresser. “My home is yours now, bestie. Stay as long as you want to.” And before Ryan can prepare herself, Mary’s arms are snug around her waist and her cover girl smile is beaming up at her.

This is going to be terrible.

It’s worse.

Far worse than Ryan could have ever predicted. Not only is Mary super considerate of her new roommate, but she makes her resources Ryan’s own. She’s never slept so good, ate so well or drank water so delicious for that matter. Until recently she thought water was just water but Mary’s fridge is full of this alkaline stuff straight from the mountains, and Ryan swears she can never look back.

“You want pickles?”

Ryan visibly gulps, sitting on the couch, eyes focused on anything other than Mary prancing around the kitchen in her underwear. Mary’s always been super comfortable in her skin but especially at home when she’s surrounded by her things in her place of peace and why shouldn’t she be, this is her home. Ryan wants her to go about as she normally would, actually prefers if Mary pretended Ryan wasn't there altogether. The last thing she wants is to intrude or take up space but she can only take so much. It’s been nearly a month of coming home to Mary asking how her day was, waking up to Mary smiling at her over homemade breakfast or passing out on the couch cuddled together after another failed movie night. There’s only so much she can take.

What they’re doing is borderline domestic. And Ryan’s too gay for this.

“…pickles?”

“Hmm – what?”

“I asked if you want pickles on your sandwich?”

"Uh, sure."

Handing her a plate, Mary plops down on the couch leaving no space between the two and licks the pad of her thumb, humming pleasantly at the taste.

Ryan bites the inside of her cheek. “So, what are we watching?”

Hopefully something gory, and bloody staring a cis-het white male. Anything to take Ryan’s mind off of Mary Hamilton.

Mary chooses Its Okay Not to be Okay on Netflix and by the end of episode 2 both girls are huddled together, simping hard for all the three leading actors. Mary is obsessed with Kim Soo-Hyun's entire face and Ryan’s pretty sure if Seo Ye-Ji stomped on her in six inch heels and dragged her through the mud, she’d thank her.

At least they can agree Oh Jung-se is a freaking king and is killing his role as Moon Sang Tae.

It's nearly midnight before they start to turn in, cleaning up the little mess they made, Ryan shuts off the lights and walks Mary to her room; the first door to the right.

“Night.”

It kind of feels like a date, which is absurd. She knows. But can you blame her when pillow soft lips press against her cheek and Mary breathes, “sleep tight, Ryan” in her ear. Its stupid. She’s being stupid, and seeing things that arent there. Or maybe she needs to get laid. Whatever she needs to do, Mary can’t be a part of it.

After weeks of failed interrogations the team finally manages to catch a break. A source looking to get out and start over leaks the warehouse location where a scheduled supply of ingredients are due to be shipped in at any day now. Niko of course makes Batwoman promise to protect him at all cost and that means working with the Crows.

“Where’s the shipment being dropped?” Sophie asks.

“Unimportant.”

The lieutenant cocks her head to the side, unsurprised at how this conversation is going. The Bat has never worked well with authority in this town, no matter who dons the emblem.

“The only thing I need is for you to make sure Niko is somewhere safe, undetected.”

“Is he at least willing to stand trial in the event you manage to catch this guy?”

“I think that all depends on if your team can keep him alive. Crow.”

The alley is dark, damp and the chill fogs Sophie’s breath as she sighs. “You're going to get yourself killed. I know you have something against my badge and everything it stands for, but it can do some good if you let it. Now, tell me where the shipment is and I can have my team there as back up in seconds. We can get this drug and these thugs off the street.”

That word makes Ryan's jaw tingle. Thug. Of course a Crow wouldn't understand that sometimes people do bad things to make ends meet, but it doesn't make them bad people. To a Crow they’re all the same and need to be locked away never to see the light of day again. Including her.

“Focus on our informant. If I need you for anything else I know how to find you.” And she’s gone, vanished in a cloud of fog.

“Nice job pissing off potential allies.” Ryan switches her coms off.

The warehouse is guarded heavily by six men up top, double the number at the bottom not including the others unloading trucks full of supplies. Photo analysis identifies them and sends the information to Gotham P.D. before she strikes.

“Hope you’re ready for this. If we’re lucky this can all be over tonight.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Taking it as his cue, Luke hits the lights covering the warehouse in complete darkness. Motion sensors switch on and Batwoman moves into action. The training her team insists she go through pans out as she’s able to take out four guys twice her size in fast compact moves. One guy goes over the railing after she cracks him in the nuts with the steel toe of her boot. His strangled whimper is heard all the way down, but hey, no one ever said this was going to be a fair fight.

The team at the bottom catches on and gun fire immediately follows, running across the bridge Ryan spreads her arms and flies through the air, her red and black cape bellows behind her as she sticks another perfect superhero landing. All at once it seems like twenty people are coming at her from all different angles but as always she's quick on her feet tying a handful of them up by their ankles and running through the rest with a non lethal taser, just enough to subdue until she can contain everyone before she starts asking questions.

“We ain’t telling you shit!”

Another guy spits on her shoe, the red of his blood splattering against her boot and she rolls her eyes. There’s no need to be nasty.

“Look, I’m trying to help you guys out here.” Spotting a pair of boobs in the corner, she course corrects, “and girls - theys? Whatever! I’m trying to help you all out here. This thing,” she holds up a box of snakebite, “is killing the community and while it may bring you all brief satisfaction, financially, what’s it going to do for your futures when you get caught, to your families?”

“Who knew the new edition of the Bat came with such a bleeding heart?”

“Well, she does. So if anyone here is willing to tell me anything that’ll point me in the right direction of your boss, I promise I can protect you, get you somewhere safe.”

From the little the authorities have been able to dig up about this gang, anyone willing to betray their leader either winds up dead or living their last days in a vegetative state. That’s why it’s so important to have Niko, no matter the length it takes to protect him, it was for the sake of Gotham.

“I said-!”

“I heard you the first time,” Ryan says, cutting him off, “And I don’t know what you’re used to but I’m only going to tell you how this is played once. I ask the questions and you give me the answers, if you don’t, have fun rotting in jail or better yet … I can let the little I do know out onto the streets.” She bends down right in front of the man and lifts his rabbit mask, exposing his face. In seconds she knows his name. “I’m sure your boss would love to know who’s ratting him out, huh, Robert Michael Humprey?”

The terror in his eyes says it all.

[metoo-desu]

Sorry! Wrong Slayer! - 2/?

’I think you should reconsider that joke if he’s a hindrance to your missions. But then again, he managed to find the right receiver this time. An improvement in his performance?’

It’s been three days since Poya came back with a response, feeling extremely proud of her crow for getting his job done and right, earning himself a short break. Y/n had also received Shinobu’s crow, who provided very vague details about the stranger who has been sending Poya back to her with messages. Disappointed with the her friend’s details, she sent back Shinobu’s crow with a few curse words, quite bothered that the Insect Pillar refused to give her a name except, ‘Oh. That guy? He’s cool, I guess. He’s around our age. You’ve heard of him and seen him around.’ 

Y/n let out a groan just thinking about it, splashing at the water out of frustration. Leaving the banks of the gentle river she bathed in, she quickly collected her clothing that had been drying in the sun. 

“Who could it be?” 

She never really paid attention to her surroundings at the Butterfly Estate, usually keeping to herself and hanging around the people she knew and felt comfortable with unless others had business with her. It also didn’t help that she rarely visited the estate. 

The demon slayer quickly dressed and went on her way towards a westernized-town for her newly assigned mission delivered by a different crow Oyakata gladly sent. Poya followed after, perching himself on her shoulder and happily eating the berries and seeds she’d hold up for him throughout the trip. By the time Y/n arrived, the sun had already set, bringing the town to life with lights, music, and fun— somewhere a demon would gladly lurk around for their next and easy prey. 

“Fly, Poya.”

With the simple command, the crow left her shoulder and flew away to hide. Y/n didn’t receive any details about the demon, but all she knew was that they prefer young ladies. Bodies were found in unsuspecting places, meaning that the demon knew well of the area and is clever. Her katana would be a dead giveaway that she’s a slayer and the demon would try to avoid her at all cost unless if they were bold enough to confront her. So while she brushed and bumped past people in the crowd to be in the heart of the town, Y/n hid her sword out of plain sight under her haori before wrapping her patterned clothing. 

Searching for a demon amongst a large crowd seemed rather difficult, especially in a setting similar to the Red Light District. Y/n thought of her friend who preferred these types of missions, claiming it perfect for his flamboyancy— surely he would have completed this mission in no time. 

“Nothing I can’t handle though,” Y/n hummed, thinking of another way to lure the demon out. “If I can’t track it down, then I’ll give them the honor to track me down.”

It was a technique she learned from watching the Wind Pillar not too long ago when they were partnered up. She reached up to her head and removed the pin that held her hair together, removing the tiny blade from its scabbard before pricking her finger and applying the blood on her lips. It was way better than how Sanemi would do it, who’d run his blade across his wrist and spill more than necessary. And so she walked around with blood stained lips, spreading her scent through the crowd and hoped the demon would catch the scent of her rare blood. 

It didn’t take awhile before she noticed a man following her while in a drunken state. She rounded to a corner and so did he, leading him into a less crowded area. He increased his speed and caught up to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her flush against his body. 

He reeked of alcohol. So he wasn’t the demon after all. 

Y/n pushed the man away and glared at him in disgust, “Get your hands off me before I cu—“ she stopped mid-sentence when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. 

“Is this man bothering you?” 

Her eyes stared at the hand, slowly trailing up to its owner. “He was,” she answered, staring into the new stranger’s blue eyes. “But I’ve got it under control.” She watched the drunk man scurry away from her peripheral vision, seeing the fear on his face. 

“That man,” he spoke, nodding at the retreating figure. “He’s known to bother ladies. Somebody ought to put him in place and I was afraid it would have been me. Wouldn’t work out so well for him if that were the case.”

Y/n smiled, not at what he said but at her realization. She chuckled, “Either way, it wouldn’t have worked out well for him if you hadn’t interfered. Lucky man.” She stepped away from him to stand face to face with the man. “But thank you for that. I didn’t want to find myself in a fight on my first night here before I get to look around.”

“Oh, you’re not from here?” He looked down at her, licking at his lips. “Lucky you, I know this place like the back of my hand. Would you like a tour?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind someone showing me around. A good company is always welcome to me!”

The two walked around, walking from stall to stall as Y/n purchased a few things she planned on giving out to her Pillar friends once she comes back. Later throughout their time together, the man who introduced himself as Ito offered to show her to his favorite place.

“It’s a spot with the best view of the town. Do you want to check it out?” 

Y/n pocketed her little souvenirs and agreed, “Yes! I’d like to see the lights.” 

And the two went off to his secret spot, walking towards a dark ally. Y/n’s guard went up quickly went they reached the end of it. Ito smiled, gesturing to the ladder next to him. 

“After you,” she told him, watching him climb the steps before following him. He offered his hand when she reached the roof of the building, but she ignored it and helped herself up, immediately running to the edge of the building with Ito right behind her. 

Ito watched her, feeling himself already salivating over the scent of his rare prey— a marechi. He heard her gasp in awe at the view. 

“Wow! This is beautiful, Ito!” Y/n exclaimed, opening her arms as she welcomed the cool breeze. She twirled around in excitement, letting out a laugh. 

“I told you that you’d lo—“ He stopped when he felt an itch on his neck right before the world started to tilt. Ito looked to Y/n, who stood there with a sword in hand and the most blank expression he’s seen on her.

A demon slayer?

When did she pull out her sword? 

Y/n looked back to the view, admiring it once more before she goes on to her next mission. “You’re quite lucky to have such a view during your final moment. Not many are lucky,” she said. “I did enjoy your company. Being a demon slayer can be quite lonely so thank you for that.” 

When Ito completely dissipated, a black bird flew over to her. “You’re not Poya,” she mused. “Who could you be? Assigning me another mission already? I’ve yet to complete the next one.”

“I bring not an assignment but a message to Y/n!” 

The slayer nodded curly for it to continue. 

‘Did you really consider killing that crow of yours?’

And so he’s sending his crow over to her now? Y/n held out her arm for the crow to perch on, laughing as she gave it her response. 

“Training took a toll on Poya, so he’s on temporary leave until he’s up and well-rested. Guess we’ll be using your crow as point of contact, wrong slayer. At least there’ll be no delays and crash-landings that really might just kill my poor crow. I heard you were also a busy man, are you that bored that you want to keep sending crows?”

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

“I’m not bored.”

Giyu leaned back on the tree, his crow perched on a high branch, waiting for an instruction. The cicadas sang around him as he thought of a response, coming up with nothing after ten minutes besides getting irritated with himself. So he walked away without sending out a response. 

The next day, Poya appeared beside his crow with a message.

’What? Are you embarrassed? Is that why you didn’t send yours? Poya’s lame and I get embarrassed, but I still send him over to you. And Shinobu refuses to tell me your name, so it kinda sucks you know mine. Who are you?’

Y/n did sound familiar, hearing her name being mentioned by the other Pillars during the meetings. In fact, she was mentioned again in today’s meeting by Tengen who asked about her absence. Curiosity got the best of him that he had to push a little bit of his pride away and ask someone about her and that someone was no other than Shinobu.

Of course, he regretted the moment she laughed at him.

“Y/n is our newest Pillar, promoted about two weeks ago while you were gone out for a mission. Today was supposed to be her first meeting actually. Pretty bummed out because of that,” Shinobu finally answered him. She pouted, “Honestly, I’m quite surprised that you don’t know her. She was always around the Butterfly Estate before she got promoted, usually with me and Mitsuri. Now, she’s mostly away, picking up mission after mission.”

Giyu nodded, “I see. That’s all I need.”

Shinobu grinned, “Why do you ask? Does Poya’s owner pique your interest?”

“Tengen mentioned her.”

“Really now?” Her purple eyes narrowed at him mischievously. He left her before she could interrogate and tease him further.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Two crows flew over trees, cawing like there was no tomorrow while one lagged behind. Y/n sat behind a cart she managed to hitch a ride from, swinging her legs as she waited for the two crows to come down to her. The Pillar finished the series of her missions Oyakata assigned for her, finally on her way home to the Butterfly Estate for the first time in two weeks. Both birds swooped down and landed next to her.

’You’re a Pillar, how come you didn’t attend the meeting?’

“Oh right! There was a meeting,” Y/n gasped. “I’m sure Oyakata would understand. Well..”

^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Giyu crossed his arms in disbelief at the new Pillar’s excuse of her absence, who admitted she forgot about the meeting and unintentionally did a—

’No crow, no show.’

The Water Pillar was quite flabbergasted.

Poya and his crow cawed at each other as they waited for Giyu for his response, hopping along and following the man who casually walked through the estate’s garden. It was an unusual sight to the passersby, seeing the man who was usually disliked by animals of all kinds, to be accompanied by two crows. 

And they seemed to be enjoying his presence.

“What in the hell?” Sanemi being one of them to witness such phenomenon grumbled to himself, annoyed by the racket the crows were making on such a peaceful day. 

Kyoujurou approached the raven-haired man, curiously eyeing the crows for a quick second before he spoke to Giyu. 

“Oyakata-sama requests for your presence.”

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Y/n scoffed, “How could this guy scold me through Poya? Who the hell does he think he is doing that after figuring I’m a Pillar? I’ve no message to relay, just shit on him, Poya.”

Poya loudly refused.

With a nasally voice, she mimicked what the man told her while walked to the direction opposite of the Butterfly Estate, being assigned on a last minute mission as soon as she was three towns away from home. “‘You need to be more responsible as a Pillar. If you can’t attend a single meeting and call it a no crow, no show, then you don’t deserve to be one.’”

“It’s not my fault. Whatever! Go, Poya! Shit on him!” 

And once again, the bird refused. 

[i-really-do]

I want to get back into writing and what better way to start with my guilty pleasure Yu-Gi-Oh 5D’s? I’ll be adding new one shots or whatever from time to time. I hope you have as much fun reading as I have writing.

Enjoy!

Prompt: Person A is a customer who is obsessed with the way Person B, a barista at a local coffee shop, makes their pumpkin spiced latte every morning.

By @olicitytropes

Don’t throw me away 

Every breath she took built small clouds around her face. She put her scarf further up her face. It was only October and she already felt the ice creeping up her bones. Every autumn she promised herself she would go back to Italy. At least for a week. And every winter she barely scraped by.  Her nose hurt when she sniffed. She could imagine how she looked. A woman tucked away under a jacket and a coat on top of that and a scarf which hid nearly her whole face. Her hands were in some thick cloth gloves. They made her hands at least 2 or 3 sizes bigger. And she had boots that reached all the way up to her knees.  The siberian marcher. That was her nickname every fucking winter. What can you do when you are used to much gentler autumn and winter days. In Italy winters meant 10 degrees plus not 30 degree minus.  Cordelia let out a deep sigh and regretted it in the next second. Her lungs filled with the icy air and it burned her inside out. The urge to cough rose quickly. She held it back. The burning cold air wobbled inside of her. Finally she caved. The coughing got so bad she had to stop on the street and just let it out. It felt like minutes until she could walk again. With her gloved hand she smeared across her face. She could feel all sorts of sticky stuff. Disgusted with herself she wept everything on her coat. But she could still feel something on her face. So she kept rubbing until she was certain it was gone.  Well as certain as someone with near frostbites could be.  She put her scarf back on and kept walking. The only good thing about this freaking weather was she could get any hold drink and not feel bad about the few bucks. Especially now shortly before Halloween she could get all the pumpkin spice latte. The barista was a nice plus. Just thinking of him made Cordelia a bit warmer. His hair was the best of him. It had the same orange colour as literal pumpkins and it was so messy. It didn’t seem like he ever combed it. She really wanted to touch it. A smirk formed under Cordelia's scarf. But she would have to be fast, because the staff would change in a few minutes. Reflexively she looked at her wrist. Her watch was buried under a ton of clothes. Forcing another sigh down her throat she began to walk faster. Finally she reached the entrance. There was barely anybody in there. Just the barista, his blonde coworker and two coffee drinkers who practically lived in their newspaper. Cordelia pushed the door open. The bell above made a faint tingle. The baristas were in the middle of a conversation and Cordelia nearly felt rude for interrupting it. When they heard the bell both turned and put on their best customer-is-always-right smile. Other than the forced smile you would never guess that they had been here the whole night. Well maybe they weren’t but the shop had insane operating hours so she just assumed.  “Oh wow did we get hit with a cold front in the last hour?”, the orange haired barista jocked. Cordelia never learned his name. 

Well, you could warm me up.

With a crooked grin she shoved the scarf a bit down. The warmth of the store burnt on her ice cold skin. “I can’t help it, this weather is a serious threat to my health”, Cordelia's voice was throughty and she sounded like a kids cartoon.  Both baristas looked at Cordelia as if she summoned an ancient marshmallow in front of their faces. She tried her best to clear her throat.  “Anyway”, said the orange haired man, “ehhh, you get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, right?” 

Yeah, I’m THAT basic.

 Cordelia noded. She didn’t dare to say another word. “Coming right up!” She moved over to the blonde one and paid for her drink. While she paid with her card, which she had already prepared, she spied over to the other worker. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but whenever he prepared a drink he put a tiny bit extra effort into it.  The way he slid across the floor to get the cup was the best and worst part of her day. Best, because she got to see him. Worst, because this was literally a highlight.  With a raised eyebrow the blond man looked down on her. He was at least one head taller than her. The man towered over her and everyone else. She didn’t notice the look he gave her, her attention still rested on the orange haired man.  If Cordelia had any guts she would ask for his name. But Cordelia didn’t have those. Instead she just starred.  As he poured the drink into a plastic cup the pumpkin scent filled the room. Everything got soaked. She unconsciously bit her lip in anticipation. Other than him working there was no sound or at least no sound which Cordelia paid any attention to.  The man turned around for a second, smiled at her and looked at his co-worker. She couldn’t place his facial expression. Was he pleading? “Say you don’t come from here, do you?”, the blond man’s voice took her out of the trance she basically was in. It took her a few seconds to register him. “Mh, eh no I-I grew up in Italy”, the stupid stammering came back. It always did, whenever she got surprised. She made a fist with one of her hands, well she tried to, but the cloth was simply too thick. Her fingers barely touched each other. “Oh, Italy! Never been there. How is it?” “A lot warmer, but not as friendly as here.” A smile formed on his face: “So why do you torture yourself in this weather?” 

Because I REALLY want to get into the pants of your co-worker.

 “At first studying, and now work. Beggars can’t be choosers”, she shrugged. “Well it’s nice to have such loyal customers especially at this hour”, the orange haired man walked over with her pumpkin spice latte in his hands. In his other hand he still had the pen.  “You really don’t have to write my name on the cup. I mean”, she gestured around, “who else could be getting a latte right now?” “Haha, it’s basically muscle memory at this point. Besides, Cordelia is a beautiful name.” 

Show SOME guts!

 She smiled at him brightly.  At this point she would always run. How often was she at a similar point? Maybe a dozen times. Nothing would ever change. She would walk out that door. Not a tiny bit closer to learning his name or anything about him. Cordelia would always stay the same. Except when she didn’t. “Say, I never asked for your names. Would you mind telling me?”, her voice was shaking a bit. But she did it. She asked THE question.  Both looked surprised.  “Sure, I’m Jack and this is Crow”, the blonde one spoke.  Crow looked, smirked at her and his eyes seemed bigger than before.  “Jack, Crow”, she nodded at both of them”, the morning is a pleasure with baristas like you. See you tomorrow.” As a farewell she held the cup high and cheered to them. In the next second she pulled the scarf up her face and walked out the door.  Just as she was walking out the next shift walked in. Cordelia stayed and held the door open. It was a red haired woman and a black haired guy with yellow streaks. She always wondered if they were coloured or natural. Both smiled politely. Their eyes were nearly closed and the woman yawned while she walked to the back of the store.  Behind Cordelia she could hear Jack and Crow whispering. She could not make out the words. Cordelia didn’t look back. If the next shift was already there she had to move it. Otherwise she would come late to the morning huddle. And her boss was always pissed when he had to wait for someone.  With big steps she made her way through the people who slowly emerged from their hibernation.  ------- A big sigh left her lips as she finally dropped into her office chair. Cordelia was tempted to kick off her shoes and call it a day. But it was barely 9 am.  She made it on time. But she had to run a few meters and that really sucked all of her life out of her. Her only saving grace was another co worker who came in late. Otherwise the boss would have roasted her.   As she sipped on the latte a loud gurgling noise came from it. The smell of pumpkin vanished completely. Now only the stench of plastic remained.  When did she drink all of that? Disappointed she put the drink at the edge of her desk. The cleaning lady was going to come through any minute and she was nice enough to throw it away immediately.    Without looking Cordelia pulled out her laptop, started it, put in her headphones and put on her reading glasses. Within seconds she was working on some numbers. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she entered new numbers and deleted some old ones.  This was her zone. She could work for hours like this. The time would fly by and then she could get home, shower and- “Excuse me.” Cordelia nearly jumped out of her chair as a hand tapped her shoulder.  

Motherf-

 She pulled on the cord and her earphones popped out. The music was faintly hearable. Some stupid love song was playing. The cleaning lady looked at her a bit frightened. With a sharp breath Cordelia let go of the tension and she hoped it would be done soon.  “What is it?”, the words still came out harsher than she wanted. She formed a smile, but it felt fake so she quickly dropped it. “I-I just wanted to ask if you saw the message on the cup”, the cleaning lady held the empty cup up. 

Probably my name, you…

 “What message do you mean?” The cleaning lady smiled at her. “You might want to keep it.” Before Cordelia could protest the cup was shoved into her hands and the lady scooted off.  “Okay what’s so special?”, she murmured to herself. As she turned to the message she saw there were two lines.  The first one was short and the second one long.  Cordelia’s eyes got wide. Within seconds her face turned red she could feel the heat that suddenly radiated from her cheeks. And a small giggle escaped her lips. The best present of the year. And she nearly threw it away.  Without thinking she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were slippery and she had to double check the number on the screen.  She quickly saved the number and let the phone slip into her pocket. Right now she couldn’t text. Her boss was pissed enough as it was.  But lunch was coming quickly. With a big stupid grin on her face she returned her attention to her work. At some point she started to hum and time didn’t move quite like it should have. ----- Once it was finally time for her lunch she slumped back. Her earphones already laid on the table and her glasses joined them after a second. She practically threw them.  The last 3 hours felt like a whole work week. The time barely moved, because she was very deep in her thoughts and still managed to look at the clock every other second.  Her work was boring as always. The thing that occupied her mind was: What would she write?  “Hi” ?“The frozen italian girl here” ?“Could I come over and you warm me up?”  So many possibilites to fuck this up.  Her coworkers dissolved around her. Nobody stayed in the building. Everybody went out. Well everyone except Cordelia. Slipping into her 2 layers was too much of a hassle for a 45 minute break.  She pulled out her phone and nervously tapped on it. The screen looked like a disco. Going on and out in seconds. She still had no idea what to write, but she didn’t want to wait any longer.  Well, she could simply call.   An evil grin spread across her face.  

Why not go all in and make a video call? What’s the worst that could happen?

 She pushed the images that crept into her mind down way down. If that should happen she would need to find a new coffee shop. Or even better a new place to work. But she was pretty certain that wouldn’t happen. At least she hoped.  God what was she thinking? Cordelia had made up her mind and walked into the bathroom. Fixed her hair and got rid of some slightly smeared makeup. Next she scouted a nice spot where she wouldn’t be bothered.  She decided on one of the break rooms. It had a nice painting on the wall.  

Maybe he will think I have a life outside of the coffee shop and work. Haha. Who am I kidding?

 With one last exhale she started the call.  Ringing once Ringing twice Ringing th- “Give me a second”, that was Crow’s voice followed by some rumbling. Nothing could be seen on screen. After a few seconds a light flashed across the screen a strand of his orange hair came into frame.  “I didn’t expect a video”, his voice was barely audible but he sounded impressed. Well at least that’s what Cordelia heard.  She just smiled awkwardly at the camera.  Crow pulled something over his head and then he finally picked up the phone.  He looked more sleepy than a few hours ago. His hair was tangled and messier than before. But his smile was still the same. Bright and crooked. For a second she felt her cheeks getting all hot again. “Were you not afraid you could see...you know?”, he walked around the room and kept looking away from the camera. There was some noise in his background, but Cordelia couldn’t hear anything clearly. “Well if I had seen HIM, I could have easily decided if we should skip the dating part and go straight to…” 

WHAT THE HELL JUST FELL OUT OF MY MOUTH?

 Cordelias hand went up to her face and she covered her mouth.  WHOOPS. Crow’s end was silent, but his phone shook violently. The background noises were dead as well. “If you are cursing at me or something, I can’t hear you, you are muted.” In a split second hell broke loose on the other end. Cordelia looked unsure. She couldn’t make out a single noise. After a few moments it got quiter. There was laughter. So many different people laughing.  

Oh no.

 Crow came back into frame. In his eyes were tears and he still was shaking from all the laughter. “Well, eh, I don’t mean to brag but.... I’d prefer we don’t skip the dating thing, because man....” He wiped a tear out of his face. “If you don’t take her I’ll do it!”, a voice from somwhere in the background shouted. “Shut up”, Crow looked away from the camera, still laughing. “So what do you say?”, he asked Cordelia. Cordelia suppressed a grin as she answered: “Coffee?” The smile on his face froze a bit and he looked like a wet cat. “Geez, that was a joke.” He immediately sighed with relief: “You’re a little jokester, he. I know a comedy club. I might get us tickets for this weekend.” “Sounds good” “Perfect! Let’s meet at the Greenhill cinema. Do you know where that is?” “Sure. See you.” “See ya” The call ended abruptly. Cordelia bit on her lip. That was way different than what she had imagined. Way better... “Task failed successfully”, Cordelia giggled at herself.

-----------------------------

Well there you have it. My first one shot in FOREVER. (literal years) I would be very happy to hear your opinion! Thanks for reading. 

Notes:

Yeah Jack is pretty ooc because he is ACTUALLY useful working. That's what AU's are for.

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                 Chapter 6:  Cleaning Up

Source:  @TeamCarisi

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Read It On AO3

They don’t ask for permission.  Kaitlyn wants fresh clothes and Mike wants fresh scenery, so they just leave his place and go to her apartment.  If someone’s watching and wants to complain, let them.  He wears a watch cap and sunglasses, just as a nod to behaving, but he grumbles even about that.  

“Friggin’ eight-and-a-half million people livin’ in this city, they think anyone’s gonna notice me.  It’s ridiculous.”

“You’re so damn cute when you’re grouchy,” Kaitlyn murmurs, snuggling closer to him in the back of their cab.  

Mike smiles despite himself. He almost falls into the familiar groove of his irritation with his situation, but it’s hard when he’s just been gloriously boned and there’s a beautiful woman smiling up at him.  “Just wait ‘til the government kidnaps you, we’ll see how cute you are” he mutters.

Mike smirks a little as they enter Kaitlyn’s apartment.  

“What?”  She asks.  

He indicates one wall of the hallway just inside her door.  “Just have some fond memories of that wall, that’s all.”

Kaitlyn rolls her eyes and tries to act annoyed, but it’s hard to hide her grin.  “Stop it.  You’ll embarrass me.”

“I doubt that very much,” he says, and pulls her to him.  “We could do it again,” he whispers into her ear.

“We could.  But there was some discussion of pancakes.”

“Couldn’t we have both?”

“Mmmmm,” Kaitlyn hums as he begins kissing down her neck.  “We absolutely could.  Which one do you want first?”

“Pancakes.  I’m going to need my strength if I’m gonna hold you up.”

Mike finds that being at Kaitlyn’s apartment is just as comfortable as being at his dad’s.  They’re both homes.  Lived in.  He’s been here before and recognizes things.  Of course, the two times he’s been in Kaitlyn’s apartment before, he spent very little time looking around, but still.  

They spend a delightful, lazy day, just enjoying each other and doing very little except making love and talking.  In the early evening, Kaitlyn’s phone rings when they’ve just woken up from a short doze and are debating getting up for a shower.  To both of their surprise, it’s Sonny Carisi.  

“Hey, Sonny.”

“Hi, Kaitlyn, just callin’ to see if you got to see Mike last night like you planned.”

“I did – listen, Sonny, can you give me just a second?  I need to check something.”

“Sure.”

Kaitlyn hits the mute icon and looks over at Mike.  “I don’t… What do you need here?  Should I call him back when you’re not here, or…”

“I’m good.  I just wanna talk to him, is all.  I guess just talk to him like normal.  As if I wasn’t here.”

“I could put him on speaker, so you can hear him, at least…”  She really doesn’t know what the right thing to do is here.

“Yeah… OK.  I’d like that.  We just won’t tell him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Kaitlyn touches the speaker icon and says, “OK, Sonny, sorry about that.  Yeah, I did get to see him.  He looks great.”  She smiles at Mike.

“How was it?  I mean, seein’ him again?  You guys handle it OK?”

“Better than OK.  It was… wonderful.  The Chief was there, just in case I freaked out or anything, but it was actually just nice.  Easy. So he left pretty quick.  Mike and I talked about you.  He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“This is such bullshit. I know Rafael was a little freaked out, but me, I’m fine!  Even Rafael’s used to the idea now.  Not as eager to see Dodds as I am, but he’s OK.  I should be able to see him.  It’s not like he’s a zombie or anything.  He never was really dead.”

Mike snickers at that, and Sonny hears him.

“What was…  Was that him?  Is he there with you?”

Kaitlyn looks at Mike, a little bit panicked.  But Mike just smiles and indicates that she should tell Sonny he’s there.

“Yeah, Sonny. Sorry.  He’s here.  He, um… well, he misses you, too, so I put you on speaker so he could hear your voice. Sorry.  Do you want me to take you off, or…?”

“Hell, no!  Tell him to talk to me!  I’m not gonna have a heart attack, promise!”

“Hi, Sonny,” Mike says, smiling even wider.

“Oh, shit!  Dodds?”

“Yeah.  And not a zombie, either, although you don’t need to worry about that.  They eat brains.”

“Holy hell!  You really are alive!  I’d know that juvenile sense of humor anywhere!  Shit, buddy, it’s so great to hear your voice!”

“Yours, too, believe me. Lookin’ forward to seein’ your ugly mug again.”

“Who’s ugly?  I’m the one married to the hottest guy in Manhattan, and you’re…  Hey, wait! Are you guys, like, together? You’re not naked right now, are you?”

Mike and Kaitlyn just laugh, because yes, they are.  

“Well, good.  I’m glad I interrupted something.  You deserve it, you fuck.  I carried your damn casket.  Thought I was gonna start bawlin’ right there in front of the Commissioner and every cop on the force.”

“I know, man.  I’m sorry.  Really.”

“Naw, I’m just…  It sucked, thinkin’ you died.  That’s all I meant.”

“Shit, you’re gonna have me bawlin’ in a minute,” Mike chuckles, but he’s clearly affected.

“Listen, if I’m mentally stable enough to talk to you on the phone, why can’t we meet and have a beer or something?  Face to face?”

“I’m not supposed to even be talking to you, dude.  I can’t go out in public yet.  Two more days.”

Kaitlyn interrupts.  “Could he come here?” She asks softly.

Mike gets a look on his face like a naughty schoolboy.  He’s really enjoying breaking the rules, now that the whole thing is almost over and the feds are probably not going to throw his ass in Leavenworth for a few minor infractions at the end.  

“Carisi, Kaitlyn says you could come over here.  That’d be OK, I think, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

“Fuck, yeah!”  Sonny cries.  “Can I bring Rafael?”

“Of course,” Mike laughs. “But make sure he’s really ready. It’s fine if he needs to wait.”

“I’ll ask him, but I know what he’ll say.  He’ll gripe at me for treatin’ him like some delicate flower.”

Mike laughs fondly.  “You guys sound like an old married couple.”

“I’ll text you my address,” Kaitlyn says happily.  “But you’ll need to bring alcohol.  I think I have one Corona and the dregs of a bottle of vodka.”

“You got it,” Sonny squeals, and he sounds like an overexcited kid.  “We’re leavin’ now!”

Mike and Kaitlyn laugh as they hang up.  Kaitlyn texts Sonny her address and then joins Mike in the shower.  

 Sonny and Mike hug for a long time.  They’re both a little teary, and neither’s trying to hide it.  

“You have no idea, man,” Mike says quietly when they finally let go.

Sonny squeezes his shoulder. “I can imagine.  It’s good to have you home.  Missed the hell out of you.”

Rafael holds out a hand to shake, which is so Rafael that Mike has to laugh.  Still, they can all see the emotion in Barba’s face as he shakes Mike’s hand heartily.  “Welcome home,” he says.

“Let’s drink!”  Sonny shouts merrily, taking the large, brown paper bag Rafael’s been holding.  

They all troop down the hall to Kaitlyn’s tiny kitchen, where Sonny pulls beer and a bottle of scotch from the bag and sets them on the counter.  

“Wow!”  Mike exclaims when he sees the scotch.  “Twelve-year-old Macallan!”

“Damn right,” Sonny crows. “We’re celebrating!”

As soon as they all have drinks, they head back to the living room and find comfortable seats. Sonny and Rafael are next to each other on the couch and Mike’s on a big, soft easy chair next to it.  Kaitlyn feels a little like an interloper at first, but it’s fun to listen to them talk shop.  It’s clear that Sonny and Mike have a deep respect for one another as well as a firm friendship, and it’s equally clear that Sonny and Rafael are insanely happy together.  Besides, she’s feeling a warm joy that the excellent scotch only makes better.

After a while, Sonny and Mike start reminiscing about a case they investigated that didn’t result in any charges being filed, which means Rafael wasn’t involved.  He turns to Kaitlyn then and asks her about law school.  He’s just being polite at first, but soon they’re chatting away and telling horror stories and Kaitlyn realizes that her first impression of Rafael Barba was right.  He’s someone she could really come to like.  

When they realize they’ve both finished their drinks, Kaitlyn asks if he’d like a refill, which causes him to hem and haw a little – he and Sonny have to work tomorrow – but in the end, he agrees.  He takes Sonny’s glass from his hand without a word, and Sonny lets him with a fleeting, affectionate grin.  The wordless communication between them is adorable.  Kaitlyn, however, has to ask Mike what he wants.  He asks for a beer.  

In the kitchen, Kaitlyn pops the caps off of two beers while Rafael pours another scotch for himself and Sonny.  

“You guys seem really happy,” she says, making conversation.

“I’ll be happier when he passes the bar and starts practicing law.”

“How long now?”

“He graduates in June, then there’s the bar.”

“And until then, he’s on the street getting shot at.”  It’s a guess, but she can see immediately she’s right.

“Exactly.”

“Huh.  You’re not making dating a cop seem very attractive.”

Rafael turns to Kaitlyn and leans against the counter, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s not for the faint-hearted, you know.”

Kaitlyn frowns.  “This is going to sound insane, given that Mike’s actually been killed in the line of duty once,” she makes a face to acknowledge that for the poor joke it is.  “But I hadn’t really thought about that until right this minute.”

“Well, think about it. Because it’s real.  You’ve never dated a cop before?”

“Believe it or not, with all the cops in my life, and working for the NYPD, I never have.  No lawyers, either.”

“Who’s left?”  Barba asks with a smirk.

“Honestly, I don’t date much.  Never have. I did date a financial adviser once, and a plumber.”

“Those could come in handy.”

“Yeah.  I liked the plumber, too.  That lasted a while.”

“I dated a zookeeper once.”

“No way!”

“He ended up being a complete moron, but I got to pet an elephant.  It was worth it.”  

Kaitlyn laughs and Rafael picks up Sonny’s drink.  “Just be careful, Kaitlyn.  Dating a cop is not like dating a normal guy.  It can get tough.”

“I appreciate the heads up. Thanks.”

When they step back into the living room, Rafael hands Sonny his drink and sits back down next to him. Kaitlyn hands Mike his beer.  She doesn’t go back to her chair.  Instead, she sits down on the floor in front of his chair, between his shins, where she can be touching him.  She hadn’t liked sitting all the way across the room from him, even though it’s a small room.  Uh-oh, she thinks.  I might be falling for this guy.  

*********

Resuming a life after being declared dead comes with a host of unexpected complications, some nearly insurmountable.  It ends up taking a month and the intervention of some fairly highly-placed officials in the Justice Department before the New York Department of Motor Vehicles finally admits that Mike is, in fact, alive, and reissues his drivers’ license.  The pencil-pushers in Human Resources at the NYPD are similarly stubborn about accepting that Mike’s Social Security number is valid.

Kaitlyn has a grand time with that one.  Whatever system they run Social Security numbers through tells them that the holder of that number is dead.  Never mind that they’ve all seen the news and know he’s not; the computer says he’s dead, so dead he is.  There are all kinds of new requirements for proof of employability after 9/11, and the NYPD’s HR Director keeps squawking about his responsibilities under the Patriot Act and not wanting Homeland Security on his ass.  As it turns out, he ends up getting Homeland Security on his ass anyway, because Kaitlyn puts them there.  

At her suggestion, Mike contacts his former boss, who isn’t surprised to hear from him; there are always problems with re-entry.  He connects Kaitlyn with a guy named Jack DeReuter, who is an agent from the New York office of some federal agency he declines to name.  Kaitlyn is endlessly amused by the fact that Jack DeReuter looks exactly like Agent Smith from The Matrix, and the two bond, so he lets her be present when he meets with the HR Director.  Kaitlyn later makes Mike cry with laughter by describing the meeting, during which Agent DeReuter goes full-on Fed and makes the HR Director whimper in fear and, finally, declare Mike Dodds once again fully employed by the NYPD.  

After that, beating the life insurance company into submission is a little bit of an anticlimax. Mike finds it hilarious that, since life insurance is an automatic benefit of employment with the NYPD, somewhere in the same company there’s someone issuing Mike a policy while someone else is insisting he’s dead and what does Kaitlyn mean, Mike needs to refund the death benefits?  Once Kaitlyn gets a hold of the right person at the company, though, it’s easy.  And as it turns out, Agent DeReuter has told her that, in these situations, the government doesn’t look to the family to repay the money.  They just cut a check to the insurance company for the amount of the benefits paid, and everybody’s happy.  

So Mike’s dad gives him the life insurance money – it’s just been sitting in a bank account, anyway, because he couldn’t bear to touch it – which means Mike can make a serious down payment on a new apartment.  He wastes no time finding a new place and getting out of the terrible apartment the feds put him in.  In fact, he never spends another night there.

Which leaves work, and that’s easy, too.  Chief Dodds makes sure Mike gets his place at SVU back, because that’s what Mike wants.  And just like that, Mike Dodds is alive again.  

But it’s not that easy.

Three days after returning to SVU, Mike comes home late, exhausted and disgusted from getting nowhere after seven hours interrogating a guy he knows is guilty.  It’s bugging him.  Not only because the guy’s a filthy perv, but because he used to be better at this.  He knows he was.  Now, he’s lost an entire year and he feels like a rookie detective again.  It’s infuriating and it brings back a lot of ugly feelings about what’s happened.

As he opens the door to his new apartment, he sees that all the lights are on and he hears enthusiastic but charmingly off-key singing.  He smiles for the first time in several hours.  Kaitlyn’s there – he gave her a key the day he closed on the place – standing on a ladder in cut-off jean shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt that are both absolutely slathered in paint.  She’s painting the wall, too, he notices, but he’s more interested in the incredible amount of paint she’s managed to get on her clothes, on her skin, in her hair…  

He’d call to her, but it’s obvious she won’t hear him, because he can hear the faint, tinny sound of music coming from her earbuds, and she’s singing loudly.  He can’t help it.  He pulls out his phone and starts recording her.  He’s not going to show the video to anyone – probably.  He’s just going to tease her about it and maybe hold it for some kind of sexual ransom.  

He’s thinking about that, smiling and chuckling, when she finally looks down from what she’s doing and sees him.

“Oh, I know you are not recording me right now, Mike Dodds.  Because if you are…”

“If I am, what?”  He asks, and doesn’t put down the phone or stop recording.

“I’ll think of something. You gotta sleep sometime,” she says in the most threatening tone she can manage while she’s grinning against her will.

“You’re covered in paint. You know that, right?”

She smiles and looks down at herself.  “I know. I always get more everywhere else than on the walls.  That’s why you’ll notice I draped the hell out of the floor.”

“Good thing I don’t own anything, huh?”

“I’d tarp it.  Trust me, I know my weaknesses.  And you’re becoming one of ‘em.  So if you don’t want paint all over that nice suit, you better take it off.”

Mike gives Kaitlyn a warning look, but starts to pull his jacket off.  “Don’t you dare.  This is about half the work clothes I currently own.”

“You know I find you irresistible.  So if you refuse to take your clothes off and they get ruined, it’s not my fault.  It’s yours.  You’ve been warned.”  

He laughs tiredly.  “You about to knock off for the night?  I’m beat.”

“Yeah.  Just gotta clean up.  Hey, are you OK?  You really do look tired.”

She starts to deal with the leftover paint and used brushes and rollers while they talk.

“Rough day. Long.  I’m used to that, but…”

“But…?”

“I just feel like I’ve been gone a long time.  Interrogation used to be instinctive for me.  Now, I’m trying to think of what to ask, what’ll get the guy to tell me what I need to know.  I looked like a bozo in there today.  I could tell Liv was concerned.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“Of course not-“

“Then you don’t know. Could’ve been your imagination.”

“It wasn’t. Fuck!  I had a whole year of my life stolen, and now I gotta re-learn everything.  And I’m supposed to be a Sergeant, not some damn rookie.  And the more I think about it, the more pissed I get.  Again.”  

“You have every right to be pissed, Mike.”

“I don’t want to be pissed!  I just want to get on with things.  Forget all that shit happened.  But everywhere I turn, there’s something to remind me.  It’s gonna take me months to get back to where I was at work…”

“But you will.”

“Well, what about you and me?  We lost a whole year together!  By now, who knows where we would’ve been?”

“We’re here now.”

Mike looks at Kaitlyn from under his eyebrows.  “You’re not gonna let me feel shitty tonight, are you?”

Kaitlyn doesn’t say anything as she hammers the lid back onto the paint can.  The look on her face tells Mike she‘s planning her next words carefully.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to feel.  I’m sorry if it seems like that.  I guess, if anything, I was trying to cheer you up.  But maybe that’s not what you need?  If you feel shitty, then I’ll just be here with you while you feel shitty.”

“I don’t know what I need.”

“Well, I know that I need a shower.  And I need an accomplice to help me get the paint out of my hair.  You wanna feel shitty in the shower?”  

“Yeah, I guess.  Sorry I’m not better company.”

“Baby, I’ve seen you naked.  If you’ll be naked in the shower, you’ll be good company, no matter what kind of mood you’re in.”

Mike follows Kaitlyn into the hallway where the bedroom and bathroom are.  She goes into the bathroom and starts the shower while he deals with his suit.  

Minutes later, he opens the door to the shower enclosure to see her standing, just luxuriating in water so hot it takes him a moment to get used to it. He spends that moment just admiring her long legs, paint splotches and all, and the way her breasts jut out as she arches back to let the water wash the paint out of her hair.  He really is tired, and it really has been a rough day. But it’s hard to feel too badly about it right this minute.

Mike reaches out and pours a handful of shampoo into his hand. “Here, let me.”

He pulls her to him with one hand while he reaches the other to the top of her head and begins smoothing the shampoo over her hair. When she’s standing against him, arms around him, he uses both hands to work the shampoo through her long, dark hair while she hums, eyes closed.  His strong fingers massage her head while he enjoys the feeling of her nakedness pressed against him, and discovers that it’s possible to wash a woman’s hair and kiss her at the same time, if you’re careful.  

Mike makes sure all the paint’s gone from her hair and scrubs every bit from her skin.  Then it’s her turn.  Kaitlyn can reach to wash Mike’s hair if she stands on her tiptoes, which means she has to lean against him to keep her balance, which neither one of them minds.  She starts there.  When his hair’s washed, she takes the bar of soap and lathers his neck, arms and chest, using long strokes and taking her time.  Then she turns him around and washes his back.   She works his muscles as she soaps him, giving him the best massage she can when they’re standing up in the shower.  

From there, she washes his lower half, spending perhaps a bit more time on his butt than is entirely necessary, but being very thorough as she lathers up the soap and smooths it over his legs.  After that, she turns him around and starts at his waist, washing him very thoroughly from waist to toes, with a great deal of attention to rubbing lathery hands all over his cock and balls until he’s completely stiff.

That’s when she puts the soap away and goes to her knees.  He groans as she takes him into her mouth, gently fondling his balls as she does.  She uses her tongue, swirling it around his head and tonguing his slit before sliding her mouth down his shaft with a suction that has him gasping as he braces himself against the warm tile wall.  He closes his eyes and loses all track of time, aware only of the sensation of her indecently talented mouth pleasuring his cock.  He’s probably saying things about how good it feels.  Probably moaning, too.  But he’s not paying any attention to himself.  Suddenly, he’s glad he’s tired, because it lets him enjoy the hot pressure of her lips and tongue for a long time before she starts flicking tiny butterfly caresses against his hole, and he loses it, erupting with a shout into her greedy mouth.  

He’s spent.  He leans there on the wall while she stands and puts her arms around him, kissing his chest and muttering endearments.  It’s many minutes before he has the energy to get out of the shower and dry off, and he’s half asleep already as they brush their teeth.

He hates what the past year did to his family, and his friends, and his life.  But right this minute, lying on the bare floor in a pile of blankets and pillows because he hasn’t bought a bed yet, he’s about as satisfied as a man can be.  He holds Kaitlyn’s warm, naked body against his, both arms around her and legs intertwined.  

Just as he falls asleep, he hears himself whisper, “I love you, Kaity.”

He’s pretty sure he hears her say she loves him, too.

[prydwencats]

Tagged by @maximumrevolution

1. Do you have a certain place at home for reading? Do you read outside? If I’m reading online, I’m either kicked back in my worn out computer chair or curled up on my couch.  If it’s a physical book, I’m stretched out across my bed reading.  Seldom do I read outside.  Usually outside I’m working on something or planning a project.  Outside is a super busy place for me.  

2. Bookmark or random piece of paper? Any random thing I can find.  I like the concept of bookmarks but I lose them too easily.  I’ve used random papers, thinner books, pencils, pretty much anything smaller than the book itself will do.  I’m awful I know.  lol  I try to stop at new chapters so IF my random marker falls out, I can find where I was. 

3. Can you just stop reading or do you have to stop after a chapter/ a certain amount of pages? I have to stop at a chapter’s end unless I’m interrupted. 

4. Do you eat or drink while reading? While reading a physical book I rarely eat or drink.  I’m clumsy, don’t like to take chances, don’t like crumbs around my books, I have to be really sucked into a story but also really hungry to eat and drink while reading a book.  BUT, when it comes to reading on my laptop I eat and drink all the time.  (which makes total sense because if I spill my glass of tea on my laptop it’s way cheaper to replace than if I spilled that same glass of tea on a paperback novel. lol) 

5. Multitasking: Music or TV while reading? If I’m reading a work of fiction I prefer quiet but will tolerate cartoons if it keeps my toddler out of my hair while I finish a chapter.  If it’s news I really don’t care what’s going on.  In fact, I really welcome the distraction of music or television if I’m reading the news.  The news sucks and it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s national or local...

6. One book at a time or several at once? One physical book at time.  It is almost unheard of for me to read more than one book at a time, (not counting the Bible, but reading that is more a study exercise for me).  Now fanfics on the other hand...  I have lost track of how many fanfics I am currently trying to keep up with and I sincerely apologize to those of you that have stories that I’ve started but haven’t finished.  I really need to make a list to keep up with them all. 

7. Reading out lout or silently in your head? Silently for the most part.  I’ll read out loud if I need to reread something that moved me emotionally or just really took me by surprise.  The only exception is editing.  If I’m editing,there’s a decent chance that at least half of what I’m reading is out loud. 

8. E-book or paper book? Paper book.  I refuse to use a kindle or nook or whatever else is out there.  When I read a book, I want to actually hold the book.  Call me old fashioned, but I want to be able to see, smell, touch, and hear the book that I’m reading.  And yes I said hear, as in the sound the pages make when you let them slide past your fingers, the soft thud the cover makes as it falls shut, you get the idea.  If I’m going to stop everything I’m doing to read, I want the full experience.

9. Do you smell your books? Absolutely.  I love the smell of old books.  I also love that I can find a shuttefly book in a room by smell alone.  (I discovered I could do this last Friday.)  Not that it’s a pleasant smell, but I love seeing the creativity someone else has used to arrange and create a physical representation of a special time or place in their life—and that’s a very positive thing that I associate with that smell.

10.  Breaking the spine or keeping it like new? I baby my books as much as I can to keep them looking as new as possible.  It usually doesn’t last, but I try...

11. Do you write in your books? On occasion?  It’s been a while since I’ve done it but I’ve only just now gotten back into reading physical books.  If I did write in them, it would be to establish ownership or something of significance just inside of the cover.  The exceptions to that would be like, technical manual-type books or my Bible... I have been known to hilight, underline, or put little asterisks next to things that I think are really important or things I want to be able to find later.

12. A genre you’re especially sensitive to? I’m kind of big into science fiction, and for some reason, despite being a total chicken-wuss about horror movies/shows, I seem drawn to books that depict scary things.  

13. A genre you’re really not interested in? Romance.  Despite the fact that I love romance and flirting to be sprinkled into the stories that I read, and the fact that I used to be known as a fluff writer, I don’t want to read a story where the main thing in it is the romance.  If I do read a romance then it means that the author presented me with either really captivating characters, or such an interesting world that I just couldn’t turn away.

14. Do you read ahead or even skip pages? Hahaha!  I’m the person who skips to the back of the book to see how it ends before going back and reading the story in it’s entirety.  I  can’t explain why I do it, I just do. 

15. Is the cover important to you? Do you have a type of cover that cockblocks you? Oh my gosh the cover is SO IMPORTANT.  Unless it is an old book with artwork or colors that give me a nostalgic feel, I do not like my books look bright, bold, or too busy.  When my books are sitting on a shelf together, they are part of my home decor, and I want them to look a certain way.  I like old things, I have an old house, and for the most part, I prefer earthy tones and basic natural colors.  I won’t object to a book that ended up in a lavender cover, but if I end up reading a book with a cover that I hate, you can believe that thing is being stored away in a trunk or drawer where I don’t have to look at it.  I’ve even been known to shop around online until I can find older versions of books with more appealing covers.

16. Bookstore or library ? Neither.  I want to support my hometown’s bookstore but they are far too expensive.  I am however quite comfortable in a used book store, (the books smell better).  I just don’t come across those kinds of shops that often.  The town I live in now has this adorable old library that looks like it belongs in an old western.  I should probably go inside one day just to check it out, but for whatever reason I haven’t in the 9 years I’ve lived here.  I guess in my mind, if I’m going to read a book, I want to own the book and not have to give it back when I’m done. 

17. How many books in your To Read Pile? Seven.  Eight if you count the fanfic that somehow made my BuJo Reading list.  Maybe I should start listing the fanfics I’m reading in my BuJo so I don’t lost track of them.  That’s a thought... 

18. Do you have a goodreads account? No. 

19. If it’s not your favorite genre, do you care about reading “the classics”? It depends on the book.  I’ve found that some books that have been called ‘classics’ are really quite awful.  I think it really just depends on the subject matter and the characters.

20. What are you currently reading? Honestly I’m not reading any actual books right now.  Six of Crows is sitting on an end table on top of my Art of Fallout book—but I haven’t started it yet—and I have a vintage copy of I Am Legend in the mail.  Mostly, I read a lot of fanfiction, and I read even more of my own fanfiction as I meticulously pore over my chapters.  The bulk of my reading right now is either news online or wiki references and forum conversations as I study various things in the Fallout World.  If I’m going to write fanfiction I’m going to do my absolute best to make sure I write it as accurately as possible.   Wow this took far longer than I expected...  I guess I’ll leave the tagging thing open to any of you who want to talk about your books & reading habits.