#fraction adding alcoholism to his character is interesting to me i know its part of his ~trauma~ but cmon

[rainstories]

i think that clint barton smokes weed and further more, his preferred strain is purple dog poop purely because i think he would think it was funny

[ray-the-fanatic]

Fluffevmber prompt: Hurt/comfort 1/2 

(I’m doing another one for this prompt)

Am I allowed to want more?

Characters: Mark beaks and Falcon Graves (ship but more platonic and hints at romantic feelings) 

Warning: Alcohol mentioned, Sex mentioned and some mild cursing.

Ao3 link ________________________________________________________________

Mark was being especially Mark like today Flacon noted as he watched the young parrot move around his office building. He waited for him by the elevator watching him zip around on his hoverboard board as he took time to great his employees and start making his demands for coffee and food orders. 

Falcon had still been kind of new to the job but at this point, he was used to his boss's antics. It was interesting to get to observe him like this over the past few months. Mark was well many things. Falcon could admit a few good things about him he got people pretty well. Despite his image and mistakes, his employees seemed content working here. Mark seemed to know how to run the business as well. Offering many benefits no other workplace was likely to have but seemed to be benefits to those working here. Made work less like a trap and more inviting. Mark was actually smart when he wanted to be. 

Since he’d been around him for a while Falcon and gotten observant on his boss, of course for professional reasons he always assured. Best to learn one's habits and quirks so you can notice any changes. Like if Mark was secretly being held hostage he could do something that would be a sign to Falcon to know something was wrong. Not that Falcon would allow any harm to come. Professionally speaking of course. Mark, however, seemed off this morning normally he just told everyone when he wanted his 7:15 coffee instead the women asking about it more confirmed if he wanted one at that time. Mark was just staring down at his phone when nodded and gave his usual cool, cool line. Clearly not listening. 

He finally got to the elevator and got in along with Falcon. Falcon glanced over to Mark as he was scrolling away on his phone. He hadn't heard the usual tapping sound he associated with Mark. When he looked down a bit more to see the screen, he could tell Mark was looking at someone else's profile. Mark was in some pictures with them and those were the ones he seemed to click on. It seemed like he was removing the highlighted text for his username. 

Mark was quick to scroll back up to the profile and Falcon watched him hit the unfollow button. Quickly Mark moved off the profile happening to catch Falcon starting. 

“What’s up Gravesy?” He asked “getting caught in my good looks again?” Mark teased

Falcon looked away and gave a slightly annoyed growl maybe he was overthinking it. Falcon wasn't too sure why it was weighing on his mind. He was reluctant to be Mark's bodyguard in the first place. The pay was convincing though. It came with some odd requirements like living with his boss but because of that, he was exposed to Mark's habits more than anyone. So he knew when Mark went into his office while turning his phone off. That something was going on.  

Mark stayed quite the way back home Falcon on a normal day would have liked the peace. Mark seemed like he could talk for days and at best Falcon only understood a fraction of what he said. But it kind of bothered him now not to hear the usual parrots flare. Having to question if he cared about Mark for that to be a reason why. He pulled the car into the driveway and Mark pulled out his phone glancing at the screen.

"Mr. Beaks?" Falcon asked slightly gripping on to the steering wheel. 

"Mark" he was corrected flatly. 

"Right Mark." Falcon was still getting used to the casual way of addressing him as he cleared his throat "are you alright?" 

Mark looked over to Falcon "uh?" 

"You just seem well not your normal self," Falcon added on 

Mark seemed stunned for a moment as he looked back at Falcon. He sat in silence for a bit searching for the words then quickly plastered on his insufferable grin to cover up the last expression as if it never showed.  

"Aw what's this? does big tough Gravesy care about me?" Mark said teasing the older bird now. 

Falcon rolled his eyes and fixed the parrot with an annoyed glare. But, part of him kind of felt relief with how his mood turned around. Seeming more like his usual self now. The mocking was still irritating though so he got out.

"Nevermind my mistake your still a thorn in my side." 

Mark opened his door slightly so he could poke his head out  "wait Gravesy we were having a moment." He said smiling as he clearly heard Falcon make an obscene threat under his breath while walking away from the car. Mark was smiling still watching him grumble. Then faded a moment as he thought to himself. He was about to speak up but his phone started to ring. Mark looked at it and groaned as he went to answer it stepping out of the car now.

"What now?" He said as he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it well listening to the voice on the other end.

Falcon watched him from the door as his mood again changed. Then headed inside decided to stay out of it when Mark's voice started to get louder. Something about unfollowing because they have no right to be connected to his name. He paid no mind feeling it wasn’t worth any concerns.

Something he regretted later when he heard a loud crash that interrupted his sleep. Falcon shot up quickly, it was a shattering sound meaning glass. Was someone trying to break in? He tossed his covers up and got out of his bed. His first thought was to check on Mark. But, a quick peek told him he wasn't in his room. So he decided to go for the sound instead chances were Mark caused it. 

Falcon sighed a bit he was pleased to be correct but at the same time annoyed. As he was watching Mark wobbling on a chair he stacked up on different piles of books in front of the cabinets of his wet bark. Seeming to try and get a bottle on the self that he couldn’t reach on his own. Falcon calmly walked over mentally timing his approach as he held out his arms in time for Mark to fall into as he fall back. Just as the chair wobbled and swayed back. Falcon as well lifted up his foot to the chair to stop it from tipping over, getting it to straighten back up on the books. 

"Oh hey buddy!" Mark yelled out like he almost didn't crack his head open on the tile floor. A strong hint of alcohol hitting Falcon's eyes when he spoke. 

Falcon set him back to his feet and took the chair off the stacks of books. Looking around to get an idea of what happened as he found a broken bottle on the ground. Falcon could pick up the scent of alcohol from it too. As he could hear Mark struggling with bottle of whiskey he managed to get before nearly falling over. Guessing Mark bumped it out of the way when trying for the one he had now. 

"Are you drunk?" Falcon asked as he stood back up finding a dish rag nearby and simply dropped it on the floor to soak up the mess for now. 

"No, I'm in the middle of getting drunk. Big difference." Mark corrected as he got the bottle opened up smiling as he went down its contents.

Falcon took it from his hand before he could. 

"Should you really be drinking when you have work tomorrow?" Falcon asked or more advised. 

"Wouldn't be the first time" Mark confessed as he took the bottle back "just turn up my beaks charm. No one notices anything about me, like always. Full proof." 

Falcon raised an eyebrow with the tone Mark used despite how cheerful his face looked. Then grabbed the bottle again setting it up on top of the cabinet. Getting a slight boo from Mark. 

"Why do you need to be drunk?" Falcon asked piecing things together. 

“You wouldn’t get it.” Mark stated as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter with a huff.

“Let me guess for the awful mood you’ve been all day?” Falcon said as he started picking up the books. “You act like a goddamn kid sometimes instead of “

"Because drunk means no feelings to think about." Mark answered interrupting Falcon.  

"Feelings?" Falcon managed to ask a bit shocked at the reaction starting to set the books up on the counter. 

"Yeah stupid things that make you act weird and tell your causal partner you might want to be more and then they just leave in the middle of" mark trailed off a moment "a certain um ya known thing people do at night sometimes in a bed sometimes in a car.” “Sex?” Falcon said asked then felt a bit of something, maybe empathy when he saw Mark just nod. Ouch making a bit of a narrative for himself to understand what happened, he wasn’t going to make Mark confirm it. He wouldn’t even want to admit that if it happened to him. 

“Because I ruined things by being weird and I want to forget it for just a bit.” Mark continued on still answering Falcon’s question. Mark sighed as he was digging his fingers into his jacket sleeves gripping the fabric tightly. Seeming like he had a million thoughts processing at once as he found a random tile to focus his gaze on. 

Falcon reached back into the cabinet and retrieved the bottle he took away. Then snagged two cups as well. He poured a bit of whiskey into each one then offered one to Mark. 

“A little is fine I think.” he said to him when Mark looked at him in question.

Mark took the cup and just stared at it a moment before he raised it to his beak and slung it back quickly. As if it was going to solve something only to give a disappointed stare back at the empty glass. Hearing what he was sure was a slight chuckle from Falcon next to him. The larger bird joined Mark and leaned back against the counter slightly brushing against Mark's arm. Falcon’s presence was something he was used to now but this was a bit different. It was warm. Mark liked noise from the sound of his own voice to the most recent dubstep track. Yet, this moment of silence wasn’t tense or heavy. He found a bit of clarity in it even.

“Why would that be weird?” Falcon asked as he gently swirled his drink in the glass breaking the silence between them.

“Uh?”

“You wanted things to be more with your partner?” He asked giving more clarity this time. 

“People don’t date seriously anymore it’s old fashioned not trendy, it's trendy to date around ya know.”

Falcon looked lost. Mark didn’t really blame him maybe his age. Though Mark wasn’t one to talk suddenly remembering that night when trying his best to sound loving when he whispered into Zeke’s ear. Met with a sharp push to the chest landing him on the floor. Then watching Zeke leave the room laughing almost. 

“You seem to want that though.” Falcon pointed out pulling mark back from his thoughts again. 

Mark paused a moment “I guess?” he was fine before but somehow that changed, when did he start wanting more? The casual thing was easy to deal with freedom to do what he wanted and if he felt the need he would just call someone up for a date or otherwise. Now he wanted more than that? It just kind of hit him that night suddenly.

“That’s what you said happened isn’t it” Falcon pushed a bit, Mark didn’t have to answer really he just thought some train of thought would help Mark focus instead. Having seen how his eyes kept darting around between gaps in conversation. Sometimes reaching up to pet at his break deep in thought. 

“Yeah, I mean I guess. I don’t know.” Mark ran his hand through his hair messing it when his fingers combed through it. “I don’t know what happened, I thought I was fine like this, a few people in my contacts I could dial-up at any time.” 

“So, is or was I suppose, this person special?”

Mark laughed “No, honestly nothing but a dick. As in personality.” Mark cleared up “we had just been hanging out a lot lately used to just be for casual meetups but we starting talking more...I kind of liked that. Talking to someone who listened.” kind of like now actually. The Parrot thought a moment. “It wasn’t about much really I got drunk and we were venting and he had my back on things..” Mark trailed off for a moment. “It was mainly superficial about my posts and image and his. I guess...I started to wonder if it could become?” he rubbed at the back of his head slowly processing.

“Personal?” Falcon cut in with as he set his now empty glass down on the counter 

Mark just nodded. "It’s lame. I know just, I guess the idea of-"

"I don’t think that is lame.”

“You’ve dated?” Mark asked with a slight smile his mind already going wild with that information alone. Wondering how Falcon Graves acted with his significant other. Trying no to laugh as he imagined him cuddling someone tenderly or preening their feathers. His thoughts more going to all those softer expressions now. Feeling an ache in his chest. 

Falcon rolled his eyes in response “not much but yes and nothing like you seem to partake in. I have had many good past relationships with my ex boyfriends.” 

Falcon half expects Mark to make another joke or tease about how Falcon had feelings instead he had to make sure he heard what he did.

“Am I allowed to want more?” Mark was staring back at the ground holding a hand to his chest. Almost like he could feel the emptiness that was there. Slowly looked up at Falcon his eyes wide and shimmering slightly while trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall at any second “You know someone to look forward to seeing every day. Someone easy to talk to, someone you always want to talk to and can’t wait to see. Who notices small things about you. It’s corny but I like that idea.” he said slightly forcing out a laugh to keep his tears back.

Falcon took a moment to think, Mark could be very annoying but he was vulnerable now so he wanted to tread carefully. He gently placed a hand on the parrot's shoulder hoping that counted for something. “Of course you can want more. Maybe just be more careful who you try pursuing it with? Maybe I don’t know, try someone who actually cares about.” “Yeah I don’t see those happening people care about the image of Mark Beaks, not the person. Not that you can really blame anyone. Mark Beaks isn’t really the greatest person just between us” Mark sighed “maybe I am a bit drunk.” trying to cover up for what he said. 

“He’s not so bad”  

Mark’s eyes widen hearing that

Falcon took his hand away after a moment. Feeling awkward now but cleared his throat before speaking again. “Even if it can be insufferable at times ... I much more prefer the usual Mark Beak’s trade make attitude?” He added trying to phase it how he thought Mark might. 

Mark couldn’t seem to keep staring at Falcon anymore having to drop his gaze away. He could feel something else in his empty chest now but couldn’t place an emotion to it. 

“And you know..I did notice something was off about you.” Falcon added not fully sure why as he also looked away picking his own tile to stare at.

Mark smiled a bit remembering earlier in the car “Aw Gravesy cares about me.” less obnoxious about it this time.

“Maybe a little.” Falcon said smiling.

__________________________________________

Been wanting to write these  two for awhile and decided this would be the time to try. Any feedback is welcomed.  

[regrettablewritings]

Dios Meme-o! (Rafael Barba Mini-Series, Pt. 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Rafael’s poisons of choice (coffee and scotch) could be divided up between day and night respectively. The coffee was for obvious reasons: To keep him awake and alert, to keep him going even when his work day was driving him to the brink of insanity (as it did all too often). The use of the scotch was also typically obvious: To drown out the stresses of the day, its trials hardly ever actually being over in the grand scheme of things. A cool down of sorts to balance out the caffeinated upper.

This evening, however? Rafael wasn’t sure exactly what the scotch was trying to boot off: the stress of the workday, or the revelation that he now appeared to have a small following? He decided the answer to be both as he took another sip of his drink. He wanted to believe that it was more so the former option but there was just something about the latter that made it stand so firmly in his mind.

Probably had something to do with the fact that even after the messages sent to him about his occupation and . . . tum (Rafael fought off the desire to shudder at the word), Carisi and Rollins continued to send him two more posts of a similar vein.

Where were they even specifically even getting all these? Rafael wondered. His eyes landed on his laptop.

Words and pictures travel fast, Rollins’ voice echoed. But just how fast was what Rafael wondered.

Against his better judgement, he committed a dangerous act born of morbid curiosity, enhanced by the slow but certain influx of bourbon into his system: He typed his own name into Google.

The first few results were what he expected: References to his past cases, articles on his most recent feats of interest, a handful of articles on his words at the most recent press conference.  

. . . Then there was what came after.

Rafael had heard about Tumblr, but not much if he had to be honest. Sites like Twitter or Facebook or other niche sites tended to be more of what he faced on a regular basis. But a site specifically platformed for blogging surprisingly did not cross his path as often as one might think. It therefore posed within him a sense of worry that the first time he would approach Tumblr would be because his name had become a tag on the site.

He was right to worry.

The deep blue background was offset by an assault on the eyes: text posts here, pictures there, gif sets of his past quotes to cameras before or after a court case, but mostly of him during his speech at the press conference.

His eyes weren’t sure where to look first, where to escape from first but no matter where he went, he’d always end up somewhere just as bizarre.

Some posts were weird –

“God those hands – like fricken’ face-huggers! I want them to smother me!!!” Without thinking, Rafael looked at his hands. He never really noted them as being big, per se. And despite the copious amounts of likes and reblogs featured in the notes section, and that nobody could even see them as they were now in real life, he couldn’t help but want to hide them.

At least three more Tum™ posts in either text or picture form with quadruple the notes and responses. In that moment, he began to strongly consider dieting and nearly opened up a new tab to research for that specific consideration.

“Lookit them veins in his hand. I wanna suck a hickey on them. Just slurp ‘em up like noodles.” . . . What?

Some were surprisingly nice, if not composed in a more bombastic way than what he felt was necessary or was used to –

“Oh, look at his tie!! I love that pattern!!” He had to admit, he himself was quite fond that the pink paisley tie they spoke of.

“Holy crap, you guys, he has green eyes! GREEN FREAKING EYES!!!” A little excited over something he’d considered uninteresting, but Rafael couldn’t stop the faint flutter of pride bubbling within him.

“His hair looks so smooth. He needs to be allowed to grow his hair out, he’d have beautiful long hair!” That made his lips purse. His hair hadn’t been long since high school, and even then it barely reached his shoulders. Frankly, his hair tended to get a little fluffy the longer it grew anyway.

“Handsome, dresses nicely, works hard, is a feminist – guys, I think I’m in love.” Yet another huge jump over something he didn’t consider to be too big of a deal. (But at least this person appeared to have decent standards.)

“Ok but it should be illegal to work a suit like that.” The self-importance fluttered a bit harder, both for the suggestion that he not only looked good, but for the fact that the ensembles he prided himself on were actually appreciated by complete strangers.

“Steal his look”, complete with clothes and accessories very similar to his own but for a fraction of the cost (how economic of them).

– Before dipping right back into weirdness . . .

“D.A. stands for ‘Dat Azz’” proclaimed Foodlemynoodle, who was ever so kind as to include a photo taken by the press of Rafael’s retreating form with a second picture edited to focus specifically on his ass.

“Barba looks like the type of guy who’s a stern lawyer in the streets but a spicy papi in the sheets <3.” There was so much wrong with that suggestion that Rafael didn’t know where to start.

“don’t you just wanna use his tie to tug him down and make out w/him?” The multiple notes responded all agreed. This worried Rafael, as tugging on someone’s tie could be very uncomfortable.

“I’d rather snap those suspenders tbqh,” came the response. Rafael grimaced, the memory of pain from previous accidental snappings becoming vivid for a brief moment.

“i want dat sloppy papi dick™,” announced one user, adding a gif of Spongebob Squarepants fervently licking a picture of Rafael that had been photoshopped into the original image.

It went on like this, growing increasingly more awkward and disconcerting by the scroll. It was only out of curiosity that Rafael kept going. That sick, masochistic curiosity and intrigue that compels someone to watch a train wreck or a distressingly bad YouTube video that gives you secondhand embarrassment. He’d just moved beyond what felt like the twentieth post about his “splendid tummy” when he’d come upon a post that wasn’t quite like the others in terms of text. It wasn’t crude or even necessarily complimentary per se but –

           “Get you a man who looks at you the way ADA Barba looks at his coffee ❤ lol jk   nobody’ll look like you like that just get ADA Barba.”

Included was the image of him at a coffee shop, receiving a cup of his favorite day drink, a rare smile gracing his features. Well. That was unnerving. Sure, he went to get coffee at an embarrassing and even likely unhealthy rate but for someone to have taken a picture of him at all while doing so was just . . . wrong.

One person called Ballr00mbombshell responded with, “Stale cinnamon roll, too jaded by this world.” This made Rafael’s brows pressed downward. Cinnamon roll? What did cinnamon rolls have to do with anything? As if his subconscious had directed him there, his sights landed on the tag section of the post:

#He was buying a cinnamon roll too!!, #such a cinnamon roll, #he probably needs something sweet if his job is dealing with such awful situations, #eat and drink on my sweet cinnamon roll son.

Okay, he thought as he moved his laptop further down his lap. Maybe I was better off not knowing . . . Wait. Cinnamon rolls. While never one to fully discriminate against foods, cinnamon rolls weren’t a thing Rafael normally got. Wait! He recognized that outfit! It was . . . It was the same damn one from the press conference! A trembling hand reached for his replenished glass of scotch and directed it to his lips, taking as hefty of a gulp as he possibly could without warranting a coughing fit.

Did he have a stalker? Already? Granted, after all his years in his field, he shouldn’t be so surprised by how fast fanaticism can rise and to what lengths. Should he tell Liv? She was so pissed the last time he avoided telling her about a threatening presence in his life . . .

As the burning liquid trickled down his throat, Rafael nearly paused it in its tracks. He realized one more thing: The angle of the photo. It was taken at the back of the shop, by the window judging by the looks of it. From the corner, he could just make out a barrel containing chips.

The girl with the Hello Kitty watercolor phone case!

An agitated grunt rumbled from Rafael’s chest and out of his mouth as the revelation became clear. He knew he wasn’t imagining things! Never before had the soft suggestion of watercolor and the innocent cuteness of a beloved children’s character worked together to produce such malcontent.

As tempting as it was to continue, the minor brush with the idea of being stalked mingled terribly with the alcohol in his disgruntled system. Rafael called it a night and tried to sleep decently.

The heavy presence of rounded stomachs and hand veins in his dreams made this out to be a difficult task.