#good luck to nastya moving forward!

[resssistance]

Anastasiia Shabotova / SP 'Shchedrick, Carol of the Bells' / Team Event, Beijing 2022

[schrijverr]

Cared For

Jonny is the smallest and secretly loves that fact since it gets him attention from the others. When it suddenly stops he’s crushed and cries during crew night, and gets hugged and comforted

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed something or you want me to tag anything!

~~~~~~~~~~

Jonny was small, he knew he was small.

New Texas already didn’t have a tall planetary average and he also hadn’t had any luck with genetics, which meant that the other Mechanisms towered over him, no matter age or gender. He was the tiniest of them all and he, surprisingly enough, loved that fact.

He loved how Brian would come up from behind and grab the thing he was reaching for and hand it to him with a pat on the head, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

He loved how Ashes would use his head as a rest and lean on him always giving him a smirk, despite him complaining about it messing up his hair.

He loved how when he visited Raphaellas lab, his feet would dangle when he sat on her chair, even if he told her she was too tall to be normal and she laughed at him.

He loved how Marius randomly hugged him, enveloping him entirely, making him disappear completely if he was wearing his coat, regardless of the fact that he would tell Marius he was suffocating.

He loved how he could curl up in Ivys lap and she’d just put her chin on top of his and continue reading, sometimes even out loud if it was something Jonny would be interested in, despite him insisting he wasn’t a little kid, although he expected she’d already seen through him and knew how much he liked her soothing voice.

He loved how The Toy Soldier always called him Little Chap and ruffled his hair, no matter how much he pouted when it did.

He loved how Tim would run up to him and just pick him up in a bridal carry and take him with him to whatever destination and no matter how much Jonny complained about it, he never fought and he always smiled slightly.

He loved how Nastya, who he saw as his little sister, let him snuggle up with her in her pillow nest in the engine room. She would curl around him as the big spoon and held him tight to her chest, making Jonny glow with contentment, in spite of the wiggling.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but all these thing made him feel small and that smallness made him feel cherished, made him feel like he was special and that the others cared for him.

Which is why it came as a hug shock when it all suddenly stopped.

First he noticed that the chair had been lowered when he visited Raphaella in her lab, but she could’ve done that because she needed to be lower to observe something. And Brian, who didn’t help him get his mug, instead just looking at him until he climbed onto the counter, could be because his switch was flipped.

But then Ashes stopped leaning on him and Marius didn’t hug him anymore, Tim asked him to come with him instead of just grabbing him, The Toy Soldier called him Old Sport like it did with Brian and Marius and when he went to Nastya during the night, she turned away from him leaving him hugless or the big spoon.

Confused and hurt he needed to know if it was really everyone, so he went to Ivy. She would know what he needed from her and hug him to make him feel better. So he crawled into her lap and waited.

For a second nothing happened, but then her arms snaked around him and he couldn’t suppress a smile. He’d made the right choice. That smile fell the moment she rested her chin on his shoulder instead of on top of his head and then she’d stayed quiet despite the book being about different guns, which was definitely an interest of Jonny.

He didn’t know what to do with that. Inside him a bubble of unease started to swell as he wondered what he’d done wrong. Did they not love him anymore? Were they mad at him? How could he fix it?

Miserable he burrowed closer in Ivys lap, but didn’t say a thing as he tried not to let the overwhelming feeling make him cry, which was pretty hard.

When he’d calmed down a bit, enough to realize that this was just making him sadder and he needed to cry alone in his bed, he untangled himself and softly said goodbye, completely missing Ivys gentle smile as he rushed out of the library.

Safely in his room he pulled the blanket over him and curled into a ball, soft sniffles and chocked off sobs coming out of his throat while he convinced himself that everyone hated him and he’d done something irredeemable.

He stayed in his room for a long while, until he could think of the sudden change without feeling the need to immediately cry. Then he took a shower and tried to get rid of all the evidence that he’d been crying.

While he’d been crying his eyes out in his room he’d made a plan and he had to get to work if he wanted it to succeed. The plan was quite simple, he would subtly try to get the affection back by hinting at it.

The first person he came across was Marius, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink. He smiled at Jonny and asked: “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good, just tired.” Jonny didn’t even have to fake the yawn. He stumbled forwards and leaned against Marius’ chest as he mumbled: “Could just fall asleep here.”

His hope had been that Marius would steady him, maybe even with two hands and that might turn into a hug. It didn’t work completely.

Marius put one hand on his shoulder to keep him from sagging, but did nothing more than lead him back to his room with some distance between them while he said: “I think you need to go to bed then, Jonny.”

Jonny was pouting inside and missed the warm, fond tone. He allowed Marius to push him into his room and collapsed on his bed, just lying there until he heard Marius close the door with a small chuckle.

Later he would run into Tim, deliberately planned since he’d just shot himself in the foot, and ask if he would be willing to bring him to the med bay. Tim had wide eyes of concern as he nodded, but he did not carry Jonny instead hoisting one arm over his shoulder and letting Jonny lean on him awkwardly as they made their way through the ship.

He sat on Raphaellas desk instead of the chair waiting to see if she’d make a playful comment about his feet, but instead she told him he needed to sit on the chair, because she needed the space.

Brian was wiling to grab something for him, but only after he’d asked and moved out of the way and The Toy Soldier could be persuaded to pet his head after he’d gotten something stuck in his hair and asked it to get it out. Jonny was also still welcome in Nastyas pillow nest and he could just curl up against her back and she wouldn’t protest.

Jonny didn’t really have a plan for Ashes and he thought straight up asking Ivy to read to him was a step too far, so he just brought something to fiddle with and tried not to mind the chin on his shoulder too much.

Still, it wasn’t working and he felt his mechanical heart break with every little rejection.

It’d been months now and it was getting increasingly harder not to cry every time he wasn’t hugged, wasn’t carried, wasn’t petted on the head, just every time he wasn’t loved. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong or how to fix it and the lack of affection was wearing him down.

The bubble of wrongness was building up in his chest and it was only a matter of time until it burst and every little bit of sadness came popping out.

It happened during crew night, something Brian had implemented after he’d been stuck to his chair for a month and no one had noticed, it was just a check up to see if everyone was still there and to fuck around a bit.

Jonny had been looking forward to crew night, hoping that whatever he’d done would’ve been forgiven and he could wiggle between Brian and Raphaella, the two tallest members, unlike last time when he’d ended up on the floor next to Tim.

Alas it wasn’t meant to be, he was too late and there wasn’t any room left between the two of them. There still was a small spot between Marius and the edge of the couch, though, which was still pretty damn good.

Marius was tall enough and the space was so small that it was only natural if Jonny leaned on him a bit and who knew, maybe Marius would put an arm around Jonny to make some space and he could burrow into Marius’ armpit.

But when Jonny had wiggled himself into the spot, Marius told him: “We can also grab you a chair, if you’d like.”

And suddenly Jonny just couldn’t take it anymore. He made eye contact with Marius, his bottom lip wobbling before his face crumbled as he started crying, loud and ugly sobs, shocking everyone.

For a second everyone was frozen then they all rushed to their crying First Mate. Brian knelt in front of him and softly touched Jonnys knee and asked: “Hey, hey, Jonny, it’s okay, everything is alright, just breathe, just breathe, okay. Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

Jonny gasped and took a few shaky breaths, but he fell apart again in a blubbering mess when he wanted tot tell them. He sniffled: “I- I just- why- don’t under- understand- what-”

“Hey, just calm down.” Marius soothed, “What don’t you understand?”

“Why you all don’t love me anymore.” Jonny cried, sobbing loudly again and hugging his knees to his chest.

A stunned silence came over the crew of the Aurora then they all fell over themselves to assure him that of course they still loved him. Concerned Tim exclaimed: “Where in the universe did you get that idea?”

Jonny had calmed down a bit with all their reassurances and glanced at them over his knees, his eyes still wet and soft sniffles coming out of his mouth. He swallowed and said: “You all just suddenly stop- stopped and I don’t- I don’t know what I, what I did or how- how to fix it.”

That didn’t clear anything up at all and Raphaella asked: “What did we stop?”

Biting his lips, Jonny considered not telling them, he’d spend so long grumbling at them about it that I’d would seem weird to just completely turn around, but the empty void in his chest won out. So he whispered: “You all stopped treating me like- like I was small and precious.”

“What?” Ashes said.

“Uhm,” Jonny began embarrassed, “you all just had these little things that made me feel small and suddenly you all sto- stopped.”

His voice broke over the last part and the tears started flowing again. He hated that he was crying so much, but it had all just built up and he couldn’t stop it no matter how hard he tried.

On the others the realization dawned of what was up with their crew mate. They hadn’t really noticed how upset he’d gotten over it and the outburst had shocked them a bit, so they were glad they’d gotten something to fix. Marius immediately took him into his arms and The Toy Soldier patted his head.

“We’re so sorry, Jonny.” Brian said, “We thought we were helping you.”

That got Jonnys attention and he made a confused questioning noise. Tim explained: “You’re always grumbling about it, so when we noticed it was all of us not just one person, we thought you didn’t like it, so we decided to stop. We wouldn’t have done it, if we knew.”

“It’s not your- your fault.” Jonny mumbled into Marius’ chest, “Sorry for seeming un- ungrateful.”

The arms around him tightened around him and Marius said: “Don’t be sorry about that, we should’ve asked.”

They stayed like that for a while until the sniffles stopped and the tears ran dry.

With Jonny calmed down Raphaella asked the question that she’d been burning to ask ever since he admitted what was wrong: “Why do you like feeling small so much?”

Jonny flushed an adorable shade of red, he spluttered for a bit, before he softly replied: “It makes me feel special and cared for, it’s nice.”

Under other circumstances Jonny would never had admitted that, but emotional exhaustion had lowered his barriers and a voice inside his mind urged him to tell them anything to get them to do the nice things again.

“Ahw, you’re the cutest.” Tim cooed and also hugged Jonny.

He got redder, but that didn’t stop him from leaning into the touch and allowing a smile to creep up his face.

They stayed on the couch just hugging and reassuring Jonny the entire night. Everyone had been pretty spooked by his reaction, they’d never seen him as anything else than strong and happy, so to see him break down like that had shook them to their core. So they lavished him with attention in the hope of never having to witness that again.

Marius didn’t think he would ever forget Jonnys face crumbling at his suggestion or the feeling of him sobbing against his side.

Jonny was always small, with a pudgy face that hadn’t rid itself of all the baby fat yet and a cute smile. The crew of the Aurora had long ago decided that he was their little bastard that needed to be protected. It had been hard to stop and it had been even harder to find out how it had impacted Jonny.

It wasn’t mentioned again, but the other resumed everything even adding a some new stuff. It became more common to see Jonny being carried, for someone to ruffle his hair or to swing him up into a hug out of nowhere startling him or to see him in a lap instead of on a chair.

He’d stopped grumbling about it, allowing a smile on his face instead. It was small smile, but a content and happy smile that made it all worth it.

Yes, Jonny was small, he knew he was small, but with a crew like this how much of a problem is that?

[truthofherdreams]

people can surprise you (or not)

OR, the reversed How to lose a guy in 10 days AU nobody asked, but everybody gets. (ao3)

Dmitry looks up from his laptop, swallowing down a sigh. The meeting has been going on for what feels like hours now, with no sign of it finishing any time soon. Gleb has rejected two dozen article ideas so far, which is a record even for him. Nothing is fresh enough for BuzzClick’s editorial line. Dmitry has been working here long enough to read between the lines – nothing is clickbait-worthy, nor has the potential of going viral. Which, in Gleb’s world, means it’s useless.

Five years of studying journalism for this bullshit, Dmitry thinks bitterly. What would his father think? Still, when yet another moronic idea gets dismissed, and with a pointed elbow in the arm from Vlad, Dmitry finally raises his hand. “I’ve been working on something,” he admits. Then, with a hand wave from Gleb to go on, “About the scams happening on Instagram right now, and how companies use gullible, young women to promote their products for free.”

Gleb raises an unimpressed eyebrow and folds his hands on his chest, and Dmitry prepares for the inevitable lecture. “And why should BuzzClick’s audience care about this, exactly?”

Because your audience is a bunch of teenager fools who don’t know any better, Dmitry thinks. But he has his answer prepared, thankfully, and instead he offers his boss a placarding smile. “Social networks and the evils of capitalism? It’s a millennial dream, people will love it. Not to mention it never hurts to show how naïve and gullible young girls are, am I right?”

Gleb remains silence for a few seconds, so much so that Dmitry believes him interested, or at least intrigued enough to want to hear more about it. But then, “No. Anything else?”

“Excuse –”

“I said no, Sudayev. Moving on.”

Dmitry is left gaping at his boss, unable to believe his eyes and ears. Gleb royally ignores him as he listens, then rejects, yet another idea from someone else. Dmitry is too gobsmacked to do anything else but stare for long seconds, until Vlad puts a hand on his arm and leans closer to him. “Better luck next time, boy,” he whispers.

“This isn’t fair,” Dmitry finds himself replying like a petulant child.

He swallows his anger with a sip of burning coffee, which does nothing to quiet the fire inside him. The article is good, he knows. Good enough to move him from clickbait list articles and onto a real journalistic job at last. It’s been five years of this bullshit, and Dmitry has had enough. But Gleb refuses to give him a chance, for reasons Dmitry has never understood – some rumours of an old rivalry between their fathers, which is the most moronic excuse ever. Holding grudges can only go so far, and Dmitry has had enough.

“I have an idea,” another man says, raising a hand in the air, then pushing his glasses up his nose. Gleb turns to him. “Some kind of social experiment. About how – how, you know, nice guys finish last.”

Dmitry forces himself not to groan out loud, even more so when a smirk appears at the corner of Gleb’s mouth. “Go on.”

“I was thinking about – seeing what happens when an alpha male is an asshole to a woman, and when a, well, normal man does it. How long it would take for the woman to dump either of them.”

This seriously is the most moronic idea Dmitry has even heard in his life, and he’s heard his fair share of bullshit in this meeting room. But Gleb is actually thinking about it, the fucking idiot, and Dmitry wants to die. As if BuzzClick didn’t already have enough of a sexist reputation as it was, no, let’s jump right into Nice Guy territory! Jesus fuck…

“Interesting…” Gleb mutters, because of course he does. This whole thing is a fucking joke. “We would need an alpha male for the other half of the experiment, though.”

Dmitry wants to chuckle at the obvious jab toward his colleague, but then all eyes are on him, and his laugh dies in his throat. He blinks, once, twice, before he truly understands what basically everyone in the room is implying. “Nope. No way.”

“Why not?” Gleb asks in a very rhetorical tone.

Dmitry is having none of it. “Because you’re asking me to be an asshole to some random woman just to prove a very sexist and offensive point like I’m some guy on Reddit who has no idea women are actually people?”

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife, but Dmitry refuses to look away from his boss, defiant. He knows it to be useless, of course -- you either obey Gleb or pack up and leave, tail between your legs. But he would like to think he is making a point, even though his colleagues are exactly the Reddit type he was talking about. Not exactly the sharpest pencils in the box, the whole lot of them.

“How about,” Gleb starts, his tone saccharine sweet, “You do this, and I have a look at this little article of yours?”

A muscles spasms in Dmitry’s jaw. He hates this situation very fucking much. And yet, still. “Fine.”

“Good. You both have ten days to find a chick and give her all you’ve got. Let’s see how long the poor girls last.”

It’s all a game to them, and Dmitry finds himself a reluctant player.

His father would be ashamed.

 …

 Anastasia has always thought that, out of the five of them, Maria’s smile was the brightest. She smiles with her entire body, not just her mouth, and it makes her all the prettier. It is especially obvious tonight, Maria losing her natural shy demeanour to smile and laugh as she recalls a story. Anastasia’s chin is in her hand as she leans on the table and listens, with a smile of her own, her fingers playing with the straw in her cocktail.

“And this morning, she sent three dozen roses to my office. Three dozens, Nastya!” she exclaims loudly.

It is when Alexei comes back from the bar, shouldering his way through the crowd to drop three shots of vodka on the table. He winks at Anastasia before sitting down by her side. “Sounds to me like Masha finally found her match.”

“Nana will be so proud,” Anastasia adds with her chin up and a shake of the head, making her little brother laugh.

Even if neither of them say so out loud, they all know it wasn’t always that easy -- Nana may be a great many things, kind and loving and so much more, but accepting that one of her granddaughters was gay, well. Let’s just say it was a process. But maybe it will be better now that Maria has found someone she loves and who loves her back. Anastasia hopes so. Nana still has Olga and Tanya to give her as many great-grandchildren as she wishes, after all.

“Know what it means, though,” Alexei adds with a elbow to Anastasia’s side, which makes Maria laugh.

Yes. She knows it all too much, and is not exactly looking forward to it. Anastasia grabs the shot of vodka in front of her, downs it, and winces. The alcohol burns down her throat and stomach, but doesn’t calm her nerves. Quite the contrary.

“Yes, because god forbid I have a good, fulfilling job and an apartment of my own, if I’m not also married with children. My celibacy eclipses all my other achievements in life.”

“What kind of feminist nonsense,” Maria jokes, and laughs when Anastasia throws a peanut at her face. She dodges it easily, and retaliates with the cherry from her cocktail. It hits Anastasia’s nose, and Maria’s next words hit right where it hurts. “Like you know how to be in a relationship anyway.”

She gapes at her older sister. “What does that even mean?”

Maria gives her the best Olga look she can muster, the one the eldest sister always favours when one of the youngest -- often Alexei -- does or says something wrong. But where it is effective with Olga, it is lost on Maria’s kind features and gentle eyes. Anastasia only scoffs at her in reply.

“It means, when was the last time you dated someone, Nastya?” Alexei asks.

She glares at him, the traitor. “I’ll have you know I date a lot of people.”

“When was the last time you dated someone for more than a day?” Maria clarifies.

Which. Not helping. Anastasia opens her mouth even as she keeps thinking, but not a single name comes to her mind. True, she hasn’t dated a lot of men in her life, but she doesn’t see what is wrong with that. It’s not like she needs to be dated someone to have a fulfilling life, and it’s not like she feels lonely. She likes being on her own, and doesn’t particularly envy her sisters for being married with children. It’s never been something she’s wanted for herself, and she won’t force herself to want something she doesn’t need.

Of course, Nana doesn’t see it this way, and Nana will soon decide that Anastasia is too old to be single. Which will lead to a procession of dates with proper Russian gentlemen, all of it arranged by her grandmother. Anastasia doesn’t particularly look forward to it, even if she can see it looming in a corner ever since she blew her twenty-fifth candle.

“Aloysha is single too. I don’t see anyone doing anything about that.”

“I’m busy,” Alexei replies. It’s his go-to answer, and it always works. Because he’s the only one in the family who’s still at university, now working on his doctorate in history. “I don’t have time for socialising.”

Anastasia offers him an unimpressed stare, even more so at his innocent smirk when he downs his shot of vodka. “I’m busy too and yet…”

“Come on, Nastya. Just admit it.” Anastasia directs her stare toward her sister. “You simply suck at dating.”

“I don’t -- I’m not -- no!” she sputters. “I could date if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.”

“Oh really?” Maria singsongs. The mischievous look doesn’t suit her. “Wanna bet on it?”

Alexei snorts a laugh into his beer, but otherwise doesn’t comment, leaving both sisters to stare at each other -- one challenging, the other murderous. It reminds Anastasia of all the bets they had as children, to climb trees and steal candies and annoy Nana’s employees. It often ended in one or two of them grounded and, on a particularly gruesome occasion, in Alexei spending a week at the hospital for a nasty-looking bruise despite his meds.

Sadly for herself, Anastasia has never been one to back down from their games and challenges. “What kind of bet?”

“Let’s say,” Maria starts and purses her lips, stirring her cocktail with the straw. “When is Nana’s gala again?”

“Next Wednesday,” Alexei chimes in.

“Next Wednesday. I bet you can’t find a guy tonight, in this bar, and keep him until next Wednesday. Prove me wrong and introduce him to Nana during the gala. As your boyfriend.”

“A guy? Any guy?”

Maria sits a little straighter in her chair, looking around her at the crowd of people. She seems to be scanning each and every one of the men in the room, pondering on each one, until her eyes sparkle and a smile stretches her lips. She raises a hand to point one finger at someone across the room. “This guy!”

 …

 Dmitry tries not to cringe too much, but it’s a lost battle at this point. His colleagues are all gathered around a table, piece of paper and pen between them, laughing like assholes at the list they are making. Mainly, the list of shit Dmitry will have to do for this stupid fucking article. They’re having a blast about it, like they made it their life’s goal to traumatise a poor girl for clicks, and it makes him sick in the stomach to witness it.

Why he accepted, Dmitry will never know. It goes against his integrity, as a journalist and as a man, but those kinds of jobs just don’t fall in your lap every day. He had to fight to become a journalist, even a shitty one, and it’s not like any publication is going to open their arms to him when he only has BuzzClick on his resume. So it’s either do this shit or go back to working at McDonald’s, and he’s had his share of customer service to last him a century.

He stands up suddenly at one particularly bad joke, deciding that he needs more alcohol if he’s going to survive the night. His beer is lukewarm by now, and he wants something stronger to settle the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

He barely makes it to the counter before someone shows up by his side, and he’s ready to give a mouthful to whichever colleague followed him. Only it’s not them. It’s possibly the prettiest girl he’s ever seen -- a head smaller than he is, with strawberry blonde hair and mesmerizing eyes. He can’t tell which colour they are in the darkness of the bar, blue or grey or something else. But beautiful, they definitely are beautiful, and so is she.

“Hi. I’m Anya.”

There is confidence in her tone and the way she holds herself, and Dmitry can’t look away. He’s always loved a woman who knows what she wants, and tonight is no different. “Dmitry. Want something to drink?”

She frowns at him, just for a moment, before she asks, “ру́сский?”

The use of his native language takes him by surprise, even more so coming from a woman with such a flawless French accent. He couldn’t have guessed, but he knows his French to be slightly rough around the edges. Just enough to be recognised by fellow Russians and to categorise him as ‘not from here’ by some. “Санкт-Петербу́рг,” he replies with ease.

“Пу́шкин,” she says. Ah. Not so far from where he grew up, then. Neighbours, even. Then, switching back to French, “But I’ve been living here since I was a little girl. And a Cosmo, please.”

Dmitry grins at her, before he manages to catch the attention of a bartender. “Cosmo and a vodka on the rocks, please.” Then, turning back to her, “My mother and I moved to France when I was ten. Lyon, not Paris. That came after.”

“Interesting,” she says, and takes a step closer to him. “And what brought you to Paris?”

Damn, but those eyes. He can’t look away from them, even when she offers him a mysterious smile and blinks down. There is something about them, and her, that have Dmitry want to know more, to know everything. It’s never happened before, and he has his fair share of experience with women. But her… Her!

It takes Dmitry a few seconds to remember she asked a question. “Journalism. Well, if you can call it that, really.” He wrinkles his nose. “I work for BuzzClick.”

She makes a face. Yeah, BuzzClick has that reputation. “Top ten worst websites of all time. You will not believe number four!”

He laughs and, just in time, grabs their drink and hands her the colourful cocktail. “Yeah, something like this. Not proud of it, but it does pay the bills. What about you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, looking at him above the rim of the glass and beneath her lashes, and Dmitry’s knees go weak. Damn, but he’s a goner. “I’m in charge of the Truth Of My Dreams foundation.”

Dmitry blinks at her, speechless for a moment. Because of course she would be in charge of such a foundation, making the dreams of almost-dying children come true all over the world. Of course she would.

“Beautiful and selfless,” he can’t help but comment. It makes her blush and look away, even more so when he finds the nerve to go on, “Wanna get out of here?”

When she looks back at him, there is a determination and hunger in her eyes like he’s never seen before. Dmitry makes a silent thanks to the universe because, whatever he did right, he sure didn’t deserve that beautiful of a twist of fate.

“Yes, please,” she says, and takes his hand.

He ignores the grins and hoots of his colleagues as they leave the bar.

[schrijverr]

Made for two

When they get stuck in a fox-hole Jonny gets slightly too comfortable between Bertie and Tim, who decide to tell him how much he means to them when he freaks out about letting himself get affection.

On AO3.

Ships: Tim x Bertie x Jonny

warnings: Jonnys low self esteem and mentions of war. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~

Jonny skidded into a fox-hole, Tim hot on his trail while Bertie held up the lead-sheet. This wasn’t an unusual situation to find themselves in, but what was different was that The Toy Soldier wasn’t there and that Bertie and Tim weren’t next to each other, instead sandwiching Jonny between the two of them.

This was a fact Jonny became aware of the moment the lead-sheet was lowered above them. His eyes flitted between Berties chest in front of him and the sheet above him as he cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Bertie asked concerned as he heard the swears.

Blushing Jonny said: “Nothing, nothing, just a tight fit.”

And that wasn’t a lie, the fox-hole wasn’t made for this many people and was smaller than the one they normally occupied back when TS was still with them, but it was mostly that Jonny felt awkward he had gotten between Bertie and Tim.

Bertie and Tim were always near each other and touching, it was clear how much they loved one another and now he was trapped between them in a small hot space without The Toy Soldier as barrier.

Don’t get Jonny wrong, he didn’t not want to be here, actually he would like nothing less then the comfort and closeness Bertie and Tim could give him, but he didn’t want to intrude on them or impose his own need for affection on them.

It had gotten a bit quiet after his reply, but there was a bit of shuffling, then Tim said: “I don’t think I can get backwards, this is made for two, sorry.”

“‘S alright. I don’t mind that much.” Jonny tried to backtrack, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll live.”

“Are you sure?” Bertie checked.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” Jonny waved his concern away.

He felt how the two others had shuffled away to press themselves into the wall as much as possible to give him as much space as possible. He was now able move a bit and the space immediately felt to big and cold, despite the cramped heat that was the reality.

Above them the alarms still blared but in the fox-hole it was silent. Jonny was well aware of how uncomfortable he had probably made the other two and was wracking his brain for something to say to make it right, but nothing came through the insults directed at himself.

With his thoughts somewhere else Jonny didn’t notice his rifle slipping of his shoulder, so when it suddenly dropped to the floor he yelped slightly and jumped, making him fall into Berties chest.

Before he could apologize Tim had a hand over his mouth and hissed: “Shush, I think I hear someone.”

The three of them froze as they listened. For a moment nothing happened, then they heard a gurgle and the sounds of someone sizzling. Berties eyes grew wide and he said: “Someone’s dying out there.”

“And we’re not helping them, love.” Tim told him with a stern look, moving his hand from Jonnys mouth to Berties shoulder as he looked him in the eye, “Whoever it is, they’re dead now, we are not risking it.”

Bertie looked up for a second, then relented. He put his hand on Tims and agreed: “Okay, we’ll stay.”

During the conversation they had all but forgotten about Jonny, who wasn’t going to point this out to them, instead focusing on how much taller the two were, a detail he hadn’t really noticed until they were literally talking over his head.

However, Bertie did notice, which in turn made Tim notice, making them both shuffle back with an apology.

Jonny missed them instantly and snapped: “For fucks sake, I don’t think you got an illness, we’re gonna be here for a while, please just stand normally, Jesus fuck.”

It was silent for a moment. Jonny was just about to start worrying if he’d said something wrong when Tim commented: “I don’t think fuck was his last name, but I never really paid attention in Sunday school.”

Bertie and Jonny laughed at that as everyone relaxed slightly as they waited for the minutes to tick by. It took a surprisingly long time to cook someone in a microwave and the Lunar Men never took chances, so microwave attacks could take a while.

So they just stood in their fox-hole and waited.

If The Toy Soldier were here, Jonny would be annoying it while Tim and Bertie held each other and whispered lowly.

Jonny missed that, missed TS cheerfully obliging him in reshaping its mustache or not minding him fiddling with the buttons on its uniform.

Now that he thought about it, he missed the others too. He might have enlisted on his own, but that was because there was nothing better to do on the stupid planet he had been dumped on as punishment.

He hoped the other were okay, he hoped Ashes was protecting Nastya like they’d promised and Brian wasn’t letting the loneliness of the cockpit get to him and that Ivy wasn’t letting herself get lost between her books. He even hoped The Toy Soldier was having fun on the other side.

All these emotions hit him when he looked up and saw Bertie staring lovingly at Tim, who was most likely behind him staring back.

Here he was, in a random solar system, on a random moon, in a tiny fox-hole all by himself keeping two people from getting a bit of comfort. He always ruined relations between people, that’s why he had been dumped there, apparently plotting against the captain was mutiny and unacceptable.

The sadness of it all was almost funny.

His knees buckled slightly beneath him and he could hear himself make a noise that could be interpreted as both a laugh and a sob.

Meeting Berties chest with his forehead, the other asked: “Jonny? Jonny, are you alright?”

Jonny leaned for a moment, then sighed: “I’m fine, I’m fucking fabulous.”

He was sure Tim was about to make a smart-ass comment about that when the alarms cut out, signaling the attack was over.

“Oh thank fuck.” Jonny released a breath as he started to climb out of the fox-hole, but before he could get far, he was tugged back down by Tim, who returned his hand over Jonnys mouth as he shushed him and whispered about a fast infantry attack right after a few days back.

Tim was about to loose a finger to Jonnys teeth when they heard footsteps and rifles firing. Bertie and Tims hearts beat in their throats as they silently waited for the footsteps and fighting to go away, so that they would be safe.

They tensed up at the footsteps directly above them and prayed the Lunar Men wouldn’t notice the slight change in sound when they hit the lead-sheet.

Unconsciously Tim had started inching closer to Bertie, taking Jonny with him. With the extra weight above them, a bit of the wall crumbled, making Tim come forward even more.

Jonny was now really pressed tightly between the two. Tims hand was still over his mouth, while his other arm was around Jonnys waist from where he had put it to keep Jonny from leaving the fox-hole. Bertie meanwhile had wrapped his left arm protectively around Tim, squishing Jonny into his chest, as his right aimed his rifle up, ready to fire.

The seconds seemed to pass like hours, but soon the footsteps walked on and after that the rest of the noises ceased as well.

Three pairs shoulders released the tension in them, well, two pairs of shoulders, Jonny was already quite relaxed. He was practically held upright by the two other and he’d gone boneless in the unfamiliar comforting warmth, beneath his ear he could hear Berties heart beating steadily and there was no place he’d rather be right now.

With the immediate danger gone Bertie and Tim now seemed to notice the limp form of Jonny in their arms. They looked down, faces full of concern that Jonny had accidentally gotten killed, but instead found him peacefully leaning against them with his eyes closed.

For a moment neither knew how to proceed. They had never seen Jonny so relaxed and it felt wrong to take that from him.

They shared a look, before they looked back down again as Jonny rubbed his face into Berties chest and sagged even further into them. Softly Bertie said: “Hey there, buddy. Are you awake?”

Jonny frowned slightly at that and mumbled: “Jus’ a littl’onger.”

So apparently Jonny was on the edge of coherency, if Bertie and Tim had to guess it was the nights of staying up to keep watch, not trusting the others to do it, catching up on him as well as a general lack of affection they had observed in him.

If it were a day off in camp when this had happened, they wouldn't hesitate to keep Jonny close and deal with the fall out later if he didn’t return their feelings, but they were in an active war zone right now.

“Jonny, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.” Bertie nudged him again, making him pout.

“Wake up, you fucking donut, we don’t have time for this right now. Can I tempt you with hugs if we survive today?” Tim shook him a bit.

That worked slightly better as Jonny frowned, then blinked blearily, before his eyes snapped open and he tumbled backwards from Berties chest into Tims. He quickly apologized: “Oh my god, I don’t know what happened there, uhm, yeah, so that’s awkward, let’s forget that ever hap-”

“Jonny.” Tim interrupted him, “It’s alright.”

“But I-”

“Just let it be, it’s fine. How about we get out of here and we’ll talk when were safe, because I don’t know about you, but I rather not get trapped in here again.” Tim said.

“Uh, I- okay?” Jonny finally agreed, cheeks bright red.

“Good.” Bertie smiled, before giving him a boost out of the fox-hole, after which he climbed out as well and pulled Tim up.

Jonny was still blushing and pointedly not looking at Bertie or Tim as they made their way back to camp, hoping to catch the Lunar Men between them and rest by surprise on the way there.

Luck was on their side and they, not swiftly but close enough, got rid of the Lunar Men that had walked over them previously. It was a short and violent battle and afterwards Jonny seemed more like himself.

They arrived in camp bloody and to the surprise of everyone, who had assumed they’d died out there with the rest.

After they had collected their rations, Jonny tried to sneak away unnoticed, but when you’re 5ft of concentrated drama that is quite hard and Tim and Bertie easily steered him to their usual hangout spot.

By the time they got there Jonny was quieter and he let himself be pushed down onto the ground, which he started to inspect in detail, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Bertie sighed, then said: “Jonny…”

Apparently that was enough for whatever had been brewing inside him to burst out: “I’m sorry about what happened back there, I don’t even know why I did that. It was weird and I didn’t mean to do it, so don’t be mad. I won’t do it again, I promise that I won’t.”

They’d gotten a bit overwhelmed by the sudden stream of words, but now they’d gathered their bearings a bit and Bertie quickly said: “Jonny stop, stop, it’s okay, just take a breath.”

Jonny did just that, falling silent for just a moment, a moment that Tim quickly took to assure him: “We didn’t mind, Jonny, I don’t know what your brain is telling you, but it was fine.”

He and Bertie sat down on either side of Jonny. Jonny was tense and poised to leave, but he didn’t seem so stressed anymore, just uncertain.

It was quiet for a moment, then he asked: “Why?”

“What?” Bertie asked.

“Why are you two not super mad at me right now? I got between you two, literally, was annoying about it and then almost fell asleep like some sort of crazy person while we were supposed to be alert and ready and I just didn’t do all that. So why aren’t you mad at me?” Jonny was sounding very confused, a few tears beginning to form.

It broke their heart to see Jonny so confused and upset about them wanting him around. Bertie started to move, but halted the action and asked: “Can I touch you right now?”

Jonnys brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded, which was enough for Bertie who wrapped an arm around him and said: “We’re not mad at you, because we would like nothing more than to see you comfortable and relaxed for a moment. We want to do that for you.”

Beside him Tim nodded and leaned into Jonnys space as well, making him as comfortable as possible while Jonny thought about that.

He was silent, then he softly asked: “Why would you want to do that? You already have each other and I’m just annoying.”

Bertie and Tim shared a glance, a silent agreement to beat the shit out of everyone who had made Jonny feel like that, before they focused back on the task at hand.

“Because we care about you. It might seem hard to believe in your eyes, but you are so worthy of that, sweetheart.” Tim had always been one for petnames.

“Yeah, we might love each other, but we love you too.” Bertie continued Tims starting point, “You are so soft looking and cute that I just want to wrap you into a hug and never let go and kiss you and tell you it’s all gonna be alright.”

Jonnys face now resembled a neon light with how much he was blushing as he ducked into himself slightly, soaking in their embrace while he processed that all.

Then, so soft it was almost inaudible, Jonny whispered: “I’d like that even if I can’t believe it.”

Immediately they brightened up, they had known Jonny might be insecure or even not into the whole thing, so this was a good outcome all things considered. Tim wasted no time situating Jonny between his legs, so that he could lean against his chest, while Bertie sat in front of him carefully feeding him his rations.

For a moment it seemed Jonny was going to protest against it, but Tim had wrapped his arms around him, pinning his own slightly, so he had relented and by the end his eyes were almost slipping close as he calmly accepted spoonfuls of food.

When the food was gone, Bertie helped Tim and Jonny lay on their side in the tent. The day had already been long and unpleasant and here in the middle of base camp they were at least safe enough to rest peacefully.

Tim spooned Jonny from behind and Bertie embraced him from the front, peppering his face with little pecks that made Jonny giggle. Yes, honest to god giggle, it seemed like either he was too tired to fight it or high on affection, but that didn’t stop Bertie and Tim from fawning over him until he cracked open one eye and grumbled a bit, only earning him more coos.

Jonny looked like he belonged there, his face was slack, making him look more youthful, and his limbs were warm and pliant in their arms as he hummed contently at the snuggles. Tim behind him fit too as he gently kissed the top of Jonnys head and held him tightly. Like he was made for the two of them.

Bertie admired them for a moment, then he squeezed both his boys tightly and promised: “I’m gonna make sure neither of you forget how loved you are.”

A promise he never got to keep.