#haven’t replied to anyone my skin is dry I’m dehydrated

[bodega-catto]

Work starts tomorrow…

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 17

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 17

Chapter Summary: We'll get through this, I promise.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: I'm almost 100% sure this is legally inaccurate. It's a work of fiction, though so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Also, vomiting and mentions of anxiety/poor mental state. Mentions of prior abuse.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15} {Chapter 16}

Lawyers, attorneys, case building, legal proceedings and court dates all swam around Faye's head to the point she was dizzy. Henry had taken immediate action and gotten in touch with his legal team right away, ultimately being referred to someone more specialized in custody cases who agreed to work with Faye's sister on the case. He as not about to let that slime ball come back after years and take their baby from them.

First, they had to file for Faye to be the sole parent and guardian of Briar, sighting the years long abandonment for terminating any rights he may have had. Then, they had to gather up everything they could proving he was an unfit father, picking at old wounds that Faye would rather be left alone. All she'd had to do was get in contact with her sister and within minutes she had over a dozen pictures of just as many occasions with Faye battered and bruised, or with her fingers in casts, or her lip split. Faye hadn't even known her sister had been taking them, but she had also blocked out a lot of that time of her life. Her sister had always been the more responsible level headed one anyway. She'd probably taken them just in case something like this ever happened.

Her sister had also filed for a restraining order against him on her behalf. She knew what kind of person he was and having a legal order of protection against him was a solid idea. It prevented him from intimidating Faye or trying to just take Briar.

Overall, they were assured by almost everyone that he stood no chance. He had walked out of her life before she was even born and never tried to be in contact since. No judge in their right mind would listen to a word he had to say.

That did very little to settle Faye's anxiety. Over the next few weeks Henry would often find her crying silently, her mind a million miles away dwelling on the what ifs. Briar had moved to sleeping in their bed the same night they had gotten the letter, more for Faye's sake than anything else. Having her daughter close was one of the few things that calmed her down anymore. Henry had tried everything he could think of to take her mind off of what was happening, but with little success. All it would take is one look at Briar and Faye would start tearing up again.

Faye had gotten so bad she would barely eat. She would only pick at her food, nibbling on a few bites here and there. Henry could tell she was losing weight, but he was unable to convince her to actually eat more. She just kept telling him she felt sick all the time. A few times she had even worked herself up into such an anxious mess that she was physically sick. Henry had yet to meet her ex, but he knew he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. Whoever that slime ball was, he had severely crossed the line. The woman he loved was a wreck because of him, something had to be done.

Henry took it upon himself to pack everyone for the trip to the states, not wanting to add anymore stress to Faye if he didn't have to. Briar had been given Dramamine before the flight and again almost halfway through to keep her from getting sick. Faye's chronically empty stomach faired far worse. She was in and out of the small airplane bathroom, Henry dutifully following each time as she brought up bile or nothing at all, her stomach desperate to rid itself of contents it didn't even have. She even threw up the Dramamine he'd gotten her to take. It was times like this he was eternally grateful he was able to fly privately. The entire flight would have been a nightmare if they had to deal with other passengers at the same time.

He had booked the biggest suite he could within a reasonable distance of the court house where hearings were meant to be held. They wanted to have some privacy before everything happened, though they were planning on staying with Faye's parents afterwards until they went back home. Faye wanted to be impressed and thankful for everything he was doing for her and her daughter, once again, but she didn't have the energy to do much more than squeeze him tight, resting her weary head against his strong chest.

"It'll be alright, darling. No one is going to take our princess away." Henry assured, tilting her head up to kiss her gently.

"It's just dredging up so many bad memories." Faye admitted shakily, wiping her eyes before more tears could fall. Between throwing up and crying she was sure she was dehydrated, her head pounding in synch with her heart to prove it.

"I know, but they're in the past now."

"But they're not." Faye hiccupped, hiding her face in his chest again. "All of this is happening right now."

"This is the last time he is going to have any contact with either of you. Go and take a long shower, darling. Try to relax. You need your sleep."

"I know I look awful." Faye sighed, reluctantly stepping away from him.

"Just as beautiful as ever." Henry corrected, digging through the bags to find Faye's shower bag and something for her to change into. While she was in the bathroom, Henry convinced the half asleep toddler to get ready for bed, handing her a pair of zip up pajamas along with her diaper, reminding her to go potty before he would zip her up.

The child was tucked into the middle of one of the beds, hugging her stuffed bunny tightly and falling asleep almost instantly. Henry went to check on Faye once he was sure she was asleep, smiling softly when he saw her stepping out of the shower.

"Feeling any better?"

"Not really." Faye sighed, letting Henry take the towel from her and dry her off.

"It will be over soon, I promise." Henry assured, pulling one of the shirts she had stolen from him over her head.

"Not soon enough."

~*~

"She ran out as soon as she found out she was pregnant. I tried to track her down for years, but I never could find her. That's the only reason I haven't been in my daughter's life. I could never find an address for either of them. She just vanished."

Faye felt her skin crawl at his words, physically shrinking away from him the moment he laid eyes on her. Everything just came flooding back, and suddenly she was right where she was years ago, having to put up with his lies and manipulations. She could feel more bile threatening to creep up her throat every time she looked at him.

"As you can see, the defendant never filed for sole custody of the child until very recently. It is our belief that she is using the child against my client for some perceived wrongs. She has even fled the country to make sure that my client has no access to the child."

"Alright. Miss Warren?" The judge shifted his attention to the other side of the room. "Is the plaintiff the biological father of the child?"

"Yes." Faye answered softly.

"And did you try to reach out to him after the birth of the child?"

"No, I did not. He left the second he found out I was pregnant. He avoided my attempts to contact him up until I gave birth. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with us."

"And did you in fact leave the country with the child in an effort to avoid contact with the plaintiff?"

"No. I left because I had a job offer in another country. My daughter came with me, because she is my daughter."

"Your honor, if I may?" Delilah stepped in, squeezing her sister's hand supportively.

"Go ahead Miss... Warren."

"As you can see from the documents I have provided, my client has only moved three times in the last five years. The first was into an apartment in the same town she resided in with the plaintiff before their split. She held a lease in that same apartment until a year and a half ago when she moved to England. She only recently moved from there into a home that she shares with her current boyfriend. For the plaintiff to be unable to locate my client, he would have had put little to no effort into actually looking for her."

"Does Mr. Young have any evidence of him attempting to locate the defendant? What efforts did he make?"

"My client did the searching by himself, there is no paper trail of his efforts."

"So you cannot provide any evidence of his attempts to locate the defendant or the child in question?"

"No your honor."

"Now, Miss Warren... the lawyer, do you have a statement to make?"

"Yes, your honor. As you can see from the documents I have provided you with, my client suffered abuse at the hands of the plaintiff for years. There are not only pictures of the injuries, but also documentation from several emergency room visits due to 'blunt force trauma' along with multiple domestic violence reports against the plaintiff. The plaintiff left shortly after my client revealed her pregnancy and no attempts to contact my client or the child in question are able to be confirmed. Tell me, Mr. Young. If you were so invested in your unborn child, what was the child's expected due date? On what day did my client suffer a miscarriage of one of the children she was carrying? What do you even know about the child you want in your life so badly now?"

"I don't know anything, that bit- the defendant kept her from me."

"Kept her from you, or you didn't try to make any contact?"

"I tried to make contact!"

"Enough, Mr. Young." The judge sighed, leaning back to look at the papers in front of him. "Tell me Miss Warren, what does the child in question know about the plaintiff?"

"Nothing." Faye replied softly. "She didn't have a father in her life."

"Would it be alright if we spoke to the child?" The judge asked, looking over to where Briar sat in the back of the room, playing with her stuffed bunny under Henry's watchful eye.

"Briar?" Faye called, the child popping up and running over to her mother. "Would you be ok talking to everyone?"

"Ok, Mama!" Briar eagerly accepted, scurrying over to the chair she had seen everyone else take a turn sitting in.

"Hello Briar." The judge greeted, smiling warmly at the child.

"Hi." Briar giggled, squeezing her bunny to her chest.

"I like your bunny. He is very well behaved."

"We be good." Briar confirmed, nodding her head surely.

"Now, Briar, can you tell me about your family?"

"Yeah! I have my mama and that my aunt Lilah! I see Nana and Grampy on the phone too! Oh! And I met Papa family too! We play in the big yard, then we all went to sleep in the couch room and they were all giggling, but I was good!"

"You met your Papa's family?" The judge asked, his brow furrowing.

"I like Papa family." Briar giggled.

"Mr. Young, has the child had contact with your family?" The judge asked.

"Yes, she has recently met my family."

"Mama?"

"Hold on sweetie, Mommy needs to talk to Aunt Delilah." Faye rushed out, turning her terrified eyes to her sister. "What is he doing? Briar has never met his family. I've never met his family!"

"I thought he just congealed in a gutter somewhere. What is Briar talking about? Who's family did she meet?" Delilah whispered back.

"Henry's. She calls him Papa, we met them just a few weeks ago."

"That's kind of adorable, we will circle back to that after we deal with this douchebag. Can you prove she's never met dingus's family?"

"We've only been back in the States for two days. I don't even know where his family lives. Like I said, I never even met them!"

"That's something. Where's her passport?" Delilah mumbled to herself, shifting through the various papers in front of her.

"Papa? Papa, I gotta go!" Briar whimpered, squirming in her seat.

"I'll take you since Miss Warren is too busy." David quickly offered, popping up and reaching for the child before anyone else had a chance to react.

"No!" Briar screamed, kicking and wiggling when he picked her up. "No! Not Papa! Not Papa! Help! Mama!"

"Hey, it's me. It's Papa!" David tried, attempting to wrangle the thrashing child.

"NOT PAPA! WANT HENRY PAPA!" Briar screeched, hitting him in the face with her stuffed bunny.

"David, put her down! You're scaring her!" Faye yelled, anxious tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was her heart in her throat, or if the water she'd been sipping on was trying to make a reappearance. The sight of him touching her daughter was enough to make her sick.

"Mr. Young!" The Judge barked, finally succeeding in getting him to release the struggling child. Briar dashed to the back of the room, throwing her arms around Henry's legs, frantically trying to climb him as she cried.

"Hey, it's ok Princess." Henry soothed, lifting her up and holding her tight. "Can you go and sit by Mama after you go potty?"

"NO!" Briar squealed again. "Papa stay! Bad man! Mama!" Briar blubbered almost incoherently, squeezing her bunny tight as she gasped between sobs.

"Ok, ok. I'll be right here. I'll make sure the mean man doesn't touch you or Mummy again, I promise." Henry assured, grimacing when he felt a warm wetness soaking through his shirt. "Princess? Did you have an accident?" Henry asked her quietly, glaring daggers at the other man when she shakily nodded her head.

"He... he scare me."

"I know, it's alright. We'll get you cleaned up, ok?"

"Your honor, may I ask the child a question?" Delilah ventured, standing up and placing her hand on Briar's back to get her attention. "Briar, who is your Papa?"

"Papa." Briar sniveled, hiding her snotty, tear stained face in Henry's neck.

"Your honor, as you can see from the copy of the child's passport, she has only been back in the United States for just over two days. She has never met the plaintiff's parents in her life. She is clearly terrified of him, too. Can we please stop all this nonsense?"

"I've heard all I need to." The Judge decided, turning to look at David. "Mr. Young, you have lied to me several times and provided me no substantial evidence regarding any of your claims. The child does not feel safe with you, and for good reason considering the numerous cases of domestic violence against you. Your parental rights are hereby terminated, and the defendant's request for an order of protection is granted, effective immediately."

"You can't be serious!" He growled, turning his furious eyes to the judge.

"I am very serious, Mr. Young. Even if you did genuinely want to be in the child's life, your previous convictions against the defendant prove you to be unfit to care for her." The Judge continued.

"She's ok." Faye breathed shakily, finally forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, Henry instantly wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her.

"I told you everything would be ok." Henry whispered, kissing her forehead softly. "No one is taking our princess away."

"I sorry Mama. I had accident." Briar sniffled.

"It's ok baby. Did you pee on the mean man?"

"Uh-hu. He scary." Briar mumbled. "No sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to him." Henry assured. "How about we go back to the hotel and get you a bath? We can go out for ice cream after."

"Please." Briar whimpered, continuing to hide in Henry's neck.

"No need to be upset. You're not in any trouble." Faye soothed.

"How about you? How are you doing?" Henry asked Faye, gently leading her out the door.

"Better? I don't know. I'm happy but still so anxious." Faye admitted.

"After all of this I don't blame you, but it's over now, darling. It's all over."

Faye and Briar ended up sharing a long bath when they got back to the hotel, giving Henry time to use the exercise room to relieve some of his own tensions. He had no idea what he would have done if they had been ordered to share custody. He hadn't known the little girl for very long, but she was still his world. He was willing to give up anything if it meant keeping his family together.

When he had gotten back to the hotel room, both of his girls were dressed, Briar happily attempting to dry her mother's hair while she sat on the floor, calling out directions to the little girl. She handed the dryer off to her mother as soon as she saw Henry, happily throwing her arms around his legs.

"You back!"

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm back." Henry chuckled, picking her up and kissing her forehead. "You have to try harder than that to get rid of me."

"Ewww! Papa you smelly!" Briar whined, covering her nose with both hands.

"The audacity!" Henry gasped, hugging her even tighter, laughing when she groaned in protest. "I in no way smell like a sweaty gym sock."

"You icky, Papa!" Briar repeated, pushing his face away with one hand, the other covering her nose. "You take a bath. I get you toys!" She decided, wiggling to be let down. Both adults nodded along as Briar monologued her choices in what Henry should take with him, tossing each one into the tub. She had decided upon a rubber duck, a wash cloth, a Captain America action figure, a horse figurine, the hotel mouthwash and carefully placed his razor on the side of the tub, sternly reminding him not to cut his hair again.

"Ok, princess. Promise I won't cut my hair again." Henry agreed for what had to be the hundredth time since he'd had to cut his hair for work months ago.

"Briar, how about we go finish getting ready, and then when Papa's done, we can all go see Nana and Grampy?" Faye offered, wincing at the decibel of the scream that erupted from the little girl's chest.

"NANA! GRAMPY!" She cheered, racing past her mother, digging through her bag to look for her shoes.

"You might want to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep her here." Faye chuckled, her brows crinkling when she saw the look on Henry's face. "What? You said you were ok with meeting my parents..."

"No, it's not that. That's the first time I've seen you laugh in weeks." Henry pointed out, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm trying to do better. Sorry I've been miserable to be around."

"Don't apologize for how you feel. Anyone would be upset if they had to go through that. I want you happy again, but I don't want you to force it. I want you to be really happy."

"Well, you can make me happier if you showered. The man stink is overwhelming." Faye teased, Henry rolling his eyes at her. "I see how it is, right back to teaming up on me. Just so you know, Kal is usually on my side."

"Guess we'll have to have a tiebreaker then." Faye shrugged, smirking as she left him alone in the bathroom with a shocked smile on his face.

When they finally arrived at Faye's parents home, Briar was about to burst from her seat in excitement. Faye barely got her out of the car before she was scurrying up the front steps, frantically ringing the doorbell. Faye followed behind her daughter, relaxing even more once she was in the familiar surroundings.

Delilah was the one to answer the door, her hair still up in it's sleek, professional updo, though she had changed into more comfortable clothes once she had gotten back to her parent's house. Briar audibly groaned when she saw her aunt for the second time that day.  "Aunt Lilah! Where Nana?"

"She's in the kitchen, waiting on you." Delilah laughed, moving out of the child's way and wrapping her sister in a hug. "Told you we'd get through this."

"My sister, always there to save my ass."

"And you thought law school was a stupid idea."

"You said the same thing about art school, and look what it got me." Faye teased, nodding at Henry as he made his way up the stairs.

"Ok, you got me there. No one in my law firm looks anything like that. All the ones that ask me out for drinks are fat, bald and married."

"Is that where your standards are now?"

"Basically." Delilah laughed, ushering the two inside.

"Faye!" A short older woman cheered, bustling in from the back of the house with Briar on her hip.

"Hi Mom!" Faye greeted, pulling away from Henry to hug her mother. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my partner, Henry."

"Partner?" Her mother questioned, giving her daughter a strange look.

"It just sounds better than 'boyfriend'. More sophisticated."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Warren." Henry cut in, offering his hand to her only to be pulled into a surprisingly tight bear hug.

"Now, now! We hug around here!"

"Papa give good hugs!" Briar giggled.

"Yes, he does." The older woman agreed, patting his shoulder before venturing back into the house.

"Dad is around here somewhere. Probably break-fixing something." Faye mumbled, taking a quick glance around in an attempt to discern where he was.

"Just follow the sound of objects crying, you'll find him." Delilah laughed. "I think he said something about fixing the ceiling fan in the gremlin's room."

"Which one are you staying in?" Faye asked.

"I'll bite the bullet and sleep in the gremlin room. Not very often you have the chance to score in your childhood bedroom." Delilah teased, Henry shifting his gaze uncomfortably anywhere else.

"Like that isn't what happened when we visited your parents." Faye scoffed, grabbing his hand to lead him down the hallway.

"That's different." Henry mumbled, hefting their bags up as she pulled him away.

"How?"

"They're my family. There's not much I could do by now that one of us hasn't done before."

"Relax, I'm pretty sure my sister knows we've had sex by now. I would know, I told her."

"Only good things I assume?"

"Well the conversation started with me telling her she gave me the wrong size condoms when I moved away."

"Wonderful." Henry sighed, fighting back a laugh when he was led into a room with two twin beds against opposing walls.

"If you want I can help you push those together." A voice from behind offered. "Hi, I'm the dad."

"Hello, sir. I'm Henry." He greeted, setting the bags down and offering his hand, the other man gripping it firmly and resting his other hand on his elbow, giving a curt nod.

Faye's father wasted no time in sequestering Henry off into a different bedroom to hold up the ceiling fan while he worked on it. Henry wasn't sure what he was doing, and he had a feeling he didn't know what he was doing himself. He was either trying to find a bad wire, or attempting to electrocute both of them.

Faye and her sister had wandered back to the living room, curling up on the couch with her head in her sister's lap catching up on everything that had happened while they had been apart. Delilah had been killing it in her law firm, to say the least. She'd bought her first condo and a cat to go with it. The cat hated her, despite her many attempts to befriend the feline now sharing her home.

Briar spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with her Nana, 'helping' her make cookies and brownies. Naturally, she had to sample everything that was being made. She also got sole ownership of the spatula, and she made sure everyone knew it, loudly yelling it to the rest of the house.

They weren't all back in the same room again until dinner time, Briar happily explaining to Henry that she had been the one to make the 'sketti' as she kept calling it. He had doubts to the validity of that statement. He also quickly figured out where Faye had learned to cook. Faye finally did more than pick at her food, actually inhaling three plates of her favorite comfort dish. After they had all stuffed themselves, the three travelers decided to head to bed, the combination of jet lag, the day's events, and the amount of carbs they had just consumed almost putting them into a coma at the table.

Briar went straight into the room at the end of the hall as soon as her pajamas were on, happily leaping onto the giant canopy bed. Surrounding it were stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes, along with tumble mats, a slide, a small ball pit, a mini trampoline and the biggest dollhouse Henry had ever seen. One wall was a chalkboard, several of Briar's artworks still decorating it from the last time she was there, the other walls were painted a soft purple, her name written in big silver letters on the wall behind the bed, peering proudly through the posters of the canopy.

"It's her room at my parent's house." Faye shrugged.

"Tell me again how I'm the one that spoils her?"

"There's more stuff in here now than there used to be."

"No there's not!" Delilah called from down the hall, Faye shooting an annoyed look over her shoulder.

"They're her grandparents, they're supposed to spoil her."

"Is this the biggest room in the house?"

"It used to be our playroom. Dad wanted to turn it into a home theater before I had Briar."

"Papa, watch!" Briar gasped, picking up a remote and turning on the TV mounted on the wall across from her bed.

"A TV of her own in her room." Henry half laughed. "And I get yelled at for sneaking her a biscuit!"

"You sneak her cookies just before dinner!"

"Your mother has been stuffing her with cookies since we got here."

"She hasn't seen her in a while?"

"That settles it, until I end up getting that kid her own pony I don't want to hear another word about me spoiling her." Henry snorted.

"She asked you for a pony, didn't she?"

"It's come up." Henry confirmed, tucking the sleepy, squirmy child in tightly with her bunny under her arm.

"She's not getting a pony." Faye grouched, kissing her daughter's forehead.

"But I want a pony." Briar pouted.

"Where will you keep a pony?"

"The stable where Papa ride horseys."

"You know, Mommy is pretty sure she asked Papa not to take you out there." Faye grouched accusingly, glaring at Henry as he pointedly avoided her gaze.

"She started crying." Henry mumbled, giving her a pathetic look. "I can't say no when she's that upset. It was just the once, I promise. She only pat them, she didn't get on a single horse."

"Wanna ride horsey."

"Anything else you do that I should know about?" Faye asked, raising a brow at her boyfriend.

"I leave my underwear on the bathroom floor every night then put them in the hamper each morning before you wake up."

"Strangely specific."

"It has been eating me up inside for ages. I finally feel free."

It felt like no time at all that Faye was curled up in her old bed, Henry sleeping in the one that used to be her sisters. It felt like even less time before she was jerked out of sleep, her stomach protesting strongly, bile rising into her throat. She jumped out of bed and rushed across the hall to the bathroom, not even taking the time to turn on the lights before violently emptying herself of everything she had eaten that day. Henry was right there only a few seconds later, having been awoken by her frantic rush to the bathroom. He held her hair back at the base of her neck, rubbing her back softly and trying to focus on anything other than her vomiting. He should have been used to it after Faye being literally worried sick for weeks, but the smell got to him every time.

"I think I ate too much." Faye whimpered, using some tissue to wipe her mouth and tossing it into the bowl, flushing it along with everything she'd just thrown up.

"You haven't eaten much in weeks, darling. Maybe you should try pacing yourself more?" Henry suggested, slowly helping her to her feet to rinse her mouth out.

"I know, but I just love my mom's spaghetti so much." Faye whined.

"I'm sure she'll make it again if you just ask her."

"Well that seems obvious now."

"Think you can go back to bed?" Henry asked, leading her back across the hall at her small nod.

After another two days of feeling nauseous, they had all come to the conclusion that her immune system must have been weakened by the stress of everything and caused her to catch some stomach bug. After a week and a half, she was wondering what kind of super bug she had managed to contract. The only time she could keep food down was when she would nibble at things throughout the day. Just how long would it take for her stomach to get used to food again before she could keep it down? She'd hoped she would be able to stomach something more substantial on their last full day with her family, muscling down her mother's homemade waffles until lunchtime. Two bites of mashed potatoes was all it took to tip her over the top, landing right back in the bathroom with Henry holding her hair back.

Thankfully they had noticed the pattern of small bits of food staying down in time for them to fly back to England. The fatigue of her being sick, along with how emotional she was about not being able to actually spend as much time with her family as she would have liked while she was there had her sleeping almost the entire flight. That left Henry dealing with Briar's motion sickness. He was slowly becoming convinced his entire world would be nothing but vomit for the foreseeable future. Faye finally gets to where she can eat just fine, only for Briar to be throwing up kool-aid and vanilla wafers while her mother got some well deserved rest. It was a good thing he loved his girls, otherwise he may begin to resent them soon.

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay  @nostalgicb-txh

Ok, my taglist got deleted somehow. If I missed anyone, I’m sorry. If you want to be added, let me know. I’m doing my best to make the tags work, but it’s not going great, my dudes.

[neon-junkie]

Another Night Like This

Summary: This was just meant to be another drunken fuck, a heated session between two men that have spent the last few years sticking by each other's side. Maybe that's why it turned into making love?

Pairing: Javier Escuella x Bill Williamson

Word Count: 2130

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Accidental making love, Making out, Praise kink, Dirty talk, Drunken sex.

Notes: Had a few requests for more Willscuella hehe. This is set just before RDR1 :0)

The air in New Austin is crisp, blazing down onto everybodys skin, turning their mouthes dry, and burning the back of their throat. If you're short of water or whiskey, then you're fucked; but in this case, it's the dead of night, cool enough to keep the sweat away, but still dry and almost uncomfortably humid. Luckily, for a pair of unexpected lovers, dehydration isn't the case here, as tongues are sliding against each other as Javier pushes Bill down, grabbing his wrists as he falls back and pinning them on either side of his head. Their lips only leave each other for a brief moment, but when they reconnect, they're as hungry as ever. Javier adjusts his legs, swinging them over Bills lap as he straddles him, pinning his crotch against the much larger man. It's easy for Javier to over-power Bill, usually because Bill will submit to the other man with a click of his fingers, but how could anyone not submit to a well-dressed, golden-toned man, who's dark hair is currently falling a little too close to their mouths and getting caught up in their kiss.

Javier lets out a sigh as he breaks the kiss, sitting upright and pushing his hair from his face. Bill makes his usual comment, "you're gonna get fed up with it one day 'n' just cut it all off," he tells Javier, looking up at him with blown-pupils. "Maybe..." Javier replies, his eyes looking back down into Bills. He smirks softly, an expression that he pulls whenever he sees Bill like this; patiently waiting for Javier's orders, hands now resting on his stomach, visually struggling to restrain himself from pulling Javier back down onto him. The pair had been running together ever since the gang broke up a good few years ago; The wounds will never heal, but at least they have each other to keep themselves sane, or as sane as they can be whilst roaming around the dry sands of the desert. They've been camping at this same spot for a while now, just above the shore of the San Luis River. It's the perfect campsite, far enough from the main road that they don't get bothered, yet not too far from the closest town. There's also the flawless view of Mexico, its shores seeming so close yet still so far, and Javier spends every morning watching the sunrise over his homeland before prodding Bill awake, so they can get on with their day. In a few hours from now, Javier would be waking up early, ready for his daily routine. But Bill had dragged him to the saloon last night, and the pair could barely ride back, stumbling into camp and onto each other, spending another night with each other's company, as if they haven't been doing that for the last few years. They'd not bothered with hiding in their tent like they would at previous campsites, instead, finding each other beside their campfire, hands trailing across each other before Javier made his usual bold move of straddling Bills hips. "You gonna get these off for me?" Javier questions, his hand tugging at the light pants Bill recently brought. "Sure," Bill replies. Javier de-mounts him so Bill can begin to undress. He unbuttons his vest, letting out a sigh as begins to unbutton his shirt; it was Javier's idea that Bill tried adding a vest to his outfit, and as much as the outfit suits Bill, he's far too lazy to do up so many buttons every single day. However, he's even lazier to go and buy another outfit. At least Javier was smart enough to stop bothering with wearing vests, picking out the same white shirt that Bill now wears, along with a jacket that he barely buttons up. Bill had commented that Javier was getting as lazy as he was with his appearance, to which Javier sighed and said "guess I've spent too much time around you, huh?" Javier's hands are back on Bill before Bill can barely finish peeling off his shirt, discarding his shirt into their shared tent. Javier goes straight to fondling Bill's balls, biting his tongue to try and hide his smile as Bill lets out a whimper. "Why you always gotta do that?" Bill comments, and pouts when Javier chuckles. "No reason," Javier replies, biting his tongue in an attempt to hide his grin. As always, Javier's hand begins to trail south, prodding at Bill's entrance after slipping two fingers into his mouth. Bill relaxes against him, leaning back on his elbows and lets his legs fall apart; he's not a stranger to having Javier see him like this, and vice versa. One of his hands trails over Bills stomach, thinner than he used to be, but still coated in thick, dark hair. "Shit," Bill murmurs as Javier slips a finger into it. He doesn't bother going slow, pushing all the way up to his knuckle, knowing Bill can take it. "Still loose from last night, eh?" Javier comments as he slips another finger in, rotating it slight as he begins to fuck Bill with his fingers. "Shuddup," Bill grumbles, his eyes flicking away momentarily. The pouting of his bottom lip disappears as Javier finds that spot inside him, brushing over it with his fingers, making Bills cock twitch. "Shit, Javi-" Bill whines as he falls off his elbows, laying back in the dirt. "Good boy," Javier purrs. He catches Bills eyes as the larger man looks up at him with flushed cheeks, chewing at his bottom lip; Javier knows damn-well what praise does to him, and he's happily to send hoards of it Bills way, considering that this man has gone his entire life without any. A third finger is slipped in, and this time, Bill moans, rolling his head back in the dirt. Javier adjusts his position, lying down on his side beside his lover, propped up on his elbow. He continues thrusting his fingers in and out of Bill, all the whilst dipping his head down to catch Bills lips with his own. The kiss is messy, sloppy, seasoned with whimpers and soft words of affection. "You're doing so well for me, Bill," Javier sighs against his lips, and Bills cock twitches yet again. "You're hard for me, aren't you, Bill?" Javier asks as he moves his lips away, his dark eyes staring directly into Bills hazy ones. Bill manages to let out a soft "uh-huh," nodding his head at the same time. "Good, touch yourself," Javier commands, and chuckles as Bill darts his hand down to begin pumping his length. "Eager," he says with a smirk, and yet again, Bill tells him to shut up. "You think you're ready for me, big guy?" Javier asks. "Y-yeah," Bill sheepishly replies with a nod. Javier softly laughs at his timidity, shifting his weight to lie on his side comfortably, still propped up by his elbow. "We've fucked how many times? and you're still so shy around me?" "Oh, come on, you know what I'm like!" Bill defends. "Yeah, I do, Bill," he laughs, placing a soft kiss to his lips. "But you know I wouldn't want you any other way." The words slip from Javier's mouth, and it takes him a moment to process what he's just said. His eyes meet Bills, wide as always, and Bill stutters out "you wouldn't?" "I wouldn't," Javier confirms, and slips his fingers from Bills entrance. He wipes himself off on his pants before placing the same hand on Bills hip, caressing him, kneading his skin. This time, Bill reaches up to tug at Javier's hair, pulling him down to his height, and kissing him deeply. Javier has to bite back a laugh, knowing how much his words of approval mean to the larger man. Without breaking the kiss, he shuffles onto his knees, settling between Bills thighs, and begins to unbutton his pants, tossing his gun belt in the direction of their tent. Javier feels something tug at his chest, soon realizing that Bill's helping him undress, unbuttoning his shirt. Large hands trail up to help slip the fabric over his shoulders, before entwining with his hair. The kiss is soon broken, and as Javier sits upright, he pulls Bill by his hips, wrapping his legs around his waist, and positions his cock at the larger man's entrance. They sigh in unison as Javier pushes in, rolling his hips in short and quick movements, before settling on a long and slow pace. "Good, Bill," Javier sighs, watching his length disappear and reappear. He leans forward and picks up where the two left off, with open mouthed kisses, and soft moans shared between them. Bill's hands don't seem to settle, kneading at the smaller man's waist, gripping his biceps, trailing over his back; Javier doesn't mind, he's perfectly used to this, and takes pleasure in Bills neediness. He moves his lips from Bills, brushing over his turning-grey beard with light kisses, and settles on his neck, leaving his mark as the last one has finally faded away. Once Bill's neck is covered, satisfying Javier's standards, Javier sits mostly upright, turning his focus onto rolling his hips perfectly. The sight of Bill beneath him, a total whimpering mess, isn't foreign to Javier, but it's a sight that he takes in every time. "That's it, that's my Bill," Javier praises, smiling softly when Bill lets out his flustered whine as a reply. Bill's still tugging at his cock, but Javier politely swats his hand away, replacing it with his own. One hand rests on the dirt, propping his body over the larger man's, whilst the other pumps his cock in time with his thrusts, leaving Bill to grip onto whichever part of Javier's body that he can. "F-Faster... please," Bill mumbles. "What was that?" Javier asks with a smirk, stopping his thrusts completely. He pushes his cock as deep as it can go, hitting Bills prostate and making the larger man squirm beneath him. "I said faster, dammit! ....please," Bill corrects his barking, his pout being wiped away as Javier does exactly what he's asked, picking up the pace. The sound of skin against skin echoes through the thick air, possibly trailing over to the main road, but it's nobody's business but their own. As always, Bills moans are deep and gruff, with the occasional soft whimper, whereas Javier's are light and soft, mixed with words of praise. "Javi- you've gotta..." Bill attempts to call out. "Gotta what?" Javier replies. "S-Slow down," he whimpers, making Javier raise his brow. "A second ago you were asking me to go faster. Which is it, Bill?" he questions, biting back a laugh. "S-slo... Fa-sl... Aughh," Bill grumbles, indecisive as always. "Faster? again? alright, Bill. If that's what you want," Javier chuckles, picking up the pace once more. It's hard to pump Bills cock at the same speed, but Javier does what he can, taking in the sight of the larger man mewling beneath him. "I'm gonna.... if you keep-" Bill attempts to call out yet again, and Javier doesn't slow down his pace so Bill can talk. "Cum then, Bill. Go on," he urges, his own orgasm sitting on the fence, awaiting Bills arrival. Bill half opens his eyes, nodding in agreement, before letting them fall shut again, moaning away as Javier continues to fuck him. He spills his load on his stomach, coating his dark hair, his hair turning even whiter as Javier pulls out and let his load entwine with Bills. Javier mutters "mierda," whilst Bill mutters "shit." Javier falls limp across Bills chest, paying no mind to the sticky mess between their bodies. They spend a few moments coming down from their highs, panting, groaning, licking their dry lips, until Javier shuffles his head up to kiss Bill once more. There's tenderness in the kiss, not that there isn't always; his hand cups the back of Bills head, and eventually trails down his body, settling on his thigh and eagerly squeezing him. Bill's trying his best to grip at Javiers waist, but his hands are falling weak, exhausted and still slightly drunk. The kiss eventually breaks, and the pair squint their eyes as they turn, noticing the sun slowly rising in the distance. Another night spent together, not that it's been any different for the last few years, but tonight definitely felt different. "Come on, come to bed with me," Javier says as he turns back to Bill, giving his thigh another squeeze as he nuzzles the larger man. "Alright, old man," Bill chuckles, his hand reaching up to tuck one Javier's many greying hairs behind his ear. "Says you," Javier laughs, prodding at the grey patch on his beard. "Yeah, says me," Bill smiles.

[farfromfickle]

Far From Fickle | JJ x OC

Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicide, death, etc. Mild panic attack. Drowning.

A/N: I wanted to write a fanfiction, I’m not really sure how long it will be. It’s through the POV of an OC named Payton, and I’m thinking her love interest is going to be JJ. Constructive criticism is always, always, always welcomed but if you’re mean to me I’ll probably cry. 

Payton Montgomery’s entire world is turned upside down when her twin sister is in a surfing accident and put on life support. The summer has arrived, and Payton is anxious to distract herself with anything she can: an apprenticeship at her father’s family owned funeral home, a newfound social life at the boneyard, a murder or two, and maybe even a summer fling with a certain wounded blonde surferboy.

Chapter one

Payton Montgomery stood at the edge of the surf, her gaze entranced on the waves crashing against the sand. Crashing had never been a word she would have used to describe the waves before the incident. But lately everything was crashing, or falling, or suffocating around her. Before, when she thought of the beach she thought of the silent and graceful waves, pushing and pulling. She thought of peaceful sounds and being lulled to sleep. These were not the same waves she’d watched countless times with her sister. These waves were violent. She flinched each time they fell against the shore. 

The sun was just rising over the shore, and Payton felt as if she’d gotten little to no sleep. Granted, falling asleep in a hospital chair was never rest inducing. 

“Standing there by the water, you look just like her,” a voice muttered behind her. “Like Carter.” 

“Well, we have practically the same face,” Payton muttered. She forced her eyes from the water. “Being twins and all.”

“But I’ve always been able to tell you apart,” the small brunette was standing beside her now. Payton wondered how she hadn’t noticed her approaching before. 

“Sarah Cameron,” Payton let out a small huff. “Let me guess, I’ve finally earned your pity.”

“Maybe if your sister actually dies,” Sarah replied with a nonchalant shrug. Payton could tell she was kidding, but the comment still felt like a slap in the face. She tried to stop herself from physically flinching.

“Well according to the doctors, you don’t have much longer to wait.” 

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked, her hand falling lightly on Payton’s shoulder. 

“What do you want, Sarah?” Payton asked. “Because the last time you gave a shit about me or my sister, it was seventh grade. I haven’t heard from you in nearly five years. You weren’t there when our mom died. I don’t understand why you’re trying to be here now.” 

“I just wanted to check on you,” Sarah muttered. “I don’t expect to be friends or whatever. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t--” 

“Gonna off myself or something?” 

“Right,” Sarah frowned. “That.”

“Rest assured,” Payton said, “I won’t harm myself or anyone else during this trying time.”

“I know I wasn’t the best friend to you…” she began, but Payton cut her off. 

“No kidding.” 

“There’s a bonfire tonight,” Sarah tried again.

“At the boneyard?” Payton raised a brow. “That’s right, I heard the kook princess had a pogue boyfriend.”

“He’s a person,” Sarah interjected with a slight eye roll. 

“You don’t have to lecture me on the humanity of each stereotypical clique,” Payton let out a sigh. “I’m friends with both.” 

“The invitation stands,” Sarah told her. She tried out a soft smile, but ended up dropping it. “I’m really, really sorry about Carter, Payt.” 

She wanted to scream at her to stop talking about her sister like she was dead. She wasn’t dead yet. She might not even die. She wanted to stamp her feet and kick the sand and throw herself into the ocean and make peace with the water that took so much from her two short weeks ago. She did none of these things, however. She simply said, “Thank you,” and turned her attention back toward the surf. 

***

Payton’s eyes fell onto her sister. She was lying in the hospital bed, the machines around her beeping erratically. Her chocolate brown hair fell in messy curls around her shoulders, wild and unkept. A splash of freckles lay across her nose. Her pouty, deep red lips were chapped from dehydration. It was exactly like looking into a mirror. A mirror that Payton wanted to smash. 

“I really wish you’d wake up,” Payton huffed. She took a seat next to her sister, a book in her hand. The Outsiders, a school reading project that Payton had coincidentally already read a handful of times out of boredom. After her sister's incident, she used the book as a coping mechanism. She had read and reread the book over and over again, distracting herself from the horror of her life. 

Carter Montgomery was an avid surfer and risk taker. Payton wasn’t the biggest fan of the water, but she loved to sit at the beach and read while her sister caught some waves. The first day of summer the two had gone to the beach. The waves were a little rough, and Carter fell off of her board. She washed up into the break zone and knocked her head pretty badly. She fell unconscious underwater and nearly drowned. Her sister was put on life support almost immediately. No one really expected her to wake up. 

“Hey Payton,” her father muttered, walking into the hospital room. “How are you this morning? I didn’t hear you come in last night.” 

“I didn’t,” Payton replied, flipping the page of her book. “I crashed here.” 

“That sounds healthy,” her father mused. “Listen, I hired some extra help this summer. What’s that boy’s name? Heyward? His dad runs that seafood place.”

Jason Montgomery was the proud owner of Montgomery Funeral Home, a small town family business that had been in the Montgomery family for several generations. He was a tall, built man with sandy hair peppered with streaks of gray.

“Pope,” Payton told him. “I thought he worked for his dad.”

“He wants to be a mortician,” her father explained. “Asked for some part time hours for the experience.” 

“So you’ve replaced her already,” Payton mumbled, slamming her book shut. 

“I didn’t replace her, Payt,” her father frowned. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” she replied, standing up and turning toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” her father demanded, attempting to block the door.

“I’m going to work,” Payton told him, raising a brow, “is that a problem?”

“No,” her father murmured. “No, I think that will be good for you.”

“Gee, glad I have your approval,” Payton rolled her eyes and shoved past him. 

***

“So I don’t think we’ve officially met, I’m Pope,” the dark skinned boy began, a soft smile on his face. “I’m sorry, which one are you?” 

“Don’t act like you’re unaware of Carter’s condition,” Payton muttered. Her eyes were glued on the elderly woman on the dressing table. She was carefully sculpting the pink foundation around a bruise. 

“Right,” Pope replied. “I’m really sorry about your sister, Payton…”

“Don’t be,” Payton brought her eyes up to meet his for a brief moment before bringing them back down to the woman. 

“So, what are you, um, doing exactly?”

“Pink takes out the black of the bruises,” she explained. She collected another brush, dabbing the tip in an ivory foundation. “They want an open casket.”

“What happened to her?”

“She fell,” she told him. “The majority of bodies we get around here are old people. They’re usually banged and bruised, you know, ‘cause they’re so fragile.”

“Right,” he murmured. There was a long awkward silence before he began again. “Are you going to that thing at the boneyard?”

“I don’t know,” Payton admitted, “Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“They’re not so bad,” Pope told her, a shy smile playing on his lips. “Just depends on who you hangout with while you’re there.” Payton thought about this for a moment. Who would she hangout with? She didn’t exactly have many friends. Carter was her best friend, and when she thought about going somewhere without Carter she felt numb inside.

“Maybe I’ll check it out,” she told him. “I could use a distraction.”

***

The music was a little too loud for Payton’s taste. She began the party at the keg, accepting graciously as Sarah’s latest boytoy handed her a red solo cup. She stood around awkwardly for a few moments while John B attempted small talk. 

“And how about this weather?” he asked, motioning around him. 

“Beautiful,” Payton nodded, a small snicker escaping her lips. “Just beautiful.” 

“Are you making fun of me right now?” John B asked, cocking a brow at her. 

“Oh, never,” Payton shook her head. She took another swig of her drink.

“I would hope not,” John B mused, “Since I’m the one who so graciously invited you to this shindig.” 

“Shindig?” Payton nearly choked on her beer stifling a laugh. “Sarah invited me, actually.”

“Oh, he’s actually so pussy whipped they’ve morphed into one person,” a voice called from beside them. Moments later JJ Maybank settled beside John B, rustling his fingers through his hair with a sly grin. “It’s quite romantic, really.”

“Sounds romantic,” Payton agreed. She didn’t know JJ well, only that he came from the wrong side of the tracks as her father would say.

“Oh, it is. They’re planning a June wedding.” 

“Guess my invite got lost in the mail,” Payton fake pouted.

“Don’t worry, you can be my plus one, dollface,” JJ gave her a wink.

“Lucky me!” she enthused. She took a final swig of her beer and gave the boys a nod. 

Payton ended the party where she began her day, staring blankly at the ocean. The waves were crashing against the shore. She stuck one foot into the water and stumbled a bit. Was this what being tipsy felt like? She had never drank before.

“Payton Montgomery at a kegger?” a voice came from behind her. It was familiar. Kelce, her sister’s ex boyfriend. She let out a sigh. 

“What do you want?” 

“Are you afraid to get into the water, princess?” he demanded, taking a step toward her. Payton sucked in a breath, panic starting to set in. “Afraid you’ll drown like your sister?” 

“Yeah she is!” Rafe let out a dry laugh. “She’s terrified. Why don’t you help her out, Kelce?” 

“Please don’t…” Payton whimpered, but Kelce was already moving toward her. Topper and Rafe were on either side of him, blocking her only escape routes. Before she even had time to process what was happening Rafe grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. 

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Topper hissed. “We’re trying to help you!” Payton let out another whimper, her eyes closed tightly as the water began to envelope her. Rafe waded deeper and deeper into the water and threw her off of him. Her nails caught around his neck, scraping the surface as he threw her. 

“You bitch!” he hissed, kicking his leg out at her, shoving her farther into the water. 

Payton’s head was hovering above the water as she silently spoke to herself. It’s okay. You can swim. It’s okay. She was kicking and flailing her legs around trying desperately to reach the shore. Her head began to slip and she began to panic. Her vision began to tunnel. Suddenly two arms were around her, pulling her towards the shore. 

Her breaths were near gasps when they finally reached the shoreline, her arms neatly wrapped around the neck of her savior: JJ Maybank. 

[yadds]

Tony Reappears - Pt 2

The follow-up to my previous post looking at what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending.

In which Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

This is now Part 2 of what is looking to be turning into a slow-burn starker, y’all. Just a heads up, it’s still Pepperony for now since it’s pretty much canon compliant through Endgame.

__________________________________________

Peter was at his side before he could blink, hands hovering, unsure, before cradling Tony’s face briefly, eyes darting across his features as he catalogued every detail. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-is it really you?”

Tony just nodded wearily, letting out a soft huff as Peter’s hands slid back through Tony’s hair, touching the gray at his temples reverently. Seriously, if he wasn’t already about to pass out he’d probably be reeling from the emotional whiplash of seeing Peter transform back into the gentle, wholesome boy he remembered.

When Peter seemed to be content to simply stare, followed by flitting, fleeting touches, Tony cleared his throat before croaking, “Hands?”

Peter’s brow scrunched in confusion before realization dawned, cheeks flushing. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh my gosh. Of course. Um, here, one second,” he muttered, fumbling with something on his web shooters before producing a vial of clear liquid that he poured carefully over the webbing on Tony’s hands.

“This is normally something I use in aerosol form from my web shooters, but it can make a mess and it makes everything ironically sticky, so I figure you might not appreciate a potential full-body spray. I’m still working out the kinks - It’s surprisingly rare that I ever need to prematurely dissolve my webbing,” Peter explained, voice high and quick like he was nervous.

“I seem to remember designing a solution for that specific problem - in fact, I think it was the first thing I did when I got back to my lab with remnants of your spider juice still stuck to my hands after our first meeting,” Tony said. Or at least he tried to, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It came out more like; “I...solution already...lab...spider juice,” with incoherent mumbling in between.

But Peter, bright, wonderful Peter, got the gist and grinned, small and guarded but genuine. “Yeah, of course you did Mr. Stark,” he assured as he pulled Tony’s hands away from the wall and set them gently on the floor next to him. “You thought of everything for my suits! But I’m always tinkering with the web fluid design so I’m also having to change the dissolving solution.”

How long has it been? Tony finally thought to wonder.

Peter sat back on his haunches, still staring wonderingly at Tony. Tony couldn’t blame him - if he had the energy, he’d probably be doing the same thing. He had invented time travel, primarily to bring back one Peter Parker, to remedy his worst failure. Of course, saving the rest of the world was motivation as well, but that was mostly an afterthought. And other than a quick, heartfelt hug on a battlefield at the end of the world, he never got the chance to acknowledge that he had actually succeeded.

But now that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, his pounding headache and burning throat were clamoring for attention again. Right. A glass of damn water, that’s how this started.

Tony’s head listed to the side, staring forlornly at the fridge. It was only about two feet away, but it might as well have been two thousand miles.

Peter followed his gaze and, noticing the shattered glass on the floor, quickly realized what Tony was wanting. “You want some water, Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded gratefully. When Peter returned a minute later, he tried to lift his hands to grab the cup, but couldn’t get them to do more than twitch. After hovering awkwardly for about thirty seconds, Peter hesitantly lifted the glass to Tony’s mouth, tilting it carefully so that the water trickled slowly past his lips.

When that first drop of cool, clean water touched his tongue, Tony’s breath hitched and his eyes stung, overwhelmed by the relief of it. But after only three swallows, he felt the liquid fall heavily into his completely empty stomach and he clamped his lips shut tight. Peter’s intent, watchful gaze and quick reflexes ensured that he noticed almost immediately and righted the glass, pulling it away. Now that Tony could feel the moisture on his face from the slight dribble that escaped his mouth, he realized how agonizingly dry his skin felt, stretched taut and paper thin. His heart was racing, chest heaving, the thirty seconds of interrupted breathing it took to have his precious drink apparently too much after everything else.

He glanced back up at Peter to see his face creased with concern, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He could definitely make out the ‘Are you okay?’ forming on Peter’s lips.

He tried to respond. To reassure him that he was fine, he just needed to rest, but spots were blooming behind his eyes, slowly taking up his field of vision as his heart rate continued to increase. Uh oh. He was pretty familiar with the way an overstressed heart felt and this was suspiciously similar. He felt Peter’s hands press firmly on his chest and saw his name frantically falling from his mouth before his eyes rolled back and everything faded away.

.

When he awoke, he blinked blearily, eyes sluggishly tracking around the room he was in. Off-puttingly white, machines beeping quietly in the background, and people in scrubs off to the side. A hospital. Which was probably apt, considering he felt like he’d been starved to death only to be thrown in front of a train and lit on fire. He also took note of the comfortable mattress and tastefully low lighting. So he was probably in one of his own facilities.

“Mr. Stark! You’re awake!” Tony startled at the exclamation to his right, not aware that anyone was there. He turned his head to see Peter, the wizard standing aloofly behind him.

“What happened?” Tony asked scratchily, hand coming up to rub absently at his throat. Peter leapt to his side to bring a cup of water with a straw to him, only letting him take a few sips this time before pulling it away. Tony gave him a quick smile in thanks.

“Well I was hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Strange said dryly.

“I meant my health at the moment, which I thought you might have a better idea of than I since you’re actually a doctor, as you’re so fond of reminding me,” Tony responded, finding the remote and levering his bed up to sit up slightly, feeling much more human than the last time he’d been awake.

Strange stared at him impassively for a long moment before replying. “Of course. Well your vitals are stable now. Your main ailments are malnutrition and dehydration extreme enough to bring you to the brink of organ failure, which has been aided by the IV fluids and nutrients you’ve been receiving for the three days you’ve been unconscious. You’ll be on a strict diet for a while before you’re ready to eat normally.”

“Spectacular,” Tony sniped. At least he’d regained enough energy to maintain his flippant attitude. Priorities. “Don’t worry Doc, I know the drill. Been there, done that. Would have gotten the t-shirt, but they were fresh out. You know the saying. Whatever. Point is, that’s a pretty standard medical issue. A little above your pay grade these days isn’t it?”

“I was simply answering your question, Stark. That’s not why I’m here.”

When silence followed that statement, Tony gestured in his direction. “Do you need an engraved invitation to finish that thought? A drumroll? Some dramatic mood lighting?”

The smothered laugh from Peter’s direction was a pleasant counterpoint to the irritated pursing of lips from Dr. Strange.

“I would have thought it would be pretty clear. You reappeared unexpectedly after being dead for 3 years. I’m here to figure out what’s going on and make sure you haven’t completely torn a hole in the fabric of the universe, as I’m sure you would at the first possible opportunity.”

“And to make sure you’re really okay, you know, mind, body, soul and all that,” Peter chimed in.

“Yes. You do appear to actually be alive, by the way, considering near organ failure affected you as it would anyone else. Further tests will need to be done to determine if everything else is ‘normal’,” Strange explained.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed with a dismissive nod. He was choosing to work very hard at not thinking about the fact that he’d pulled some kind of resurrection act. He didn’t know how he was back, if he was still himself, how long he would be here or anything. And he was choosing to live in blissful ignorance at this point. That was a problem for future Tony. If there would be one. Who knows? He could disappear tomorrow.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Strange pushed.

Tony glared at him. “Whoops, you caught me, Merlin. I’m purposely keeping a whole host of information all to myself so that I can remain under constant surveillance and suspicion. Because that’s how I get my jollies. No. I remember dying - which, not super fun, let me tell you - then nothing, until I suddenly showed up here. Or there. Am I still at the Compound? Where am I?”

“Yeah, you’re at the Avengers medbay on the Compound campus,” Peter answered helpfully.

“Well there you go. Consider me interrogated,” Tony intoned.

Strange was opening his mouth, probably to continue his inane, insulting questioning, but Tony cut him off as he saw the door to his room open. “Pepper, Honey, light of my life!” he called, holding his arms out in her direction.

Pepper stopped right inside the doorway, hand falling heavily on the wall beside her as she stared at Tony with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears, chin quivering. “Tony,” she whispered.

“The one and only. Come on Doll, don’t leave me hanging here,” he joked, hoping the desperation that was creeping into his chest wasn’t apparent in his voice.

Pepper finally moved, stumbling to a stop at Tony’s bedside and collapsing to the side of the bed to gather him in her arms. Tony let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Yes. This is what he’d needed, her warmth seeping into his skin like a toasty towel fresh out of the dryer.

After a moment, he looked around and frowned. “Where’s the munchkin?”

Pepper pulled back, looking uncomfortable but not averting her gaze. “Tony. We don’t know yet what’s going on - are you really back? For how long? Are you completely stable? It didn’t seem right to bring Morgan into this until we knew for sure.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he murmured, heart seizing in his chest again. It all made sense and objectively, he agreed. She was still so young - to involve her now when he could possibly be gone in another five minutes would just be devastating.

But subjectively, it was fucking ripping him to shreds. His daughter, his baby girl. Even if he was only here for five seconds, he’d want to spend them holding her tight. But that was selfish. She’d probably moved on by now, made some kind of peace with his death. He didn’t want to ruin her world all over again. And what if he wasn’t safe? What if he suddenly went berserk? What if he was some radioactive mutant or some crazy shit like that? No, this was the right decision. Didn’t mean it wasn’t low key killing him all over again though.

Suddenly he was a lot more motivated to face everything and get it all figured out. Guess he’d have to actually cooperate with fucking Dumbledore. Wonderful.

__________________________________________

Part 3 - Tony comes back with more than he bargained for

[the-star-the-idiot]

Marbles

It was a hot summer day, when a particular man found himself driving down a quiet country road. He was on his way to a town far away to visit some family members. It had been ages since he met with them and he was thrilled to get to see them again. He thought about how big his niece and two nephews must have grown in the time he’d been gone. While driving, he listened to his favourite cassette tape, featuring multiple songs excellent for road trip entertainment.

The cassette was old and would glitch out every now and then, skipping and distorting audio, but it didn’t happen often enough to bother the man, so he had never seriously considered fixing or replacing it. Instead, he found a certain charm to his old, extensively used cassette.

Lately, the summer heat had been unbearable, and this day boasted a heatwave among heatwaves. Even with his window rolled down, driving at high speeds, he could feel his dress shirt stick to his skin and caught himself breathing as though he weighed tens of kilos more than he truly did. He was not an old man, nor a heavy man, but he was quite sensitive to the scorching sun.

“I need to find a place to stop,” he thought to himself. He feared he was close to passing out from heatstroke, and his water bottles had been running dry for the past couple hours, not to mention they had gotten warm long before he had finished drinking them, so he had not particularly enjoyed his moments of rehydration.

As if an act of mercy from above, he passed by a Bed & Breakfast sign. The next turn would lead him somewhere he could get some rest, water and food. The man was eager for the opportunity to freshen up with a shower and a change of clothes. He cursed himself for sporting a suit during one of the country’s worst heatwaves in modern history. Barely a kilometre after the sign, he found another, identical to the first, accompanied by the awaited turn off the main road. After a while of driving through a somewhat dense forest on a thin gravel road, he found the place he had been looking for.

Yet another sign, identical to the other two, stood before the yard of a humble, well-kept, red, wooden house. The man quickly found a place to park his car, next to another car which he could only assume belonged to the owner of the house. Upon exiting the car, he was met with the sight of a young girl past the corner of the house, in the backyard. She seemed to be playing, dancing while observing something he couldn’t see, too far past the corner. “Can I help you, Sir?” a woman’s voice was heard asking. The man quickly fell back down to reality and turned towards the person talking to him. There stood a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early 30’s, sporting a dark red sweater and khaki jeans. Her long, straight hair glowed red in the sunlight. He cleared his throat and enquired about a room for him to stay the night. “Why yes, there’s plenty of room,” she said and smiled sweetly at the man. “We currently don’t have any guests, so you’ll be free to choose whichever room you’d like.” The woman continued, explaining that there were three rooms available, two of identical size and price, and one larger, albeit more expensive room. The man was surprised as to how deceptively spacey the house was, given its rather small façade. Nevertheless, he chose the larger room; he enjoyed having a lot of space, especially regarding the bed. Having chosen the large room, he would be finding himself in a comfortable double bed. “Well, come on in and scope your room out,” said the woman. “I’ll be happy to help with any luggage you’d like to bring inside.”

Inside, the man found himself in a tidy, clean house. The floor looked newly-waxed and all the wooden furniture boasted a neat, white colour. “You’ve got quite the impressive home, Miss,” the man said. “Why, thank you!” the woman replied and laughed lightly, in an almost embarrassed manner. “I don’t have much to do when there aren’t any guests over, so I often find myself trying to keep everything in check.”

Once the two were done moving some of the man’s luggage to his room, the woman invited him down to the kitchen for coffee. The kitchen smelled as though he had walked into a rustic, Italian restaurant, and he saw two large pots on the stovetop, one with a lid on top and the other without, letting a gentle steam rise from it. The two sat down at each end of the kitchen table once the man had received his cup of coffee. “So what brings you past this area?” she asked, gently stirring her cup, to which she had added a sugar cube and a little milk. “I’m on my way to meet some relatives,” he responded, needlessly stirring his cup as well, to which he had added nothing. He enjoyed his coffee black. “I haven’t seen them in quite some time, seeing as I live pretty far away, and I’ve never been particularly good at staying in touch.” The two talked briefly about family and the importance of talking to even the more distant relatives every now and then. “So you’re going alone?” the woman asked after a short while. “You’re not bringing anyone with you? Your wife?” The man cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “I’m pretty much all I’ve got back where I live,” he said. “Practically all my family lives where I’m headed and uh, I’ve never been particularly lucky in my romantic endeavours. A couple girlfriends here and there, but nothing too serious. Never married.” “What a shame,” she responded, smiling sweetly at him once again. “I’d imagine a handsome man like yourself would have been quick to get tied down by some lucky girl. Either something’s wrong with you, or something’s wrong with the girls you’re seeing,” she continued and laughed, to which the man responded with a hearty laugh. “So, how about yourself?” the man asked. “I assume the girl in the back is your daughter, so surely…” “Legally, yes, not biologically,” she said. “I adopted her from a close friend of mine who grew too sick to take care of her. It would be nice to find a man to alleviate the situation of raising a child, but…” she stopped to smile once more at the man. “I suppose whatever’s plaguing your endeavours are plaguing mine as well.” “C’est la vie,” he said slowly, gently sipping his still warm coffee, trying not to burn his mouth.

A moment of silence coated the kitchen, an awkward tone. The man didn’t quite know how to continue the conversation, but to their rescue came the little girl from the backyard. “Mommy!” she said excitedly. She looked to be around the age of six or seven. Her hair was a bright blonde and her eyes were the strongest shade of green the man had ever seen. She wore a white summer dress and looked as happy as any child would on a summer day. “Hi, sweetie!” the woman said in an equally excited voice. “Did you have fun outside?” “Uh huh! I played with the marbles again!” the little girl responded. The woman smiled sincerely at her before quickly realising she still had a guest at the other side of the table. “Oh, right,” she said and laughed. “As you can see, pumpkin, we have a guest over. Would you like to greet Mister, um–” she stopped herself, realising she had forgotten to ask the man his name. “Florence,” the man butted in. “You can call me Mister Florence. Pleased to meet you, little lady.” “Hi, Mister Florence!” the little girl said, just as excited as when she came in. She certainly didn’t seem shy around new faces. “My name is Eden, and mum’s name is Scarlett!” The three of them shared the pleasantries of a proper greeting, and shortly after that the little girl scurried away to wash up and change clothes before supper. Scarlett had been preparing Pasta Bolognese, which would soon be ready.

“It’s a simple, not very presentational meal,” Scarlett said once all three were sitting by the table, acting as though the food she’d made was nothing impressive. “But I hope it tastes good all the same,” she continued. Eden didn’t skip a beat and immediately began eating. She looked as though she enjoyed it very much. Her mum smiled at her, eating from her own plate quite slowly. The man took a bite and was met with a plethora of flavours dancing in perfect harmony in his mouth. A hint of garlic, a mild acidity from the tomatoes, and a prominent taste of fresh herbs, not to mention a perfect balance of salt and lemon pepper. “Wow,” he uttered after swallowing his first bite. The woman waited patiently and with eager curiosity for him to continue. “This might be the best Pasta Bolognese I’ve ever had,” he then said, to which Scarlett replied by smiling proudly. “I’m glad you like it, Mister Florence,” she responded. They all ate mostly in silence, as they were too busy enjoying the food to make proper conversation. As much as the man relished the food, however, he couldn’t help but enjoy the ice-cold water he drank beside it even more. He had almost forgotten how dehydrated he had felt ever since arriving. Each sip came with a pleasant, refreshing rush throughout his body.

After the meal, the sun seemed to have evaded them. Florence took notice to how dark it could get despite it being summer and made an off-hand comment about it. Scarlett explained to him that even though the forest around them wasn’t particularly dense, it was just enough to block out the sun once it lay low enough. It was particularly dark indoors, in the rooms where the lights weren’t on. Scarlett and her daughter seemed like they were fans of preserving electricity. “Well, I suppose it’s best this way, I am quite tired after the long drive,” Florence said. “Would it be alright to use the bathroom to freshen up before I go to bed?” he then asked. “Yes, of course, you’re more than welcome to,” Scarlett responded. She showed him where the bathroom was, and requested he’d turn the shower off while soaping up. It was a rather spacious bathroom, and the shower had plenty of elbow room. There was no bathtub. Once again, the man thought about how deceptively large this house seemed to be. Having been given a towel, he locked the door and went about his business, relieving himself before stepping into the shower. The water was cold and pleasant, though slightly shocking, like taking the first step into the fresh water of a river. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and went about his shower routine, turning off the water in between to soap up per Scarlett’s request.

Once finished, he stepped out and began drying himself. He felt extremely tired, and this feeling seemed to grow heavier by the second. He took his time drying up, unable to go any faster. The whole house was quiet, save for the occasional creaking of floorboards. All the man could hear were the soft sounds of the towel slowly moving against his hair and skin. He placed the towel around his waist, opened the door, and was just about to step out when he noticed a figure standing outside the bathroom. It was Scarlett, with her arm extended toward the door handle. The both of them expressed shock. “Goodness,” she exclaimed, jolting her hand back. “I’m sorry, I thought you had already gone to your room.” “No, I’m sorry,” he responded. “I didn’t expect–” Florence interrupted himself. With the light from the bathroom hitting her, Florence couldn’t help but take notice to her clothes, or rather lack thereof. She was wearing purple lingerie, a sort of see-through nightgown. Her breasts were in full view, covered only by what was essentially a violet-hued filter. Realising he was ogling her, Florence quickly averted his eyes and began nervously stammering, trying to apologise for looking at her in such a manner, but unable to form a coherent sentence. He then closed the door and closed his eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry,” he finally said after collecting himself. “I, uh, didn’t mean to stare. I’ll just wait a moment for you to go, and then I’ll go to my room and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” Scarlett didn’t answer, and the man made the assumption she had agreed. After waiting for a few seconds, certainly enough for the woman to have made herself scarce, he carefully opened the door, sighing in relief when he didn’t find her standing there. He shut off the light and exited the bathroom, turning toward his room, but was met with a silhouette before taking even a few steps. There she stood, in the dark corridor. The man couldn’t make out any details, but averted his eyes once again anyway. “If you’re sorry about looking, then at least now you can’t,” she said. “I don’t think I mind, though. Besides, this was my fault. I’m sorry for startling you.” “No, no,” he retorted. “It’s not your fault at all. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I didn’t realise I was being so quiet.” Scarlett giggled quietly in response. “Well, this house is rather quiet,” she said light-heartedly. “Really, though, it’s fine. It was just a little mishap, right?” “Right,” he answered quietly. “A slight, misfortunate coincidence, stumbled upon by chance,” he thought to himself, and that’s all it was. She slipped past him and opened the bathroom door, and he looked back at her. She turned on the light before closing the door, peeked her head out and looked back at him as well, giving him a sincere and reassuring smile. She then closed the door behind her, leaving the man to go back to his room. His thoughts were all over the place as he went to his room, but once he lay down in the soft, cosy bed he quickly lost track of his mind and fell into a deep slumber.

The flip clock rang loudly in his ear. It was precisely 8 o’clock in the morning. The man felt as though he was boiling in the heat. “Another scorcher,” he grumbled to himself. He flailed around as he got dressed, and stumbled his way to the kitchen with the luggage he had brought indoors, where he was met with the fresh smell of coffee. “Good morning!” said Scarlett with a happy tone. The man awkwardly cleared his throat before he could bring himself to respond. “Good morning,” he said. He felt a bit embarrassed about last night’s mishap, but looking at her it seemed as though she had completely forgotten about it. “Sleep well?” he asked, anxious to not let silence fill the room. “Like a log,” she responded. “How about yourself?” she asked as she presented him a cup of coffee. “Same here, seems being in a car for hours on end knocks me right out,” he said and laughed a little to himself. “I’m afraid I can’t stay for breakfast, I ought to get going immediately,” he continued. Scarlett looked slightly disappointed for a fraction of a second, then quickly smiled and said she understood. They briefly talked about the price for a one night’s stay, and after the man finished his coffee and paid for his room, he made his way out the door and to his car. Scarlett stood by the door of the house, watching him prepare for his drive. “Goodbye, Mister Florence, have a safe trip,” she said, smiling sincerely at the man. “If you happen to pass by on your way home, you’re free to stay another night should you feel the need,” she added. “Thank you very much,” he replied before climbing into his car. “I might take you up on that offer,” he continued right before he closed his car door. He thought about his family, his niece and two nephews, and smiled to himself as he turned the key. The car cranked, but it didn’t start. He turned his key again, same result. A third try, but it wouldn’t start. “Shit, what now?” he muttered as he exited his vehicle. “Something the matter?” Scarlett asked, still standing by the door. “It sounds like my battery’s dead,” he said. “You don’t happen to have any jumper cables you could lend me, do you?” Scarlett shook her head, but offered to call for help. The man thanked her and went back indoors with her. He waited by the kitchen table, listening to the woman’s call with the mechanic in the other room. He could hear her stating the suspected problem, as well as a couple other possible issues which the man hadn’t even considered. It seemed she knew a thing or two about cars. She gave her name, the man’s name, and the address before thanking the mechanic in advance for his time and efforts. After hanging up, she relayed the message that there would be someone to fix the problem in an hour or so, two at most. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she said. “Feel free to have some breakfast, this one’s on the house.” “That’s very kind of you, thank you,” he responded, grabbing himself a small stack of freshly made pancakes. “Say, I haven’t seen your daughter around this morning. Does she tend to sleep in?” he asked while coating his breakfast is syrup. “Oh, no, she’s been awake a while,” Scarlett answered. “She’s most likely outside, playing with the marbles again. She treats them like they’re her best friends.”

Marbles. He hadn’t thought much of it the evening prior, most likely because he was focused on other things, but now it had caught his full attention. “She seems quite enthusiastic about some small glass toys,” he said with a slightly puzzled look. “They’re not toys, Mister Florence,” Scarlett said. “It’s quite the interesting phenomenon, actually, and as far as I’m aware it only occurs in this area, in these woods,” she continued and offered to show him what she meant after breakfast. He had some time to kill before the mechanic would show up, so he finished his pancakes quickly and followed her to the backdoor, where he was met with an unbelievable view. Eden was dancing in front of possibly hundreds of glass marbles, all of them floating in the air as though they weighed nothing. As the light of the morning sun hit them, they refracted it onto the grass, splitting it into different colours. “They’re natural,” Scarlett said and pointed to a bed of flowers near the corner of the backyard. “Sprout from those flowers there, during spring and summer. They stick around for months, just floating in the air in the middle of my backyard, disappearing without a trace when autumn rolls around.” “Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Florence said. “I can see why your daughter likes them so much,” he continued, clearly mesmerised by the scene in front of him. He asked if he could get a closer look, to which Eden turned around, having heard them talking, and gestured excitedly for him to come near. He looked at Scarlett for approval, and she nodded at him, smiling as sincerely as always. Up close, the view was even more fascinating. The marbles were colourless, save for a fraction of the light passing through them being reflected and dispersing into a well-known spectrum of colours inside them. Upon close inspection, they were without question made out of glass. “What kind of flower sprouts glass marbles?” he thought to himself. Eden continued to dance next to him, but when he lifted his hand, reaching for one of them, she stopped, although he didn’t notice. She looked intently at his hand. Scarlett noticed Eden’s sudden shift in behaviour, and realised quickly what was happening. “I wouldn’t–” She spoke too late, and he made contact with one of the little orbs.

Suddenly, there was no Mister Florence to be found. He, along with the marble he had touched, had vanished without a trace. Eden looked back at her mother, and the two looked at each other for a short moment. Then, Eden smiled, giggled and quickly returned to dancing with her floating friends. Scarlett smiled back at her, and shortly after she stepped back indoors, closing the door behind her and making her way to the phone. It was a beige push-button phone attached to the wall separating the hall and the living room. She dialled a familiar number. “Franx Mekanix, Frank speaking,” said the man on the other end. “Hey, Frank, it’s Scarlett,” she said. “Listen, I have an empty car in front of my house that needs towing.” “Again?” Frank asked. “Again,” she replied. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me how–” Frank was interrupted by Scarlett giving him a stern tone. “No. I won’t. I don’t pay you to ask questions,” she said. “Do what you want with the car, just make sure there’s no trace of it. Pick it up as soon as you can.” Frank sighed, but agreed and said he’d be on his way immediately, on the condition that he’d be paid in cash this time. Scarlett agreed, and hung up.

Next thing she knew she was emptying the trunk of the car standing next to hers, moving practically anything she found that wasn’t bolted down to a fire pit in the woods, about two hundred metres behind her house. She and her daughter would spend several summer evenings barbecuing at that spot every year. Once she was done piling the luggage and other things as neatly as she could in the fire pit, she made her way back to the car, making a detour through the house to grab a screwdriver, and removed the license plates. She brought both of them into the house, cleaning them in the kitchen sink the best she could, then after letting them dry they were brought up to her bedroom.

An hour later, Frank arrived with his tow truck. He got right to work, with Scarlett sitting by the front door, watching him. Once he got done with that, he approached Scarlett. “Another mysterious car missing both its license plates and its owner,” he said, faking a smile at her, to which Scarlett seemed unfazed. “Anyway, I’m all set and ready to go,” he continued. “What do I owe you this time?” she asked. “Seeing as this gets riskier every time,” he responded, followed by him briefly muttering to himself as he tried deciding on a price he deemed fair. “How’s a hundred bucks sound?” he then proposed. Scarlett sighed quietly under her breath, but agreed and handed him the cash. They didn’t say goodbye, instead awkwardly nodding at one another as Frank began driving away.

A few hours passed, and evening had come. It was about 9 o’clock, with the sun hanging low and the forest blocking out its faint, red light, leaving the house in the dark. Scarlett had just finished tucking in Eden for the night. She made her way to her bedroom, where she changed clothes, from a casual outfit she had picked out for the day to a black dress that fell below her knees. She applied some make-up to her face and picked out a dark red lipstick – her favourite colour. Afterwards, she picked up the license plates that had been resting on her vanity desk, and kissed each one, living a dark red kiss mark on both of them. She placed one of them in the bottom drawer on the right side, with the numerous others she had collected over the years. She took the other one with her as she left the house, bringing a matchbox, a cannister of lighter fluid and a bottle of red wine with her as well, and made her way to the fire pit. She placed the license plate atop the pile and generously sprayed the lighter fluid over everything that lay in the fire pit. She lit two matches tightly held together, and gently threw them at the fire pit, stepping away as the fire quickly rose and engulfed the mound of luggage and other things. The wind was still, allowing the flame to dance gently, as she opened her bottle of wine. With each sip from the neck of the bottle, a tear slowly grew larger and larger in the corner of her eye. As sips turned to chugs, the first tear fell, followed by many others, and when the bottle eventually ran dry, she let out a pained cry into the empty night, throwing the empty bottle at the side of the fire pit, causing it to shatter against the stones. She fell to her knees with her head in her hands, sobbing loudly, with the crackles of the fire being the only other noise accompanying her.

[i-got-these-words]

If you’re still taking requests, could you do a flirty phone convo ft. HT and MGS?? You write so good though sooo you can do whatever you like!!! I know I’ll love it!! *hugsss*

I’m sorry, anon. I don’t know what happened…

A/N: This is a work of fiction that I pulled out of my ass. In its entirety. Procedures, regulation and jargon included. There is, however, a glossary of terms at the end of this post that tries to make sense of things.

I love hearing your thoughts, so leave me a comment! ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pit was swathed in layers of slumber, the overhead lights set low as the night approached its darkest hour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected during the third shift, but this was not it. The silence was unsettling, bordering on sinister.

The soft click of keys. The steady hum of computer fans. The stop-and-start stutter of a colleague snoring in a darkened corner.

Soon after he’d punched in, he’d dealt with two PIs and a neighbourly disturbance. But fuck all since. And the stillness was making his skin crawl.

It was nearing three am, though, and he was due a break. He was about to swivel round in the high-back chair to clear it with his dispatch supervisor when his phone monitor lit up. The emergency line.

Adjusting his headset, he picked up the call and immediately turned his attention to the mapping system on the central screen as it tried to triangulate the caller’s location.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” Guan Shan said into the mouthpiece, frowning slightly when the mapping system sputtered its failure to ping the cellular device.

A rupture of ragged breathing abraded his right ear.

“Nine-one-one,” he repeated, wondering what the statistics were on perverts prank-calling emergency services.

A throaty moan adjourned the breathless rasping, sounding wet and wounded.

“What is the location of your emergency?” Guan Shan tried again, more urgent this time.

What the fuck?

Two weeks post training and initiation, Guan Shan’s most exciting call yet had been a GTA that had lasted all of ten minutes – casualties: nil. Although a desk job was not the endgame, moonlighting as a 911 operator whilst he studied for the EMT license exam would help cushion the blow the paramedic training fees were going to deliver to his malnourished bank account.

Running the ATL on the mapping system again, Guan Shan quickly scanned the screen to his left. The list of incoming calls to the county’s PSAP were sparse, a Code Red notably absent.

Just as he inhaled, readying himself to reiterate his opening line, a clamorous clatter rang in his ear, followed by a series of sibilant curses.

“Hello?” The voice at the other of the line, smooth as silk and husky like cigarette smoke, was distinctly male.

Guan Shan ignored the way the fine hairs at his nape prickled. “Sir, what is your emergency?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of an emergency a man at death’s door constitutes.” All facts and no filler. “He’s fucked.” The words were enunciated on a knife’s edge. And sent a chill to the hollow of Guan Shan’s spine.

But Guan Shan had shed blood, sweat and snot over the Emergency Management and Communications modules and there was no fucking way this dickhead was going to throw him off.

“What is your location?” Fingers flying over his primary keyboard, Guan Shan pulled up the live rota on unengaged EMT vehicles. Due to recent cutbacks, there were plenty of ambulances but not enough crew. “Sir?”

A withering exhale. “You’ll have to track the phone. Somewhere in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where.”

Guan Shan ground his teeth, suppressing a sour retort – partly irked by the man’s unhelpful response and deliberate disregard, and partly irked by how erotic he sounded with said disregard. In particular, the way he said ‘fuck’ with the faint, fluid hint of a high-bred accent made Guan Shan’s ears heat up.

“What can you see around you? Any landmarks?” Guan Shan asked as he launched the medical emergencies algorithm, the rapid click-click-click of the plastic keys matching the speed of his heart, beat for beat. He’d never managed a critically-unstable casualty outside of a simulation before.

“Desert. Dirt. A beat-up truck.” Pause. “A bleeding man on his last breath.”

“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

A soft sound in Guan Shan’s ear suggested a smirk. “Depends. Which would you rather: death by exsanguination or asphyxiation?”

The shit? “Ex-excuse me?”

The man lowered his voice to a tortured pitch and Guan Shan tensed in his seat. “There’s a gaping, toothless grin where his neck used to.”

Fucking-A.

Trepidation torched Guan Shan’s nerves as sawdust filled his mouth. “Who did that to him?” Was the perpetrator on the premises? Was the RP in danger? Or did Guan Shan have a homicidal psycho on the line?

A moment passed, the only sound in Guan Shan’s ear the slow, even breaths of a man who wasn’t used to being questioned.

“How green are you, rookie? There’s only me and this shithead for miles in every direction.”

“Tell me.” Guan Shan hissed. Tell me what you did, you arrogant prick. And then tell me where you are so I can unleash a squad on your ass.

“I slit his throat,” the raw edge to the voice was savage.

“Why –” Guan Shan clamped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence escaped. Fuck almighty. With brisk taps, he alerted EMS and the sheriff’s office of the Code Red: Assault in Progress.

He needed a location.

“What is this, couple’s therapy?” The man sneered. “Why does anyone kill?”

Guan Shan’s gaze flickered back to the central monitor; the mapping system was still struggling to pick up a cell signal.

“Duty,” the man started, tongue rolling tenderly over the ‘t’ like a lover. “Derangement. Or self-defence.”

Derangement. Without a fucking doubt.

“Where the hell are you?” Guan Shan whispered, more to himself, fists clenching briefly over his keyboard before he resumed typing again.

“I thought you were tracking the phone?” The almost-stammer in the man’s voice was so slight Guan Shan nearly missed it.

What was that? Fear? Exhaustion?

“I’m trying.” Guan Shan insisted, sending an SOS message to his dispatch supervisor. “But accuracy relies on a number of factors: the model of the phone, signal strength –”

“Figures,” the man interrupted. “It’s a burner. Production lines probably dried up last century. He doesn’t have anything else on him.”

“What about your own phone?”

“He took all my shit. Dumped it en route.”

Growing more confused, Guan Shan pressed his lips together and back-pedalled to triage. “Are you hurt?”

A throaty chuckle. “I’m not dead or dying. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Mother of fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this dickhead.

Guan Shan startled as a hand landed on his shoulder – it was his supervisor. Muting the line, Guan Shan indicated the spazzing mapping system. “I can’t get coordinates.”

With a grim look, his supervisor took in the electronic log, the Code Red alert, and said, “I’ll work location from my pod. You stay on intel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guan Shan acknowledged the order with a dip of his head and unmuted the call. “Help me out here. I can’t dispatch a unit to fuck-knows-where,” he muttered into his mouthpiece, a cold bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “How’s the other guy doing?”

“Still twitching.” The words were choppy, the inflection flat. “Listen.” The man heaved a deep sigh, sounding tired and battle-torn. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the last twenty or so hours. And nothing to eat for longer than that. I haven’t slept since fuck knows when. I used the last of my reserves to take this shithead out.” An audible swallow. “I’m tired. And dehydrated. And furious as all fuck. But when his buddy realises something’s up, he’s gonna hightail it to this godforsaken dry land and fuck me up.” An amused chortle tickled Guan Shan’s ear. “And all I got is a rusty switchblade and shitty night vision. Plenty of fucks to give, but not enough juice to fuel ’em.”

Guan Shan’s mouth went from dry to arid.

No way.

No fuckin–

“Who are you?” Guan Shan asked, sounding much calmer than he felt, fingers poised over the keys that would spell the RP’s name out.

The man didn’t need to say it; Guan Shan already knew. Should have known the minute the man had spoken. Not because his face had been on every news station in the country for the last three days. Nor because of his high-profile status. ‘Plenty of fucks to give…’ But because of one rainy night with no cab in sight, an exclusive bar that begrudgingly provided shelter, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that kept on tipping.‘ … but not enough juice to fuel ’em.’

A night that should have been forgettable, but wasn’t. Touches that should have remained anonymous, but hadn’t. Masks of sultry indifference that should have stayed in place, but had slipped, slipped, slipped.

Two years on, and every rainstorm was sweet torment on Guan Shan’s senses; a reminder of a night that shouldn’t have happened, of a risk he shouldn’t have taken.

“He Tian,” came the haggard reply. “My father is the state prosecutor.”

Grabbing his radio gear, Guan Shan hit the transmission button and barked, “This is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five, Delta Havana, do you copy? Over.”

A sizzle of static burst through the radio’s speaker. “Delta Havana receiving. Over.”

“The twelve-nine on the Code Red is a twelve-one. Over.”

“Repeat dispatch. Over.”

“The Code Red is a twelve-one. I repeat, the Code Red –” Guan Shan dropped the radio-speak “– is the Chief Prosecutor’s son. Immediate threat to life. Over.”

“Ten-four. Do we have a location? Over.”

Fuck. “In progress. Over.”

“Ten-four. Standing by. Over.”

He Tian laughed a little, but the sound was a dry and ragged thing. “That was… kinda hot, rookie.”

“Look, we’re gonna find you.” Sifting through the notes he had taken so far, Guan Shan said, “You mentioned a truck.”

“Yeah,” He Tian replied wryly. “But I can’t drive stick.”

Had the circumstances been different, Guan Shan might have rolled his eyes. “The suspect picked this specific location. It isn’t random. He would have needed to find his way back. Is there a navigation system in the vehicle?”

He Tian hummed in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check.” There was a rustle of movement, punctuated by a pained grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Shit. He was hurt. Running only on adrenaline, it wouldn’t be long before He Tian crashed.

“Take it easy,” Guan Shan instructed. “And stay on the line. How many accomplices does the suspect have?”

“I only ever saw one other guy. He wanted to give my dad another day to cough up the ransom. But this shithead here said he was done babysitting.” An obnoxious creak of unoiled hinges screeched into Guan Shan’s ear. “Brought me here to put a bullet in my head.”

As Guan Shan fed the information electronically to the police coordinator, he added the relevant codes to indicate armed perps and firearms at the scene.

“Fuck yeah, rookie. Good call.” He Tian chuckled. “There’s a marked map here. And a Gatorade.”

With He Tian relaying the approximate longitude and latitude over the phone, Guan Shan was able to zero in on a location on the mapping system. He picked up his radio phone.

“Delta Havana, this is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five. Over.”

“Go ahead, Oscar. Over.”

“We need to mobilise a chopper. Over.”

“Ten-four. What are the coordinates? Over.”

Once he’d rattled them off, Guan Shan sent an urgent message to his dispatch supervisor to authorise his request for air support; it was the quickest and safest way to reach that far in the desert this time of the night.

The mapping system refreshed itself and a green dot appeared on the screen, zinging its way to the red dot in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where. ETA seven minutes.

“He Tian,” Guan Shan began, “there’s a helicopter on its way.”

But He Tian appeared distracted. “Uh-huh.”

“I still need you to stay on the line til –” A deafening bang blasted through the headset. “Fuck! What was that? He Tian?” Right ear ringing, Guan Shan checked that the call hadn’t dropped. “He Tian?”

Fuckfuckfuck.

He slammed down the transmitter button on his radio. “Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five to Echo Gold, do you copy? Over.”

“Echo Gold receiving. Over.”

“Shots fired.” Fffuuuckk. “I repeat, shots fired.”

“Ten-four. We’re still in the air. Do you still have comms with the RP? Over.”

Guan Shan worked the muscles in his jaw. “Negative,” he whispered.

Fucking shit.

The helicopter was still three minutes out. And that was assuming they’d find the right location straight away. And a suitable place to land.

Running tremulous hands through his hair, Guan Shan stopped himself from wreaking havoc on the curved desk and the console before him.

So close, he thought. We were so fucking close.

A soft murmur in his ear had Guan Shan stilling. “He Tian?”

Another pained grunt. Oh sweet fuck.

“Sorry,” He Tian said, his voice like smoked honey. “I dropped the phone. I told you I couldn’t fucking drive stick. I think… I think the engine backfired.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. Fully aware that the audio was being recorded, and the transcript may be used in evidence, he let out a low growl, laden with chocked emotion. “You owe me another Johnnie Walker, you dickhead.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary ~

PI: Public Intoxication

GTA: Grand-theft auto

EMT: Emergency Medical Technician

RP: Reporting person

ATL: Attempt to locate

PSAP: Public-safety answering point; a call centre dedicated to handling the emergency telephone number(s) for police, firefighting, and ambulance services.

EMS: Emergency Medical Service

12-9: Assault in progress

12-1: Kidnapping

10-4: Understood

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Comms: Communication

[yoichooseno]

Jaytim Fic

Inspired by a post by @awful-aus (awful au #196) (not sure if that blog still exists but oh well)

Jason stopped at the edge of a manicured lawn. The lawn, and the mansion that lay at the other end, belonged to the wealthy Drake family, so it was no surprise that the garden was kept to an absurd degree of perfection. The lawn itself was neatly trimmed and gloriously green. Not a single weed dared to grow here. The edge of the lawn was bordered with a flower garden, separating the green grass from the evenly paved sidewalk. It was like something out of Pleasantville, where everything was uniform and, of course, pleasant. Uncomfortably so.

The whole neighbourhood was a fantastically snobby collection of high class sons and daughters, all of whom were busy raising the next generation of high class sons and daughters. Too busy to notice those outside their comfortable circles. It was nothing like Jason’s neighbourhood.

In Jason’s neighbourhood, lawns were short and gray, meeting broken sidewalks meeting asphalt riddled with potholes. The houses were decrepit, struggling to stand upright, and the people inside were in much the same condition. Many houses were of the cardboard variety and sagged in the rain. Many of the children wore filthy rags, barely holding together long enough to even say the word “clothes” before tearing to expose skin purple with bruises and cold. Life in these neighbourhoods was not considered living.

Every Sunday, Jason walked briskly through the posh neighbourhood. And every Sunday, he stopped at the edge of the Drake’s lawn. He would gaze at the flowers for a short moment, feeling their fragile petals with his calloused fingers, glance to make sure no one was looking, and neatly trim a single flower from the bush before continuing briskly down the street. This Sunday was no different from the last, or the Sunday preceding it. Every day was the same. Wear the same clothes, for there weren’t any others to wear. Eat the same food, for there wasn’t anything else to eat. Move quickly, because loitering here was dangerous. The cops would be called if Jason so much as sneezed the wrong way- the upper class were afraid of people like Jason. People who wore jackets with holes in the elbows, jeans that were too short, and shoes with holes in the soles. People who walked with their hands in their pockets and with cigarette smoke trailing behind them. People who were different.

Every Sunday was the same. On this Sunday, as he had many Sundays before, the Drake heir was waiting, watching from the window seat in a living room hardly anyone ever used. The only exception to the sameness, the muscle memory and the routine, followed Jason’s gentle plucking of a peace lily.

Tim Drake, having watched Jason on enough Sunday mornings to know that he would hurry off soon, leapt from the bench in the window and ran to the front door. Throwing it open, he saw Jason already departing.

“Hey, you! Wait!”

Jason kept walking. Tim wondered if maybe the strange boy, so rugged and alien in this pristine wonderland, hadn’t heard him. He darted to the middle of the lawn.

“You, you in the leather jacket! Stop!”

Jason froze- and then quickened his pace. Tim quickly followed suit.

“Hey, wait a minute! Seriously, mister, what do you think you’re doing stealing my flowers?”

Over his shoulder, Jason called back to Tim in a low voice. “Flower. Singular. Its not like you’re going to miss one lousy flower.”

Gaining on Jason now, Tim threw out a hand to catch the stranger’s shoulder. “Mustn’t be so lousy if you take one every Sunday,” Tim huffed.

Now the boy stopped, and he turned, and he stared. “You’ve seen me? Every Sunday?” He bit down hard on his lip. His lips were cracked and dry. They matched the malnourishment evident in the hallows of his cheeks and his neck. Tim couldn’t see it from afar, but it was heartbreakingly obvious up close.

Tim’s hand fell from his shoulder, resting instead on his hip. “Of course I have. I’m aristocracy- I haven’t anything better to do than watch out the window all day. Even that is more exciting than the social obligations. Now, what are you doing with my flower?”

Jason looked down at the white lily in his hand. “She- It’s… for someone very special to me.”

At these words, Tim’s face lit up. “I’ve got to meet her.”

“Pardon?” Jason physically tottered backward in surprise. “Meet who?”

“Whoever you’re stealing my flowers for,” replied Tim, looking exactly like the excitement-deprived noble he was. “Obviously I have to see if this girl is enough to warrant weekly flower theft.”

Jason could almost laugh. “You’re telling me you want to tag along to meet the person I steal flowers for? Really?” Jason ran his free hand through his hair, smiling to himself in quiet disbelief. “Wow. Aristocrats really are desperate for some fun,” he added in a half whisper.

“Well, are you taking me or not?”

Jason snapped back to the face before him, grinning up in the shade provided by Jason’s tall frame. “Not.”

The grin slipped from Tim’s face. “Why not?” Tim demanded.

“Because,” Jason scowled, tucking the flower into a hidden band inside his jacket. “You’re being ridiculous. As if I would let you come with me. I don’t even know you.”

Tim seemed to consider this for a moment. “Alright. That’s fair. How about this- if you agree to take me to meet her, I’ll take you out for lunch first and we can get to know each other.”

Jason wanted to take the shorter boy by the shoulders and shake him. Could he not see how intrusive and creepy he was being? This was completely inappropriate. There was no way Jason would accept his stupid offer.

And then his tummy rumbled. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? Two, maybe three days since I’ve had a full meal. I think I had a granola bar this morning, thought Jason. As he thought again of the rich boy’s offer, about to shake his head, his stomach released an angry growl. Jason was starving.

“My treat,” Tim added.

Jason sighed. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “Okay.”

Tim beamed, his bright smile lighting up his whole face. “Great. Let’s go. Oh, and by the way, my name is Tim.”

“Jason.”

Tim held out his hand, and Jason shook it firmly. He wouldn’t say so out loud, but Tim was surprised at the rough feel of Jason’s large hand. He couldn’t imagine what kind of work might produce such tough, ugly blisters.

In the car, which Jason insisted he get to drive since he did not want to put that much power in Tim’s hands, Tim babbled away about this and that. Jason wasn’t really paying attention. The hunger pains were intense and he thought he might be sick if he didn’t eat soon. At 19 years old, Jason was pretty well used to the ache of constant hunger. But, like anything else, it occasionally hit with considerably more force than usual. He struggled to focus on the road and the directions Tim was giving.

“Turn right just up there.”

Right. Okay, focus, Jason. Turn right. Use the turn signal, turn the wheel, and pull into the parking lot. Then you can eat. Jason forced his muscles to obey him. He collapsed at the wheel as soon as he put the vehicle in park.

“Woah, man, are you okay?” Tim’s hands fluttered nervously in the air over Jason, unsure of how much he could do without breaking his boundaries. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten? How much water have you had today?”

Jason turned to face Tim, head still resting on the wheel. “Not enough?” Jason guessed. His voice was weak and broken. Tim, who never gone hungry a day in his life for reasons other than punishment, could feel a twinge in his heart as he watched Jason loll around.

“Okay, you stay here. I’m going to go get-”

“If you say help, I will drive this car off a cliff.”

“I was going to say food.”

Jason’s stomached rumbled and he convulsed, clutching at his tummy. He was clearly dehydrated and underfed. Tim pushed open the car door and stepped out, long legs propelling him toward the open doors of the small cafe.

When Tim returned, Jason was upright and holding a forced smile on his rigid face. “I’m fine, see?”

“You’re not. Eat.” Tim pushed a bag toward Jason. He took it from Tim’s fingers, eyeing it with heavy suspicion. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Did you poison this?” Jason sniffed it gingerly.

“What?!”

“It’s an honest question.” The semi permanent defensive scowl returned to Jason’s face.

Tim struggled to hold onto the fact that Jason must have come from some place awful, and tried not to sound offended when he spoke. “No, I did not poison it. I’ll even have the first bite to prove it.” He motioned for the bag and, upon having it passed back, took one of the two muffins from the paper bag and took a bite. Jason watched him the whole time. “See? Not poisoned.” He passed the bag back to Jason.

Tim waited until Jason had finished eating, watched for the return of colour to his cheeks, before he started to ask questions. He made sure that Jason drank at least half a bottle of water, as well.

“So, tell me about yourself. Do you live with your parents?” Where is your home?

“I don’t live at home, no.” I don’t have a home.

“Do you have a job?” Can you afford to eat?

“Yeah, I take tires off of cars.” Illegally and usually in alleys. “And I work part time at an ice cream place.” That I found out about when I was carting drugs from a local dealer to the owner of the shop.

“Can you tell me about the girl?”

Jason hesitated, mulling over the right words in his mind. “Funny. She could make anyone laugh. Hard working. At one point, she was working three jobs. And passionate. Fired up about everything. Once she got ranting, she couldn’t stop if her life depended on it.”

Although Jason become quiet, Tim smiled. There was real, genuine love in Jason’s tone as he described the mystery flower girl. Tim hoped she would describe Jason with the same affection. “I can’t wait to meet her”

“Yeah…”

“So,” Tim carried on, “do you have a motorcycle?” Can you please explain the tattered leather jacket?

“I used to.” I sold it to pay for utilities, and then got kicked out of the house a month later.

This went on for quite some time, and the boys never pulled out of the parking lot. When it seemed appropriate, Tim would offer his own answer to a question so that Jason would not feel trapped in a one sided conversation. When Tim had asked all he could think to ask, he asked one more question.

“Can we go see the girl now?”

Jason, who had actually loosened up considerably, tensed. He shut up like a clam and broke eye contact, refusing to connect again. He only focused on the road, and getting there from the parking lot.

“Is.. That a yes?”

“I think you should go home.”

“Now? Are you kidding? No way. I hate to break it to you, but, unfortunately, I’m now emotionally invested in your well being. And whether you like it or not, I can tell that this girl plays an integral part in your life. I have to meet her.”

Jason turned to Tim with incredulity. And a slight shock of admiration. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Yes.”

Tim’s absolute answer and the accompanying nod of his head made Jason smile. He fought the tug at the corners of his mouth and he lost. This spoiled rich kid wasn’t half bad.

As they drive across town, Tim watched Jason. From this angle, the malnourishment was slightly more conspicuous and the furrow of his brow did nothing to dampen the shining of his blue eyes. His dark, dark hair burned in the afternoon sun, and the corner of his mouth dimpled as he chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. Tim was intrigued by Jason in every way.

“Do you still have the flower?”

Jason let go of the wheel with one hand to pull open his jacket, exposing the flower in its hiding place. It was slightly wilted from sitting in there so long, but the peace lily still screamed of its beauty, its purity.

Tim turned from Jason’s face to the front windshield and started in surprise. Jason was heading for the entrance to the cemetery. At least, Tim thought it might be the cemetery. He had never been before, and from here, he could see only tall iron fences overgrown with vines and green leaves turning over gold edges in the crisp end -of-summer breeze. As they pulled forward, car rumbling over the gravel, Tim could almost make out the roofs of mausoleums. They really were at the cemetery, weren’t they?

A small gasp escaped his lips. “Is this- Jason, are we at the graveyard? I thought we were going to meet the girl!”

“We are.” Jason stopped the car. He turned stoicly to face Tim. “Tim, come meet my mom.”

[graveyardshift-writer]

Endearment and Enmity Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh. Title: Endearment and Enmity Rating: T-M depending on chapter, M overall Summary: When you're literally married to the person you despise. Warnings: Homosexual relationships,vulgar words and adult situations. Author's Note: I don't know why I wrote this. Chapter 3: Forward. "Kaiba-sama, a man and his son and here to see you." Jonouchi inwardly flinched when one of the LVN's referred to him by his married name; something he'd probably never be used to. He kept his disgust to himself as he turned to face the young nurse. "Understood, thank you; but why isn't the doctor seeing him?" "The doctor has, she wants you to coax the boy into taking his medicine. You know children don't respond to her like they do to you." Jonouchi couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Alright. Which room are they in?" "Fifty." As Jonouchi walked to the room he could swear he could hear the other nurse giggle; which made him suspicious as first but he ended up just shrugging it off. Females, as much as he loved them, were strange creatures. He walked into the room, and was taken aback. "Jou!" The man, father of the boy he was supposed to be attending to, was grinning as he walked over. An all-too-familiar man. "O-Otagi?" Jonouchi stammered slightly before breaking into his own grin over seeing a friendly familiar face in the dice master. Ryuji Otogi looked very similar to how he had as a teen, but was dressed casually and more conservatively. His dark hair was trimmed and kept in a neater style but still in a ponytail in the back, the rims of his eyes were clear from lack of eyeliner, and his dice earrings were now just gold hoops, which Jonouchi supposed were supposed to match the golden band around his finger. Against his shoulder he held a small toddler-aged boy. "I heard you were working here and almost couldn't believe it." The dark haired man told his old friend with a small smile "But I saw your name on the employee roster in the hallway and requested you." "Really? Wow. I haven't been able to meet up with anyone yet." Truthfully he knew that his friends knew him well enough to see his frustration over his marriage with Kaiba as soon as the subject would be brought up. Luckily, Otogi just couldn't see right through him like Yugi, Anzu and Honda could. "Is it true though… Did you really tie the knot with Kaiba?" Well son of a bitch, that topic came up quickly. Jonouchi managed to keep a straight face as he pointed to his name tab which clearly read 'Katsuya Kaiba' a name the blonde had no attachment to. "Wow, I guess I should start calling you Kaiba then huh." "Please don't." Jonouchi told him, trying not to sound as exasperated as he really was "Can you introduce me to your son?" That should get Otogi off the topic, parents loved gushing about their kids. He was relieved when he was proven to be right as the dark haired man turned his baby boy to face Jonouchi. The boy had very dark brown hair that shot up in random spikes, and green eyes just like his father, but his skin was tan compared to Otogi's pale. He was oddly familiar, but then again all babies looked the same in the CRNA's opinion. "What's the boys name?" "Chokichi." Otogi told him as he lightly bounced the small toddler, who only continued to absentmindedly suck on his thumb. That made Jonouchi quirk a brow at the similarity the baby shared with another one. "That's ironic, Honda's son has the same name-" Before the blonde could properly finish his sentence, the other man started to chuckle, making him pause "Hey what's so funny, guy?" "Didn't Honda ever tell you?" Otogi continued to chuckle, then cleared his throat "Chokichi is mine and Honda's son, we had him together." "..." Jonouchi fell silent. Honda and Otogi? His former classmate had a ring on, did that mean he was married to Honda? And they somehow had a kid together? "What?" Honda had sent him a ton of pictures of the baby the minute the kid had been born, but he always dodged the question on who the 'mother' was, which at the time had Jonouchi come to the conclusion that some girl he'd slept with just ditched the baby on him. Turned out there was no mother. "...How?" "That's a story for another time." Otogi's eyes held a glint "Me and Honda aren't married since it isn't legal yet, we have a domestic partnership however. We attended the same university and fell in love there." Although Jonouchi supposed he should have felt happy for his friends, it still felt like a stab to just now hear about all of that. Honda had been his friend since middle school, and yeah neither of them were the best when it came to calling, but he couldn't have at least mentioned once he was involved with Otogi and had even started a family together? "Interesting..." He muttered in an almost Kaiba-esque way, which he caught right away. Gross, the bastard was starting to rub off on him. "Well, can you tell me what's wrong with the little guy?" "He's had a fever for the past few days and he can't shake it off..." Otogi explained as he gently stroked the baby's head. "Hm. Simple thing man, doesn't sweat. This is probably just a bacterial infection - kids put everything into their mouths you know. We'll give him some fluid and electrolytes and probably some broad-spectrum antibiotics. But let me ask a few questions first; what kind of symptoms has he shown?" "Fever, crying to the point of screaming… isn't eating and can't sleep well." Jot. "Does he have any allergies?" "Bee stings." Jot. "Does he take any medications currently?" "Just some baby cough medicine." Jot. "Has this happened before?" "No, he hasn't run a fever like this before." Jot. "What was the last thing he ate or drank?" "Cold formula milk, and a little bit of applesauce." Jot. "What was going on before he came down with the fever?" "Just… normal stuff. We took him out for a walk out at the little kids park." Jot. Just as he took the last note the baby started to loudly cry, his flushed face growing to the likeness of an angry tomato. "No, baby shh, it's okay..." Otogi told the baby softly and rocked him, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down in all of the usual ways. Still a little alien seeing Otogi so gentle. "Alright you wait here, I'll go consult his pediatrician." From the cupboard he quickly produced a pedialyte bottle, a special type of juice for babies with plenty of electrolytes, very important for fevers. "Give him this, the fevers probably dehydrating him." The dark haired man nodded and took the bottle, coaxing the small boy into drinking from it. -/- "What's wrong with you today?" Kaiba asked, more out of curiosity than actual concern. Jonouchi had come into his office after work as he sometimes did, which the brunet requested as to keep up appearances. Jonouchi's teeth ungritted just enough to ask"Did you know that Otogi and Honda were partners?" His… spouse, didn't bother to so much as look up from his computer screen. "Well… Did you?" Jonouchi had just gotten off of work and changed before heading over, he tried texting and calling Honda but had gotten no response, and he'd grown so frustrated in silence that now he had to take it out on someone even if it had to be the guy he hated for holding him as a basically a hostage-bride. "I might have heard at some point in time from my brother, but I don't go out of my way to keep track of the cheerleader squad. So, I'm gonna have to say no." The CEO cooly replied, typing away. "I can't believe that he wouldn't tell me. I've known that asshole since we were troublemaking shits of kids. I've scraped his ass off of the sidewalk like bubblegum so many times- Kaiba, would you at least pretend you see me as a regular person as look at me while I talk to you?" Just to prove his point and frustration he gripped the couch and shoved it over onto it's back. Kaiba at least acknowledged him by looking up and stopping his excessive typing. "I mean, I'm not expecting the guy to tell me each and every one of his most intimate secrets. But that's a big part of his life and he never bothered to tell me." The blue-eyed man crossed his arms with a disapproving hum "What do you expect? Did you think that you and your clique would remain friends forever once high school ended? Wake up, friendship doesn't last forever no matter how much you preach, they moved on. And so should you." Honestly, Kaiba had almost forgot just how emotional the other duelist could be. "This is coming from the guy who spent millions of dollars taking control of a city for a duel monsters tournament because you couldn't accept defeat." Jonouchi retorted. Kaiba's hand tightened around his own forearm. He'd been a little hot-blooded back then, but his loss to Yugi all those years ago never felt right… perhaps because the boy who beat him wasn't Yugi at all, but the spirit of the puzzle. Even in the Grand Prix, losing to Yugi didn't feel right. Why? Because even if he was dueling the spirit of the puzzle, the spirit was in the end just a spirit… He wasn't his true self, he wasn't at his full strength with his own memories or ambitions, he was in the end just a powerful extension of Yugi. That was why he had gone so far as to see the Pharaoh in the afterlife, because his old rival owed him a real duel. Even if he hadn't won, he still had the closure he needed to move on with his life. "Stop looking back Katsuya, you're not supposed to be going that way." Kaiba answered cryptically as he resumed his work. Jonouchi glared coldly at him. "Everyone has a past Kaiba, even you. You think I don't know that you named that hospital after the Orphanage you came from?" The brunet paused again "Whatever, you're no help. I'm going back to the mansion, and I'm not fixing the damn couch. " With that the REBD turned away and left, ultimately venting didn't help. And he felt no closer to his… spouse. Oh well, yet another night of dry sobbing into his pillow and jacking it. TO BE CONTINUED Authors note: So the clinic is named after the orphanage that the Kaiba brothers came from, that's what I've decided. And yes, there you go, Otogi and Honda are a couple with an adorable little shit of their own. As stated before, this fanfiction takes place years after the Dark Side of Dimensions, where Kaiba somehow comes back from the afterlife after his duel with Atem. He didn't win, but after having finally gotten a fair duel with no one else but him and and the Pharaoh, he found closure and could finally move on. Please leave a review.