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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years ago

Note

Y/N gets attacked and Chishiya is sure she will handle everything but when he sees her later there's blood everywhere, later he finds out that attackers actually cut her cheek really deepy and she will probably have a scar. He feels guilty and try to make it up by bringing something special (like cute pictures of cats bc he remembers when she quietly told Kuina that she loves cats) and from that day he is always trying to make sure that Y/N is doing fine. (2/2)

Of course! Here you go!

A Ginger Cat | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Characters(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, OC, Ann)

Summary: You get hurt during a game, but Chishiya thinks that you can handle it yourself. Later when he discovers that you were injured more worse than he thought, he brings you something to cheer you up

Warnings: swearing, blood

Word Count: 4.6k

*reader is female

The registration room had an eerie aura, you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop in there. Nothing was moving except the occasional piece of dust flying past in the breeze. You stood with your back to the wall, glaring up into the bright florescent light that had seemed to become an all too familiar ongoing theme of these homicidal games.

The wall was cold and rigid along your spine, but you put up with the small sharp pain. There was nowhere else to wait, besides on the disgustingly dirty floor. You had to gain as much rest and strength before beginning the game.

Kuina sighed heavily to the right of you, glancing at the game phone she had picked up a few minutes prior and rolling her head back against the wall in boredom. Chishiya stood next along from her, earbuds lodged in his ears and blasting loud music while he held his gaze strictly on the ground in front of him.

“Come on,” Kuina groaned, stretching her hands above her head. “When is this game starting? We’ve been here for a solid half an hour.”

She walked to the entrance of the registration room and peeked her head out the door. “I’m surprised no one else has come. Maybe it’ll be just us,” she suggested, turning back to you and Chishiya.

“That sounds great, until it’s a game of hearts,” you bluntly stated, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. Chishiya and Kuina both turned to you, sudden concern on their faces at your accusation.

The room fell quiet once more, until a familiar voice echoed through the room from all your phones simultaneously.

“Registration is now closed,” it spoke. “Game: Mice, Cats and A Dog.”

You frowned at the strange game name, having heard nothing like it before. You felt a feeling of relief wash over you as a five of clubs card conveyed itself on your screen. You were anxious you had accidentally manifested it to be a hearts game with your sly comment earlier.

“Rules: Players are the Cats. There are three live Mice to catch, each hiding in different areas around the building. Once found, the Mice must be killed using your own preference of weapon that is available on the table in the registration room.”

All three of you glanced towards the small table positioned next to the phone table that was scattered with small weapons that would hardly be enough to hurt a human. You had been wondering why they had offered such shitty weapons.

“Although, you must avoid the Dog’s gaze, for it will kill the Cats on sight.”

Your heart dropped at that last statement. You were to be hunted.

“You have an hour to kill all three Mice and return to the lobby with the bodies. If you fail to do so, all exits around the building will be closed and several more Dogs will be released and finish off the remaining players. You have ten minutes to position yourself in the building before the Dog is released.”

The list of rules on your phone screen shifted to a timer for ten minutes, already beginning to count down. You turned to Chishiya and Kuina.

“Any strategies?” Kuina asked, looking between you and Chishiya.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Split up. That seems like the most logical option. It will be quicker to find the Mice then,” you proposed, crossing your arms over your chest and scanning over the small map nearby that disclosed the layout of the deserted hotel the game was taking place in.

“But then the “Dog” will have more of a chance to find us if we split up,” Kuina argued. Kuina always focused on the safer route to ensure everyone’s survival rather than the easiest.

“No, it will be worse if we’re together, cause it can kill us all at once,” you retorted, walking over to the weapon table and starting to scan your options.

“I agree with Y/N,” Chishiya spoke up, pushing himself off the wall and strutting over to stand next to you and help pick a weapon. “I played a game very similar to this one. The best option is that we separate. Only then do we have a chance of finding the Mice in the time limit.”

Just as he said it, the phones all announced you had nine minutes left until the hunter began searching for you.

“One mouse each, and if you find yours early, keep searching so we can speed up time.”

You nodded at Chishiya’s command, snatching a small hammer and a pocket knife from the table for your weapons. You all walked out of the registration area (the front desk of the hotel) and into the empty lobby, watching as the hanging chandeliers glistening against the moonlight shining through from the obnoxiously big windows.

If anything could have gotten worse, you had to find tiny mice in a huge hotel in the complete darkness of night.

***************

You took to the upper bar.

The area in itself didn’t seem that big. But when you found it, you realised that it would be incredibly hard to find a single mouse in the cracks and small spaces between all the furniture. The eerie aura didn’t help much.

You sighed in frustration after searching underneath yet another couch. “What the fuck is this game? How the fuck am I supposed to find a rodent in a huge place like this?” you whispered angrily, flopping down on the couch dramatically.

It had been around forty-five minutes since the “Dog” had been released, but you have always been quite confident in your escaping and hiding strategies, so you weren’t too worried. The only thing you were concerned about was finding a mouse. Chishiya and Kuina had to have caught theirs by now.

A small scuttling noise cut you from your thoughts. You snapped your head towards the bar, where the sound was emitting from. A wave of excitement filled you, becoming hopeful that the noise was the mouse you were searching for.

You stood from the couch and quickly walked towards the bar, making sure not to make too much noise in case you alerted the rodent. The noise seemed to have come from behind some bottles beneath the counter. You crouched down on your knees and looked along the shelves, scanning for any sign of movement.

“Come on little mouse,” you taunted, becoming frustrated. When you noticed the flash of illuminated eyes staring holes into you through the glass of a tequila bottle, you quickly snatched the neck of the bottle and pulled it from the shelf, locking eyes with a desperate mouse with it’s back half stuck in a mouse trap.

The mouse shook violently against the trap, letting out small squeaks of pain and glaring at you with fear in it’s eyes. Although, it’s most noticeable feature was a large cross that almost seemed burned into it’s lower back. The cross had no fur or skin along it.

“This has to be one of them,” you reassured yourself, reaching to pull out the small pocket knife.

You picked up the mouse trap and hissed as the mouse managed to nip a part of your finger in defence. “Little shit,” you muttered, before pressing the point of your knife against the mouse’s back and pushing in harshly to kill it.

You hoped that you would just end it’s life and that would be that. But of course, the game had to throw in some sort of twist.

As you stabbed the small rodent, a impossibly loud screeching sound emitted from it’s tiny throat, making you drop the creature in shock and cover your ears.

The animal screeched and screeched, pain dripping from it’s cries that echoed across the room angrily. You began to panic, realising that there’s a chance the hunter could hear you. But maybe that was the point.

“Shut up!” you yelled over the mouse’s cries. You pulled the knife swiftly from the mouse’s fur and continued to repetitively penetrate it’s skin, mercilessly making it shut up while blood splattered across your angered face.

You breathed heavily once the room had fallen silent once again, staring down at the mutilated dead rodent. For a short moment, you felt bad for ending it’s life so unpeacefully.

Your head snapped up to look over the bar when sudden heavy footsteps made their way down the hall outside the bar. Your heart leapt to your throat and you turned to press your back against the bar, keeping your head down so whoever it was couldn’t see you.

You cringed as you picked up the remains of the mouse, holding it tight in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it. If Chishiya and Kuina had finished their halves, all you had to do was get to the lobby and you would be fine.

You placed your spare hand over your mouth to quieten your breathing, listening to the footsteps of the stranger who brought themselves into the room. The rapid movement of their feet made you anxious. You had never encountered a hunter that could run as fast as that.

You heard them flip a few tables over, hearing glasses smash against the walls aggressively. You closed your eyes tightly in realisation. The attacker was trying to make it harder for you to leave quietly if you were in there.

When the room fell quiet, you slowly peeked your head over the top of the bar. You managed to catch sight of the hunter themselves.

They seemed to have resembled the body of an older male, fit and tall. They had long, baggy pants, a black t-shirt while holding a machete that easily was as long as your arm. But most oddly, they wore a mask that conveyed a snarling German Shepherd.

The hunter was preoccupied over by the lounged area, looking behind the back rests of the couches and underneath coffee tables.

‘If I stay here any longer, they’re guaranteed to find me,’ you thought to yourself.

You decided you were going to attempt to leave. You had more of a chance of surviving by running than hiding.

You lifted your legs and trudged towards the edge of the bar, ducking underneath the table that was placed at the end before slowly rising to your feet. A quick glance down at your hand was enough to reassure you that you hadn’t dropped your ticket to a few more days of staying alive.

You kept your eyes locked on the hunter, making sure they didn’t turn their back as you were trying to leave. You thought you had almost made it before you miscalculated your step and tripped over a shattered glass on the ground, making you stumble forward and a loud noise erupt from the impact from your shoe to the glass.

As soon as you regained your balance, you didn’t even bother checking if the hunter had heard, you knew they did. You immediately took off running, holding your pocket knife in one hand in fear. You weren’t even halfway down the hall running towards the lobby before you heard the Dog’s footsteps behind you, trailing close and fast.

“Chishiya! Kuina!” You screamed out, picking up your pace and holding the body of the dead mouse close to your chest to make sure you didn’t drop it.

There was no way they were going to help you now, especially against someone like that. You were on your own for now, so you put faith in your own legs to carry you all the way down to the lobby.

Your heart was racing as you almost fell down the flights of stairs, so desperate to get away. At some point, you glanced upwards and saw your pursuer on the flight above you, making you feel sick.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, quickly scrambling down the darkened stairs. The blood of the mouse’s corpse seeped through your fingers as you held it in a tense fist, dripping down your arm grotesquely.

As you neared the ground level of the hauntingly big hotel, you stumbled as you jumped the few remaining steps and saw a sign that had an arrow labeled “Main Lobby” pointed to the left. You took in that direction, glancing behind you to see the “Dog” hot on your tail.

But unfortunately, you took too long to look at the sign. The “Dog” quickly caught up, grabbing an aggressive fistful of the back of your shirt and yanking you backwards towards them. You were too scared to scream. The air was forced from your lungs as you were pulled back, landing on the ground with the “Dog” suddenly standing over you, feet planted on either side of you.

Before you could even think, their machete plummeted down towards your face, making you flinch your head to the right, narrowly avoiding the blade. Although, the edge of the sharp metal managed to graze your cheek, creating a long gash along the side of your face.

The “Dog” continued to attempt to stab you in the face, stumbling above you as you attempted to kick their legs out from underneath them. In a sudden desperate attack, you kicked with all your might at their locked knees and they let out a yelp of pain as their knee buckled harshly backwards. You took the opportunity to run, not even giving them a second glance. You knew they’d already be back on their feet, after you again.

As you neared the humongous room that was labeled the lobby, you saw Chishiya and Kuina by the big doors that led inside. They seemed to have been banging their fists against an invisible force, separating you from them. The game must have locked them in when they placed their dead mice in the box that was located in the centre of the huge hall.

Their faces changed their hopeful expressions when they saw your pursuer, the blood running from their cheeks, making them pale. As soon as you entered the lobby, passing through the invisible force with ease, they followed behind you quickly.

“Hurry! Throw it in!” you heard Chishiya cry to you desperately behind you. You glanced back to see him slowing down, holding out his taser towards the “Dog” in case they managed to reach you. The electric light of his taser lit up significantly in the darkened room.

Once you reached the small white box placed on the table in the centre of the room, you shoved the disgusting remains of your victim inside, watching as it landed on top of two other mice.

Everything froze. The “Dog” immediately stopped running, dropping to their knees and face-planting onto the ground in front of Chishiya. All three of you stopped in shock, heavy breaths filling the air. Had you done it?

“Game Clear. Congratulations.”

The collar around the “Dog’s” neck exploded, blood splattering the walls and coating the gorgeously patterned carpet with it’s own artwork. You had seen it many times before. Once more couldn’t hurt.

“Took you long enough,” you heard Chishiya smartly remark. You glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow. He looked smug, as always. Not a single scratch on him.

“Give me a break, I had to face someone three times the size of me,” you remarked, rubbing your face tiredly. Your adrenaline had calmed, and now the pain of your deep gash on your cheek settled in. You hissed as your palm grazed it, pulling back and looking at your hand to see blood across it.

“Shit,” you rasped out, wiping your hand on the material of your pants.

“You okay Y/N?” Kuina questioned, walking over to you. You shook your head, dismissing her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a small gash. It’ll heal soon enough,” you reassured.

“Are you sure? That looks quite deep,” Chishiya commented, strutting over and using his hand to push your chin to the side so he could look more closely at it. The feeling of his hand placed so gently on your skin made your heart suddenly race, and you panicked and pulled your head away before he could even see your wound.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted, attempting to hide your embarrassment. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late, and I’m tired and hungry.”

***************

You stood in your bathroom, attempting to wash your clothes that you wore at the game earlier. You were soaking and scrubbing them in the bathtub. No matter how much blood seeped from the fabrics, it never seemed to be clean enough.

You grunted, annoyed and tired. Kuina said she was going to spend some time out nearby the pool with Arisu and talk to him about his game. Chishiya didn’t say where he was going, but you assumed it would be the roof or something away from everyone else.

A wet feeling along the side of your neck made you suddenly flinch and hit your skin, worried it was a weird bug of some sort. But your eyes widened when you brought your hand back and saw the concerning amount of blood spread across your palm.

You stood up from the side of the bathtub and leant against the sink, looking to the large mirror. “For fucks sake,” you sighed out as you caught sight of your large gash again. “This has been bleeding for hours. How do I make this stop?”

You winced as the moist towel you used earlier was once again dabbing along the skin of your face, collecting up the annoyingly large amount of blood percolating from your cheek. You were becoming afraid that it wasn’t going to stop at all, but you were too stubborn to go to Ann for medical help.

You’ve seen her weird dissection obsession, so you felt uneasy putting the trust of your health into her hands.

The blood dripped quicker the more you attempted to clean it up. Soon, there were miniature blood puddles scattered around the sink as you kept trying to clean them.

*********** “Hey Usagi, have you seen Y/N?”

Chishiya was making his way around The Beach searching for you. He usually liked spending his late nights having a drink with you in a quiet corner of the ground floor pool. Although, he hadn’t been able to find you and he was getting worried. You usually were either down in the lobby or with Kuina after games.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry Chishiya.”

He huffed annoyed, thanking Usagi and walking away from the dance floor. He thought he should check in your room as a last resort, but if you weren’t there, that’s when he would really worry.

He slowly made his way up the multiple flights of stairs, passing by a few people on the way. During the walk, he zoned out in his own thoughts, his mind filing with you.

How would he ever tell you how he felt? He believed you only saw him as a friend, an annoying one at that. Especially since you happen to banter a lot with him. The thought made him smile, he loved that you didn’t take his bullshit seriously and treated it like a game.

‘How do I let her know that I truly do care for her?’ he asked himself, fiddling with the drawstrings of his white hoodie as he strolled down the brightly lit hall. He hadn’t ever been the best with emotions, so how could he show that he was genuine about his romantic feelings towards you?

When Chishiya reached your room, he lifted his fist to knock on the rotting wood, freezing suddenly. Why was he hesitating? He’s done this so many times before, why was he suddenly nervous? He shook his head, embarrassed for catching himself in these thoughts. He had worked himself up again.

He knocked on your door loudly three times before calling out to you. “Y/N? You in there?” The silence that followed his call made him anxious. He knocked again, this time more persistently.

“Coming!” he heard your muffled voice call through the door. He stood back from the door as you opened it, giving you a small smile. But it soon disappeared from your face when he locked eyes with the bloody tissue that you held to your cheek.

“Hey Chish,” you groaned out, lazy eyed and turning back into your room, leaving the door so he could come in. Chishiya rushed to you quickly. “Wait, Y/N. What’s going on? Why are you hurt?” he asked frantically, pulling on your shoulder to get you to look at him.

You brushed his hand off of you. “It’s fine. Just a small gash from the game earlier. It started bleeding again,” you said, giving him a stare.

Chishiya shook his head and cupped your face, avoiding your cut, to have a closer look. “No Y/N, that doesn’t look okay. It’s bleeding way too much.”

You stayed still as he replaced your hand holding the tissue on your face with his own, being as gentle as he could as he cleaned the blood gathering around the gash.

“Here, sit down on the bed,” he muttered, indicating towards the end of your bed. You both shuffled over and sat down, Chishiya still holding the tissue on your face.

You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he examined your wound. His dark eyes glistened in the dim light of your hotel room. He looked ethereal. But he took a quick glance towards your eyes, snapping you from your daze. You hissed as he caught a bit of the gash on the tissue. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand to your chin to readjust your position.

He then sat up and walked towards the bathroom, walking quickly so the blood of your injury didn’t drip too much. As he was there, you heard a soft gasp. He probably had found the blood-covered sink and towels.

He returned back with a clean towel that he found in your bathroom cabinet. He held a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this? If I knew it was this bad, I would’ve helped you out.”

You shrugged your shoulders. To be honest, you weren’t too sure why you didn’t tell Chishiya or Kuina. It just didn’t seem that big of a deal.

“You’ll need some stitches,” he concluded, holding a clean towel underneath your cut. “Also, stop using tissues to clean the blood. They flake easily and can stick to your injury.”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You wish Chishiya didn’t find you like this. You hated making anyone else worry about you when it wasn’t entirely necessary.

“Look at me,” he demanded, bringing your head up with a gentle hand on your neck. Your breath got caught in your throat as he wiped around your cheek, cleaning up any excess blood.

“Come on. Let’s get you to Ann,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for you.

You took his hand and he pulled you up playfully, making you almost stumble into him. You glared at him. “Wow. Even when I’m injured you’re still a bully,” you teased. Chishiya smirked and winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

And yet, the whole way to Ann’s medical room, you didn’t let go of his hand.

***************

You woke as the sun hit your eyelids, illuminating your room with bright rays of light. The sun was strangely gorgeous that morning, so you woke up in a good mood.

You sat up and stretched, letting out a large groan as your bones popped in your back. Although a wince made its way onto your face as you yawned, making the skin of your treated gash stretch.

Chishiya had told Ann to place a protected medical patch on your cut, since he thought it would be better than just leaving it in case of it getting infected or worse during your next game. So for the time being, you had a flat piece of cotton taped on your face. Ann said to only leave it on until it had certainly stopped bleeding through, as well as to change it around two or three times a day.

When your eyes finally adjusted to your surroundings, your sight landed on a strange scene in front of you.

At the table on the end of your bed, there was a small plushie of a ginger kitten. The makeshift fur on the stuffed toy was slightly dirty and it was missing a bead for an eye, but it still remained strangely comforting.

You crawled to the end of your bed and reached out to grab the plushie, bringing it close to you and looking over it for anything. Who knows? Someone could have put it in your room as a trap.

But it was proven safe when you noticed the small, neat writing on the end of the kitten’s tail, which read ‘Chish’.

You chuckled at the childish toy, realising Chishiya must have snuck it into your room while you were asleep.

“Idiot,” you laughed, “Can’t tell me he likes me as his friend but he can put enough effort into finding a stuffed cat in the Borderland for me.”

It felt special, because you knew Chishiya would have had to go into deserted Tokyo to find such a gift for you. You looked on the table and saw a small piece of paper. You frowned and reached out for it and opened it.

‘Here’s a stupid plushie for your troubles. Kuina said you liked cats so I thought you’d feel better with this xx’

You laughed at his half-hearted message. Chishiya never was that good with words, but he didn’t have to be in order for you to understand how he felt towards you.

Although the plushie was a bit beaten and battered, it still brought such a sense of home to you.

***************

You sat in the lobby, watching everyone scuttle around. Your usual drunken party group passed through every now and then, which was always good entertainment.

You jumped as you felt a pair of hands suddenly grip onto your shoulders, quickly moving to your eyes and covering them.

“Guess who?” the stranger asked cheekily, making you relax when you recognised their familiar, cocky voice.

“Get your hands off me Chishiya,” you giggled, pulling on his hands and turning around so you would face him. His face held a big smile across it, which was so unlike his usual neutral expression.

“What’s got you so happy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. Chishiya pulled away from your face and jumped over the back of the couch so he was then sitting beside you.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to see you,” he admitted, laying his head on your shoulder comfortably. His boldness was rather prominent then more than you had ever seen.

“How’s your cut?” he asked, looking up to examine the patch on your cheek. You shrugged it off. “It’s fine, not too bad now.”

Chishiya smiled, and suddenly leaned forward and left a lingering kiss on your good cheek, making your eyes widen at his action. “That’s good,” he gushed and continued on like he didn’t do anything.

“Yeah. Um...” you muttered awkwardly while rubbing the spot on your face where he kissed. “I wanted to say... thanks for the gift earlier,” you said, placing an arm around his shoulder comfortably.

Chishiya beamed happily, but tried to hide his blush by turning away from you. “No problem,” he mumbled out, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

You laughed at his response. Chishiya may have not been that good with words, but he didn’t need to be for you to notice that he really loved you.

566 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

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marvelsdc22 · 4 years ago

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Nightmares

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good day/night!! This one just kinda came up while I was sitting here, I hope you guys enjoy!! :)

Note: Y/N was put on ice like Steve and Bucky, only difference is, they made it through the war before they were put under, now they suffer from the nightmares of war, what happens when they keep it all bottled up?

Word Count: 3034

Screaming… That’s all you heard as you bolted awake, sweating as you looked around and realized that it was you that was screaming, quickly covering your mouth with your hand as you bit your lip, hoping and praying that you hadn’t woken anyone up, only to look at the door when a certain red-head rushed in Damn those thin walls you thought to yourself, knowing that even though Tony was rich, he had went cheap on the walls between the rooms in the compound, having figured no one would actually live there full time.

“Nightmares?” Natasha asked softly, her hair a mess and her oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder, her black shorts barely peeking out from under it, her frowning when you nodded before she went over to you and rested a hand on your shoulder, sending a spark through you but you ignored it, you had too much on your mind to worry about your stupid crush on the Russian Assassin “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, knowing your answer would always be the same, a shake of the head before she sat on the bed beside you “Okay, that’s okay” she assured, moving her arm to rest on your back, giving you all the time you needed until you calmed down and finally looked at her.

Natasha was your best friend here, you had gotten here about a year ago with Bucky, you having gone through almost what Steve did, just for the villain and minus the super strength Steve had, you were given the power to control time, you could reverse time by a few minutes, freeze it, or fast forward by a few minutes, but the more you trained, the longer you could do… The nightmares you got came from the war, you having not been caught until afterwards, you saw your team being killed in front of you, you saw the man that used you, you saw all the pain and death, everything you wished you could just forget, but you couldn’t and it seemed to be getting worse the more you held it in.

Looking at Natasha, you bit your lip, you wanted to tell her about your dreams, about what happened all that time ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it “I’m fine now” you lied, looking at her and watching as she seemed to read you “Are you sure?” She asked, able to sense that there was more you wanted to say “I’m sure” you assured, resting your hand on hers and watching as her brow furrowed before she sighed and nodded, knowing she couldn’t force you to tell her anything “Okay, you know where I am” she said, standing up and leaning over to kiss your head before she told you goodnight and headed out of your room, leaving you to lay there and stare up at the ceiling, knowing this was going to be another restless night.

The next morning, you made your way downstairs, already having a major headache from everything the night before “What’s going on?” You asked, seeing everyone with serious looks on their faces and discussing in hushed tones, them all looking at you when you spoke up “We found one of Hydra’s big bases… We need everyone onboard” Tony said, looking uncharacteristically serious as he explained it to you, giving you all the information you needed “We leave in ten” he said, looking at you and watching you nod before you turned around and headed back up to your room to get ready.

As you were zipping up your jacket, you turned when you heard a knock on you door and saw Natasha standing there, feeling your heart skip a beat as she looked at you appreciatively “You sure you’re up for this?” She asked, knowing you didn’t go back to sleep after the nightmare “I’m fine, Nat… You don’t need to worry” you assured, holstering your weapon, the one she had given you for your birthday a few months back “I always worry about you” she said, going over to you and reaching over, fixing your collar since it was sticking up like Elvis “You don’t have to” you said softly, feeling your face burn at her proximity and hearing her just make a small noise before she met your eyes “Y/N” she said, her leaning forward slowly, you unable to breathe as she leaned closer and closer until- “Time to go” Clint said, poking his head in the doorway and causing you and Natasha to pull apart, Clint looking oblivious as to what he had just done “You heard the man” you said, looking at Natasha and fighting back the disappointment you felt before the three of you headed to the elevator.

Getting to the base was the easy part, getting into the base… That was a different story “How do we get in?” You asked, looking at Bruce and Tony who were looking over the schematics, you guys having landed a little ways away to plan your attack “The only way in is through a series of vents… Clint, looks like it’s up to you to get us in” Tony said, looking at Clint who was grinning, fixing his hearing aid some before he grabbed his bow “You got it, where do I go?” He asked, looking over their shoulders as Tony and Bruce explained where he would go and where the rest of them would go.

“This would be easier with Thor” you commented, knowing he could just hammer smash his way in “He’s got his own thing to worry about” Natasha said, staying in step with you while the other three walked ahead, Bruce holding off on his Hulk form until you guys got inside “I know, but he always makes these things more fun” you said, running your fingers over the hilt of your sword, hiding the wince when your head flared up “You okay?” Natasha asked, having seeing the quick flash of pain that appeared “Fine” you said, unintentionally snapping slightly at her as you walked a little faster, leaving Natasha confused, you hadn’t acted this way since you first came in, why were you acting like it now?

After a bit, Clint let you guys in before you guys all split off, everyone going their own way but keeping contact with comms “There’s cells down here” you heard Bruce say, him having gone downstairs “Anyone in them?” You asked, slowing your steps in case you had to go help him free people “No… Just lots of blood” he said, causing you to sigh since you figured what had happened to all those people, continuing down the hallway as quickly and silently as possible “Ah!” You cried out, clutching your head as the pain increased tenfold “Y/N!” You heard Natasha call in the comms, but it sounded distant with how much the pain was affecting your senses, reaching your arm out and trying to hold yourself up with the wall, not hearing the footsteps coming towards you and looking up, seeing a blurry figure walking towards you “There you are” you heard a voice you didn’t recognize say, them holding something in their hand that seemed to be affecting your headache since the closer the figure got, the more your head hurt.

“Stop!” You cried, it feeling like your brain was about to explode and tears leaking out of your eyes as you fought to stay upright “Y/N! Where are you?” Natasha asked, sounding panicked and you knowing she would find you whether you told her or not “We’ve been looking for you” the man said, still coming towards you and you forced yourself to start moving, trying to get away from the man but he just sped up until the pain overwhelmed you and you collapsed, feeling nothing but pain before you passed out.

When you woke up, you found yourself in a room you didn’t recognize and your head aching “Hey!” You shouted, ignoring the protest from your head as you stood up and pounded on the door, trying to use your powers but unable to “Dammit, of course they took it” you grumbled, feeling for the earpiece that was no longer there and kicking the door, both out of rage and in hopes that it would budge… It didn’t “My friends will find me! You’ll be dead!” You shouted, not even sure if they could even hear you, but you didn’t care, you were cornered and you wanted to yell and no one was going to stop you, you continuing to protest until you heard banging and gunshots.

You waited with your arms crossed and smirked when your door opened and there stood Natasha, her breathing a sigh of relief when she saw you and going to take a step closer to you when your head flared up again “Ah!” You cried out, clutching your head and collapsing to your knees, her eyes widening and starting to rush towards you “Stop stop!” You cried, holding a hand up to stop her from moving since the closer she got, the more it hurt and looking up to see the crystal in her hand “It-it’s that thing” you said, pointing at the crystal in her hand and seeing her eyes widen before she took several steps back, watching as you visibly relaxed the further back she got until she handed it off to Steve, who stored it in the small compartment in his shield.

Once that was taken care of, she rushed towards you and carefully helped you stand before she pulled you into a tight hug “I told them you guys would come” you said softly, burying your face in her shoulder as you returned the hug “I know, he was complaining about ‘your annoying companion’” she said, chuckling some as she pulled back to look at you, you unable to hold back your small chuckle “Ladies, as much as this little reunion is adorable, we have to get out of here, the alarms were tripped” Tony said, poking his head in as the two of you pulled full apart “Come on” Natasha said, nodding towards the door before the two of you ran out behind the others.

“There!” You shouted, seeing the exit until you saw a swarm of backup run in through it “Shit!” You shouted, getting in cover as Tony flew up and Bruce charged in Hulk form, Clint going up into the rafters and Steve shielding himself while he thought of what to do, you and Natasha providing backup cover, her having tossed you one of your pistols since there was no way you could get in with your sword with how many there were, you guys making good progress… Until you weren’t and in came a dude in a mech, forcing Tony down and Clint to drop back, until you guys were cornered, you looking around and feeling the panic in you begin to build, this is what happened way back when, when you watched your team get slaughtered in front of you while you hid, which is exactly what you were doing now, having run out of ammo a while back.

You looked around and caught sight of Natasha, who was wounded from taking a bullet to the shoulder, but she was still shooting, you looked at Steve who still hid behind his shield, unable to fight back from the bullet fire he was getting, Tony was working with a faulty laser in one of the palms of his suit, Bruce was knocked out on a stack of broken crates, while Clint could barely shoot one arrow without immediately getting shot at, you guys were losing and all you could do was sit there in your cover, frozen in place “Y/N!” Natasha shouted, having noticed the sheer panic on your face as your eyes seemed to glaze over, the nightmare flashing before your eyes and you unable to hear anything around you.

Natasha waited until there was an opening, shooting a few shots before making her way over to you, firmly grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly “Hey, Y/N? Y/N, look at me” she said, watching as you blinked a few times before focusing on her, her reaching over and gently wiping tears from your eyes “You’re okay, I got you” she promised, peeking over the cover and seeing that there was no progress “We have to-“ she said, you watching as a bullet went right through her head and feeling her grip loosen on you before she fell over, dead.

You couldn’t breathe as you looked at the woman you loved, dead on the ground in front of you “No” you whispered, looking at the others and watching as one by one they were taken down “No” you said, watching as all the people you had considered family died “No” you said, feeling anger build up as you looked down at Nat’s lifeless body “No!” You shouted, standing up and watching as everything froze, you unable to stop yourself as time went back, you watching as everything reversed until Natasha was where she had been moments previously, freezing time once more as you pulled your sword out, you weren’t going to let it happen again, you couldn’t lose another family, not when you could do something about it.

You let anger and rage take over you, your body moving on its own accord as you sliced through the enemies, not even realizing the pain in your head as you moved through the enemies ranks, until there was no one left, time unfreezing and the others looking around confused until they noticed you standing by the exit, covered in blood and breathing heavy, turning to look at them “I couldn’t let it happen again” you breathed before collapsing, Natasha rushing towards you in an attempt to catch you before your whole world went dark.

When you came to, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, all you knew was that you were now in your room and in your bed, running a hand through your very tangled hair, you winced as your head flared, complaining about your overuse of power “Ow” you whispered, your head turning quickly to your desk when you saw a small movement out of the corner of your eye, earning another protest from your head but you ignored it when you saw Natasha sitting in your desk chair, sleeping with chin on the palm of her head and her elbow on the armrest, causing you to look at the time and see that it was almost three in the morning.

“Nat?” You whispered, not wanting her to sleep in that chair all night, you’d done that before and you did not feel great the next morning, reaching over and lightly shaking her leg, causing her to jolt before she looked at you “You’re awake” she breathed, taking your hand that was on her leg as she moved over and sat on the edge of the bed “How long have I been out?” You asked, looking at her as she looked you over, looking for any signs of pain “A week” she said, locking eyes with you once she seemed to confirm that you were fine “What happened back there?” She asked, that being one thing with your powers, no one else but you knew what went down when you messed with time, they would only see the aftermath.

You looked at her and bit your lip, fighting over whether or not you should tell her and deciding that you should, it’s what almost got them all killed “You guys died… It was my fault; I froze up and-“ you choked out “And it reminded me of what happened before going on ice… I couldn’t let it happen again” you said, feeling tears start to fall before you roughly wiped them away “Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha asked gently, gently pushing your hand away and cupping your face, wiping your tears with her thumb, you leaning into the touch “Yes” you breathed, closing your eyes and staying silent for a moment before you told her everything, what had happened to your team, what you’d seen in the war, everything and you felt like a weight was lifted off of your chest.

Natasha listened intently, not interrupting you as you told her what had all happened, neither of you sure when it happened, but by the end of it, you were sitting on Natasha’s lap while she held you, wanting to comfort you in any way she possibly could “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me… I’m sorry you went through all that” she whispered once you stopped talking, your head resting on her shoulder as she gently rocked you “It was all part of the job… But, I should’ve done more… Then my team would’ve lived, but I froze when it mattered most, just like I did last week” you said softly, a fresh wave of tears spilling out as Natasha tightened her hold on you and shook her head.

“That is not true, you acted like anyone would in that moment, don’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault… If you would’ve fought back, you would’ve been dead too” she said, pulling back slightly and cupping your face once more “Then you wouldn’t be here… With me” she said, knowing that sounded selfish, but she couldn’t help it, she loved you more than she loved anyone “Nat” you said softly, glancing at her lips before locking eyes with her, you not sure who leaned in first, but the next thing you knew, the two of you were kissing, you melting into it as she pulled you tighter against you “Stay with me tonight?” You asked when you pulled back, watching as she smiled and nodded, having you hop off her lap before she stood up and pulled her jeans off before crawling into bed next to you, pulling you close to her once the two of you were comfortable under the covers and for the first time in months, you slept peacefully through the night in her arms.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates / @natasha-danvers / @youngandwildx7 / @hopingforbarnes / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx / @venablemayfairgoode

Marvel Taglist: @thanossexual

Marvel Ladies Taglist: @imnotasuperhero / @procrastinatingsapphictrash

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Have a good day/night!! :)

Requests Open

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x15)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 15: Not All Rainbows

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

An ice pack sits partially on the sofa’s arm and partially on the head that is being knocked softly- but repeatedly- by its designated owner. The fist taps that forehead with the vigour of a dedicated hammer that is softly checking the tensile strength of its mettle. The second camera takes the liberty to zoom in on Tony’s face that has the tension the size of the Alps looming over his head. Other spectators sit around, going about their activities with their five senses while the sixth was stuck on Tony. One camera panned on Wanda’s figure standing in the kitchenette, stirring her coffee cautiously, locking eyes with the lens.

Wanda: Only if you could see the monstrous cloud looming over his head. *stretches the corner of her lips* It’s made less of anger and more of worry and embarrassment. *blinks and furrows her brows* And choco-chip ice cream for some reason. *shrugs* Though I'm just glad that nothing was broken or smashed today. *stops midway* *raises her index finger* Although...

Scott: *glows inside out with a big smile stuck on his red face* *swings from side to side in the chair* Huh? What? *shakes head* Nothing. Just *inhales* I'm worried about Tony *continues to smile*

"So-" Steve took the first step and everyone held their breath- "now we know why we weren't able to reach Carol before. She is clearly...kinda...sorta stuck right where Y/N and Loki are? I think the kids are safe now." "Oh? The kids are safe? I must have missed the scene where they returned home with another weird pet," Tony remarked monotonously with his eyes still closed. Peter leaned in towards Scott. "So Loki is one of the 'kids' now." Both the shippers fist-bumped discreetly before looking all serious. The camera swivelled right towards Wanda, who shared a look of bewilderment while pointing at the joy of the shippers who were clearly not reading Tony's wavelength. And Tony was not the only one on the wavelength. There in the corner on the dining table, Clint sat lost in some thought so deep that his resting face was now a resting bitch face while he dipped his arrows in tiny bottles- the purpose of which only he knew- and handled them like his own babies. "You still have to find a way to stab him with these," Natasha was quick to mention as she walked towards her friend and sat opposite him. "Oh, I'll find a way. I was in his head too, remember," Clint pointed out. "He completely underestimates me." "Hmm," she scrunched her nose, "just remove that itch-like thing on your neck before you go after him though." "Where?" He asked as he scratched the side of his neck with the end of his arrow, his furrowed brows suddenly releasing themselves at the dawn of realisation before disappearing from the camera frame to fall down from the seat with a thud. "Told you not to wipe both ends with the same cloth," she muttered while wistfully looking down at an unconscious Hawkeye.

That One Steamy Dungeon™ No one knew how, when or why Lulu was sitting there in Carol's lap like he knew her for ages. No one knew why Carol was stroking him with the back of her fingers while her eyes were stuck on you like two magnetic poles finding that one direction and sticking to it. And you genuinely did not know why you could not stop looking at Carol. All of Carol Danvers. Especially her lips. "What?" Carol finally dismissed the silence with one casual word. "Ag-sa-wuu-you're looking beautiful," was what you came up with. Loki stared at Lulu's camera with one long blink of...slowed surprise. The buzzing camera caught all three of you sitting in the returning silence over dried hay, looking at each other before you scooched down a little to hide the embarrassment visible over your face.

You: *whisper* W-well, she does look pretty despite all the dirt she's lying in. I mean *violently points at Carol in the background* look at her!!! How can someone look sooooo fucking beautiful??? *lick your lips* Except for Loki of course. That dude is on a whole another level.

Carol threw a shirt over Loki's face from her backpack. "Weren't your looks enough this time?" "Wasn't your hairstyle enough this time?" came the retort. You sat there in the middle, your eyes moving between both of them to calculate this new chemistry you were seeing. The camera caught you pulling your legs closer to your chest. "I didn't know you two were so...close to each other."

Javier: *signing* Why? *Furrows his brows* does that make you furious, Y/N? *wiggles his brows up and down in question* Hmm? *zooms in on his face* Hmm? *turns the camera towards the screen from which he and Green are watching the live broadcast*

"Close? I met him on one mission and this punk would have been dead had I not saved his ass back then." Carol smirked through the sentence and you did not realise any time sooner that you were staring at her, your mouth almost at the edge of drooling. "You blew my cover," Loki stressed while putting on the grey free size shirt. "And then she had the audacity to make me pay for her bar bill on the next stop," he gasped while looking at you. Javier took the opportunity to make his drone zoom at your iris, catching your pupils dilate in 4K as soon as Loki started narrating the story to you while you nodded in enthusiasm. "You do realise your ex-girlfriend wants to cut off your new girlfriend's head right this moment, right?" Carol was generous to point out while getting up and wiping off all the dirt and hay. "I'm not his girlfriend." "She's not my ex-" Both of you had the synchronisation of an orchestra. Carol took this opportunity to let her eyes pass the judgment- which played from one face to another and back for sheer entertainment.

Carol: *shrugs* *runs her hand through her pixie cut hair* Priorities, I guess. *nods*

"Anyways," Loki tried to cut this weird air surrounding the three of them that apparently Lulu was the only one enjoying, rubbing himself all around Carol's leg, "do you have a plan to get out of here?" "Of course," Carol simply jerked her shoulders, "punch my way through." You blinked at the camera.

You: Is that why they are called Captain? It has to be, right?

You shook your head and looked around in the ground, leaving Loki to do the bickering on your part as well. "Well, Miss one-punch woman, this time you are not the only one that needs to escape." You found a stick in the corner. It seemed to be made of the same ashen wood that Aellae sat on in her throne room. "We have tiny mortals to save too." Carol chuckled. You raised the stick your eye level, feeling the weight in your hands when suddenly your eyes grow wide and your mouth turns into a horror-filled 'O' "What? Where is the comedy?" A violent grunt came from your lungs, turning both Carol and Loki into attack and defence mode in your direction. Lulu's camera caught you taking the stick out of the orc's stomach. The dull creature blankly looked at the blood turning into sparks flying against the gravity before slowly consuming the whole creature, taking him with them. The next twenty seconds were a pause on every breath. You finally turned around, the stick still in your hand. "Did I kill him?" you asked in a whisper. Loki and Carol shared a glance. "It was just a bruise" Loki shoved your concern away with his hands. "He's in heaven now," Carol sang. "He was a bad guy, right?" "Yes," both of them nearly shouted. "It's good that he disappeared. You helped the universe get rid of a bad guy," Loki clapped his hands before give you an awkward thumbs up. You blinked at both of them. The smile eroding on your lips slowly turned the duo uncomfortable. "Good." Was all you said for your stature completely transformed. "Because that felt..." you did not finish the sentence, clearly concerning your company. Well, Lulu seemed to like whatever vibes you were giving off. “Y/N,” Loki pretty much sang your name cautiously, slowly lifting his hands in the air to have a word with you to process whatever you were feeling. But you were already running outside with the most suspicious giggle the room had ever heard. Carol even shivered a bit to shake it off of her.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run

The one buzzing drone in the hallway caught the slow-motion emotion of you walking into the hallway with the ash stick in your hand like a gun- locked and loaded- with something fierce burning in your eyes. Behind you Loki was trying to catch up with the adrenaline rush you were feeling, calling out your name to stop you. Carol was close behind, cheering you on as much as she could.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

The orcs didn’t even seek you out. One of the reasons was the fact that you were running towards them first, swinging your arms with as much force as your body allowed, screaming your lungs out and jumping with fueled excitement whenever they went up in flames. Loki had to take a moment out of those crucial seconds to look at you. To look at that animalistic look in your eyes. Pausing for a millisecond to consciously question whether to admire it or fear it, he almost smiled. He might have stood there for a few seconds more had he not felt the blue plasmic force run by his side to destroy the one orc aiming for you from your blindside.

It started with the hayloft a-creakin' Well, it just started in the hay (loft) With his longjohns on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay Young lovers and they are not sleeping Young lovers in the hay (loft) With his gun turned on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay (loft)

"Seriously?!" He shouted at the glowing Captain who flew past him. "Catch up. Catch up!" she teased him while leaving a trail of bodies in her way. "ANARCHYYYYYY!!!!!!!" You howled as you ran, following your new crush. Loki sighed, his head trying to hang as low as possible as he looked at the sleek shackles around his wrists. Breathing in a lungful, he grabbed the nearest iron rail from the window looking out at the barren mountains and bent it till it broke in his flexing hand. "Is this why I am still alive?" He whispered to himself while continuing to walk in the direction you just dashed in.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

Throne Room Aellae sat on the ash throne frozen in thought when one of her underlings interrupted her daydreaming with its presence. "What?" She did not disguise her displeasure. There has been a mishap on the laboratory floor, my lady." Her body automatically shifted on her seat. "Four guards are dead. The source is unknown." "Is it the woman?" "No, my lady. I just checked up on her after locking Master Loki up." "Then who is it?" "We are yet to find out. My lady." "Then why are you wasting my time by standing here and doing nothing about it?" The skinny elf-like underling bowed down to her and scurried in the opposite direction. It had reached the entrance of the throne room when a weak scream left its lungs and it stepped back- falling down in the process- to make way for the uninvited guest. The poise on Aellae's face took a turn as she looked at the person casually sauntering in her direction, never realising when she got up. "Oh, don't stand on my account," White mentioned breezily with a smirk, coming to a halt right in the middle of the room. "Zune." She called out the name like spitting a curse. "It's been a while, my least favourite Witch of the West Galactica." Zune smiled his precious smile, standing bright in stark contrast to his dull surroundings. "Last time we met, you were grovelling on the floor, begging for mercy in front of the Silver Court, asking them not to punish you for the endless crimes you committed in the last century." The composure was evidently crumbling away in little pieces. Aellae's stone-like glare was slowly turning into fast blinks. Her usually unruffled breaths were now a mocked laugh. "And the court decided to send you to arrest me? Where is the rest of the coven?" She pretended to guess before snapping her pale fingers. "Oh, right. I burned them all. Poor boys. J'uke, Fae and Mi'in were still so young." Zune huffed and smiled. "Hmm. They were really young when they fought you, weren't they? And to answer your question, no. The court did not send me here." Now this made Aellae burst into laughter. "So, you are here for revenge? For your mates?" Licking his teeth, he bit his lip and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, all the playfulness in his feature draining out with every passing second. "I am just here to clean up the mess that you made. But they are the ones who are here for revenge." Taking a step back, Zune gave Aellae a few seconds to realise that they are not the only ones in this room. And just when it dawns upon her, she sees the rest of the 'coven' come out of the shadows, surrounding her from every probable escape route this place could have. "Fae," she whispered with a deep-rooted horror in her throat, backing up into her throne when she looked at the familiar red figure walking towards her. "When you were setting us up on fire-" Fae carried no empathy in his eyes as he moved closer with every step- "you forgot that you cannot make Gods made up of ancient stars disappear when you please." Every cell in Fae's body vibrated with a demonic aura that made the witch go down on her knees. Her breaths shook and her eyes watered. The claustrophobia resulting from just his presence made it hard for her to breathe. "No," she shook her head, trying her best to mask her fear. "No. This cannot be. I destroyed you. I destroyed the senate. I destroyed everything that stood in my path. I cannot fail this time. This world needs to kneel before my power. That God needs to kneel before me. NO!!" The six looked at their leader to begin the ceremony. "Aellae of the covens abandoned, child of the dark refugees, you are hereby sent to the endless pits of the universe for your crimes against the creatures of the universe." The screams of the witch echoed throughout the castle till every last ounce of life in her voice could be heard fading away by the other group at the far end of the other wing. By the time Carol arrived, all that was left were the seven boys and a pile of ash resting by the throne. “That was fast,” she did not refrain from mentioning, “I thought it would take more than that to get her to give up.” Zune shrugged. “Well, it was easy because we had you and your friends this time. She did not have much to distract us with, unlike the last time she was in prison.” Carol smiled a kind smile at them. “I hope they didn’t give you any trouble?” Fae stretched the corner of his lips. “When you first called us to go around the universe to look for a human, we were a little sceptical. But we were glad to have met her.” “Especially Zune,” Mi’in quipped, earning a yank by the ear from the leader. “Thank you for protecting her.” “No biggie. We would have protected her even if you didn’t tell us to.” Carol furrowed her brows at the statement. “Because Loki had already asked us for that favour,” Zune mentioned, clearing any doubts, “and we owed him from way back.” Feeling the ‘ah’ of a satisfactory conclusion coming on her face, she stopped midway to hear your scream turn louder the second you got closer till you turned the corner to enter the hall with your stick, forcing yourself to stop your lungs from going any further than that. “Oh,” you straightened your stance, giving up on the attack position as soon as you realised there was no more threat, “looks like you guys already cleaned the place.” “You almost sound disappointed,” J’uke stressed, judging by your disapproval of the lack of bad guys. Loki stepped in next, clearly having taken care of whatever tried to attack them from the back. "She hurt my friend. I at least wanted to watch her burn," you simply shrugged. Fae patted your head softly. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance." He smiled the most ridiculously comforting smile. "How?" You whined, "you guys already finished her." All the seven boys, Loki and Carol shared a look with each other while you stomped her foot in the ground while staring daggers at the pile of ashes. "Yeah-" Zune blurted out, scratching an itch in the back of his neck- "we definitely, for sure, totally killed her. Like-" he pretended to chop the air with his hand- "so smooth." Everyone nodded in agreement. Our elder boys of the group supported their leader while Carol gave them soft applause. Loki gave them a thumb's up.

You: *turning away from the scene in the background where everyone now sits outside the castle having a chat with each other* Aww *smile widely* it feels so good to watch them get along like that!! *start staring in the distance* *smile still stuck on your face* I wish my family could get along this well too. You know. *tilt your head* If all of them got along with Loki, I feel like half of the world's problems would vanish just like that. *watch Javier sign something to you* What? Merch store? *reads some more* Manga?? *looks closely at Javier as he continues to sign* Fanfi-what does any of it have to do with Loki? *camera pans in on your confused innocent face*

"Here's my little monster!" Carol talked in a tone that one used on babies while stroking a very excited Lulu. "Who's a scary boy! Who's a scary boy!!! You are!!! Yes!! You are!!!" You chuckled, watching Lulu enjoy the love and attention from the Captain, bumping his head with hers, wiggling in her lap before settling down in her arms, his adrenaline going down. "Who's that?" Carol asked him, pointing at you. Lulu chirped. "And who's mamma's boy?" Lulu chirped again. "Aaaand who's gonna protect mamma from bad guys?" Lulu growled. And then he chirped again, hiding his faceless husk hairy face in his paws. "Oh my God, he growls!!!!" you gasped. "Oh, he is got a lot more to show you, mamma! Give him time." You sat down next to Carol and stroked a yawning Lulu, who was now making biscuits in her arms. "This one's helped me a lot through this weird, fatal, dreamy galactic trip," you mentioned wistfully. The camera- as well as Carol- noticed how your brows furrowed slightly before your teeth bit down on your lower lip and you turned your gaze up to search for something in the rocky terrain before finally resting on Loki. Carol watched this subtle shift, patiently spectating how Loki too was stealing glances your way while having some serious looking chat with the boys.

The boys and Loki: *standing in the grey terrain like a bunch of Gods modelling for luxury hair products* Loki: It's spelt Z-U-K-O Zune: You named a dog after the fire God? Loki: Wha-no. It was all her *points at you*. Apparently, Coco was a bit too mushy for her. Something about 'Zuko reminding her of a guy who was in his redemption arc right now'. Whatever that means. Zune: *looked at the camera panning in on his face*

"So, you wanna go back now?" Carol asked you, her hands still busy stroking a purring Lulu. You inhaled to answer but felt yourself turning to look at Loki. Carol noticed it too. "Of course. H-how, long will it take?" you scratched your forehead. "We were actually pretty close to getting Loki free of his...cuffs. And I'm sure two powerful beings is always better than one." Carol chuckled and nodded. "Tell you what-" she took your hand in hers, something that you were not expecting- "I will go and take care of a couple of things for our return journey. Till then-" she stroked your hand- "you find out for yourself. Whatever it is that you're looking for." That gentle tone and those cryptically simple words changed some spectrum of the emotions on your face. You stared at her for a long while with your mouth agape. "What are you talking about?" Your breath asked in exasperation. "Cuffs, I guess?" she proposed softly with a knowing smirk. You forced out a laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about," You chuckled and found yourself looking back at Loki again.

The boys- well, at a few of them- tried to calm down the God who seemed to be picking up a rock from the ground. "Okay now-" Gin, our green jellybean, raised his hands- "let's all calm down and talk about this." "Yeah, yeah. How about we all go to the nearest oasis and have a cup of starry vodka and discuss how we are all alive. Right, Mi'in?" Me'isri, sweet yellow candy boy suggested casually. "Right," Loki nearly sang. His every step towards the boys made them retreat two. "We should be happy that the witch is gone for now. What could we possibly have had to do with her anyway? Hm? What's that? Oh! She was the one who stole my essence you say?" "Look," Ho, the sky blue cheery lad was suddenly not feeling so cheery at all, "we did not know-" "You numbnuts were the one who told me that!" Loki was practically hissing through his teeth right now, his steps breaking into a jog that was letting out some potential screams waiting in some lungs. Lulu was having a gala time just jumping in whichever direction the boys ran into as Loki chased them.

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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

Text

The Thief of Time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.

This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.

Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.

What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.

(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)

Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA

AO3

The Thief of Time:

Once upon a time there was an artificer.

He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.

This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.

The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.

It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.

He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”

He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.

The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.

Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.

He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—

Click.

Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

It was working.

—

A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.

Maybe you should just give up.

Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.

Quite alone.

He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.

He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”

He swore he heard a chuckle.

“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”

He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.

His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.

Or you could just give up.

“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.

Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.

“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”

What?

“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”

I—

“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”

A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.

“And this is?” Killian demanded.

Yes.

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.

Always.

Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.

“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”

We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.

—

Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.

Click.

Killian exhaled. It was still working.

Sort of.

He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.

He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.

But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.

The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.

Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.

The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.

“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”

It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.

“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”

It just is. I can See it.

Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.

“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.

Seems a bit dry.

He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”

You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?

“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”

The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.

You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.

“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”

Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.

“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t over.

“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.

—

The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.

He had brand new ideas to test.

His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.

Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.

If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.

Whatcha reading?

She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.

Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.

“Never judge a book by its title, love.”

I thought that was by its cover.

“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”

So it is.

The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.

He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.

He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.

You love books.

Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.

“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”

Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.

“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.

I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.

Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”

Yes.

Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.

Then she died.

The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”

But you didn’t let that stop you.

“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”

You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.

“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”

Mmm.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”

You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.

“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.

Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.

“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.

He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.

“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.

—

Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.

Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.

The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.

Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.

This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.

He had almost entirely stopped drinking.

He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.

He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.

Killian Jones, artificer.

—

The stage was set.

The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.

Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.

Click.

Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.

“You don’t want to do that.”

He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.

“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.

“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”

Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.

“What?” he shouted.

“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”

“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”

She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”

“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.

Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.

“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.

“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”

She rolled her eyes. He smirked.

“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.

“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”

Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Indeed.”

She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.

“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”

“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”

“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”

“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”

“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”

“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”

“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”

“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”

“And might I enquire why not?”

Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”

She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.

Silence. No clicks. Not a one.

Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.

“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.

Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.

“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”

“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”

“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”

“Oh was it?”

“Yep.”

He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I’m a witch.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”

“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.

Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”

“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”

“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”

“Aye. To both.”

“You had to register? With a guild?”

“I did.”

“Register as what?”

“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”

“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”

He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”

“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”

Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.

“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”

“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”

His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”

“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”

“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”

“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”

“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”

She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”

“I... see,” said Killian.

“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”

“No indeed. Nor I.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”

She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.

“No. That I certainly am not.”

He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.

“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”

“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.

“Aye.”

“What happened?”

Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.

“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”

“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.

He nodded. “She ran away with me.”

“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”

“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”

A moment passed before Emma spoke again.

“What went wrong?” she asked.

His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”

He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”

“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”

“What twist?” she demanded.

Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”

“Very much so.”

He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”

“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”

“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.

“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”

Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”

This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”

“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”

The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”

“You couldn’t have anyway.”

“And just how the devil—”

“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”

Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”

“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.

“Like I said before. You weren’t.”

Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.

He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”

“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.

They sat in silence for some time.

“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”

“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”

“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”

“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”

“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”

“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.

Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”

He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”

She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”

Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.

“I have to go.”

He forced himself to nod. “I know.”

She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.

Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.

—

Killian didn’t drink.

He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.

He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.

It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.

He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.

“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”

A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.

I love you, it said. Go.

Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.

Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.

The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.

Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.

It was time to move on.

—

The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.

A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.

Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.

“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.

The gate swung open.

Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”

His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.

The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”

He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”

“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”

—

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones

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shingia · 4 years ago

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hihi hello, can you do akaashi with angst prompt 14 please💕🤲 @almalckd i read thru all the prompts and all i can say is that i’ll cry reading a few of them🤠

❝𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 - 𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞

a/n : if you have anxiety then please keep in mind that what’s written in this fic are not just words i’ve invented for the story’s sake, i consider them to be important things to keep in mind. so from the bottom of my heart : please listen to what akaashi says below <33 (we all know he’s the voice of reason)

prompt 14 : “there used to be such a pretty light in your eyes”

⤷ timeskip! akaashi x reader | angst, comfort ending | word count : 2.4k

(for all my burnt out gifted kids out there <3)

nights had always been the worst. in the darkness of the bedroom, the sobs you were so desperately holding in tore your throat apart every second a little bit more. and the pain did not not stop until you finally allowed yourself to let a sob out, just one before aggressively covering your mouth with a shaky hand. it would have been so much easier to let all this bottled-up sorrow pour out of your body freely. to let the familiar coldness of your tears stream down your cheeks until they let your skin dry and itchy.

but there was a reason why you were forcing sobs down your throat. And that reason was sound asleep next to you.

akaashi’s peaceful features probably offered an intriguing contract with your anxiety-stricken face. every twenty minutes or so, you felt his arm reach for your side of the bed, eager to find your familiar warmth again, the one he had embraced so tenderly before going to sleep. but you wouldn’t let him, because when your body was not shaken by a series of sobs, your nervous quivering took over ; and either way, you’d wake him up. which was the last thing you wanted.

you turned around in bed for the hundredth time that night, the feeling of your drenched pillow against your cheek like a mocking reminder you of how miserable you were feeling.

« the pride of the family », « the prodigy »… you loathed these ridiculous nicknames. because the pride of the family had fallen off its pedestal years ago. and it had been a long time since the prodigy had not fallen asleep with dry eyes.

you were destined to achieve great things, at least that was what everyone had always told you, and expected you to do. drawing, painting, playing the piano, dancing : you were the best at everything... until you weren’t. your body simply could not take it anymore, and your mind had given up a long time ago.

failing at everything you used to be good at was the first crack. and it deepened at the mere thought of how much of a disappointment you were becoming. the wheels were in motion, full speed towards the abyss.

the second crack appeared when you started med school in kyoto last year. it was the last thing you wanted to do with your life, but you were considered clever enough to succeed. and who wouldn’t want a doctor in the family, right ? right...

« are you sure about that ? » akaashi had asked you the day before you moved.

he had been the only one to notice that something was off. and you knew he would have held you back if you had just been honest about the crippling fear and anxiety that was keeping you up at night. but you didn’t. and you stayed there for almost a year before dropping out.

your parents had welcomed you at the tokyo station. they were smiling when you got off the train, but a voice kept hammering your head you that all you represented now was a waste of talent, time and money. the golden child who had boarded the train had nothing to do with the one who got off. little did they know that the shell you had built around you your whole life had very recently been smashed to pieces.

however, disappointing your family and yourself was one thing, but disappointing the one and only person whose support had never faltered ? that was beyond you. so you thought it was better to try and take some time away from akaashi, because the last thing you wanted was for him to see you for who you were now. he had fallen in love with your talented self, the cheerful bundle of joy that he met on the first day of high school. And that was not yourself anymore.

but letting go did not seem to be in akaashi keiji’s vocabulary. and thank god it wasn’t. he came to visit you the day after you came back. you had spent the entire afternoon bawling your eyes out on your bed. the same bed that you used to happily jump on as a kid, medals shining around your neck. his firm knock on the door pulled your mind away from your misery for a short instant.

« please, open the door » akaashi asked as softly as he could, « i need to see your face »

his voice felt like home, much more than your parent’s house, and they seemed to be the first thing that calmed the racing and painful thoughts which had been invading your head mercilessly for the past weeks.

hand shaking, you turned the keys in the lock before pulling the doorknob down slowly. akaashi did not even have time to look at your swollen eyes and wet cheeks that his arms were already wrapped around your quivering figure. he almost leaped on you like he was afraid you might disappear in a cloud of smoke before his skin could touch yours.

it had been a year since someone had held you like that. and so you begged him to take you to his apartment, to take you away from between these walls that made you feel like like you didn’t belong.

and there you were, spending your first night with akaashi after more than a year apart, and you were spending it it sobbing in his sheets. how long will it take him to realize he doesn’t love me anymore ? you kept asking yourself. just thinking about this made you break out in cold sweat. you felt like you were about to throw up.

as silently as you could, you got out of bed and walked to his kitchen, shivering at the contact between the cold tiling and your bare feet. you put him in an uncomfortable position, the voice in your head kept whispering. you forced him to accept you here, now he’s stuck with a burden.

shaking the thought away, you poured yourself a glass of water that you drank in one go. you slammed in down on the sink, out of breath, and closed your eyes to take a deep breath in.

but you opened them back as soon as you felt the feeling of a soft blanket slowly wrapping around your shoulders. in the reflection of the window, you could not guess his face, but you could recognize akaashi’s touch better than anything.

« i’m sorry » he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. « i shouldn’t have let you go »

you turned around slowly, his hands now resting on your lower back, and hugged him back hesitantly, like he was made of glass. ever so gently, he grabbed your hand in his and led you back to the bedroom where he tucked you in securely before laying next to you, never breaking the contact between your skin and his

you still hadn’t uttered a single sound, yet there were a thousand words you wanted to say, and they were all battling in your mind. his slender fingers began to brush your hair absentmindedly, and you felt his chest rise a few times before he spoke again :

« there used to be such a pretty light in your eyes »

his voice was different. imbued with melancholy. it would have been more than enough to make you cry, yet for some obscure reason, your eyes stayed completely dry and you didn’t dare to breathe until he talked again. but he didn’t. akaashi wanted to hear your answer, and he was ready to wait for it.

« i’m exhausted » you said hoarsely « i hate that i let myself fall apart, i should get up on my feet like I always did. but i’m so fucking terrified of failing again. it’s like i put a sword over my own head, and next time i fail, i just know it’ll fall and tear me in half »

as you spoke, your muscles began tensing up once again. You reached for Akaashi’s hand desperately fast and held it in yours as tight as you could just to find the courage of talking again :

« what if i’m not the one you fell in love with anymore ? just look at you, you’re successful, you’re thriving and the only thing i do is to stain your life with my worries. i don’t even expect you to understand, i know they’re stupid... »

these words were barely out of your mouth that he immediately lifted your chin with index and looked into your eyes with the most serious face.

« i understand. everything. because i’m terrified of fucking up, too » he said bluntly « you think I’ve never cried myself to sleep ? everyone has, and it’s perfectly normal, as long as you promise yourself to get back up again. little by little, day by day, because the only thing that matters is right now. and right now you’re safe with me. »

and there they were. the tears. you knew he had obviously seen them as soon as they had prickled the corner of your eyes, but out of habit, you still buried your head in his chest, just because you knew it would hurt him to see you cry.

but Akaashi was having none of that and he kept his finger below your chin to lift it up again.

« you’re hiding yourself because you’re so desperately trying not to worry anyone. but not being alright is fine, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. especially not with me » he told you with kindest eyes you had ever seen. now listen closely : all your thoughts are not facts. you matter, you always have and you always will. and i’ll keep telling you that until you start to believe it. »

« but aren’t you disappointed ? i was holding all the cards but i still fucked it up. and i can’t stop beating myself up over the fact that you wasted time and energy on me »

his thumb carefully wiped the tear that was about to meet your upper lip while the rest of his fingers kept gently stroking the side of your face. you craved his touch and found yourself praying that he’d never let go of you.

« i fell in love with you for what you are, and not what you do. i fell in love with how you’re always bringing the best out of people, starting with me » he answered before placing a kiss on your forehead.

he pulled you closer to his chest once again, and you heard his soothing heartbeat right against your ear.

« remember when all my volleyball team used to make fun of me because i spent hours talking about you ? » he asked, his fingers finding their way back to your hair, « that’s because I wanted everyone to know how great you are. and you know what would make me really happy ? that you’d know it too »

gripping his t-shirt in the palm of your hand, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, letting his comforting smell overwhelm your senses.

« i wish i knew it too » you sighed, realizing that the tears had stopped. « maybe it’s weird but... i feel like a piece of coal that people desperately wanted to turn into diamond. but nobody ever talks about coal that doesn’t do well under pressure. what do you do with it ? »

as you spoke, your voice became lower and lower until it completely faded in the night. akaashi’s heartbeat sounded farther away the more your thoughts started to wander. for the first time in a long time, the goosebumps on your arms had disappeared. lying in the soft silence of his love, it felt safe to surrender to sleep.

the next day, you woke up alone, still wrapped in the warm sheets that still carried the faint smell of akaashi’s perfume. the blinds were closed but you only had to follow the light that came from the kitchen to find your boyfriend sat at the table, his eyes fixed on the lines of the book opened in front of him.

« good morning » you told him with a faint smile.

« good morning. remember what you said last night ? » he asked you out of the blue, sounding like he had been waiting to ask you this for a few hours now. « about what people did with coal ? »

you raised an eyebrow, confused yet melting in front of the obvious excitement he was trying to conceal. you nodded your head yes, you had vague memories of asking him that before drifting off. he stood up and walked to the counter, you watched him grab a piece of paper that he put on the table, right in front of you.

it was a sketch. and it was hard not to recognize that the intersecting black lines looked very much like you, sound asleep. your chin started trembling as your eyes lingered on how every stroke of the pen fell into place to depict your peaceful features. you knew it had been more than a year since you had such an expression on your face.

when your gaze fell again on akaashi, he was getting something out of his hoodie’s pocket, which you recognized to be a jet black charcoal pencil - right before noticing that the tip of his fingers were, indeed, stained with black.

« i didn’t have coal, but I thought charcoal was close enough » he told you with a shy smile.

you bit your lower lip to prevent your eyes from getting teary, because right now you didn’t want anything to blur your vision, you wanted to be able to see every inch of his face before giving him the tightest hug you had ever given. his voice reached your ear :

« hey, i think I just saw the pretty light »

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuuxreader #akaashi #akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi #haikyuu fluff #akashi comfort #akaashi angst #akaashi one shot

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whumpzone · 4 years ago

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 9

hope you guys enjoy as always! I think it’ll be immediately obvious which part I mean, but I definitely only wrote one scene because it gave me such a pleasing mental image. And I’m definitely gonna have to draw something for it when I have the time :>

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze (ask if you want to be tagged/removed! <3)

CW: pet whumpee, violence, descriptions of gore, hospitals

It had been several days since the explosive night with Adam. Rowe remembered it all vividly, and for reasons he could not understand he kept returning to the middle of the night, when Master Tomas fell asleep next to him.

Perhaps it was because he had never seen his Master asleep before. It was quite a rarity, as far as Rowe understood, for any Pet to see their owner so vulnerable. Was it another test? Or a display of trust? Master had fallen asleep while holding Rowe, and it felt too odd to be cradled by someone unconscious, so he had gently, gently, laid him on the floor. To even be touching his Master in such a way was unbelievably disobedient, and it made his extremities tingle with nerves. He was terrified that Master would wake up, dazed and disoriented, and beat Rowe for it, but the fear felt strangely- buried? Hazy? It was there, but it didn’t make him lock up like it sometimes did. He still managed to pick himself off the floor and fetch a cushion for Master’s head.

Rowe couldn’t sleep- he had known he wouldn’t sleep ever since Master had threatened to punish him, but he definitely couldn’t risk having a nightmare and waking his owner. Rowe didn’t quite understand what a hangover was, but he knew that it made people want to beat their useless Pets with more severity than usual.

It had taken him several agonising hours before he decided to clean up the mess of bottles. What if Master needs them? He said he would cut me, didn’t he?

But then he would remember that Master Tomas had decided not to punish him, for reasons Rowe didn’t understand. He figured he had better be a good Pet and clean up, and if Master wanted to hurt him in the morning there were plenty of other sharp objects around.

Master hadn’t stirred until around 11am, and when he did Rowe quickly folded onto his knees, calm and obedient, by his Master’s side but not too close, ready to greet him.

. . .

Tomas hardly remembered the night with Adam, and he was okay with that. What he did remember was peeling himself off the living room floor the next morning, stiff all over with a pounding head and a stomach like a choppy sea. He bit back a groan as he turned his neck to look around.

And then he’d seen Rowe, kneeling quietly, his eyes hovering somewhere near Tomas’s face. With his bruised nose, grazed wrists, burnt and battered limbs. Tomas’s hangover suddenly didn’t feel so bad. He gave Rowe a weak smile and Rowe bowed his head to the floor for a few seconds.

‘’Good morning, Master.’’

‘’Morning, pal. Did you give me this cushion?’’

‘’Y-yes, Master,’’ Rowe said, going stiff, like he expected to be berated for it.

‘’Thank you. That was good of you.’’

In the days after, Tomas noticed that Rowe was acting distant, but that hardly surprised him. He had given Rowe quite a scare. If being quiet, meek and staying out of Tomas’s way was Rowe’s way of feeling a bit more secure, then Tomas decided he had to step back and let him.

One morning Tomas was boiling the kettle, snapping his fingers to whatever tune was on the radio.

‘’Master?’’

Tomas turned quickly and- looked down. Rowe was knelt at his feet, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

‘’Oh! Everything okay, Rowe?’’

‘’Did you need me for something, Master?’’

Tomas frowned. What did he…

‘’Oh! Because I was snapping my fingers, yes?’’

‘’Yes, M-Master…’’

Tomas felt quite proud of himself for figuring that out. He put one hand on the kitchen counter, fingers splayed, and crouched to rub Rowe’s shoulder.

‘’I was doing it because I liked the song on the radio,’’ Tomas told him gently. ‘’With me, snapping fingers doesn’t mean you have to come, okay?’’

‘’Okay, Master. I understand.’’

‘’Good! That actually reminds me. I have a new rule for you.’’

Rowe’s eyes widened momentarily and before Tomas could decide if it was excitement or apprehension, Rowe caught his misstep and went back to his conditioned blankness. Getting Rowe up off his knees, Tomas continued making tea, making sure to keep everything very casual.

‘’From now on, you aren’t to touch the knives, or any sharp objects, without my express permission and supervision, okay? I know it wasn’t your fault, but that little cut you gave me showed you probably aren’t ready to handle knives yet, and that’s alright. I can do the chopping from now on.’’

‘’Yes, Master,’’ said Rowe quietly. Every time Tomas brought that incident up Rowe looked like he wanted to hide himself away. Tomas gave him a pat on the back of his head and- although he flinched at first- that seemed to help. Turning back to the tea, his face fell as he opened the fridge.

‘’That’s the last of the milk, then,’’ he said, pouring it into the mugs. ‘’I… I really have to go shopping.’’

He’d put it off for as long as he could, but the kitchen was starting to look pretty sad. Rowe gazed up at him with eyes full of worry. Don’t leave me alone. Tomas could have burst with pity, but he steeled himself. This was a chore he couldn’t avoid. The pair drank their tea in silence; Tomas at the table, Rowe dusting the bookshelves in the living room. The radio continued to play.

. . .

Master Tomas left, promising he wouldn’t be long, but it all sounded muffled to Rowe. Everything had gone fuzzy after Master had told him don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’ll ask if Kasia wouldn’t mind popping over. It all felt like a cruel joke.

Rowe wanted to tell him so badly, to beg and beg and beg that he was telling the truth, but the endless possible outcomes overwhelmed him into silence.

Master wouldn’t care- it was keeping him scared, and submissive, after all.

Master wouldn’t believe him, and ask Kasia instead.

Master wouldn’t believe him, and throw him out.

Master would be horrified that Rowe let another man handle his property without his knowledge, and decide that he didn’t need a deceiving Pet like him.

Master would be pleased, and ask Kasia to help him correct his miserable Pet more.

Master would smack him so hard he hit the floor, and grip his face with all his strength and ask him just who he thought he was, crying about a few beatings, and then he would reconsider whether Rowe really deserved food, and a bed, and he definitely wouldn’t let him speak, in fact, he’d get one of those awful muzzles where the bit cuts into your mouth and he’d strap it onto Rowe’s face until he learnt his place as Master’s property-

And maybe Rowe could handle the hellish meetings with Kasia if it meant he stayed good, and afraid, and in Master’s favour. So when he heard the unmistakable heavy footsteps of Kasia coming up the stairs towards his room, he let himself go limp and pliable. Even when Kasia pushed open the door with a face like thunder. Even when he kept something hidden behind his back as he walked towards Rowe.

‘’Oh- oh, god, it hurts! Please, please!’’ Rowe cried, his face shiny with sweat. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and Kasia grabbed a fistful of it to pull Rowe’s face towards his. He stared hard into the whites of Rowe’s eyes.

‘’Bad Pets get muzzled, you know,’’ he warned, and Rowe forced himself to be guttural, to only moan and gasp in pain. He was allowed that, at least. His hands twitched above him, tightly bound to one of the end bedposts. His chest trembled with sobs. But he didn’t speak, and Kasia grunted, returning to his work.

Rowe’s legs were a mess. His skin was barely visible under the blood that rolled down in drops and soaked into the cream carpet. The hammer came down with a swish and a sickening thud. More blood was flecked onto Kasia’s shirt with every circle he battered into Rowe’s flesh.

Each time Kasia bludgeoned him, Rowe would spasm in pain, the thrashing of his legs doing nothing but making the injuries worse. He was scared to look down- his legs, his pretty legs that he needed to kneel on and attend his Master with, they were ruined. What- what was the point of this? This wouldn’t make him better. Rowe’s head slumped back against his shoulder blades, pulling his bruised neck taut. He’s just doing this for fun, isn’t he.

All thoughts were pushed from his head with the next awful, wet crunch of the hammer. Thud thud THUD, faster and faster, and this wasn’t methodical, this wasn’t like his training, this was like when Rowe had smashed his old master’s favourite bowl and he was beaten until old master had spent all of his rage and hatred and made Rowe scream.

Sure enough, Rowe was screaming now, and he was good at just screaming, he knew when begging would get him somewhere and when it wouldn’t. He was beyond proving his obedience. Kasia just wanted a living doll to torment. Rowe risked a glance at his legs- and then his screams were broken up with heavy, wet cries.

When the pain finally let him rest, finally pulled him into a thick sleep, Rowe was so, so grateful. As the gory scene blurred before him, all he could think about was the feeling of the bedframe against his back. I’m with my old master. He’s letting me sleep at the foot of his bed. I must have been good. I’m so happy…

. . .

Tomas clenched his teeth as he hurried up the street to his door.

[Work called, I had to run. Left him in his room, he seemed fine.]

[What???]

Fuck’s sake, why now, why now? He had needed Kasia to keep an eye on him, he needed him! The house was silent as he pushed open the door and set the bags down heavily, running up the stairs.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened Rowe’s bedroom door. Tomas gasped, inhaling sharply, and then he couldn’t breathe. Rowe was lying on the floor, passed out, his wrists tucked together under his chin and his shirt thrown carelessly in a corner. Oh fuck. Everything below the knees was a mess of gore, there was blood everywhere, holy fucking shit, and a god damn hammer lying nearby. His calves were so battered Tomas could hardly look.

‘’Oh god, oh god, oh god! Rowe, Rowe, oh Rowe, my Rowe, oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck!’’ Tomas panicked. Rowe didn’t stir and Tomas thought he might pass out as well. ‘’What the fuck did you do?’’ he cried, ‘’Rowe, wake up, what the fuck did you do?’’

Tomas’s knees buckled and he collapsed in the doorway, fumbling for his phone with trembling fingers. After a few seconds he managed to steady himself enough to dial 999.

‘’Ambulance service, is that patient breathing?’’

‘’Ah,’’ Tomas choked out. He was barely breathing himself. He forced himself to crawl over to Rowe and check his pulse.

‘’Hello?’’ drawled the operator.

‘’Yes, yes, he’s breathing, fuck-‘��

‘’Describe exactly what’s happened for me.’’

‘’I just got home, and I, he, oh my god!’’ Tomas started to cry desperately. ‘’I just got home and he’s upstairs and there’s blood everywhere-‘’ his voice cracked ‘’-and his legs are all smashed up wi-with a hammer and please, you have to help, you have to send someone!’’

‘’Stay calm for me sir, who is it that’s had this injury? How old are they?’’

‘’It’s- my Pet, I don’t know his age.’’

‘’A Pet?’’ the operator asked, in the same collected, monotone voice. ‘’Sir, we can’t waste ambulances on Pets, you’ll have to bring them in yourself if you want medical help, okay?’’

‘’What- but wait, it’s bad-‘’

Click. They’d hung up.

‘’Fuck!’’ he breathed, his phone almost slipping from his hand. ‘’Fuck, Rowe, Rowe, wake up! Wake up!’’

He didn’t mean to hurt him, but he needed Rowe to respond, and before he knew it he had smacked him across the cheek. It only made Tomas cry harder, but sure enough, Rowe stirred.

‘’Rowe,’’ Tomas gasped. ‘’Rowe, Rowe, oh my god, what the fuck did you do?’’

He didn’t answer, but he did moan in pain. Tomas lifted Rowe’s face up, but his eyes were rolling back into his skull. He had lost so much blood.

‘’I’ve got to get you to the hospital.’’

Rowe’s mouth opened a tiny amount, and Tomas bent close.

‘’C…c-collar…’’

‘’I… fuck, yes, Pets have to wear a collar outside, okay, okay, I’ll get one. It’s gonna be okay, Rowe.’’

Luckily, Tomas had never got around to throwing out the collar he’d bought for the animal he’d been expecting. It was made for a dog, and slipped around Rowe’s tiny neck just fine.

‘’Can you breathe?’’

Rowe twitched his head in a nod, but his eyes had fluttered closed once more. Tomas stumbled into the bathroom and took two towels. As he lifted Rowe’s left leg to slip one underneath, he screamed in agony. Tomas cringed, trying to stop crying.

‘’Please, please Master,’’ Rowe whimpered, and Tomas just wished he was dreaming. This was too horrifying, he must be dreaming, surely.

‘’I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’’ he sobbed, pressing a hand now wet with Rowe’s blood into his hair, doing his best to stroke him with his trembling fingers. ‘’They’ll stop the pain soon, I promise.’’

As soon as he’d slipped Rowe’s legs into the towels, Tomas wiped his eyes on his sleeve, hauled his broken Pet into his arms and carried him downstairs.

‘’I don’t- have a car,’’ Tomas explained as he gripped Rowe with one arm to lock the door behind him, ‘’but you’re so small, I think you’ll just about fit. I’m sorry, this is so fucking stupid, I’m sorry. But I’ll get us there quickly. Quicker than a taxi.’’

Rowe didn’t struggle as Tomas lowered him into the basket attached to the front of his bicycle. His wrapped legs dangled freely, and his arms wrapped around his waist like a hug. Tomas slung himself into the saddle and pushed off down the hill.

‘’Do you- treat Pets, here?’’ Tomas asked the receptionist timidly. Looking around, he didn’t see any other Pets. The receptionist barely even glanced up, even though Rowe was gently dripping blood onto the linoleum floor.

‘’Try the other reception. Down the hall, you’ll see the sign. We have a separate ward for Pets.’’

The second receptionist was far more friendly, scarily so.

‘’Hello there, sir, what’s the issue?’’

‘’My Pet- his legs are definitely broken, and he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s unresponsive.’’

‘’Okay,’’ she said as she typed something into her computer. ‘’And what’s your name, please, sir?’’

‘’Tomas Grzegorzewski.’’

A few more questions and then Rowe was lowered into a worn wheelchair and taken away. Tomas watched him leave with a heavy weight in his stomach.

He couldn’t sit still, he still had Rowe’s blood on his sleeves and if he had to just sit and think about what had happened he knew he was going to have a breakdown right there. So instead he marched outside, charmed a cigarette off one of the smokers outside, and called Kasia.

‘’You all good, mate?’’ Kasia said coolly.

‘’I am not fucking-! I am not all good,’’ Tomas hissed, remembering to keep his voice down.

‘’Did something happen? Look, I’m sorry I had to leave.’’

‘’He fucking- oh my god, I might throw up if I even describe it. He took a hammer to his own fucking legs.’’

‘’Oh, shit,’’ Kasia said. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. Tomas supposed it was his line of work. ‘’Why’d he do that?’’

‘’Kas, I asked you over for a reason! I don’t know, he goes off the rails every time he’s left alone,’’ Tomas snapped, trying and failing to keep his voice level.

‘’I’m sorry, okay? Don’t have a go at me, mate. Work called, I was doing you a favour and you know I have a busy schedule.’’

Tomas sighed. Kasia was right. ‘’Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just… I got really scared when I came home. I’m sorry, I know it’s not your problem.’’

‘’Yeah, well, I know you’re upset, but I couldn’t have known he was gonna pull some crazy shit like that.’’

‘’Yeah. I’m at the hospital right now,’’ Tomas said, dragging on his cig. ‘’I’m gonna go back in, it’s fucking freezing. See you later?’’

‘’Yeah, let me know if he’s alright.’’

Back in the waiting room, Tomas put his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his curls. He couldn’t stop seeing Rowe’s legs. The way he’d just been lying there, letting himself bleed out. And where had he even found that hammer? He must have really wanted it. And Tomas hadn’t been there to stop him.

A woman called his name uncertainly, and Tomas stood up. He suddenly felt desperately tired. She gave him a delicate smile and he followed her into the belly of the hospital.

#kasia treats tomas fuckin BADLY bro #tomas and rowe #whump #whump fic #dehumanisation #pet whump #pet whumpee #master/pet

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years ago

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let's save the world

season one, episode three

five hargreeves x reader

trigger warnings: cursing, a bit of angst if you squint, violence

summary: five gets his apocalypse lover back and the two of you have a small argument. then, when you’re back at the academy, looking around for clues, you have some visitors.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: bro all this support that i’m getting for this series means so much to me ;-; i don’t want to be all sappy but i used to write on wattpad and like it’s hard to get anyone on there to read your stories, but coming on here really just brought my motivation way up because of how nice you all are :) so thank you, and i hope you like the third part of this series *3*

"you're a fucking idiot." you grumble as you sit at five's side, the medical kit beside you open with it's contents disarranged from the panic you went through as five woke you up, a huge gash in his arm. now, you were helping him clean it up, and you weren't very happy with what he had done with his night.

sighing softly, five glanced at you. "it's not like i died." he defends himself, as if it would help your worrying. "it's just a scratch. it'll heal quick."

glaring at him as you finished stitching him up, you cleaned up all the blood. "’just a scratch’ my ass." throwing the bloodied rag to the side, you grab one of the bandaids, which happened to be designed with 'billy the choo-choo' which would have made you laugh if you weren't angry with him. "all this for a mannequin? seriously?"

that comment irked him, and he stood from the bed, putting his old uniform back on over the tank top he wore. "she's not just a mannequin." he mutters, going to grab the big duffel bag, which you knew 'delores' and various other things were inside.

"i'm glad i didn't go as mad as you." you throw everything back into the box, shutting it and just leaving it on the bed. you knew you'd need it again anyways.

five rolls his eyes as he pushes the window open, and you look at him in confusion. "you above doors now?" you question as he hops out onto the fire escape, quickly following behind.

he looked up at you as he started climbing down the ladder. “we don’t have much time, and this is the quickest way.”

sighing softly, you follow him down, and are met with klaus who was digging through the dumpster. stopping for a moment to look at him, you raise an eyebrow. “having fun?”

he looks to the two of you, a flask in hand as he leans against the edge of the trash. “oh! hey, hey.” he takes a swig, a goofy smile on his face, “you guys need any more company today? i could, uh, clear my schedule.”

five stops just a few feet away, holding onto the straps of the duffel hanging over his shoulders. “looks like you got your hands full.” he nods to the bin he had been digging around in, and klaus pushes himself away from the rim, practically slapping the metal.

“no, no, i can do this whenever. i just-” he suddenly falls down into the dumpster, and you jump slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “i’ve misplaced something.” he calls out as you could hear him rifling around all the trash, and your nose scrunched up at the thought. suddenly he pops back up again, holding up a bagel, taking a bite out of it, “found it!”

you swear you could have thrown up right there. he really was an interesting character. “i’m done funding your drug habit.” the young looking boy says simply, turning on his heel to leave, which you quickly follow.

“why are we here again?” you question, leaning back in the seat of the stolen plumbing truck. for some reason, five brought the two of you back to meritech, and you found it useless. “this is a dead end. we don’t know when the eye will be made and we can’t just wait here until the apocalypse comes.”

pursing his lips, five doesn’t take his gaze away from the building as people walk up and down the street, sometimes going inside or leaving. “this eye is our only clue to what makes the world end. we will wait here if it takes the whole week to find out when it’s made and who gets it.”

you groan, letting your head fall back against the cushioned head rest. there was no way in hell that you would wait in this stuffy van for more than a few hours.

slapping your hand against the arm rest, you sit up, “alright, then. you do that.” opening the door, you hop out, looking to five as he finally looks away from meritech.

“where are you going?” he hisses, eyes narrowed in the way that told you he was definitely mad. you just didn’t care at this moment.

brushing your skirt off, you glance around, “i’m not sitting around waiting for something that may not even have anything to do with what happens. so i’m going to look for clues.”

he just looked at you for a moment, obviously in disbelief by what you were saying. “you’re just going to leave me? you don’t trust me?”

at the accusation, you groan. “you’re kidding, right?” you lean against the side of the seat, the door still open next to you. “of course i trust you. i’ve trusted you for over forty years, and sometimes, five, you’re wrong!” you laugh bitterly, motioning to the building across the street. “i’m not going to wait around in hopes that your hunch about this eye is right!”

five just stares at you, eyes slightly widened from your outburst. after a moment, he turns away and looks back to the building. “fine. do what you want.” he mutters, and you almost feel bad about blowing up on him. almost.

“have fun with your mannequin lover.” you grumble, letting the door slam shut behind you as you walk away from the van, determined to figure this out by actually doing something.

your day was spent rooting around the academy, looking in every nook and cranny of every single room. the rest of the siblings showed up around noon, and they stood around in the main room, arguing about something that you didn’t care about. it was all useless to you, unless it lead to the end of the world.

now, night had fallen, and you didn’t find a single thing. you thought reginald might have known something. maybe left a clue for the kids to find. but no.

absolutely nothing.

you laid on five’s bed, fingers laced together on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling. while you were trying to figure out somewhere you might find a hint to what ended the world, you were also worrying about five and how you blew up on him. sure, you two would get over it, but you weren’t sure how angry he was. he could hold grudges, and you knew that very well.

your train of thought was interrupted by gun shots, and your body shot up as your eyes widened. jumping up from the bed, you grabbed the pistol that you had carried around with you from your days at the commission, which you brought with you when you went through that portal. you just hadn’t gotten the chance to use it yet, and you assumed this was it’s shining moment.

running downstairs, the shots got louder, and you cursed under your breath. looking down off the balcony into the main room, where you could see diego curled behind the couch with two people shooting mercilessly at the furniture. before they could notice you, you ran towards the stairs, thinking up a plan for how to deal with this.

they were definitely from the commission. you were absolutely sure of that. the suits they wore, paired with the metallic and colorful animal helmets gave it away. so they were here for you and five. you just didn’t know if they knew of the reverse-aging you guys went through. here’s to hoping.

as you got to the archway, one of the assassins was thrown through it, you barely dodging it as luther followed them out, probably prepared to fight. looking back into the room, you saw allison being choked by the other, and quickly jumped into action.

not wanting to risk shooting the woman, you stick the gun in your skirt’s pocket before jumping onto his back, your hands igniting with flames.

there goes another perfectly good shirt

the burning was enough to get him to let go of allison, but he quickly threw you off of himself, not getting the chance to turn on you as luther came back in and chucked him out the door as well.

all three of the siblings looked at you, breathing heavily and shocked, “what the hell was that?” diego questions, and you groan, pushing your now burnt sleeves up.

“we don’t have time for this right now. let’s deal with these assholes and maybe we can have a nice little pow-wow after.”

the discussion was cut off when the assassins got back up and started firing again, all of you dropping to the floor to avoid the shots and you quickly crawled away, managing to get cover behind the bar. grabbing your pistol, you hear luther and diego shouting at each other and the fire ceases. you assume they scrambled to safety and neither of the assassins wanted to waste bullets.

you heard them converse before they separated, and you noticed one of their shadows approaching from behind the bar. calming your breath, you pull the hammer of the pistol down, hearing the soft click that told you it was ready to fire. as the man rounded the corner, turned away and towards a glass case, you jumped up from your spot, quickly shooting at him and effectively landing a hit on his arm.

with a shout of pain, he turns on you, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s angry. he holds a mace that he took from the glass case, and you quickly cock the gun again as he makes a move towards you.

“it’s you.” he snarls, and you smirk.

taking a step back, you don’t lower the gun as you grab an empty bottle, “so she did send you.” you state, lunging towards him and smashing the bottle over his head. he stumbled back, the mace swinging around on it’s chain.

a voice calling out from the hall caught your attention, and while he was dazed, you take a glance towards where the arch was, seeing vanya. you curse, taking a shot at the man before sliding over the bar and running to her.

“you can’t be here!” you yell at her, and you’re lucky that luther comes in just in time to stop the man from attacking you once again.

she looked confused, and you didn’t blame her, but you didn’t have time right now. you just had to get her out. you glanced back into the room as the man with the blue helmet lifted luther and threw him to the ground, wincing at the sight.

when he turns to leave the room, you grab vanya and pull her against the wall, steadying your breathing as you somehow managed to go unnoticed when he looked down the halls and turning the other way.

once he disappeared down the hall, you run back into the room to see if luther was okay, not even caring if another attack would happen. as you got to him, the other two came barreling in, allison calling out to him and both of them swinging one of his arms around their shoulders to help him up.

as he stood up, he noticed the woman atop the balcony, a bloodied knife in her hand as she went to cut the rope that held the chandelier up. you didn’t have time to move out of the way and unfortunately luther didn’t have three arms to push all of you away, so it crashed down on both of you, though you got more lucky as it landed on your thigh.

still hurt like a bitch, though.

hissing from the pain, when luther lifts himself up it gives you the wiggle room to pull your leg out from under the chandelier, cursing as you see the blood that surrounds a shard of glass that managed to wedge into the side of your leg.

the room went silent when everyone saw luther’s hairy body, something you never expected to see, and honestly, you wish you didn’t. he runs up the stairs, and you sigh as you fall back, hand wrapped around the glass as you hyped yourself up to pull it out.

a few minutes later, you managed to get the glass out and wrap an old rag around it to hopefully slow the bleeding, and you were ready to pass out from the exhaustion coursing through your veins. you didn’t even care about the fact that your wound may get infected.

you stood from the ground, watching the others as allison and vanya sit down, diego pacing back and forth. when allison asked him if he was okay, he burst, yelling at the two of them before he turned on you. “and what the hell was it that you did?” he hisses, pointing his finger at your singed sleeves, “i don’t remember you having any kind of power like us. so what was that?”

you glare at him, pushing his hand away. “i was lying about the pow-wow.” you state simply before turning away and making your way up the stairs.

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bestillmyslashyheart · 4 years ago

Text

4am

the whole thing is here but its over 18k so if you would prefer to read it on ao3 i understand

It’s widely understood that when Michael Guerin has a problem he drowns it in bourbon and anonymous sex. Occasionally he might complain to Isobel Evans about it or maybe even Max Evans but mostly, his problems end up on the floor of the Wild Pony, one way or another.

Alex Manes, on the other hand, doesn’t have problems. Or if he does, he doesn’t talk about it. Everyone knows that nobody bottles up their issues quite like Alex.

What nobody understands is that no one can ignore their problems forever. Everyone needs a release. Sometimes, that release comes in alcohol, sometimes in hitting something or someone and letting them hit you in return, sometimes even in the bliss of a stranger’s company. And sometimes it comes in the form of a late night phone call and quiet secrets and shared traumas.

No one understands and that’s exactly the way they like it.

---

He’d turned the ringer up loud earlier in the day to make sure he didn’t miss a phone call or a text and Alex was sorely regretting that now.

The sharp ring woke him from a light sleep and Alex snatched the phone off the bedside table and answered the call before it could wake anyone else up. He didn’t even have time to look at the Caller ID.

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing on the other end was his only answer. Alex twisted his wrist to check the time. 3:12am

“I can’t hold a guitar.” Alex collapsed in on himself at the husky voice. It sounded like the other man had been crying. Or maybe screaming.

“Guerin?” He let out a breath. “Are you okay?” He hadn’t seen Michael since his father had dragged him out of the shed the previous afternoon. By the time Alex could sneak back out there, the place was empty and all of Michael’s things were gone. “That’s a stupid question. Did you go to the hospital?”

“No insurance.”

“You’re a minor, the state should cover you,” Alex told him with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever if what he was saying was actually true. If Michael believed it at least he might go see a doctor and worry about the bills later.

Michael laughed. It was a harsh, broken thing and he stopped suddenly after a few seconds. “And when they ask me what happened? Am I supposed to tell them the resident war hero smashed it with his hammer because he caught me with his son?”

Alex closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just wanted Michael to be okay. “Guerin-”

“I tried to pick up my guitar,” Michael cut him off. “I can’t even fucking hold it. My hand won’t- it won’t grip.” Alex felt tears sting the back of his eyelids. “I can’t play Alex.”

“I’m sorry,�� Alex choked out.

“Don’t,” Michael replied forcefully. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s a monster. Doesn’t make it your fault.”

Alex pulled his knees up to his chin and pressed his forehead to his leg. His phone creaked from how tightly he was squeezing it. He didn’t know what to say.

Michael was silent on the other end of the line. If it hadn’t been for his harsh breaths, Alex might have thought he’d hung up.

“Rosa’s dead,” Alex said suddenly. He hadn’t meant to say it but the words were on the tip of his tongue. Michael was quiet. “She- she’s dead. How- god, Michael, Liz called this morning and I couldn’t even process it. I hadn’t heard from you since my dad- and I just wanted to know you were okay and I couldn’t process that my friend is- she’s gone, Guerin.” Alex lost the battle against the tears, one he hadn’t realized he’d been fighting for hours now, and they streamed hot and heavy down his face. They burned on his cheeks but he made no moves to brush them away. There was no one here to see them anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Michael sounded so earnest, like he truly meant it and wasn’t just saying that to be polite, it soothed something in him. Just a little.

“She was going to California,” Alex confessed. “We talked about me coming with her after graduation. Maybe go to LA. I could play music and we’d get a crappy little apartment and bug Liz and Maria to come visit us.” Alex sniffed. “We were supposed to leave. Leave and be happy. Away from here.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said again. It was quiet for a while. “You can still leave, Alex. You can go to California and make music. You don’t have to stay here, not with him.”

“What about you?” Alex asked quietly.

Michael’s breath hitched. “What about me?”

“Would you want to make music?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask him to come with him if he left, not yet. It was too soon.

Michael huffed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Did.” He let out a pained groan and hissed curse. Alex got the idea that he might have tried to move his hand. “You know, I always kind of thought of starting a dad band? Find someone to make music with, have a couple of kids, jam out in the garage instead of doing homework kind of thing.” And now he can’t even hold a guitar. Because of Alex and his dad.

Alex swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That sounds pretty great,” he admitted quietly.

“Yeah?”

Neither of them pointed out that it was a lot less likely to happen now. “Yeah. You could pick up the triangle. Or maybe a cowbell.”

“Hey now no need to be mean.” But Michael laughed.

Alex smiled even though the tears hadn’t quite stopped. “You’d be great at it.”

“I’d be awesome. Don’t sell me short.”

“I could never,” Alex promised. The air sobered between them. “Michael. You’ll play again someday. I promise.”

Michael didn’t reply right away. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The line went dead.

---

The phone hitting him in the face woke him long before the ringing would have. Michael jerked away from the impact, his eyes blinking open blearily.

“It’s for you,” the girl next to him muttered. “Shut it up.” Michael didn’t remember her name.

He grabbed the phone fully intending to turn it off when he saw the name flashing. He answered it just as it was going to voicemail. “Hold on,” he mumbled. Without waiting to hear a response, he rolled over the girl on his tiny bunk and fell to the floor with a crash. Cursing and rubbing his elbow, he grabbed his boxers from the floor and fled his new Airstream. “Alex?” Alex’s reply was lost when he dropped the phone trying to pull his boxers on.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambling to grab it. “Alex?”

“Guerin?” Alex almost sounded amused which was good. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. You?” He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. 3:52am. “Shit, it’s late.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He didn’t say anything else.

Michael dropped heavily into one of his new lawn chairs. Well, it was new to him. What was that old saying? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure? “How’s Basic?”

The line was silent before Michael heard a whoosh of air as Alex exhaled loudly. “It’s shit.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I could’ve told you that.”

“Don’t,” Alex said, not pleading or scolding, just simply. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed. He didn’t want Alex to hang up. It was the first time they’d spoken since Alex left and he didn’t know when or if Alex would call again.

“They- fuck,” Michael heard a thud. “They have expectations.”

“Who?”

“Everyone!” Alex shifted. “They all know my dad. And the guy in charge here was an old buddy of my grandfather’s.” Michael didn’t know what to say. “They all expect me to be them. And I don’t- I don’t know if I know how not to be.”

“You’re not them, Alex,” Michael reminded him.

“I wasn’t,” Alex agreed. “Out there when I could dress how I wanted and act like I wanted and do what I wanted. But here? Here there’s no me, it’s just- it’s just the military and the way you have to act to be military and I see my dad and my grandfather and my brothers everywhere I look and I don’t want to be them, Guerin!”

“You’re not,” Michael assured him. “You’re not them and unless they do some serious brainwashing and maybe a personality transplant over there, you’re not going to be, okay? You’re Alex. Not Jesse, not Clay, or Flint, or Greg. You’re Alex.”

Alex was quiet. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Where are you?”

“Basic training,” Alex replied immediately.

“Alex,” Michael groaned. It was like pulling teeth sometimes.

“Uh,” Alex hesitated. “In a supply closet in the communications building.”

Michael raised an eyebrow even if Alex couldn’t see it. “Why?”

“Because they lock up our phones except for pre-approved usage times.”

Michael double checked his phone but it definitely said Alex’s name. “You’re on your phone now.”

“Well yeah, I couldn’t remember your number so I broke in and stole it.” He said it like it was nothing.

“Alex,” Michael laughed.

“What?” Alex said defensively.

“Would anyone else in your family break into a military facility to steal their phone to make a middle of the night phone call to their-” Michael stopped short of labeling himself anything in relation to Alex. “No way,” he continued. “They wouldn’t dare.”

Alex hummed consideringly. Michael heard a loud noise on the other end. “Shit,” Alex hissed quietly. “There’s a patrol. I gotta go.”

The line went dead. Michael stared at his phone as the call ended and the screen went black. After a while he realized Alex wasn’t going to call back so he trudged back inside the trailer only to freeze at the sight of the naked girl in his bed. He’d completely forgotten about her and after talking to Alex the thought of getting back in bed next to her only made his skin crawl. He fished some sweats out of the closet and went back outside to sleep in his truck.

---

Michael’s hands were shaking as he listened to the phone ring. It had been a while since they’d spoken, longer since they’d seen each other in person, but there was only one person Michael could even think of calling.

The call connected to a loud burst of music and a shouted, “hold on!” Already, Michael’s hands were steadier.

He waited as the noises faded and the world quieted. “Guerin?” Alex asked, a little breathless.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice smaller than he’d like.

Alex didn’t ask what was wrong or why he was calling. He just waited.

“I needed you to answer,” Michael confessed into the silence. “I needed- I don’t know. I just-”

There was a shout of, “Manes! You coming back?”, and Michael’s heart started to race until Alex replied. “I’m heading out! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, Manes, that guy was hot!” Michael closed his eyes.

Alex laughed. “Not hot enough.” There was a long pause as the world got quiet on Alex’s end. First the voices disappeared and then the music cut off with the loud slam of a heavy door. “Guerin?”

“Sorry for ruining your night.” It was after 3am and Michael had been fully prepared to wake Alex up. He wasn’t prepared to catch Alex out on a date.

“You didn’t,” Alex assured him. A car door opened and then closed.

Michael didn’t know what to say. The more he thought about why he’d called, why he’d needed Alex to answer, the stupider he felt. But he also couldn’t hang up so he just sat there, phone pressed tight against his ear hoping Alex didn’t hang up.

Alex didn’t hang up. After a while he started humming under his breath. It was too faint for Michael to make out the song but it was a pleasant reminder that Alex was still there.

“I need to drive home,” Alex said after a while. “Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”

Michael should probably just end the call and let him drive but, “that’s fine.” A second later, Alex’s car turned on and his music started playing briefly before Alex turned it off and continued humming. Michael listened to the sounds of Alex driving and let it lull him half to sleep. He heard the engine shut off and the car door open and close followed by the house door open and close and still neither of them said a word.

Michael listened as Alex got changed for bed and he heard the quiet sigh as Alex slipped under the covers. “Late night.”

“Long week,” Alex countered. He started humming again.

“What is that?”

Alex hesitated. “It’s nothing. Just something I was playing around with the other day.”

“You’re writing?” Michael smiled. Alex had always wanted to write his own music.

“Trying to. Sometimes.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

The humming started again and this time Michael recognized it, realizing that Alex was humming the same part over and over again. He tried to join in.

Alex let him for a few notes before he started laughing. “Hey!” Michael scolded half heartedly. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah you are,” Alex laughed.

“Hmph,” Michael grumbled. “Well compared to you everyone’s terrible.”

“You’re biased,” Alex accused lightly, his voice barely above a mumble.

“Yeah I am,” Michael agreed. “Night, Alex. Thanks for answering.”

“Always.”

---

Alex paced the parking lot, his phone in his hands. He kept turning it over and over, not pausing long enough to actual call anyone.

He knew who he was going to call, that was never a question. This was how it went. He called, the other answered, they talked or didn’t talk depending on the night, and then they never spoke about it again. Middle of the night phone calls were sacred. No matter how long it had been or what had been last said in the daylight, if the phone rang in the middle of the night, it got answered.

Which meant Alex had to wait. It was just past two in the morning now. By any rational person’s clock that was late. Hell, Alex was normally asleep by 10 o’clock so this was extremely late. He just wasn’t sure if it was late enough to count as a middle of the night call. He needed it to not be a regular call.

Alex didn’t stop moving for the next 30 minutes. He covered the parking lot four times over and nearly dropped his phone twice because he couldn’t stop playing with it. When it was almost three (2:41am but he’s rounding up) he pressed Call.

“One second,” Michael answered gruffly after six rings. There was another voice muffled in the background. Whoever it was did not sound happy that Michael had answered the phone.

Alex bounced on his toes lightly and waited as Michael made his excuses to his hookup of the night.

“Okay,” Michael said after a moment.

“I kissed my squadmate,” Alex blurted out. “Well, I kissed him and then he sucked me off. In my commanding officer’s office. And we got caught.”

Silence. “Are you getting discharged?” Trust Michael to skip past the awkwardness for once and cut straight to the point.

“I don’t know.” Which was part of the problem.

“Isn’t it against the military’s rules to be gay?” Alex heard the creak of Michael’s truck door opening and then the slam of it closing.

“Yes. Kinda. Not really? It’s complicated.” Alex started pacing.

“Yeah, I’m a little drunk so you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“DADT got repealed. Today. Or yesterday, I suppose.”

“So you’re not getting kicked out?”

“I don’t know.” Michael waited. “It happened two days ago. They hadn’t actually filed any charges against us to start the discharge process. And now with DADT being repealed it’s all up in the air. Because the ‘offense’ happened before the repeal and also because they don’t know if the repeal goes into effect immediately or if there’s a delay or what that means for us.” Alex stopped and squatted on a curb.

Michael didn’t say anything right away and so Alex waited. “Alex, did you get caught on purpose?”

Alex closed his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Alex…”

“Can you imagine my dad’s face if his son was dishonorably discharged for engaging in homosexual activity?” Alex could. He’d pictured it many a time. “It would be on record. He’d have to acknowledge it.”

“So you’re going to throw your life away? To piss off your dad?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s the Air Force, not my life.”

“It’s a dishonorable discharge,” Michael corrected. He sounded remarkably sober for a guy who claimed to be drunk. “That kind of thing sticks with you.”

“I know.” Because he did know. He just wasn’t sure he cared all that much.

Michael huffed. “So now what?”

“I don’t know. They could go either way. Hell, they could wait to decide what to do and just leave us in limbo for now.”

“Why now?”

Alex dropped his head to his knees. This was the part he hadn’t wanted to admit to. “I’m being deployed next week.”

“Shit, Alex.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. Not wanting to go to war does not make you a coward. It means you have a brain and some semblance of self preservation.”

“I joined the military, Guerin,” Alex reminded him. “I knew what that meant. But now that it’s here…”

“You’re going to be fine, Alex.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. Because you’re not allowed to not be fine.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “Not allowed huh?”

“No. I checked the rule book. You have to come home, safe and sound.”

“Yeah okay,” Alex sighed.

Michael let the silence linger before, “was he good at least? Like, worth getting kicked out of the military good?”

Alex smirked. “I’ve had better.”

He heard the slow lazy smile that spread across Michael’s lips, the smugness just oozing through the phone. “Yeah you have.”

---

Alex’s voice was a sleepy mumble when he finally answered. “Guerin?”

“Hey,” Michael greeted softly. It was late, even for this kind of call. Hell, Alex would probably be needing to get up for the day soon at this point.

Bed sheets rustled as Alex shifted in bed. He waited for Michael to speak first. When he didn’t, he started humming, as had become his habit.

Michael let him for a little while, his eyes closed as he listened to Alex try out different notes. He’d been working on the same tune for years at this point but Michael never tired of hearing it. “Alex?”

Alex stopped humming with an inquisitive noise.

“Am I really that bad of a person?”

“You’re not a bad person at all,” Alex told him. His voice was still slightly rough with sleep and for the first time Michael felt bad for calling him. Alex had clearly needed the rest. “You’re an idiot sometimes and you make terrible life decisions but you’re not a bad person.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If you want me to lie, call me when I’m awake,” Alex grumbled. They both knew Michael wouldn’t though. They didn’t talk like this when the sun was shining. If they talked at all it was inconsequential.

“Max is joining the sheriff’s department,” Michael told him. “Because of me. Because he thinks he needs to to get me out of trouble. Because I’m such a screw up that he needs to literally make a career out of cleaning up after me.”

Alex sighed. “You’re not responsible for what Max does. He’s a big boy, just like you, and he makes his own choices, okay?”

Michael waited for him to tell him he wasn’t a screw up. He didn’t.

“Guerin?”

“Yeah, okay.” Michael swallowed thickly and hoped Alex couldn’t hear it through the phone.

“What is it?” No such luck.

“You were supposed to tell me I’m not a screw up.” Alex didn’t reply right away and Michael scoffed. “Guess I should have called when you were awake.”

“You’re not a screw up,” Alex finally said. But had lost some of its meaning. “You just make bad choices sometimes.”

Michael had a sudden flashback to his truck that last summer. “Right.” He nodded even though Alex couldn’t see him. “I forgot. I’m throwing my life away.”

Alex sighed heavily. He sounded a good deal more awake now than he had. “Guerin-”

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“Gue-”

Michael hung up.

---

“Hey man, are you okay?” Richards grabbed his shoulder but Alex threw him off without a thought. He must have been rougher than he’d thought because Richards took a full step back and put his hands in the air. “Manes? Alex?”

“I’m fine,” Alex barked.

“You are not fine,” Henderson told him. Alex whirled around. He hadn’t even heard him come up behind him. Henderson also took a step back.

“Okay, fine. I’m not fine.”

“What do you need, man?” Collins asked from behind Richards.

Alex wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened. One second he was fine and the next he was having what might be a panic attack. “I need to leave.” The guys immediately started clearing a path to the door. Alex was nearly outside before he realized what he really needed was something else. “I need my phone.”

Henderson turned on the spot. “I’ll get it.”

Collins and Richards waved Alex outside, neither one of them touching him and making sure no one else even came close. It was impressive considering how crowded the bar was tonight.

Alex braced himself against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and sucked in slow, deep breaths. There were people walking on the street behind him but Alex blocked them out. “Here,” he heard Henderson say. Alex opened his eyes to see his cell phone in front of his face. He snatched it from Henderson with a gruff ‘thanks’ and started scrolling through his contacts. It had been a while since either of them called and their last call hadn’t ended well but Alex didn’t care.

He ignored the fact that it was barely past midnight and hit Call. As it rang he pressed his forehead to the back of his hand, his fingers digging into the brick. The guys stood around him, not quite hovering but not leaving him alone just yet.

Alex ignored all of it and listened to the phone ring.

The dial tone cut off with a, “-uck off Max!”

Alex sagged lightly against the wall. There was a slamming door and some more cursing before, “Alex?”

“Hi,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” They didn’t usually ask. But then again, Alex didn’t usually call this early in the night. He was suddenly acutely aware of his friends pretending not to listen in.

“Can you-” Alex cleared his throat. “Can you just-”

Thankfully, Michael didn’t need him to finish the sentence because Alex wasn’t sure that he could. He waited half a beat to make sure Alex didn’t say anything else before he was off on a tangent about something. Alex could honestly say he had no idea what Michael was talking about, at some points the terminology he was using went straight over his head and at others he was referencing people Alex had never met. But it honestly didn’t matter as Alex felt his panic subside and the tension leave him the longer Michael talked.

After more than a few minutes, though it honestly could have been an hour and Alex wasn’t sure he’d have noticed, Collins came over to him. “Do you need a ride home?”

Michael stopped talking, clearly listening in.

Alex nodded. “Sorry.” They’d all come together.

“Dude,” Richards scoffed. “Don’t apologize. Place was lame anyway.” He turned and led the way to the car, Henderson on his heels. Collins lagged behind to make sure Alex was following.

“Alex?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. Can you-”

Michael hummed. “So yesterday Izzy-” Alex let the words roll right over him. He barely paid attention to where he was walking and trusted Collins to get him back to the car in one piece.

Alex didn’t say a word the whole ride home and the others left after making sure he got into his apartment in one piece, none of them asking the questions obviously on the tips of their tongues. Alex loved them for it, just a little bit.

He listened to Michael ramble as he got ready for bed and collapsed on top of his sheets.

“I saw my dad today.”

Michael cut off mid word.

“He- he’s visiting an old friend of his apparently.”

“I didn’t realize the devil had friends.”

“Plenty of demons in hell,” Alex said lightly. “I didn’t think he saw me but then he was out at the bar I went to tonight and he,” Alex stopped. He hadn’t even really processed it earlier, what exactly had set him off. Now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could admit it.

He let out a shuddering breath and said nothing.

After a while, Michael started talking again and Alex fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

---

Maria grabbed the keys out of his hand even as she shoved him out the door. “Your truck will be here tomorrow,” she told him. She closed the doors behind her and watched him as he stumbled across the parking lot. “Is there someone you can call?”

Michael laughed. “At this time?” He paused. “What time is it?”

“3am,” she sighed. “Look, you can’t stay here. I can’t afford that right now.” She’d just bought the place and he knew any small problem could snowball for her right now. “I need to clean up and lock up. If you’re still here when I leave, I’m calling the Sheriff.”

She hesitated a moment, a wary eye locked on him, but eventually she went back inside. Michael didn’t miss the definitive thud of the deadbolt turning in the lock a second later.

Michael tripped twice on his way to his truck, his feet catching on the gravel. He had half a thought of using his powers to start the engine but he dismissed it, recognizing that he really was way too drunk to try and drive. Honestly, he was drunk enough that he might somehow blow the car up trying to start it with his powers. Instead, he pawed clumsily at the seats until his cell phone appeared.

Holding onto it tightly, he slammed the door and started down the road. The Wild Pony was on the opposite side of town from Sanders’ but at least he wasn’t parked out at Foster’s right now. That would have been too far.

Michael wasn’t sure at what point he’d dialed the phone but before he knew it it was ringing in his hands.

“Hey,” Alex’s tiny voice answered. Michael stopped and stared down at his name on the screen. He didn’t have a contact photo set for him; Alex wouldn’t let him take one. “Guerin?”

“Alexxx,” Michael drew out his name far longer than necessary.

Alex sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” Michael nodded firmly. “Very. Maria took my keys.”

“Where are you?”

Michael looked around. “Roswell.”

He thought Alex might have snorted. “I know that. Are you at the Pony?”

“Nope.” Michael shook his head. “She kicked me out.”

“Oookay. So where are you now?”

“Walking.”

Alex paused. “You’re walking home from the Pony? Drunk?”

Michael shrugged. “She said I couldn’t stay or she’d call the Sheriff. I don’t want to see Max’s disappointed face again. It’s a stupid face.”

“Michael,” Alex sighed. “Can you call Isobel? Have her pick you up.”

“She’s got a new boyfriend. She’d be mad if I woke her up. Says she needs her beauty sleep for him.”

“Mich-”

“You left.” Alex choked on his name when Michael cut him off.

“I couldn’t stay.”

“No. You could,” Michael focused more on putting one foot in front of the other than on the words spilling out of his mouth. Probably a good thing because otherwise he’d never say it and he’d just have more nights like this one. “You just won’t. You never will. But I know that. I’m good for a fuck but not to stay over. Whatever.”

“Guerin-”

“You left.” He’d gotten to the edge of the street and he tripped over the lip of the sidewalk. The phone fell to the ground next to him and he missed Alex’s response. When he got back up, the phone was cracked but the call was still connected. “You left Roswell. Two days before you said you would. You didn’t say goodbye.” Half the reason Michael had gotten so drunk tonight was because he’d made plans for a night with Alex only to realize Alex had skipped town.

“I had to go,” Alex told him. “My friend needed me.”

“I needed you,” Michael might have whined. “You just skipped town in the middle of the night.”

Alex exhaled heavily. “I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, you always find some excuse to not be around when I leave.”

“I care,” Michael insisted. “You’re just an asshole.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”

“Where are you now?”

Michael looked up. “Crashdown.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Michael?” Michael hummed. “Keep walking.”

Michael looked down at his feet, surprised to find them stuck in place. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just take a step.” Michael did. “And again.” Michael did. Slowly, leaning more heavily on the buildings he passed, he got to the end of the strip.

At some point he started narrating his journey. After a while Alex started giving him directions like he didn’t know how to get home, like Alex knew the way better than he did. Michael didn’t argue with him, though, just kept talking as he walked until eventually he crashed into the locked gate at Sanders’. Michael picked the lock without thinking about it. He’d lost the key Sanders gave him a long time ago and using his powers on the lock was an old habit.

“You home?” Alex asked. Michael was sure he’d been talking this whole time but he must have missed some of it.

“Mhmm,” Michael agreed as he trudged up the steps of his trailer. He almost dropped the phone as he fell onto his bunk.

“Good night, Guerin.”

---

Alex couldn’t sleep. His body was thrumming with something like excitement. Or maybe anxiety. He didn’t know.

The news broke that morning and it was all Alex could think about all day. Every time he thought he’d finally got it out of his head, someone or something would remind him and he’d be lost to it again.

He had to be up in three hours, had to be at work in less than four, and yet he had hardly even closed his eyes.

Alex fought with himself for a few more minutes before giving it up and getting out of bed to get his phone. It was across the room so he unplugged it from the charger and carried it outside with him. Sometimes, he’d scroll through his contacts and fool himself that there was someone else he might call but tonight he didn’t bother with the pretense; he went straight to Michael’s name and hit call.

Michael answered immediately, almost like he’d been waiting for Alex.

“They did it,” he greeted.

Alex felt himself smile. “Yeah.” It was nearly reverent. “They actually did it.” Michael laughed and a second later Alex joined in. He leaned back and stared up at the stars. “They really did it.”

They sat quietly for a while, just listening to each other breathe.

“Run that dad band idea by me again?” Alex had no idea what had possessed him to say it. They never mentioned these phone calls, never, and it had been years since Michael brought it up.

Michael made a strange noise. “Couple of kids, crappy family garage band instead of doing homework?”

“Yeah that.”

“First step is finding someone you can make music with.”

“And marrying them,” Alex smiled. “I can do that now.” As of this morning, he could marry any guy he wanted, anywhere he wanted.

“Yeah, Alex. You can do that now.”

Alex closed his eyes. “Might need to find me a mean triangle player.”

Michael paused and Alex wondered if he’d gone too far. “No cowbell?”

“Eh,” he sighed in relief. “You can always use more cowbell. Could need a guy who can do both.”

“Steep requirement.”

“Well, I could never marry just anyone.” He laughed. “Gotta have standards, you know.”

“Only the very best for Alex Manes,” Michael agreed.

“And for Michael Guerin.”

“Sure.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply when another voice beat him to it. “Are you coming back? Or should I go?”

Michael audibly wavered so Alex made the choice for him. “It’s late. I need to sleep.”

“Alex-”

“He sounds hot.” He hung up.

---

Isobel was going to be fine. A few bumps and bruises, possibly a concussion if she actually got checked out at the hospital, but otherwise she was fine. As far as car accidents go, it was nothing, especially considering the state of her car.

Michael had just had time to push the oncoming car just slightly to the side before it hit Isobel head on and the adrenaline rush from using his powers publicly and being scared to death that Isobel almost died was starting to wear off.

“Michael, I’m fine,” she insisted. Noah hovered in the open front door behind her but Isobel ignored him. “Really. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Michael looked at her, surprised. “Why would you be worried about me? You’re the one who almost died not an hour ago.”

“Yeah but you’re the one who,” she stepped closer and lowered her voice, “decided to use his powers in public.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It was Main St at midnight, hardly town square in the middle of the day.”

“Still,” she insisted. “You’ve been antsy ever since and you keep asking me if I’m okay and-”

“That’s because you almost died!” He reminded her.

“But I didn’t!” She put her hands on his shoulders. “You saved me. You did good, okay? So take a deep breath and relax. You’re starting to stress me out with how stressed you are.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“Well you’re something.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Behind Isobel’s head he saw Noah start to pace, his eyes locked on Isobel. “Your boy toy’s getting antsy. You should do something about that.”

Isobel looked over her shoulder and smiled before focusing back on Michael. “You should stay. Crash in the guest room.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m going home.”

Isobel eyed him. “Is home code for the Wild Pony?”

“No, home’s code for my shitty little Airstream,” Michael rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think you should be drinking tonight. You’ve already used your powers once-”

“Good night, Isobel.” Michael hugged her, cutting her off. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” He pushed her gently towards Noah, exchanging a nod with the man, and drove off.

He didn’t go home. He also didn’t go to the Pony.

Michael parked his truck by the Crashdown and scurried across the street to the shuttered UFO Emporium and broke the lock. He slipped inside, careful to shut the door behind him, and navigated blindly through the rooms until he got to the room with the tacky glow in the dark stars painted on the wall.

He sat on the floor, sucked down half a bottle of acetone, and called Alex.

“Hmm?” Alex answered sleepily.

“Who would pay money for a dump like this?”

“Hmm?” Alex asked, slightly less sleepily.

Michael leaned back slowly until he was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. There were more ‘stars’ up there but some of them were stuck on and were falling down. “They couldn’t even be bothered with halfway decent stars.”

“Guerin,” Alex grumbled. “Are you at the museum?”

“It’s terrible.”

He heard Alex roll his eyes. “It’s always been terrible.”

Michael looked around. “I don’t know. It’s not all bad. I’d even say this room’s had some amazing things happen in it.”

“Amazing, huh?”

Michael hummed in agreement. He listened to Alex shuffle around in bed and didn’t say anything for a while.

“Bad day?” Alex finally asked.

“Isobel was in an accident,” he confessed. “Other guy was drunk, just missed hitting her head on.”

“Is she okay?”

“Bumps and bruises,” Michael told him. “She was coming to pick me up. I was right there. She could’ve-”

“Hey, no, she’s fine,” Alex assured him. “I mean, come on, she’s Isobel Evans, a little thing like a car accident isn’t going to take her out.” Michael laughed.

“Nah, she’d wait for the apocalypse or something.”

“Please,” Alex scoffed. “She’d rule the apocalypse. Dare the world to try harder.”

Michael laughed until he started crying. “The guy just missed her.” He wiped at his face. “Almost took the front of her car off.”

“But he did miss her,” Alex reminded him. “She’s okay. Say it.”

“She’s okay.”

“She’s okay.” Michael drew in a shuddering breath. He let it out just as shakily.

“She’s okay,” Alex said again, his voice calm and even.

Michael took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working. “Can you-?”

Alex started humming without any more prompting. It had become a habit over the years. When Alex called but couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about why, Michael just rambled about whatever he could think of until Alex either fell asleep or hung up. When Michael called, Alex would hum for him. Sometimes he’d recognize it as a popular song but most often, Alex would just hum. Bits of it he recognized, some lines that Alex repeated over and over, something he once said he was working on. Michael had never heard more than bits and pieces, wasn’t sure if Alex had gotten any further than that, but he’d always liked hearing it.

That was what Alex hummed for him tonight and it settled him like nothing else could.

---

“Alex,” Henderson stepped in front of him, his hands in the air in front of his chest to show he meant no harm. “You need to sleep, man.”

Alex shook his head. “I need you to move.”

Elcott touched Alex’s elbow and he jerked away from her. “Don’t.” Her eyes were sad but kind. No pity.

“Manes, it’s late. You need to be awake and alert tomorrow for your shift. You need to sleep.”

Alex shook his head again. “Right now, what I really need, is for you to get out of my way.”

“Look, Manes, we’ve been there,” Henderson started.

Henderson was his friend. They’d been posted together for years before this deployment and they knew each other pretty well. Alex knew that Henderson understood, knew that he could talk to the man if he wanted, the problem was that he didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

Alex stared him in the eyes. He had a few inches and about 20 pounds on Alex but Alex had no doubt he could take him. After all, he had plenty of experience fighting men bigger and taller than him. “Move.”

Henderson shared a look with Elcott before sighing heavily and stepping to the side. “Try not to get caught doing something stupid, will you?”

Alex didn’t spare him a sideways glance let alone a response as he burst out into the cold night air and made a beeline for the communications building.

Two uniformed men stood guard out front. Alex ignored them until one physically stepped in front of him. “Manes. You can’t be in here.” Lt. Walker’s eyes were kind, he knew what had happened earlier, but his tone left no room for argument. “You need to go back to the barracks.”

Alex shook his head. “I need to-”

“Personal communications are not authorized at this time, Manes, you know that.” Walker stepped in front of him, hand outstretched, but stopped shy of actually touching Alex. It was a wise choice on his part; Alex was crawling out of his skin and he had no idea how he’d react to someone’s touch right now.

“I need-” Alex’s voice cracked slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing their reactions.

“Manes,” the other guard said, the one Alex didn’t know.

“Five minutes,” Alex pleaded. “I need five minutes.” He swallowed thickly.

Walker exchanged a look with the other man, the man shrugged and pointedly looked away, and Walker opened the door behind him. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Alex told them sincerely as he slipped inside. The place was mostly dark, all operations communications being run out of a different building and personal communications prohibited at this time of night, but Alex knew the way to the phone bank just fine. He hadn’t had occasion to use it much but every soldier stationed here knew where to find their connection to back home.

Alex didn’t bother with a chair. He grabbed the phone off the desk and curled up on the floor, his fingers dialing a familiar number without hesitation.

It rang twice before being sent to voicemail.

Alex called again. It rang once.

Alex let out a mild curse and called a third time. This time it was picked up just before it went to voicemail. “Who the hell is this?”

“Michael,” Alex exhaled.

“Alex?” There was a loud clang like Michael had dropped something. “What time is it over there?”

There was a clock on the wall opposite him. “3:52 am,” he answered.

“What’s wrong?”

And just like that, Alex broke. He’d been holding it together all day, since 1:36 pm. Since Alex pulled the trigger and another man fell to the ground and didn’t move.

Michael made soothing noises on the phone, a low murmur of words that Alex had no hope of understanding but that was okay for now. He just needed Michael’s voice in his ear.

“I killed someone,” he finally croaked out. “He was going to shoot us but I shot him first but it doesn’t even matter because he’s dead because of me.” Tears were falling freely but Alex didn’t notice. “I killed someone, Michael,” he whispered.

“Alex.” Michael’s voice was soft, gentle. Alex wasn’t sure he deserved it right now. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Alex closed his eyes only to be blinded with the memory of the man falling to the ground, chest covered in blood. His eyes snapped open. “I-”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Michael agreed. “But you’re alive. And your squad’s alive, right?”

“Yeah.” Every one of them had gotten back safe and sound, no injuries. “He should have gotten to go home alive too.”

“It was you or him. And I’m not sorry it was him.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I know you,” Michael’s voice was strong and sure. “And you wouldn’t have pulled that trigger unless you absolutely had to. You could never hurt anyone unprovoked. It was you or him.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure he believed Michael but he couldn’t deny the words helped. Alex didn’t say anything else and after a moment, Michael started up a running commentary on what he was doing.

“Manes.” Alex looked up to see Walker stood in the doorway. His eyes were on the hallway, respectfully not looking at Alex, but his five minutes were clearly up. Alex looked at the clock to find it read 4:12.

He cursed lowly. “Sorry,” he said to Walker. To Michael, he said, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Try to get some sleep,” Michael asked. “You sound tired.”

Alex felt his eyes slip closed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Michael replied. “For staying alive.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that so he hung up without another word. Walker gave him another minute to pull himself together before he stuck a hand out to help him up. Alex took it gratefully. “Thank you.” He wasn’t talking about the help.

“Don’t mention it,” Walker replied. He didn’t say another word as he escorted Alex outside where Henderson was waiting. The two men exchanged a look that Alex couldn’t decipher before Henderson was ushering him back to the barracks.

“Better?” He asked as they reached their bunks.

Alex nodded, surprised. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good. Now get some sleep. We might get an hour at this rate.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, Henderson was skipping his own precious sleep to stay up with Alex. The man just rolled his eyes and pointedly got comfy on his bunk. Alex’s lips twitched upwards as he followed suit.

---

“Sometimes I hate Isobel,” Michael opened with as soon as the call connected. It had been stewing in his head for days just begging to be let out.

Alex hesitated. “Why?”

Michael dropped his head back against the headrest and stared through his windshield at the stupid banner strung up in the middle of the main square. Congrats Graduates!

“I could’ve had my Master’s by now,” he said. He’d done his research. Four years of undergrad followed by the two year graduate program for agricultural engineering at UNM and he’d have two degrees under his belt as of yesterday. “I should’ve had my Master’s by now.”

“And how is that Isobel’s fault, exactly?”

Michael closed his eyes, the images of Isobel’s face that night in the cave flashing in his mind. “She couldn’t handle me leaving after high school. Had a freak out or whatever.”

“...that’s why you stayed?” Alex sounded disbelieving.

“She- she did something. Something stupid,” Michael ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying it was the only reason I stayed but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a big part of it. I didn’t want her to do anything like that again. I couldn’t-” He cleared his throat. “I looked it up. UNM’s grad programs, I mean. They had the program I wanted and if I’d gone after high school I’d be done by now.”

“Apply again,” Alex urged.

Michael shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You got a full ride the first time, you can do it again.”

Alex didn’t get it. Isobel hadn’t had any more blackouts since Rosa died but neither Michael nor Max had talked about leaving since then. Michael had no way of knowing if his leaving would just set her off again. He couldn’t take that chance. Not if he wasn’t there to shoulder the blame again. “I can’t.”

Alex exhaled loudly. “Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“You can,” Alex told him earnestly. “You’re more than smart enough, Guerin. Any school would be lucky to have you, you just have to apply.” Michael scoffed. Alex groaned. “You’re wasting your mind on that ranch, Guerin. You could do so much more.”

Michael had heard all of this before. Didn’t make it easier to hear this time. “And what if I don’t want to? What if I’m happy on the ranch?”

“If you were happy on the ranch, you wouldn’t be hating Isobel right now,” Alex pointed out.

Michael hung up on him. He ignored Alex’s call a moment later, too.

---

Alex watched the guy leave, his clothes still haphazard from how quickly he’d pulled them on after Alex’s not so subtle hints to leave had finally registered.

“Are you allergic to sleeping next to someone?” Henderson laughed. “They never seem to stay very long.”

Alex shot him a glare and ignored the friendly ribbing from the other two guys sitting on his couch. He was well aware of his dating habits, or lack thereof, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about them from his friends.

He lasted about five minutes before he retreated back to his bedroom. The room reeked of sweat and sex and a strange man’s cologne and Alex threw open the windows and grabbed the can of Febreze, spraying liberally all over.

His phone sat untouched on his bedside table as he stripped the bed and tossed the soiled sheets into a corner to wash another day. It stared accusingly at him as he pulled out his clean bedding and diligently made the bed.

When the bed was made, Alex snatched his phone up, pulled the screen out of the window, and ducked outside to sit on the small roof over his front porch. He sucked in deep lungfuls of fresh air as he scrolled through his phone. After about ten minutes he gave up pretending that he wasn’t going to do what he knew he was going to do and pulled up his contacts.

Michael was number four on his most frequently contacted list. Alex thought that was actually a little low, especially recently, but he pressed Call and shimmied onto his back as the call connected.

The stars were bright tonight, the sky empty of clouds, and Alex found himself searching out the few constellations he knew as he listened to the phone ring.

“Not actually a good time,” Michael was out of breath when he answered. Alex’s stomach clenched. They always answered each other’s calls, no matter what they were doing. If Michael was really about to hang up on him for some-

“Michael!” It had been years but Alex still recognized Max Evans’ voice, though he’d never heard it sound quite like that. “Get back here!”

“One second! Don’t get your-”

“Michael!” And there was Isobel Evans. She sounded nearly as fed up as Max had.

Michael grumbled something at them, the phone clearly held away from his mouth. “Can I call you back in like five minutes?”

“Michael!” That was both Evans’ that time.

“Ten minutes?” Michael corrected.

Alex smothered the laugh that was bubbling in his throat. Nothing about this exchange was particularly funny. “That’s fine,” he assured Michael. It wasn’t like Alex was going anywhere.

“Thanks,” Michael sounded sincere as he hung up.

Alex stared at the dark screen for a long moment before he laid the phone on his chest and returned to stargazing.

“Yo Manes!” The call came from inside the house. “You still up?”

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize tonight.

It was almost twenty minutes before his phone rang and Alex answered it almost as soon as it started ringing. “So,” he greeted, dragging the word out in an obvious question.

“Don’t ask,” Michael pleaded. “I would like to forget the last half an hour ever happened.”

This time Alex did laugh. “Okay,” he agreed easily. It was easy not to push when he was a thousand miles away and the answer didn’t really matter.

“Thank you,” Michael sighed in relief. “Now. What’s up with you?”

“Not much,” Alex hedged.

Michael hummed mockingly. “Yep, of course, you’re right, you always call me at two in the morning because nothing’s up.”

“You used to let me lie to you,” Alex remarked mildly.

“I did,” Michael agreed. “I do.”

“Rough night?”

“We’re not talking about that, remember?”

“Of course not,” Alex agreed lightly.

They let the silence linger for a while before Michael sighed and launched into a riveting tale of Johnny-the-idiot-ranch-hand. Alex let him talk for the better part of the hour, part of him engrossed in the stories of Johnny’s sheer incompetence, before he felt ready to talk about why he’d actually called.

“Do you think I’m broken?”

Michael cut off mid word. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I can’t date,” Alex confessed. “Hell, I can’t really go on a date. I just- I can do sex just fine, I have no problem meeting guys and hooking up but anything more than that and I get the urge to run in the other direction.”

The line was silent for long enough that Alex had to check it was still connected. “Guerin?”

“Yeah,” Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m here. I, uh, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry?” Alex wasn’t sure if it was something he should apologize for. For all that they’d made a habit of this, the late night phone call, the ready listening ear, they’d never discussed matters of the heart. Not that he thought this was a matter of the heart, but it was similar enough he supposed.

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize,” Michael hurried to say. “I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m good now.”

“Are you?” Alex arched an eyebrow even though Michael couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” Michael said. “And you are not broken, Alex Manes. Not in any way. So what if you’re not a serial dater? That’s fine.”

“I’m not a dater at all,” Alex reminded him.

“So? There’s nothing wrong with that. Just means you’ve got high standards.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on extrapolating on that?”

Michael laughed lightly. “You’ve got standards, Manes. You don’t want to date because none of those guys are worth your time. You’re good at reading people, yeah? I’m sure if someone held your attention for longer than a fuck, you’d consider a date but none of them are worthy of it so you don’t.”

Alex hadn’t really thought of it that way, that maybe he just hadn’t liked any of the guys he’d met enough to want to date them. Or he had, but he’d dismissed it because how could no guy be worth dating? Well, no guy except… “You think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“This isn’t about me,” Michael hedged.

“That’s not a no,” Alex observed.

“No, it’s not. But this really isn’t about me. There’s nothing wrong with you, Alex. I promise.”

Alex swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it, huh?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. “Should I?”

“...you either do or you don’t, Alex.” Michael’s voice was quiet.

“I do,” Alex confessed. Promised. “I do.”

---

“Michael,” Isobel scolded for the fourth time in ten minutes. And for the fourth time, Michael ignored her completely. When he reached for the bottle again she stretched across the table and snatched it from his fingertips. “Stop drinking.”

Michael turned his head slowly to stare at her. Uncaring if anyone was watching them he yanked the bottle from her grasp with a surge of his powers. It spilled all over both their laps but he paid it no mind as he poured himself another healthy portion. Isobel leapt from her seat with a horrified gasp. “Michael!”

Michael sipped his drink. A heavy hand on his shoulder splashed a little out of the glass and onto his already ruined jeans. “Michael,” came Max’s disappointed voice a moment later. “It’s not even dark outside yet.”

“Which would probably explain why I have half the bar to myself.” Michael toasted Max with the little that remained in his glass before tossing it back in one swallow. He reached for the bottle again to top it off.

“Why are you like this?” Max asked. He dropped into the seat next to Isobel with a heavy sigh. Michael glanced at him, saw the uniform firmly in place, and looked away. He wasn’t in the mood for Deputy Evans today.

“Max!” Isobel hissed. “If you’re gonna be an ass just leave. I’ve got this.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“I’ve-”

“How about you both leave?” Michael cut her off. He waved a hand at the door. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Michael.” It was Isobel’s turn to sound disappointed and just like that Michael was over it. He stood up so fast his chair fell over and nearly took him with it. Michael reached for the edge of the table to steady himself and knocked the bottle to the floor in the process.

“Dammit.”

Max rolled his eyes as he stood. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Michael glared up at him. Max ignored him and walked over to the bar to pay Maria. Isobel wasn’t looking at him so Michael took his chance and lurched towards the door. The ground moved slightly under him but he was used to it and adapted quickly.

“Michael!” Isobel’s yell got cut off by the slam of the door closing behind him.

Michael squinted when the sun hit his face. It honestly was a lot earlier than he usually drank but it wasn’t like he had a job to fill his time anymore so what did it matter. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he staggered over to his truck. By the time he got the engine running he’d already listened to Alex’s voicemail twice.

“Michael!” Max came barrelling out the Pony’s front doors. “Do not drive!” Michael dropped the truck into drive and pulled out with a spray of dirt that may or may not have hit Max in the face.

He made it back to Foster Ranch without killing anyone or himself. He counted it as his achievement for the day. Once he got to his Airstream and saw the notice to vacate his parking spot on his door, he knew it would be his only one.

Michael crumpled it into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. Sanders didn’t have any work for him right now but he might be willing to let Michael park the Airstream in the lot anyway. If he didn’t, Michael didn’t really have a backup plan but that was tomorrow’s problem. Truthfully, it was yesterday’s but Michael was nothing if not someone who could procrastinate.

He flopped onto his bed and called Alex for the third time. As it rang he dropped it onto his chest and waited for the voicemail message. It was the only time he got to hear Alex’s voice these days.

“You know when someone doesn’t answer it’s not usually an invitation to keep calling.” Alex’s voice was raspy and gruff but it was the most beautiful sound Michael had heard in days, if not longer.

“Alex!” He shot up in the bed and nearly dropped the phone. After fumbling with it for a few precious seconds he pressed it to his ear. “You’re okay!”

There was a pause. “Yeah.”

Michael’s heart sped up. “That’s not exactly your reassuring voice, Alex.”

“I’m alive,” Alex told him needlessly. He was talking to him, he could tell he was alive. “Henderson’s not. Elcott’s not. Markle’s not.” Michael listened to Alex take a deep breath. He pressed a fist into his eyes. Henderson and Elcott he had heard of from Alex a bunch, Markle he didn’t know. “My leg’s gone.”

Michael’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“My right leg. It was- they couldn’t save it.” Michael had no idea what to say. “Can we- I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve been talking about it for days, it’s all anyone wants to talk about and I just-”

Michael desperately wanted to talk about it. “Wyatt Long got arrested again yesterday; public indecency.”

Alex’s exhale sounded relieved. “What’d he do?”

“Decided it would be a good idea to take a shower in the high school locker room. During school hours.”

“Why the fu-”

“He was drunk. Thought he was late for football practice. Or at least that’s the story I got from Max. The official story is it was all just a big misunderstanding and the Sheriff’s Department is ‘very sorry’ for the trouble they caused him.”

“Man,” Alex snorted. “Must be nice to own the town.”

“Right?” Michael slowly lowered back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Alex’s voice washed over him. “Some guys just have all the luck.”

Alex hummed. When he didn’t say anything more, Michael launched into another story. And then another one. And another.

It was easily half an hour later, in a lull between Roswell updates, that Alex finally spoke. “I bought a house.”

Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed around it. “Oh yeah? I thought you said you were renting only, that there was no point in trying to settle down when you were just going to have to move again soon.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “But my service is almost up. And with my leg...”

“Right. So, uh, which one’s the lucky city?” How far away was Alex going to be?

“You remember Lily Pierce?” Alex asked suddenly.

Michael furrowed his brow. “Cheerleader? Parents were never home so she always threw the parties?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

“I bought the house two doors down from her place.”

Michael’s heart stuttered. “That’s in Roswell.”

Alex let out a huff. It sounded vaguely amused. “So my realtor said.”

“You bought a house in Roswell?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Michael wasn’t sure how Alex expected him to react to that. “When’s your service up?”

“Not for another year.”

“Captain Manes!” A distant voice scolded. “You’re not supposed to be up!”

“Alex?”

“Shit, Guerin. I’ve gotta go.”

“Alex!” But Alex had already hung up.

---

Michael paced outside the Airstream, phone clenched in his fist as it rang. He counted the rings and answered on the last one.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he greeted.

Alex sighed. “You knew I was back in town.”

“From Isobel!” Michael yelled. He’d found out from a flyer on Isobel’s dining room table denoting a welcome home parade for resident town hero Alex Manes. Not because Alex had bothered to tell him himself.

“I was going to tell you.”

“Clearly.”

Alex was quiet. “You’re angry.”

“Damn right, I’m angry! You blow back into town without a word only to show up at my door with your dad? Alex!”

“Not about that,” Alex dismissed. “You’re upset about that but not this angry.”

He was right, Michael was more angry about everything going on with Max and Liz fucking Ortecho, but that didn’t mean Michael could admit it. “Right,” he scoffed. “Because you know me so well.”

“Okay, I’m not talking to you while you’re like this.”

“Fuck you.”

Alex hung up. Michael’s curses split the air but there was no one around to hear them. He’s not too proud to admit that he threw a minor tantrum, dust kicking up around him as he used his powers on the lawn chairs he hadn’t packed up yet. They went tumbling across the distance until they crashed into the side of his truck.

The loud clang they made when they collided startled him out of his anger. With a disgruntled sigh, he trudged over and grabbed the chairs, folding them up and tossing them in the bed of the truck. He had to pack everything up anyway now that the land had been sold. No point putting them back out.

Once that was taken care of he felt calmer. And slightly ashamed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Alex back.

He answered on the second ring. “You still pissy?”

“Fuck you,” Michael replied. It was decidedly more teasing and less angry than the last time he’d said it. Alex clearly heard the difference.

“Good. What’s up?”

“Just some bullshit with Max thinking he rules the world.”

“The usual, then?”

Michael snorted. “Nah. Little more than the usual. He, uh, he decided to go around sharing secrets that weren’t his.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“It’s a shitty thing to happen.”

“Yeah,” Michael exhaled loudly. “So. You’re back.”

Alex paused. “I’m back.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m finishing up my service and then, well, I’ve got the house, so…”

“How is it?” He’d driven by it once, right after Alex told him he bought it, but he’d never been inside.

“Looks like crap,” Alex laughed. “I should have gotten someone to come clean it. Or, you know, furnish it. I’ve got a bed and one folding chair.”

“You’ve been back for two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

They both fell silent. Michael could tell Alex had something on the tip of his tongue but whatever it was, he didn’t say it.

“You going to the reunion?” Michael finally asked, when the silence had dragged out too long.

“Reunion?”

“Yeah, Izzy put together our ten year reunion. Saturday night? Pretty sure Maria’s going.”

“Uh,” Alex stuttered. “I guess? I haven’t actually been to see Maria yet so it would be a time to catch up, I guess.” Michael definitely didn’t read anything into the fact that Alex hadn’t seen his best friend since coming home either. At least he wasn’t avoiding Michael specifically.

“I’ll text you the details.”

“That’s fine, I can get them from Maria.”

Michael tensed. “Right. Sure.”

“Look, Guerin-” Alex sighed and stopped. “It’s late.” It was always late, with them.

“Yeah, sure. Good night.”

He hung up before Alex could reply, some of that earlier anger still simmering under the surface.

---

Alex stared out at the desert behind his house and fingered his phone in his pocket. He wanted to call Michael but he wasn’t sure he could. Not after how he’d left things earlier.

This was the problem with coming home, he thought idly. They’d made a relationship that worked for them and it worked in part because they didn’t see each other very often. Barely a month in and he’d fucked it up.

After staring into the darkness for too long, Alex gave it up and went to bed. He spent over an hour tossing and turning before accepting that sleep wasn’t coming. At least not easily.

His phone was on the bedside table, easy to reach from the bed. Alex stared at it for a long moment before giving up and unplugging it from the charger. He told himself he was just going to play a game but he wasn’t surprised to find himself pulling up Michael’s contact. He stared at his name until the screen blurred and then he pressed Call.

He didn’t even know what time it was. It might not be late enough for this kind of thing.

Michael answered but didn’t say anything. Alex listened to his breathing for a few minutes, equally unwilling to talk. For once, Michael didn’t take the silence as an invitation to ramble and instead stayed quiet.

“My dad’s a dick,” Alex offered eventually.

“He is,” Michael agreed readily. He didn’t say anything more.

Alex wanted to apologize, wanted to take back what he’d said earlier at the drive-in but the words got caught in his throat. “I’m not scared of him,” he said instead. “I’m not,” he added firmly.

“No one ever said you were,” Michael replied. “No one could.” He made it sound simple, like it was a fact. Alex wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.

The line was quiet again, the silence only broken by the sound of Michael yawning.

Alex closed his eyes. “I don’t care about the copper wire,” he confessed. It came out so quietly he wasn’t sure Michael heard him.

On the other end of the line, Michael let out a breath, long and slow. “I know, Alex.” And then he hung up.

---

Michael sped away from the hospital, trying to leave the image of his broken siblings behind him. Isobel seemed confident that she needed to be there, that it was the only place safe for her, and Michael was trying not to argue with her but he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand needing a door with an exterior lock to feel safe. And Max was half dead on his feet these days and Michael couldn’t deal with them both. He was never supposed to be the strong one.

The sun was shining overhead but Michael pulled out his phone anyway. It rang and rang until eventually he got Alex’s voicemail. He pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it, then called again.

“Guerin,” Alex greeted, his voice hushed. “I have a meeting with a general in less than a minute, can it wait?” Michael let out a shaky breath.

“Captain Manes,” he heard a voice call. It sounded authoritative. “Yes, sir,” Alex replied, his voice faint.

Michael prepared to be hung up on but Alex’s voice was suddenly loud in his ear again. “Guerin?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Yeah, it can wait.” Still, Alex hesitated. “Go to your meeting, Alex,” he urged. “I can wait.”

“Okay,” Alex said slowly. “I’ll call you back when I’m done,” he promised just before the line went dead.

Michael made it home and through two oil changes before his phone rang. He ignored Sanders’ look, wiped his hands, and walked away pressing his phone to his ear. “Hey,” he greeted, knowing who it was without even checking the caller ID. “How was your meeting?”

“Long,” Alex huffed. “Generals are entitled assholes.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. Alex wasn’t overly fond of the Air Force but he was usually respectful of it and the men and women he served with. “Tough day, huh?”

“Could be better,” Alex agreed. “You?”

“Isobel committed herself to the psych ward,” Michael admitted. “She’s been having blackouts for the past couple of weeks and she doesn’t know where she goes or what she does and it’s freaking her out.”

“Can they help her?” Alex asked. He didn’t ask if she was okay or if Michael was and for that Michaelw as grateful. He wasn’t okay and he suspected Alex knew it but they didn’t need to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” Michael exhaled heavily. “But she figured it’s better than waking up in the middle of the desert again.”

“Hmm,” Alex mused. “Waking up the desert with no memory or sleeping in an uncomfortable bed in a locked room you can’t get out of…” Michael pictured him weighing his hands like a scale.

“It makes her feel better,” Michael shrugged. He didn’t get it either but it was Isobel’s call.

“That’s all that matters,” Alex agreed. He paused. “Want to hear about this guy Jones? He stole a developmental vehicle they’re testing out and wrecked it last night and now he’s trying to stop the brass from figuring it out.” It wasn’t how they usually did this, Alex talking his ear off, but it sounded really good right about now.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Tell me about Jones.”

The sun went down while Alex talked and Michael felt the words ease some of the ache in his shoulders. It was nice, he realized, to hear Alex’s voice. It didn’t matter what he said, Michael was tuning most of it out, but it didn’t matter.

---

Alex had just started getting ready for bed when the phone rang. At first, seeing Michael’s name flash on the screen, Alex was tempted to ignore it. He’d spent the entire day waiting for Michael to come home so they could talk only for him not to show up. But it was after midnight and a phone call after midnight was always answered. It was their unspoken rule.

“Guerin,” he answered in a clipped voice.

“He’s dead,” Michael gasped.

Alex froze. “Who’s dead?”

“Max.”

Alex stood up from the bed and started grabbing his things. “Where are you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I dropped Izzy off and I was going home but-”

“Stay there,” Alex told him. He snatched his keys off of the table and yanked the front door open. “I’m coming.”

“Don’t-”

“I’m coming,” Alex repeated firmly as he started the car.

“Don’t hang up,” Michael requested weakly.

Alex closed his eyes briefly as he took off towards Isobel’s house. “I won’t. Michael, I won’t.” And he didn’t. He started humming as he drove, the old chords forever on the tip of his tongue. He’d never managed to put words to them, not in the decade he’d been writing the music, but he knew the melody like the back of his hand.

He made it to Isobel’s house and immediately turned in the direction of Sanders’. It was only five minutes or so before his headlights picked up the familiar form of Michael’s old truck parked on the shoulder. Alex parked behind him and hung up the phone before getting out and hurrying over to Michael’s door.

Michael was staring at his dark phone when Alex reached his window. There was a look of utter confusion on it, like he didn’t know what had happened. He turned that look on Alex when he opened the door. “Alex?”

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

Michael stared at him for a moment longer before he started leaning towards him. Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him awkwardly as Michael planted his face in Alex’s neck. “Max is dead.” Alex was about to ask what happened when Michael continued. “Rosa’s back. He brought her back.”

Alex froze. He genuinely did not know what to say to that.

Michael pawed at the back of his head, his fingers scrabbling at the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “You stopped singing.” His hand felt different than normal but Alex ignored it.

Alex immediately started humming again. Bit by bit, he felt Michael relax against him. The positioning was uncomfortable for both of them but Michael didn’t seem inclined to move and Alex couldn’t bring himself to suggest it. They stood there for the better part of an hour before Michael unfolded himself.

“It’s late,” he remarked. His face was already starting to shutter, his grief from a moment ago hidden away. “You should get home, get some sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Guerin-”

Michael pushed his shoulder gently until Alex took a step back and he could close the door. Alex didn’t stop him as Michael gave him a tiny, crooked smile and a nod in thanks and drove away.

The next time they saw each other, neither said a word about that night, silently agreeing to pretend the last time they’d seen each other was in the Airstream before Max and Noah died and Rosa was resurrected.

---

Michael got lost in the music. His fingers were cramped and his arms were tired and he barely noticed. Every now and then he’d shake out his hand, maybe run the fingers of his right hand across just to convince himself that his eyes weren’t lying, but then he’d go right back to the guitar. He’d stolen it from the Pony a few nights ago and he’d been playing it ever since.

Turns out not everything is like riding a bike. Michael was having to relearn everything, recondition his fingers to work like they’re supposed to, and he was enjoying every second of it. Part of him wanted to keep it to himself, to hoard this kernel of joy and not let the world ruin it like it had ruined everything else, but part of him also ached to share it. To not be alone in this too.

Michael missed a chord and stopped to rub the cramps out of his fingers. A quick glance at his phone showed the time was 1:57am so he unlocked it and called Alex without a second’s thought.

“Guerin?” Alex’s voice was rough with sleep but the worry was evident. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael promised. It was somewhat of a lie, plenty of things were wrong, but nothing at this moment. “Listen.” He put the phone on speaker, set it down next to him, and started to play. It was rough, a far cry from what he used to be able to do, but it was also worlds better than anything he’d done in a decade.

He ran through a few songs, old favorites that he’d first learned in high school, before his fingers took over and started playing something new. Well. Not new.

Over the phone, Alex inhaled sharply in recognition but Michael didn’t stop playing. He’d been listening to this melody for ten years and his fingers knew the notes faster than he could think of them.

Finally, the song came to an end. In its wake there was only silence.

“That’s my song,” Alex said softly. “You played my song.” Michael didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. “You played-” Alex cut himself off. He cleared his throat before continuing, “it sounded amazing, Michael.”

Michael closed his eyes and ducked his head. “It wasn’t,” he objected. He didn’t comment on the rare use of his first name.

“It was,” Alex repeated. “I’ve never played it before.” He quieted. ”I’m glad I could hear you do it.”

Michael squeezed his left hand into his fist, relaxed it, then did it again. “I’m glad I could play it for you,” he replied softly.

They sat in silence for a moment longer. “Okay,” Alex eventually said, at a more normal volume. “Now play Free Bird.”

“Fuck you,” Michael laughed. “Let me work my way up.”

“Fine,” Alex scoffed. “Play Thnks fr th Mmrs.”

Michael rolled his eyes but complied. The only reason he knew it was because Alex had been obsessed with it in high school so he supposed it was only fitting.

They stayed on the phone for a while, Alex making requests and Michael doing his best to fulfill them, before his hand cramped up too much for him to continue.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, just before Michael could hang up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me listen.” He hung up before Michael could think of a reply.

---

Alex eased the car door closed, not wanting to interrupt the quiet night. It wasn’t that late, was actually pretty early if you counted before midnight as early, but Alex kept to his routine anyway. Up ahead, a body lounged against the wall, a dark cowboy hat pulled low. Alex ran his eyes over the familiar form, taking in every detail he could as he came to a stop next to him.

Michael slowly looked up at him. “You came,” he greeted, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“You asked me to,” Alex reminded him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the middle of the night. Michael had called and Alex had answered. It’s what they did.

---

Michael wasn’t sure why (that’s a lie) but he found himself pulling into Alex’s driveway three hours after he’d said goodnight to Maria. She’d asked him to stay over but he’d made some excuse he couldn’t even remember to go back to the Airstream but instead he’d driven around for hours until finding himself here.

At Alex’s house.

They didn’t do this. If they needed each other in the middle of the night, they called. They didn’t show up. Not in the last 18 months since Alex moved back had they done this. But here Michael was.

He got out of his truck and let the door fall closed. It was loud in the quiet night but Michael didn’t care. Alex’s neighbors were far enough away that they shouldn’t be too bothered by it and waking Alex was sort of the whole point of being here. Wasn’t it?

Michael made his way to Alex’s patio, his steps heavy, and dropped into one of his chairs. The metal squeaked across the bricks at the motion but Michael hardly noticed it. He planted his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t long, or maybe it was, before the front door opened and Alex stepped outside. Michael heard him close the door before making his way over to him, his crutches sounding different on the brick.

The chair next to him pulled back and a moment later Alex dropped into it. He set his crutches to the side and placed a bottle of bourbon on the table. Michael glanced at it. It was his favorite brand. Alex hated it.

“Maria has her powers because her family was experimented on at Caulfield,” Michael greeted. “And the more she uses them the more they hurt her. It’s what happened to Mimi. It’s why Mimi gave her a necklace to block her powers.”

He looked up when Alex didn’t say anything and found himself staring at Alex’s stunned face while he processed his words. “She didn’t tell you,” he realized. Alex shook his head. “Shit,” Michael cursed lowly. He’d come here to vent not to drop a bomb on Alex. “Sorry. I figured she would.” Alex shook his head again. His fingers turned white with how hard he was squeezing the arm of his chair.

Michael reached out and gently unhooked his fingers. The second Alex’s hand was free, he twisted in his own and held on tight. He knew how Alex felt about Caulfield, knew he felt guilty for his family’s actions there. He really hadn’t meant to just unload on him like that.

After a short while Alex’s grip on Michael’s hand eased and he started to breathe easier. “Okay,” he said. “What else?”

Michael stilled. “Who said there’s something else?” Alex just looked at him. Michael tried to meet his gaze but he couldn’t, finally relenting, “I don’t want her to use her powers but she wants to. She doesn’t seem to care that it could hurt her or kill her.”

Alex didn’t say anything at first, his grip tightening on Michael’s again though this time it was in comfort. “It’s her life, Guerin,” he finally said. His voice was harder than Michael was used to at this time of night. Michael opened his mouth to reply but Alex talked over him. “It is. Just because you’re dating her does not mean you get to make those choices for her. I’m not saying you have to like it or ignore the issue, but the decision’s hers. Like it or not, it’s not your call.”

Michael yanked his hand away and stood up. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch her self-destruct?”

Alex looked at him evenly. “If that’s what she decides to do? Yes.”

Michael shook his head. “No. That’s not gonna happen.”

“It’s not easy to watch someone self-destruct,” Alex said quietly. His voice still wasn’t any softer. Michael stifled a flinch when he realized what Alex was talking about. “But it’s not your call. Sometimes all you can do is sit back and watch.”

Michael froze, thought about what he’d said, and dismissed it. “No,” he shook his head again. With that, he spun on his heel and went back to his truck.

Alex didn’t call after him.

---

Alex knew where Michael was, knew who was with him right now, and still he called him.

“Hmm,” Michael greeted quietly. In the background, there was a rustle of sheets and Maria’s questioning murmur. Alex forced himself to listen to it as Michael made his way out of his girlfriend’s bedroom.

As Michael wordlessly made his way outside, the quiet click of doors opening and shutting revealing his path, Alex raised the bottle to his lips and took another long sip. He should stop, he knew he should. He’d passed too much at least an hour ago, but he didn’t care.

“Alex?” Michael finally asked. It was otherwise silent on his end.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts?” Alex asked. He was pretty sure he wasn’t slurring but Michael’s next words quickly corrected him.

“You’re drunk.” He didn’t say it like a question because it wasn’t.

“I spent the day with you and your girlfriend,” Alex reminded him. “Yes, I’m drunk.”

“Alex…”

“Just talk,” Alex ordered. He didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Michael, but he needed Michael’s voice in his ear. Over a decade and he’d still never found something that helped even half as much as letting Michael ramble in his ear until his thoughts settled and he could breathe again.

Michael didn’t say anything right away. There was a pause long enough that Alex was almost about to plead with him before Michael got with the program.

“There’s a group of women who like to come by and get their cars fixed any time it’s really hot outside,” he started. “Isobel calls them the Real Housewives of Roswell…”

Alex closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Michael never raised his voice above a murmur, his tone light and gentle, and at some point Alex capped the bottle and set it aside. He let Michael talk for almost two hours (at one point he’s fairly certain Michael started reciting the plot of his latest tv show but Alex wasn’t going to call him on it) until he was cut off by another voice.

“Everything ok?” Maria asked. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Alex hung up before he heard Michael’s answer.

---

Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the sound of the ocean. It was late, very late, and the beach was deserted except for them, and the only sound in the world was that of the waves crashing gently against the sand.

“Heartbreak sucks,” Liz huffed. She was carving smooth circles in the sand around herself with her feet. It was the first thing she’d said since she’d joined Michael an hour before.

Michael hummed questioningly.

She gave him a sad smile and turned to look out at the water. This far out, the only light came from the moon and it made the waves shimmer. “When I first got here, I used to come out here all the time. Used to stare at the water like it held all the answers.” Her laugh was brittle and self-deprecating. “Like the ocean could fix my relationship for me.”

Michael pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them. “I’m not sure it’s that powerful.”

She smiled. “No. But sometimes it feels that way. Like if I spent enough time here it would wash away all of the bad stuff and leave all the good. All the parts that love Max enough to fix are problems.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “I get that.”

Liz bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’ll be okay, Mikey. If you and Maria are meant to be, you will be. It’s just a few rough patches.”

Michael couldn’t help himself, he laughed. Liz stared at him in surprise. “Yeah, no, Maria and I are done. It’s not a rough patch.”

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. And so does she. We’re not meant for each other, no matter that we love each other.”

Liz frowned and shifted over to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Michael hummed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to agree with her, even though he knew that’s what she was probably expecting. Maria had done the right thing ending things between them. He’d tried to deny it at first but he’d quickly come to accept it. They really weren’t meant for each other. Maria was meant for better men than him and he was meant for one specific person. The rest of the world paled in comparison and Michael had finally stopped denying it. To himself at least.

“You’ll find someone,” Liz assured him. “You deserve to be happy, Michael.”

Michael smiled. “So do you. Even if it is with my idiot brother.”

Liz’s lips quirked upwards but she didn’t say anything. They sat in silence watching the waves for a while before Liz sat up with a groan. “I need sleep.” Michael sat where he was as she stumbled to her feet and held out her hand. “You coming?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m good here. Not like I have to work in the morning,” he teased.

Liz gave him a searching look before shrugging. “You know the way back, right?” Michael nodded and she left. He heard her trudging through the sand behind him until she hit the road.

When the sound of her car had faded into the night, Michael dug his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

“How’s California?”

“I like the ocean,” Michael replied. “It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” Alex agreed. “I always felt small, though. Standing on a beach. The entire world out there in front of you and you can’t see any of it because there’s just water.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.”

“How’s Liz?”

“She’s good. Obsessed with her work. Misses Max for some reason.”

Alex laughed. “Can’t imagine why she’d do that.”

“I can,” Michael confesses, the night giving him courage. “I miss you.”

Alex inhaled sharply. “Guerin-”

“Hey, it’s after midnight, doesn’t count, right?” Michael cut him off. He wasn’t ready for the big conversation just yet.

“No lies after midnight,” Alex reminded him.

“Who said I was lying?” The next wave brushed dangerously close to his toes. Michael didn’t move. There was a voice on the other end of the phone, faint but recognizable. “Is that Forrest?”

“...yeah,” Alex muttered. “Hold on.” There was a shift and then the sound was muffled like Alex had covered the receiver. “‘Night,” Michael heard him say, followed by what sounded like a kiss.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Forrest asked.

“No, I’ve got an early morning,” Alex hedged. “No point.”

“Okay.” Another kiss. “Good night.”

Michael waited until he heard the door close and the sound cleared up before speaking. “Not up to sleepovers, yet?”

“No,” Alex replied. Michael wasn’t sure if it was an answer or an order but either way Alex’s tone left no room for discussion so Michael dropped it. Problem was, he didn’t know what else to say. The mood from earlier was gone. Alex cleared his throat. “I miss you too.”

Michael felt his lips turn up in a helpless smile. “Yeah?”

Alex hummed. “I’ve kinda been wanting to show you the ocean for years now. I’m a little annoyed I didn’t get to.”

“Well,” Michael swallowed. “I hear there’s an entirely different ocean on the other side of the country.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Just something to consider.”

“Good to know.”

Silence fell over them again. Normally this is when Alex would start humming but Michael wasn’t sure he could take it right now. Not now that he knew the words to go with the song.

“Night, Alex,” he finally said. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Good night, Michael.”

They hung up. Michael stared at his phone, trying hard not to think about how much softer Alex had sounded telling him good night than when he’d said it to Forrest. It wouldn’t do him any good to compare himself to Alex’s boyfriend. Their time was now. His and Alex’s would come. He believed that.

He had to.

---

Forrest snuffled and reached for him as he got out of bed. Alex paused and waited to make sure he hadn’t woken up before he grabbed his crutches and hauled himself upright.

Navigating out of his bedroom in the dark with his phone tucked under his chin and both crutches in his hands while trying not to wake up the man sleeping in his bed was harder than he’d anticipated but Alex managed it. In the hallway, he paused just long enough to ease the door closed behind him before making his way outside.

It was late, late enough that Alex almost expected to see the beginnings of the dawn on the horizon, but he hadn’t been able to sleep yet. Tonight was the first time Forrest had stayed over, the first time Alex had had to share his bed with someone other than Michael for longer than a few hours, and he wasn’t dealing with it as well as he’d hoped he would.

He didn’t even hesitate before he called Michael.

“Alex?” Michael sounded groggy.

“Fuck you,” Alex replied. He dug the palm of his free hand into his eye.

“What did I do now?” He sounded simultaneously wide awake and more tired than he had a moment before.

“He’s not you.”

“Alex-”

“You got to move on, why can’t I? Why can’t I make this work? Why can’t I be with someone who’s not you?”

“Alex-”

Alex hung up.

---

It was late when Alex showed up at the Airstream. The fire was mostly embers and Michael was on his second and last beer of the night. When Alex got out of his car, Michael put his beer down and stood to greet him. He meant to meet him halfway but Alex was quicker on his feet and met Michael before he’d gotten more than a handful of steps. The last gasps of the fire provided little light but what light there was danced across Alex’s face.

“It’s late,” Michael greeted. He’d been back from California for almost two weeks and this was the first time Michael had seen him since then.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He looked at Michael with a strange look in his eyes. If Michael didn’t know any better he’d say Alex came here for a reason. A very specific reason that didn’t involve a lot talking. “It’s almost four.” He stared at Michael until Michael got it. What happened in the early hours before dawn, when the night was at its peak, didn’t count. They’d scraped together a decade long relationship on that premise alone. The secrets, the fears, the hopes, the dreams, anything confessed across a phone line when the moon was high in the sky, didn’t count. Not really. Sure, lately they’d expanded that to in person conversations but Alex wasn’t here for a conversation and he wanted the same rules to apply. What happened between them at this time of night only existed in the here and now. It didn’t carry over into the daylight.

Michael knew it was probably a bad idea. As they’d both said many a time, their relationship involved too much sex and too little talking when they were actually together and that had been their downfall. They were doing better lately but they weren’t there yet and Michael had no idea how introducing sex would impact them now. And that didn’t even take into account the fact that Alex still had a boyfriend who wasn’t Michael. But if Alex wasn’t going to mention that part, neither was Michael. He took one careful step towards Alex. “So it is,” he agreed.

Alex waited a second, searching his face for confirmation, before he lunged forward and kissed him. His hands went straight to Michael’s hair, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck while Michael clutched at his waist and pressed them as close together as they could possibly be.

They lost themselves in each other for long enough that when Michael finally pulled back to catch a breath, even the embers had died off. Alex trailed his lips down his neck and found that one spot that drove Michael crazy. The spot that no one else had ever found. “Alex,” he moaned. Alex’s only reaction was to start leading Michael backwards until his back hit the side of the Airstream with a gentle thud. Michael braced himself against it, cupped Alex’s face and pulled his lips back up to his.

Michael lost his shirt and his boots right there and Alex’s shirt found its way to the ground as they maneuvered the two steps it took to get to the door. They had to separate to get inside and Michael felt like he could hardly breathe during those few seconds. When Alex was finally inside, Michael pulled him close. It made walking back to the bed difficult but neither attempted to pull away again.

When they finally did, Alex didn’t go far. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his prosthetic for long enough that Michael decided to press his luck. “Stay,” he asked softly. Alex’s shoulders tensed and his eyes closed. “It’s still dark out,” Michael pointed out. “Sun’s not gonna come up for hours.”

That made Alex look back at him and Michael couldn’t help but kiss him again, his fingers sliding through Alex’s sweaty hair to hold him close. “Stay.”

Alex pulled away again to fish his phone out of his pants and set an alarm but then he was back in Michael’s arms. He still hadn’t said more than five words since he showed up but Michael didn’t care. Not yet anyway.

Whether or not either of them got any sleep was a question neither was inclined to ask nor answer but when Alex’s alarm went off just as the sky was starting to lighten outside his window, neither moved. They stayed where they were, Alex half on top of Michael, his fingers reaching up to tangle in his curls. Michael was busy trailing a finger up and down Alex’s arm.

Eventually, though, the sky got light enough to force Alex into action. “Sun’s up,” he murmured. He paused and considered the view out the window. “Well. Almost.” He kissed Michael, slow and thorough, before pulling away completely.

Michael watched silently as Alex got dressed. When Alex was ready, sans his shirt which was still outside, he stopped and considered Michael still laying in the bed. With another glance out the window, he leaned down and kissed Michael one last time before turning and leaving without another word.

---

Michael didn’t hear from Alex for days after the night they spent together. It wasn’t too surprising nor was it unusual; their calls had never been an overly frequent occurrence and their paths didn’t cross in town much. But still, it made Michael antsy. He knew the point of it was that they wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t even mention it, but dammit, Michael had questions. He needed to know what it meant, both in the present and for the future, and whether or not he should be prepared for it to happen again.

He was still trying to figure out to bring it up with Alex when the opportunity dropped into his lap. Liz’s welcome back party at the Crashdown started five minutes ago and he was running late. After spending too long searching for a parking space, he hurried around the corner to the diner only to find Alex and Forrest just ahead of him. Alex’s shoulders were tense and there was a careful distance between the two men but they were still clearly together.

“Alex,” Michael called before he could stop himself. Alex froze in his tracks as Forrest turned to greet Michael. Michael nodded at Forrest in hello and waited for Alex to turn around. He eventually did, at first not quite looking at him before clearly forcing himself to meet his eyes.

“Guerin,” he greeted. “We’re all late,” he reminded them as he started to take careful steps towards the diner entrance. Forrest offered Michael a strained smile before following him and suddenly Michael was done.

He took his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

The ringtone sounded loud and sharp and Forrest looked at Alex in surprise. “Since when do you have the volume on?”

Alex put a hand on his pocket over his phone and didn’t answer. They all stood there as Alex waited for the phone to stop ringing. Taking mercy on him, Michael ended the call, watched Alex’s shoulders relax, and called again.

This time, Alex had a hand on the door when his phone went off and his knuckles went white around it. “Are you going to answer that?” Forrest asked.

Alex sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. “Not now,” was all he said, his voice echoing through Michael’s phone, before hanging up and trying to tuck it away again.

Michael called him back.

Alex let out an actual groan of frustration before turning around. “Forrest, we’ll meet you inside.” Forrest looked between them before nodding slowly and stepping around Alex and into the diner. When the door shut behind him Alex led Michael around the corner and across the street for a modicum of privacy.

“It’s daytime,” Alex pointed out.

Michael looked up at the sun shining above them and nodded. “I thought that’s what the sun meant.”

“Michael,” Alex huffed. “What do you need, right now?”

“Answers,” Michael replied simply.

“It was 4am,” Alex reminded him. “What happens at 4am stays there. We don’t talk about it, we don’t ask questions, we don’t fucking bring it up in the middle of the day.”

“Maybe we should.”

“No.” Alex shook his head. “You don’t get to change the rules now.”

“I’m not trying to change the rules! I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?!” Alex shot back. “It was a 4am thing. It doesn’t mean anything.” Michael was stunned silent and Alex took advantage of it to walk past him. “We’re late for Liz’s lunch.”

Michael shook his head and spun. “It meant something!” Michael yelled after him. Alex stopped in his tracks. Just ahead, their friends turned the corner, clearly looking for them but Michael ignored them. “Of course it meant something, Alex, it always means something! And I am sick and tired of us pretending that it doesn’t.” Alex turned slowly to face him as Michael closed the distance between them. “Every single phone call,” he said quietly but earnestly. “They meant something. They mean something.” He shook his head. “They’re not nothing,” he pleaded gently.

“They’ve never been nothing,” Alex agreed softly.

A weight lifted off his chest and Michael breathed a little easier. “Maybe I am trying to change the rules but I think the rules need to change,” Michael said. “We can’t not talk about those things. About-”

“Michael-” Alex cut him off.

“Alex.”

Alex turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder and Michael was suddenly reminded of their audience. Forrest, Kyle, Maria, and Liz were standing on the corner staring at them. “Now’s not the time,” Alex finished.

Suddenly, the last thing Michael wanted to do was sit through a lunch with all their friends and Alex’s boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He stepped around Alex, careful not to touch him, and walked over to their friends. He greeted Liz with a quick hug. “Welcome home, Liz. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to miss your lunch.”

“We’ll do something another time,” Liz agreed easily. He nodded at her and crossed the street to his truck, pulling away before anyone could even think of calling after him.

---

Alex heard Michael pull away and didn’t move. He waited until three sets of footsteps walked away and he knew there was only one person left behind him. Still, he hesitated before turning around.

“So,” Forrest started. “I think it’s safe to say this thing between us has run its course.”

“Forrest,” Alex started but Forrest held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, Alex. I knew we weren’t going to last forever. But we had some good times and I don’t regret it.”

“I didn’t want it to end like this,” Alex told him sincerely.

Forrest cocked his head slightly. “Where did you go three nights ago?” Alex looked away. “It was the first night you agreed to stay over at my place but you disappeared for hours, snuck back in after sunrise. Where’d you go, Alex?” His voice was soft with understanding but Alex heard the hurt in it.

He couldn’t lie. “I went to Michael.”

Forrest nodded like it was exactly what he expected to hear. “Wasn’t just a chat was it?” Alex shook his head. “He’s who you’re meant to be with.”

“Forrest, this was real.” Alex needed him to know.

“I know it was. But I’m not Michael Guerin so it was never going to work.” Alex didn’t know what to say to that except-

“I’m sorry.”

Forrest swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “See you around Alex.”

And then he was gone.

Alex tried really hard to convince himself the next breath he took wasn’t one of relief and he couldn’t quite succeed.

He took a moment to pull himself together and followed after him. Only, when he turned the corner it was Liz leaning up against the wall with Forrest nowhere in sight.

“Let me guess. You’re skipping out on my lunch, too?” She didn’t look too upset about it so Alex didn’t feel too bad when he nodded. She huffed a small laugh and shook her head. “You two are a mess.”

“Don’t worry, we’re well aware,” Alex assured her.

She smirked. “I’m sure you are.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “Mikey took off that way so I don’t think he’s headed back to the scrapyard.” Alex looked down the street in the direction she indicated and knew immediately where Michael had gone. “Hey,” Liz put her hand on his arm to get his attention. “Don’t fuck it up this time, yeah? Either of you.”

“We’ll do our best.” He gave her a quick hug and a promise to meet up later and hurried away to his own car.

It was a relatively short drive out to their spot and Alex made it shorter.

Michael’s truck was in the same spot it had always been and Alex parked next to it. He didn’t see Michael but he wasn’t too worried. Alex rounded the car and pulled the liftgate down to reveal Michael sprawled on his back in the truck bed.

“Should I have called?” Alex asked.

Michael opened his eyes and looked at him. “No,” he replied. “I think we need to get used to doing this the old fashioned way.” He held out a hand and helped Alex get up next to him, moving only slightly to give Alex room.

“Forrest broke up with me,” Alex announced.

“Oh?”

Alex hummed. “Asked me where I went three nights ago and then told me we were never going to work because he’s not Michael Guerin.” Michael didn’t say anything. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Michael shifted so they were looking at each other. “Are we ready now? I know I am.”

“I just got out of a relationship twenty minutes ago,” Alex reminded him.

“So is that a no?”

Alex sighed and looked up at the clouds. “No. It’s an ‘I wish I was a better person’.”

Michael gripped the front of Alex’s shirt and tugged lightly until Alex looked at him. “So are we doing this?”

“What is this?” Alex asked, needing clarification or rather needing there to be no confusion.

“This. Us. For real. No more walking away. No more hiding behind middle of the night phone calls. No more seeing other people. Just us.”

Alex rolled over onto his shoulder so he could look down at Michael. “For good?”

“That is the idea.” Michael’s eyes were more serious than Alex could ever remember seeing them.

“Good. But no fuck ups, okay?” Alex put his hand to Michael’s chest. “We go all in, I’m not sure either of us will recover from it going bad.”

Michael wrapped an arm around Alex’s back, his other hand going to Alex’s cheek. “We won’t. It may not be perfect all the time but we’re not going to fuck it up.” Alex took the words for the solemn vow they were and kissed him.

---

Epilogue

Michael had no idea what the fight was about. He wasn’t even sure it was actually about anything. They’d both been stressed for days about different things and they hadn’t had much time together and suddenly they were shouting at each other over the dishes.

He watched Alex storm away and part of him felt relieved. It had been going too well for months now and he had to admit he’d been waiting for something like this to happen.

When Alex didn’t come back after a few minutes, Michael finished up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. That done, he crossed the empty house to the living room and picked up Alex’s guitar. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the silence in case it led to another fight somehow but he couldn’t sit around doing nothing so he started picking his way carefully through one of the new songs he was learning, taking it slow and playing quietly.

When the song under his fingers turned into Alex’s song a few minutes later, he wasn’t surprised. Ever since he figured out how to play it, it was one of his favorites, his body long used to relaxing to the melody.

As the last chords echoed in the room (he may have been playing louder than he meant to), his phone started ringing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Alex’s face on the screen. Setting the guitar down, he answered.

“Too loud?”

“No,” Alex replied. “Can you-” he cut himself off with a groan. “Can you just-”

The last of the tension slipped from him as he settled back against the couch and started rambling about his week. Halfway through, Alex stepped inside from the back patio and hung up. Michael let his phone drop as Alex curled up next to him on the couch but he never stopped talking. When he ran out of things to say, Alex took up the slack and filled him in on his own week.

The sun went down around them and Michael didn’t notice.

“Hey,” Alex sat up once he’d finished and they’d enjoyed a few moments of quiet. “No fair using my own song against me.”

Michael smirked. “Whatever works. But truthfully, I was playing it for myself. For some reason I’m practically conditioned to relax when I hear it.”

“Oh really?” Alex hummed, a smirk tugging at his own lips. “Wonder why.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”

#malex fic #my fic #rnm #long post #does contain minor/mentions of miluca and forlex and alex cheats on forrest with michael #so warning for that i guess

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rainy-day-gracie · 5 years ago

Text

Refuge

Spencer Reid x Reader

Hello! This kinda took a while to write but I’m proud of the final draft :)

Reader is in an abusive relationship and starts an affair with Spencer. (Loosely based on Jim and Pam from The Office)

Warnings: domestic abuse, implied smut, mild language

Just a lot of fluff and angst:))

One look at my face in the office, and Spencer could tell something was wrong. He didn’t ask me right away, but during lunch he pulled me aside gently.

“What’s going on with you?”

I desperately tried to keep tears back. “It’s Landon… he’s drinking again. He hasn’t hit me, but I’m just afraid if he keeps drinking he will. Last night I tried to talk to him about it… he just screamed at me and passed out on the couch.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and pulled me into an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry you have to go through that, YFN. I’m always going to be here for you if you want to talk.”

I sniffled into his shoulder. “We’ve been engaged for two years, and he keeps dodging the conversation of setting a wedding date… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled away to check.

Hey babe I’m sorry about last night. Could we talk about it at dinner later?

Spencer saw my phone and gave me a smile. “See, he wants to work through things. It’ll be okay.”

I smiled back at him and tried not to dwell on the tinge of sadness I saw in his eyes.

A few weeks had passed since my conversation with Spencer, and things with Landon hadn’t gotten any better.

“You bitch! My drinking is my choice! Why do you control everything I do?” The beer bottle smashed against the cabinet near my head, and I flinched away from him.

“Please, stop. You’re scaring me.” Tears bit the corners of my eyes, and Landon calmed down.

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Please stay.”

It came to the point where I had no idea what to do, and I was constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing around him.

Spencer could tell, hell, everyone probably could tell. But he didn’t say anything for a while, and I appreciated that.

Every so often we all go to Rossi’s for a nice dinner, and Landon refused to come with me.

“Why do you always choose them over me?” Landon asked as I was getting ready. The classy dark green dress I was wearing hugged my figure, and he grabbed my hips and spun me around to face him. “I just wanna stay in with you. Have a few drinks, spend some time together?”

I pulled away from him and smiled nervously. “I rarely have a night out with the team, I’ll be back before midnight.”

His easy smile faded and he left the bathroom fuming. “You better be.”

The team sat in Rossi’s backyard, laughing and drinking and having a great time. I sat next to Spencer, who spoke on and on about anything and everything.

Emily put her hand on my shoulder, smiling. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Where’s your fiance?”

I tried to not let my smile falter. “Um… he’s not feeling too well.”

Spencer cast me a glance, but didn’t say anything. “We would love to meet him sometime, YFN.” For some reason, his voice sounded almost sad. Maybe it was just in my head.

The night stretched on, and we all went onto the makeshift dance floor Rossi keeps in his backyard. I stayed on the side, watching and laughing as Derek and Penelope broke out some scandalous dance moves. I felt a presence next to me, and Spencer cleared his throat.

“How’s Landon?”

Only constantly drinking, angry and full of hatred. “It’s… rough. At home. Landon’s been having a tough time at work, and feels the need to take the edge off when he gets home. It’s been happening more and more over the past few weeks. But once things settle down at his work it’ll be okay.”

Spencer didn’t look too convinced. “I just want you to be okay. Just… remember you can always talk to me, alright?”

I looked him in the eyes. He was genuinely concerned about my well being, and for some reason that touched me in a way that made my heart flutter. A kind of feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you. That really means a lot, Spencer.”

He smiled. That damn beautiful smile. “Um, do you wanna dance?”

I lifted my head, slightly confused. “What?”

Spencer looked out into the crowd of our team, dancing away happily. “Well, everyone is dancing, so maybe we should too?”

I smiled shyly. “Yeah, sure. Let’s dance.”

The tune turned into a slower song, and Spencer rested a hand on my waist and held my hand against his chest. I placed my other hand on his shoulder, and rested my head against his heartbeat. We swayed softly, and I timed my steps to the beat of his heart. I could feel him smiling as he looked down by my shoulder.

“What’re you smiling about, Spencer?” I asked softly.

“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

I smiled to myself, and couldn’t help the thought that came to me.

I can’t remember the last time Landon said I looked beautiful.

Landon was going to be pissed. I pulled into our driveway just before 2 AM, and I had called him at 11 to let him know I was going to be late.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw him, hammered and fuming, sitting at our kitchen table. He didn’t say a word as he slammed his beer bottle on the ground and shoved me into the closed front door.

“Do I mean nothing to you! I deserve better than a lying bitch that blows me off for her coworkers!”

His nose was touching mine and the scent of alcohol on his breath was nearly suffocating. “Landon, get off me so we can talk about this!”

“Oh, now you wanna talk? You didn’t wanna talk when you called me to say that you would be late!” His rough hands gripped my shoulders, and after a moment he slammed his knuckles against my cheek. I shrieked as he punched me in the stomach and kicked me to the ground while I was off balance.

I couldn’t remember the number of times he kicked me, but the first chance I got, I was running into my car and started driving.

After a while, I ended up at Spencer’s apartment. I knocked on the door weakly, and he answered in his PJs, looking very confused. “YFN…” he trailed off when he saw my swollen eye.

He let me change out of my dress and gave me one of his CalTech sweatshirts and old sweatpants. When I came out of the bathroom I saw that he had a bag of ice sitting on his kitchen counter next to a bowl of ice cream. Spencer was looking through his many shelves of books, seeming to search for one.

“What are you doing?” My voice was soft, like I was afraid Landon would hear if I spoke too loud.

“One time you mentioned that you liked Harry Potter, and I know I have it on my shelf somewhere… Aha!” He walked over to me with a very worn copy of the first Harry Potter book in his hand. A tear fell down my cheek and I smiled up at him, and he blushed. “Reading always helps me escape.”

“Thank you.” My lip quivered, and more tears fell down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Spencer.”

At that moment, he looked so sweet and loving. The complete opposite of Landon. Messy brown hair, a cut glass jawline, and the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I kissed him. It was quick, and impulsive, and stupid.

But it felt good.

When I pulled away, Spencer seemed to be in a daze. I immediately tried to backtrack. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-’’

When he kissed me again, it didn’t feel stupid anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands moved to my ribs, which had already started to bruise. When I whimpered, he pulled away instantly.

He took a step back, looking at me questioningly. “I thought he just hit you. What else did he do?”

I gulped. “He shoved me into the wall and knocked me down. Um, he kicked me… a lot.”

Spencer looked sad, but there was something else. He was angry, angry that someone hurt me. “Are you really going to marry him?”

My answer came to my lips and didn’t even have to think. “No.”

Spencer just looked at me, extremely relieved. “Good.”

He kissed me again, with a hunger I had never seen from him before. I realized I was kissing him with the same hunger, like I had been deprived of a needed sustenance.

In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t kissing him because Landon hit me. I was kissing him because I love Spencer more than I ever loved Landon. Spencer knew me better than anyone, he knew my fears, he knew my strengths, he knew the big things and the little things. And I knew the same things about him.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation.

Spencer Reid was my refuge.

I didn’t go back home after that.

The next few days at work were quiet and relatively uneventful. I had decided to let Landon cool off before going to break off the engagement.

What I didn’t think would happen was him walking into the BAU with a gun and a temper.

The second he pulled the gun out, the team immediately aimed every weapon we had at him.

“YFN! You’re coming with me, let’s go!” He didn’t raise the gun in his hand, so we had no reason to shoot… yet.

Spencer answered before I did. “No she’s not. She’s never going home with you again, Landon.”

Landon glared at Spencer. “What do you know, you son of a bitch?”

Spencer’s lips curled ever so slightly, a devilish look coming to him. “Where do you think she would go all those lonely nights you were drunk?”

I saw what he was doing, and I hated him for it. Spencer was taking Landon’s attention off of me, trying to get Landon to point the gun at him. I shot Spencer a warning look, but he didn’t pay attention.

A look of angry confusion crossed Landon’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Spencer huffed a laugh, never once lowering his weapon. “She told me all about your inability to perform. I thought I would show her… in my kitchen, in my car, in my bed.”

None of this was true, at least not the kitchen or car part, but I couldn’t help but admire Spencer for putting himself on the line. At the same time I was terrified of what would happen if Landon raised that gun.

Landon was fuming, his face turning red. “You shut up!”

Spencer continued, a hint of a smile on his face. “She told me she’s never screamed so loud for anyone else.”

“I said shut up!” Landon raised the gun ever so slightly, and I didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his shoulder. Morgan cuffed the pathetic excuse of a man cussing and shouting on the floor of the BAU.

Spencer’s arms came and wrapped around my shoulders, and I hugged him back in a daze.

“Holy shit.”

Spencer laughed into my shoulder. “I know. You’re okay.”

I pulled away and cupped his cheeks with my hands. “Thank you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “For what? I was just trying to protect you.”

I smiled, tears in my eyes. “Thank you for always being my refuge, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine

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rocksandrobots · 4 years ago

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 39 - Finale (Part 1)

(note: This is only the season one finale, not the end of the series)

A fast yellow blur sped along its way; knocking out cars, smashing through brick walls, and plowing down trees as the mysterious speeding streak caused destruction in its wake. Though it was not out of any intentional malice that the human wrecking ball caused such vast property damage, it's just that the superhuman speedster didn't know how to control his powers fully.

The muscle bound hulk finally came to a screeching stop right outside of the maximum security facility, causing a trench to form as he slammed on the breaks of his high powered roller skates.

"Ok Stu, you got this! You're dressed to impress! You smell great! And everyone says you're as smart as a bag of hammers! So what could possibly go wrong?"

The villain finished hyping himself up as he looked towards the jail. He then punched his fists together and took off like a flash, barreling towards the concrete walls at breakneck speeds. He crashed through the barricade and kept on going; smashing through walls as if they were cardboard. He didn't stop until he reached the cell he was looking for.

"Hi Nana!" He loudly proclaimed in a childlike manner as he busted down the wall and saw the elderly lady dressed in an orange jumpsuit laying on the cell bunk.

"Stu!" The woman gave a large smile and came over to give the overgrown galoot a hug. "My what a good grandson you are, bustin' your poor old granny out of jail."

"Awe, I try." Stu said as he blushed and sheepishly grinned. "Anything for you Nana."

He handed his grandmother the knapsack on his back. She eagerly opened it and pulled out a pair of rocket skates same as the ones he was wearing.

"Oh yeah! Supersonic Sue is back in business, baby!" The woman laughed and then sweetly asked of her grandchild as she put on the stakes, "Oh, however did you come up with such a clever escape plan, sugar plum?"

"Well, I wish I could claim all the credit, but I kinda got help from one of your old supervillain buddies. They gave me the new gear." He handed her a note and then quickly added, "But I'm the one who thought to smash the walls with my noggin!" He knocked on the top of his helmet with his knuckles.

Sue gave him an encouraging smile and a pat on the cheek before reading the note. "Dear Sue, hope you're doing well. Do you mind picking up for me a certain prisoner on your way out? He's being kept in the solitary detention block…."

"Welp, looks like we need to make a little detour before finishing our escape, Pookie." She chirped as she finished strapping on her own helmet. "After all, I'd hate to disappoint an old friend."

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

"Ok, bathing suit, sandals, change of clothes, uh… Am I forgetting anything?" Aunt Cass asked as she gathered up her suitcases.

"Don't forget your sunblock." Varian helpfully said handing her the bottle of coconut smelling cream.

"Oh thank you. Yes."

"Hey, Tracy just pulled up." Hiro shouted from the other room, and as if to confirm this a car horn sounded from below, blaring out La Cucaracha.

Aunt Cass half heartedly rolled her eyes at her friend's over eagerness and tried to carry everything out of the room and down the stairs in one go. Varian followed behind her picking up whatever she dropped and stuffing it back into pockets of her purse.

"Now you both know what to do while I'm gone." She instructed the boys as she scurried out into the currently empty cafe. "No wild parties, no sneaking out past midnight, no tinkering with the appliances...The café is only open for breakfast tomorrow and Wasabi will be over to help with that, oh and there's dinners already made up in the fridge if you don't want to cook later. And if anything goes wrong…"

"Call Officer Cruz or Professor Granville," Hiro finished for her. "We know Aunt Cass."

"Right, and Krei's promised to bring over pizza later tonight and check up on you two, so no giving him a hard time. He's been very gracious in giving me this trip and for helping out wherever he can. Okay?"

"Don't worry about a thing, Aunt Cass." Varian assured her. "We got everything under control."

Just then the car horn sounded out again reminding Cass to hurry up. She ran to the coat rack where the keys hung up and took one pair for herself and handed another to Varian.

"You're in charge of opening up at six," she told him, "and making sure the doors are all locked before going to bed. Have the café closed by noon. Also don't forget the upstairs dishes, make sure to feed Mochi and Ruddiger, and if you can get around to vacuuming that'll be great."

"Got it." He nodded and then Aunt Cass turned her attention to her other child.

"Hiro, I know you're already helping Varian and Wasabi tomorrow, but I also need you to take out the trash, clean your room, and do the laundry before I get back."

Hiro protested this. "The laundry?" He whined. "Oh please Aunt Cass I'll do anything else. Let me clean out the rain gutters instead."

"Okay, you can clean the gutters, and do the laundry." Aunt Cass said with a tone to her voice that told him this wasn't a matter up for discussion. She slipped on her jacket and put the keys in her pocket before stopping and staring out at the middle distance as she tried to remember what it was she was forgetting.

"You left your phone on the charger upstairs." Hiro answered for her.

"Oh, right." She exclaimed as she ran up to get it.

"I don't get you man," Varian said as she ran off. "You have a machine that literally washes clothes for you. What's so bad about doing laundry?"

"Have you smelled your socks?! A person needs a gas mask just to get near them."

Varian screwed up his face, fully offended. "Please, you're just looking for any excuse to get out of doing house work. You got it easy here, and you don't even know it. Try milking a goat every morning for ten years and then come complaining to me about washing socks."

"Boys, boys," Aunt Cass soothed as she reentered the room and placed an arm around each of her kids' shoulders. "Can you please, more than anything, just get along? For my sake hun? I'll only be gone for three days and I would very much prefer it if I didn't have to come home early because you two decided to start world war three in my house."

Both teens looked away sheepishly at that request, before mumbling their agreement apologetically.

"Thank you." She said before getting misty eyed and wrapping them into a group hug. "Oooh I'm going to miss you both so much."

The car horn sounded a third time interrupting the family moment.

"You better get going before Trace leaves without you." Hiro joked.

"Okay, Okay." She gave them each a kiss on the cheek before grabbing her things and heading out the door.

"I love you! I'll bring you both back souvenirs." She called after them as she loaded up the car.

"We love you too Aunt Cass." Hiro said as he and Varian stood at the door and waved goodbye to her.

She stuck her head out the car window and shouted, "I'll call you when I get there!" As the vehicle sped away.

"Bye, have a safe trip!" Varian shouted back and continued to wave until she and the car were out of sight.

Once their aunt was gone Hiro gave Varian a confused look and asked, "Did you really have to milk a goat?"

Varian rolled his eyes and walked back inside instead of dignifying the question with an answer.

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

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Hiro went ahead and finished up his list of chores with Baymax's help, while Varian made sure everything in the cafe was stocked and ready to open for tomorrow. He baked a coffee cake, some blueberry muffins, and a batch of biscotti for the breakfast rush.

"That way I don't have to wake up before sunrise to make donuts." He explained to Hiro as he fixed them a couple of tuna fish sandwiches for lunch.

Aunt Cass called soon after to let them know she had made it safe to the spa. She was full of nervous questions about what they were up to and how things were going at the Luck Cat without her. The boys reassured her everything was fine for what felt like the bajillionth time that day. However she was still reluctant to let them go and it took Tracy threatening her with a dunk in the pool to get her to hang up.

"I swear Cass you're going to lighten up and have fun on this trip even if I have to force you!" The boys heard the nasally woman yell over the phone.

Finally free to their own devices they spent the rest of the day lazing about. With the finals done both teens had to find new things to take up their free time. Hiro tried to reach the leaderboards on his video game, Mind Smith Turbo 3, while Varian read a new book that Karmi had given him; A Crease in Time.

Krei did show up at around nine as promised, pizza boxes in tow.

"Sorry I'm late, the pizzas might be cold, but I just couldn't get the Maharaja off the phone. I'm trying to get new investors and trade deals don't make themselves, am I right?" He chuckled at his own joke even though both boys knew nothing about stocks and trade.

Hiro grabbed the pizza boxes from the tycoon only to turn his nose up at the pineapple and anchovy pizza within. Fortunately for him there was also plain cheese in the second box.

Keri stuck around for dinner and they watched a movie together. As they finished watching an old western that Keri had picked out, one that admittedly turned out to be more engaging than Hiro thought it would be, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Hiro said as he walked backwards from the room, his eyes never leaving the tv. It was at the climax and the hero was about to face down his sworn enemy in a shootout. Hiro's steps instinctively timed to the actors own as the sidekick counted down the paces, "10, 9, 8,... "

Hiro tilted his head around the corner of the banister as he made his way down stairs, then he heard the bang of the gun shots. Only no one fell down. The villain hugged his wounded hand as the hero stood there, gun still raised.

"Well what are you waiting for?!" The scoundrel bitterly yelled back, "End it!"

The camera hovered over the stone faced marshal and his still raised gun, only Hiro never got to see the protagonist's final decision as the person at the door took to banging on it instead finally gaining his attention.

It was Chief Cruz at the door.

"Hi Hiro, is your aunt here?" He asked. He tried to sound nonchalant but Hiro could tell that the man was on edge.

"Sorry no, she's on vacation to that spa remember?"

"Oh right… then who is here watching you two?"

Hiro tried to suppress an eye roll. Officer Cruz was just as bad as Aunt Cass was sometimes with being over protective, arguably even more so. "Krei is "babysitting" tonight."

Cruz raised a skeptic eyebrow but declined to comment on his rival being in his crush's home. "Then can I speak with him then?"

"Sure." Hiro hesitantly said and ran back upstairs to get the businessman, wondering all the while what was going on.

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

Both Hiro and Varian huddled in the kitchen by the swinging door of the café as they listened in on Cruz and Krei's conversation.

"You wanted to see me?" Krei asked.

"Yes, I came by to inform Cass of the news but this probably concerns you as well." Chief sighed before cutting to the case. "Callaghan escaped prison today."

There was an awkward silence as the news sunk in. Hiro felt his own heart race as his grip on the door tightened.

"How?" Was all Keri asked.

"He had help. Two other villains, a grandmother and kid team up, also busted out at the same time. They're called the Supersonic Skaters; thieving speedsters, the pair of them."

"That doesn't sound like Callaghan." Krei said matter-of-factly. "I've known the man for years. When would he have ever befriended common thieves?"

"Yet you didn't know about his half a decade long revenge plot to murder you." Cruz pointed out.

Krei huffed and Hiro could see the billionaire fold his arms across his chest.

"I have lots of former employees who want to kill me. It's not like most of them actually follow through with." Krei mumbled.

"Speaking of which, do you have any bodyguards you can call?" Cruz asked.

"You know, I've gotten in the habit of tasking Big Hero Six as my usual bodyguards."

"You've been employing vigilantes as your personal security?" The frown was evident in Cruz's voice.

Krei snorted. "That would imply that I pay them. No, they volunteer their services. I told them they could make a killing as a private security taskforce but they wouldn't hear of it."

"Well maybe you ought to call them cause my men will be too busy tracking Callaghan and his accomplices down to provide you with any personal escort." Cruz spat, though Krei seemed unfazed by the police officer's irritation.

"So why did you come here first instead of calling my office?" Krei asked in an unusual display of seriousness.

"Gerson already called your secretary. I guess she just hadn't given you the message yet."

"You know she might have," Krei interrupted off handedly, "I need to get more into the habit of reading Judy's memos."

"Uh-hun, well anyways I thought Cass should know too. Seeing as how Callaghan is.. well is responsible for what happened to her nephew." Hiro heard the police chief heavy a weary sigh before changing the subject. "You know, Cass told me she was going on a trip, I just didn't know she asked you to babysit?"

"Well I volunteered. I just figured I do something nice for a change, as unbelievable that may sound to you."

You could have cut a knife through the unspoken tension in the air as each man eyed the other.

"So, you, what, put everything on hold to play the responsible parent for a day?"

"Well, seeing as how Hiro and Varian are teenagers, Cass and I figured they were old enough to handle themselves for a day while I worked, and then I came over after I was done at the office to check up on them. Why, do you have a problem with that Chief Cruz?"

Peering through the small crack in the door, Hiro watched Cruz close the distance between himself and Krei. He stopped just inches from the other man's face.

"I don't know what she sees in you, or why on earth anyone would entrust you with children, but mark my words if anything happens to those two boys…"

"Nothing is going to happen." Krei said eveningly. "And you may not trust me, but you could try trusting Cass and the boys just a little bit more."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Did you have any plans of telling Hiro what was going on?"

Cruz seemed taken aback by that question.

"No." He admitted reluctantly. "He's just a school boy. He shouldn't have to worry about things like, escape convicts and murderers.."

"And yet he does." Krei interrupted. "This concerns him just as much as it does myself. You can't just hide things from him just because he's young."

Cruz casted Krei a searing glare. "Last time I checked you weren't the boys' father."

"And neither are you." Krei shot back. There was another awkward pause as both men sized each other up, until Krei added, "Ten to one both teens are eavesdropping behind that door."

Keri shrugged and nodded his head towards the kitchen. Cruz casted a bewildered look at Krei before walking towards the swinging doors. Both teens scattered and ran out the back door in a rush.

Chief Cruz walked into the empty kitchen and looked around for the two boys. He then noticed the back door was opened just a crack and went out into the alley to check. He found nothing but a blonde raccoon running out from behind a trash can, followed by Varian's own pet racoon scurrying out and climbing up the fire escape into his owner's bedroom.

"Gee, I could have sworn they'd be out here." Krei cheekily commented as he pulled out a ten dollar bill and vaguely waved it towards Cruz.

Cruz snatched it out of his hand in annoyance. "Just because you're an overgrown kid yourself doesn't mean you know anything about them."

"Ouch." Krei said.

Cruz rolled his eyes. "Look can I just trust you keep an eye on the boys for tonight and then I'll watch them tomorrow. Call Big Hero Six to keep lookout if you have too, but don't let Hiro know about Callaghan."

"Yeeeah, those two things might not be possible toge-"

"I mean it. He's been through enough. Him and Varian both. They don't need this."

Krei sighed. "Alright. You're the boss here. You'll let me know as soon as you found out anything about Callaghan's whereabouts."

"Of course." And with that Cruz left.

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

Hiro and Varian sat under Varian's bedroom window. They were breathing heavily from their hasty retreat up the fire escape and from the rush of just barely avoiding being discovered by the adults. As they heard the chief of police's car drive away, Varian let out a sigh of relief and then nuzzled the pet raccoon in his arms.

"That was close." He breathed only to stop when Krei opened the door, flooding light into the little bedroom and casting a spotlight on the two teens.

"I knew you two were snooping." Krei said.

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

There was a big debate over what to do next. Hiro wanted to suit up and go investigate the breakout himself.

Krei wouldn't have it though. "Look I promised both Chief Cruz and your Aunt Cass. I'm trying to be the responsible one here."

"Cruz also told you to call Big Hero Six and that's us."

"Yeah, you seem to be missing five other members there Hiro." Krei pointed out.

"I've already texted Wasabi." Varian interrupted the argument. "He said Fred and Gogo were already on patrol tonight and that they would swing by the jail to investigate."

"There, ya see?" Krei said. "You already got two members out there on the case, and Baymax is here to keep watch for the night. Besides didn't you and Varian promise your aunt to mind the café in the morning?"

Hiro let out a defeated sigh as he slouched back down into the kitchen chair, but he gave no further protest.

Krei rubbed his eyes and gave a yawn. "I'll take the couch tonight. I got to be up by five and at the office by six. Please don't do anything dangerous until after leave. I would prefer it if I didn't have to listen to Cruz lecturing me on proper parenting, thanks."

"Oh don't worry," Varian said, "he'll just find something else to lecture you on."

"Prefect." Krei said as he got up from the table, walked into the living room, and flopped onto the couch for the night.

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

Hiro thought noon would never come. He had barely slept through the night and working the café this morning had been torture. It hadn't been especially busy today, but time seemed to crawl along at a snail's pace as he waited till time to close up shop. The whole while keeping his eyes glued to the tv that was in the café, just in case the news announcer brought up Callaghan.

He didn't. Though he did mention Supersonic Sue breaking out. The long time super villain was apparently more noteworthy to the masses than his brother's murder going free.

"Aaaand done." Wasabi said as he topped the last cappuccino of the day with whip cream. "There you go sir."

The customer took the coffee and Hiro rushed him to the door with a plastered smile on his face. He waved goodbye to the man before slamming the door close and locking it with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, thanks for helping out today." Varian told Wasabi, as he finished sweeping up.

"No, problem. I like working here now and then. It's peaceful." As if to counteract this statement, Ruddiger snuck up onto the counter beside Wasabi and tried to grab the can of cool whip out of his hand.

"Hey! Oh no you don't!"

Hiro ignored his friends' tug-a-war with the pesky raccoon as he ran upstairs to get Baymax and his armor. Only for Aunt Cass to call while he tried to snap on the chest plate. He fiddled with the phone through his gloves and juggle it while suiting up.

"Hey, how's things going?" He heard his aunt say over the phone.

"Fine." He grunted as he buckled his utility belt. "We just closed up shop for the day."

"So, no problems then?"

"No." Hiro said distractedly as he looked for shurikens he hid under the bed.

Aunt Cass heaved a sigh. "I talked to Chief Cruz this morning, he told me some news that was a little upsetting…. Did he or Krei tell you?"

Hiro paused, he didn't know what answer to give that would be the least disastrous. Aunt Cass plowed on thorough though.

"He said that, Professor Callaghan broke out of jail yesterday."

There was a long and awkward silence between the two.

"Hiro? Are you still there?"

"Yeah.."

"Do you want to… to talk about it?"

Another uncomfortable pause.

Aunt Cass sighed again, "Look, I can come home early. It's not a problem-"

"No! I, mean, no. You shouldn't let some bad news ruin your vacation. It's not like Callaghan is going to come over here or anything, and whether or not the police find him has nothing to do with you being here at the Lucky Cat or not."

"I know, I just, I'm worried about you. You and Varian. If you need me, then I'll hop in the car right now and I'll be there, lickity split."

"We're fine Aunt Cass. I'm fine." Hiro lied. "You don't need to drop everything and rush over. Everything is under control and Varian and I are just going to hang out with Wasabi for the rest of the day."

"Ooh, fun. Whatcha got planned?"

"Uhhh, the park?"

"Okay, well, text me if you need anything. I'll call later to make sure you're still alright, oh and before I forget, Cruz and Megan are coming over tonight for dinner. Just put the frozen casserole in the oven at say, eight?"

"Alright. Bye Aunt Cass."

"Bye, I love you."

"I love you too." Hiro ended the call as he leaned against his desk in silence. He glanced over at Tadashi's side of the room. It was relatively neat compared to his own side which was already a mess of dirty clothes and papers despite having cleaned it just yesterday. All that is, save for the visible dust that was beginning to collect on Tadashi's things; a disturbing reminder of how much time had passed since the other teen had slept there.

Hiro blinked back tears as he pulled himself out of reprieve, put on his helmet, and pressed the on switch on top of Baymax's charging case.

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

Big Hero Six, plus Varian, sat around the desk at their headquarters as they watched the security footage of the prison-break up on their viewing screen.

Roddy had done a great job on the briefing room and it's connected laboratory, and was finishing up the training room next door. After that, all that would be left would be to add the bedrooms so that the team could crash there of need be.

"Yeah that's Sue alright." Rodney said as he walked in on them carrying his tool box.

"Yeah we kind of figured that." Gogo said deadpan. "Who's the new guy though?" Roddy peered at the screen, "Oh hey, it's that dimwit of a grandson of hers. Boy he sure grew up. I remember when he was yay high."

"I wish there was sound on this." Fred said. "That note she's reading is probably a clue."

Then the scene on screen changed. Callaghan was shown reading in his cell, then the two speedsters burst in, grabbed him, and then skated away before the screen went to black.

"He doesn't look like he was expecting that." Honey Lemon hesitantly said.

"Almost, like he wasn't in on the plan" Wasabi confirmed her suspicions.

"Roddy, you know Supersonic Sue, do you know of any connection she might have to Callaghan?" Hiro asked.

The red-bearded construction worker just shook his head. "I mean, he's not one of the old villains that Boss Awesome used to face. I'll tell ya that much. Buuut I don't make it a habit to know all of my customers' personal lives. I'm just here to build lairs; not gossip."

"Says the one other guy who knew that mom was a former supervillain," Fred said as he eyed Roddy suspiciously. "You know, besides my dad, and Heathcliff apparently..."

"Dude, someday you're going to, like, have to have a big family therapy session or something." Wasabi butted in.

Fred ignored him and marched over to Roddy. "Spill it." He ordered as he poked the larger man in the chest.

"What's to tell? So maybe the word on the super lair forums is that Sue got busted out by an old buddy of hers. One of the old gang, you know. I've know idea how Challagan figures into that though."

"Old buddy?" Hiro asked.

"They go by Kensei. They're a master thief and assassin. Never been caught. Used to be real active back in the old days for a few years but then went quiet for decades. Most thought they was dead or retired until just a few months ago."

"Why? What happened a few months ago?" Gogo asked.

"Back in April, was it, this new crime lord started filling in the power vacuum in the city. I got approached by Yama to build a lair for the new big boss, but I turned it down to do yous guys headquarters. Anyways the business card he gave had Kensei's old logo on it, the samurai's sword."

Hiro's eyes went wide. "We need to know everything about this Kensei guy."

Roddy rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't know much. In fact no one knows much. Like I said the guy never got caught. No one knows who they really are or what they even look like. Unless you were one of the very few supervillains working the circuit back then and happened to team up with them."

"Wait, if this Kensei guy and the new Bosu are one the same person then..." Honey Lemon mused.

"Portals." Varian said, startling everyone. They had forgotten he was even there. "They'd paid off Supersonic Sue to kidnap Callaghan, same as Yama kidnapped me."

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

"Well ain't this nice and cozy?" Sue said with a smug smile as she sat on top of the desk and peered down at tied up Callaghan. "Lot better than that nasty old jail cell wouldn't you say?"

Callaghan just glared daggers at her. The three convicts were inside a dimly lit, dingy office, in some old abandoned warehouse. As the elderly lady tried to persuade the former school teacher to join them, her beefy grandson kept watch by the door.

"Lets just cut to the chase shall we? You're the top in your field when it comes to portals and a friend of mine is willing to pay you handsomely to build one, on top of helping to smuggle you out of the country. Think of it, a fresh start! Whatta say?" She slapped a wad of cash onto the table along with a fake passport.

Callaghan starred at the tempting offer on display before shutting eyes tightly and kicking over the desk with a snarl.

Sue jumped back in surprise and Stu covered his mouth with a gasp.

"Hey that's not very nice. No one treats my nana that way."

He stalked towards the other man but Sue stopped him with a hand. "Now, now, snookum, let's give Callaghan a chance to explain himself."

"If you think I'm going to help the likes of you, then you're crazy." Callaghan spat.

Sue only turned up her nose at the rebuff. "My, my, aren't we all high and mighty all of a sudden, mister "I was in solitary confinement". You think the police are going to care that you suddenly grew a conscience? It ain't even like we're asking you to hurt anybody."

"Those portals are dangerous." Callaghan said through gritted teeth.

"So," Sue shrugged, "that's your benefactor's problem not ours."

"It's a problem for everyone, and I wouldn't debase myself to working for a has-been hack and her dunce of a kid no matter how much you paid me."

"I'm not a dunce." Stu said. "I got in A in penmanship. Tell him nana."

"Of course you're not sweetums." Sue patted her grandson on the head before turning to Callaghan with a scowl on her face. "You know, you gotta pretty smart mouth to go with that big brain of yours. But of the two of us, I'm not the one wanted for manslaughter and attempted murder, so I'd be awfully careful about who I'd go insulting here if n' I was you. I'm liable to turn you back into the police myself.``

Callaghan didn't rise to the bait but met her gaze steadily. After this staring contest Supersonic Sue sighed and turned to walk away.

"Come on Stu, let's let the man wallow in his self pity for a while. We can come back and try this again later. But mark my words Callaghan, we got other ways of making you cooperate. Ways that aren't so nice." And with that the two speedsters left the room leaving Professor Callaghan alone with his guilt and misery.

#of rocks and robots #big hero 6 #tangled #Hiro Hamada #varian #bh6 #tangled the series #big hero six #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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themockingcrows · 3 years ago

Text

Doki Doki Grist Panic! Ch. 6

Another chapter of my Magical Boy JohnDave au! This chapter is SFW!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/80258332

The city was, as before, beautiful. Humans wandered along the sidewalks and streets performing the activities of their daily lives in the fading purple and pink light of the sun. It reminded John of how his home used to be, how it would soon be again once he returned and revived things. Once everything was restored and fell back into the steady rhythm of living life, his people too would be wandering around like busy ants in a colony, following their own destinies freely. In a way it made him feel hesitant to disrupt the flow, seeing just how perfect and aimless everything looked. This was the kind of evening that John would have spent with Dave on his lap happily enjoying the weather, but he supposed that was not to be any longer. ...For now, at least. John was still hopeful that if he could re-capture Dave in different circumstances and get him home, release him from the bonds of this world, that he might change his mind and give the new world a chance. The chances were slim, but honestly, even if he kept him as a pet instead of a lover it would be worth something.

It was time to act, however, peaceful appearances of the evening or none. John had more chess pieces he’d been working with, more ogres, and plenty of imps at his disposal. He’d start things from here and work outwards, spreading their oil slicks and chaos as far as they could reach so the grist flowed like water for collection. Did he need every drop? No. Was he going to take every drop from this wretched world for himself? Yes, most definitely, whether Dave liked it or not.

Screams rang out at the appearance of the first ogre, its large body disrupting traffic and sending grist bouncing down the street with each strike against the ground attacking humans both in and outside of vehicles. John watched from above as the imps began to descend and wreck things, destroying everything they touched, spreading oil and corrosion wherever they bounced and ran.

It was beautiful as well, this chaos. Frenetic and absurd, the shiny baubles of grist glittering under the starlight and lamp posts, in the abandoned cars headlights as bodies lay left and right on the ground where they’d fallen victim to his creatures. Though John knew it was just a matter of time before he’d have to fight once more, standing off against those who would interfere with them. He only hoped that, when the time came, he’d be able to preserve Dave somewhat. The rest could rot, but the human was still a soft spot for him in his plans. He turned from the lovely scene to direct the imps and ogres further South, towards the heart of the city where they could cause bigger chaos as their numbers began to increase. He gestured with the hammer like a conductors baton, steering them before their free will kicked in, a game of long distance chess against an entire world.

The whoosh of air behind him was no surprise, when it happened. John turned so fast his white hair ruffled over his eyes for a moment, guarding himself with the dark wind and the side of the hammer against Dave’s new blade, white and deadly as it skidded in place. He wasn’t able to fly, not normally, so it was only through this point of contact that he was staying in the air at all.

There was that look again on his face.

Determination.

Hate.

Love.

Disgust.

Delicious… He wanted to bottle this mixed emotion, drink it like a fine wine on cold nights. Wanted to distill its essence to have and hold even after this world ended, to show that such a spark existed on it in the first place, a spark that could actually make him feel things.

“So soon?” John asked, arm ever so slightly shaking from the pressure being exerted against him. “I’d thought you’d at least give me a wider berth after last time. Or are you that excited to see me again? There’s still plenty of room on my ship for you.”

“Shut up,” Dave hissed. “You already know this isn’t personal, it’s just business. You attack my world, I put you down. Simple as that.”

“If it was as simple as that, you’d have killed me by now,” John said, grunting and adding his second hand to his hammer, forcing Dave back and downwards towards the ground once more. His cape fluttered as he went down, face defiant as ever, to go and dispatch some of his ever increasing number of minions. It would be a fruitless venture this time, their numbers had increased dramatically from before and Dave was but one man vaulting between them like a red blur. John watched with interest as the white haired figure bounced and bobbed, weaved and feinted and struck left and right one after another. The red gears turned in the air like electricity, disappearing and reappearing along with him as he slowed time as required. The violence was hypnotic, lovely. It brought to mind the figure he’d gotten to glimpse while dressing him before, lithe and athletic. Every curve of that body was tense in battle, every muscle working in tandem to further his goals.

Goals John needed to put a stop to, now, before he started making actual headway against his minions. Time to smash a magical boy in the head with a hammer till he behaved.

Dropping down on the curve of the wind, John made a beeline for Dave before smashing the ground beside him, forcing the red clad figure to jump and dodge the aftershocks. He could just as easily force the wind after him to stop this… though, then again, Dave could stop time as well. They would be at a stalemate, which seemed to be why neither of them was pulling their top cards to put an end to things outright. At least not yet. If Dave wanted cat and mouse games, however, John was pleased to oblige. His minions would take him head on, while he threaded along around him to swat and swipe and hammer at him while avoiding return slashes from that bastard of a sword he’d suddenly obtained. He knew better than to take direct hits from that thing. It felt more dangerous than his original blade with the gilt handle somehow, sleeker and more deadly, and seeing how cleanly it sliced through his imps, John felt he made a good decision in the end.

When Dave suddenly stopped catapulting himself between imps and ogres, the ground slick with iridescent topped patches of oil and scattered grist, John was surprised for a moment. One second he’d been swinging at the small pests and avoiding his attacks, the next he’d turned and gone full throttle on the offensive. The blade sang past his face, cutting the air cleanly and taking a few wisps of his hair with it before the breeze carried him back in a dark cloud out of his reach. It was a close call, he could almost taste the metal in the wind, could feel the way it slicked back and forth like liquid in Dave’s hand. How did he have that much skill with a new blade? Surely there was some kind of learning curve, but nothing that he could detect. Was it a blessing from who he was contracted under, perhaps…?

“You’re in my way,” John grunted, slamming the hammer down beside a car, forcing it upwards as the wheels did a hard bunny hop from the percussion against the ground. Dave jumped off the hood and took another slice at his head, not pulling his punches this time. He was really aiming to cut him, wasn’t he? Fair enough, it wasn’t as if John was playing now either.

“Why did you even come back?” Dave asked, aiming a backhanded slice towards his middle followed by a series of jabs to keep him at arms length when he crept too close for comfort. He wanted distance? Time to stay pressing close then, almost close enough to catch those lips again, close enough to see the sweat coming off his brow already from exertion. “I told you your plans weren’t going to work, that I’d stand in your way. Do you really think I was kidding? Or that I wasn’t going to notice?”

“Oh I knew you’d notice, I hoped you’d be so kind as to let me defeat you quickly, but I see you’re all out of favors,” John hissed, sending his breeze forward with a hard gesture from his hand. It caught Dave suddenly, forcing his cape to whip wildly behind him as he skidded to stop himself, grunting when the momentum caught him enough to slam him to the ground. Another roll, another avoided hammer blow, and Dave was soon scrambling to his feet, only to dart low and fast towards John’s to swat at his ankles. That sword had to weigh a lot, why did it seem weightless in his hands? The weight was negligent, an afterthought at best in his hands. Contracted weapons, he supposed, given that his hammer was the same way despite his beginning strength.

“Are you seriously flirting right now?” Dave asked, angry all over again. Fuck this guy!

“I’m doing whatever you think I’m doing,” John said, managing to turn just in time to block a stroke against his side with the hammer, frowning in surprise when it left a jagged scratch in the finish. So it wasn’t impermeable after all… Hm. That put a bit of a damper into things, he’d need to be careful to avoid seeing if it was breakable by other means then. More strategic than he’d been being.

“Being a pest!” Dave cried. “This is my planet, these are my people, and it’s under my contract that I’m taking you down! This ends tonight! You’re not walking away this time, John!”

So he was that serious, then. This was to be to the death.

Though grim, John couldn’t help the wicked smirk that spread on his face, the glow that took his eyes. To the death? Such a threat on his life while making that determined face? What a treat. He lifted the hammer with one hand and readied the dark breeze with his other hand, only to have a moment of confusion. One moment Dave was several paces away in the air and springing towards him, the next he was already there and a sharp pain was spreading in John’s stomach and ribs as he took the strike head on. He toppled and rolled before jumping back up, rubbing at his clothing as the pieces separated and hung from his gray toned body, dark blood welling up from where the surface of the skin had been sliced open.

Blood. Dave had actually drawn blood by using that damned time trick of his.

“That costs you dearly, doesn’t it?” John guessed, going on the defensive as Dave drove him back further yet, dancing practically while holding his hand to his side to quell the ache and stem the small bit of blood he’d managed to draw. “How does it feel to buy my life with your own blood?”

“Disgusting,” Dave admitted, stabbing downwards from a height, only to blur out of view when John blocked. Another strike, too fast to see almost, against his other side. A third followed to his back as Dave slowed, and even halted entirely, time to do as he needed to do. Every instance was costing him, but Dave didn’t exactly have the time to care. There were things he needed to do tonight aside from taking John down in order to make things right. The fact that John was a bigger pain in the ass to deal with than his minions was just another aside that he had to deal with.

“Romantic,” John corrected. “Your life costs less than mine at this rate, doesn’t it? You can stop time to kill me, but think how much you lose. And is it even fair in your eyes?” he asked, having to roll to avoid a quick strike, taking only half of it strategically that way as he whirled to raise his hammer in another block in preparation. “Killing a man when he can’t even fight back? Not very heroic.”

“You’re a monster, what wouldn’t be heroic!” Dave snapped, surging forward recklessly and getting hit for his troubles. Another hard skid on the shoulder and he was getting back up, dropping into a ready pose and sizing up his target before jumping to action again, going for John’s legs before being side attacked by two imps and having to withdraw to tangle with them first. The smaller beings grabbed at his cape, at his legs, their oil slick hands and bodies marring his pale blade as he slashed them apart.

“I was a monster the entire time I held you, will you still deny me?” John asked, rushing forward on the breeze face first to try catching Dave in his open hand. He managed to land a palm on his right forearm and grip tight before being struck by the pink toned lightning. Electricity raced up and down his spine, crazing his teeth, lifting the hair at his nape. His heart hammered and his vision blurred into two distinct points, his awareness shifting as if splitting in two. It lasted all of a second before stopping, forcing him to release Dave and look around for the source in rage. Someone was interfering. Someone who had also managed to strike Dave due to their bodily contact, arcing the electricity from point A to point B.

The source seemed to be an aggressive looking fellow in shades of pink, sleeves flapping as he leapt up to take a slice at him with a thin blade. John was guaranteed to be struck by one of them at this point, unable to guard both directions at once. Dave, despite looking a little dazed, was quick to move his legs, pressing one boot against John’s body before kicking hard as he could at his ribs to dislodge himself. The fellow in pink took his slice and was blocked by the hammer, not wanting the more lethal looking damage to take. It sucked for his ribs, John feeling a decidedly unpleasant crunch at one point, but what could he really do?

Call a storm was what he could do. He could harness the winds in this wide open space and build up enough strength to level the fucking city if he really pushed himself to do so. What would be left for the poor magical boys to save if everyone was dead and their grist was splashed about like a fallen pinatas goodies? One on one was one thing, but two on one was going to be annoying to deal with, especially as this fellow seemed to be able to do ranged attacks as well. John lifted his hammer towards the sky to start summoning winds, hair whipping around as the clouds overhead began to swirl steadily as if going down a massive drain, the air starting to gain traction.

One moment he was holding his hammer, the bright colors stark against the moonlit sky. The next John was aware of neon red lights behind his eyes, the fading after image of gears and-

“HEY, GIVE THAT BACK!” he shouted, looking around for where Dave had sprinted off to. The winds stopped swirling as he lost focus, the clouds dispersing overhead as the pull he exerted on them was broken. Dave was dropping back to the ground and sprinting at top speed towards a break in the buildings. He paused, watching John, and smirked once he knew he’d been spotted before turning and rushing out of sight with the heavy hammer in hand.

“Going somewhere?” Dirk asked, coming up for close contact and another lightning strike, hard enough and uninterrupted enough this time that John saw double all over again. His chest ached, and he could hear a distinct sound in his ears.

Ringing.

Music?

Piano… he knew the melody, but it had been years since he had a name for it.

He could feel himself being ripped in two by the electricity, fingers caught in a clawlike motion, heart distancing itself from his body, dripping in the same black substance as his imps. He could hear screams in his head, the sounds of the damned, the dying, the already dead. Or was that just him screaming? Some kind of noise was escaping his throat as he struggled under the attack, trying to hold himself together. It took immense power to straighten an arm out and force wind Dirk’s direction with the intensity of a battle axe, slicing at his limbs and body as the attack had an unobstructed route to his body.

When the electricity stopped flowing, John took his leave immediately and rushed to where he’d last seen Dave, breathless and dizzy. He took twists and turns between the buildings, around corners, over fences, following the steady thuds of boots and the distinct noise of a fluttering cape.

“YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE, HUMAN,” John shouted, voice broken. That attack had done more to him than he’d assumed at the time. Something very distinctly was wrong. He didn’t feel quite himself, felt slower, didn’t feel as solid dominion over the wind as he raced along with it. What had that fellow in pink done to him?

Around the corner ahead was the flutter of a cape, and John surged forward to snatch it, yanking Dave back and downwards towards the ground. Dave threw the hammer as he fell so it was some distance away, his sword nowhere in sight. He was unarmed now? What was he planning? Growling, rage filling his wavering heart again, John grasped Dave’s neck with one hand and pressed his hand to his chest with the other, pressing him down at both points. Dave gagged and reached up to grasp the hand at his neck, trying to pull him off, but to limited avail.

“Going to stop time again, trickster? Or are you going to have the other turn up and blast me again?” John hissed. “I should’ve knocked you out the second I saw you.”

Gritting his teeth and trying to huff air, Dave continued to wrestle with John’s arms, arching his back and kicking his feet to dislodge him from the sturdy position in which he sat.

“I-! I’ve g-hrrk. CONTRACT,” Dave got out. Curious, John released some of the pressure on his throat to give him air, frowning as he gasped it in greedily. He watched his hands, watched for hints to his motives, but what the magical boy did was unexpected. Instead of attacking, or even defending, Dave went for his own heart. Both hands on his own chest, Dave’s eyes rolled back briefly as he released the proof of his contract to the open air in a shimmer of red light.

The gear was smaller than John expected but formed of sturdy looking pure red crystal, with intricate pieces of metallic clockwork stuck inside that moved and ticked the steady beats of his life down. It shone with immense power, and just with a glance, John could tell it was worth a ridiculous amount of grist. Showing the proof of ones contract should be difficult to do, however, unless in the presence of the contractor. The hairs on John’s nape stood up as he furtively wondered if the contractor was indeed nearby, waiting, watching. Some higher being who dared not interfere in the matters of humans, ready to replace those beneath him at a moments notice should they fall.

“...What are you doing,” John said, suspicious. “What do I care about this. This is worth a lot of grist, but it’s not nearly enough for a planet. Are you suggesting I hunt the guardians of this world instead of the humans? Hah, I’d rather do both and have a surplus.”

Dave groaned miserably when John tightened his grip on his throat again.

“Maybe I should break it, though. Take the grist, put you out of both of our miseries. ...It’s a shame, Dave. You’d really love my world…”

The gear clicked louder suddenly, drowning out John’s words. He frowned as the ticking started to change pace, mimicking the heart racing in his own ears. The melody from before… Like a metronome, he could hear the music starting up in the back of his head.

“What is this-” he started, only to cry out when, for a third and final time, pink lightning overtook him from behind. Dave, his heart exposed, took the blast directly as well while forcing his contracted heart against John’s chest like a weapon, closing his eyes tight to not look at the light show that was being created.

Heat.

Burning heat, like lava in his veins. John screamed wildy and tried to draw back from Dave, clawing at his chest where the gear was touching him, trying to block the lightning. Trying to call the wind. There was no escape. He was grounded for the count, feeling his soul split in two while being seared from the front. Was this their plan, then? Kill him? He could hear the ticking growing louder in his head, the melody, and-

He was in his childhood home, playing the piano with his father. His short legs swung from the bench, just long enough to reach the pedals, but his father was the one working them right now for both of them. It was a duet of sorts, a song that he’d played many times with him, haunting and sweet in its refrain. Simple. Soothing.

“John,” his father said. “I’m so proud of you…”

The night was crisp and the wind felt like a new friend. He was thirteen and freshly contracted to guard his world, and the feeling of being able to fly was still new and exciting. He could do anything. He was Superman. He was the one who’d keep his Father safe, keep everyone safe. He dipped below the clouds cover, soft as cotton candy, and laughed as he startled some birds out of their flight path. It was time to patrol.

Like so many others, his father was dead. The world was dying, he could hear its screams on the scorched wind. War. Famine. Fire. Flood. Earthquakes. Everything was destroyed, down to the last, leaving John behind. No doubt there were other guardians somewhere, others somewhere in range who might have been able to help, but no help came. His skin had gone gray and his eyes bright, white beginning to take over the darkness in his hair. It was just a grown John in a wasteland, then grown John in his ship, plotting his trajectory for the biggest source of grist his scanners could find.

He was still a magical boy, abandoning his post for a short time to revive it.

To save everyone.

He was Superman.

John’s vision cleared, and he felt weak. Nauseated, in fact, but soothed by warmth instead of burning in hellfire any longer. There was cool air licking at his face, and moving dark strands of hair in front of his bright blue eyes. The glow was gone, as was the rage. The ticking had gone quiet in his head, and the music had gone away. The gear hovered in the air still, the mechanism stilled, but its light still shining, its grist value undisturbed. The lightning had stopped. Dave rested on the ground with his lips parted, breathing shallowly, eyes closed and arms limp out to the sides. Hovering in front of John’s chest was a swooping double symbol in pale blue crystal, shimmering like sunstruck diamond despite the low light of the alley.

His contracted heart, unhindered by oil and sludge.

“So you really are a guardian,” Dirk said curiously, stepping closer to take a look at the newly displayed symbol, heels clicking on the concrete. “...Look better with dark hair, too. That was a stupid ass idea Dave had, blasting you both to dislodge whatever crud was on your heart while he struck directly. ...But it worked,” he admitted.

Purified.

Water streaked down John’s cheeks as emotions he hadn’t been able to feel for quite some time came to the surface all at once, leaving his mind blank, awash with thoughts. What had happened? Had he really been so corrupted that it took two people to fix him? He’d just wanted to save his home…

“Dave, I-” he started, then grimaced when he realized the other guardian wasn’t responsive right then. The contracted heart was still there, even if it wasn’t ticking, so he was alive. He would recover. Maybe, John thought, he was having dreams of his own right then.

Ignoring the two symbols’ proximity, John leaned forwards to kiss Dave’s slack mouth, murmuring in apology, asking him to wake up.

The symbols touched with a soft strike of crystal on crystal, and with it came a dazzling light as they interacted. Gears appeared all around them, unmoving in midair, till the breeze whipped up and spun them back to action, forcing the pieces to move and click until the ticking picked back up. Time, though not having been stopped for anyone but Dave, was moving once again. Red eyes slowly opened in time to see John grinning at him, a normal looking John, dressed all in shades of blue. A long hood was caught in the breeze, whipping up towards the sky with a soft tinkling sound from a rounded bell at the end. Bracelets were stacked on his wrists, and beneath his folded legs, pointed yellow shoes peeked out from beneath layered dark blue pants. There was color in his cheeks, and though his eyes were still supernaturally bright, they no longer glowed.

Dave opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

Grist was appearing all around them, welling up as if from the ground itself, from the sky, whipping around on the unnatural breeze that funneled its way into the alleyway. It chimed as it rang out, focusing solely on their location like a broken fire hydrant spilling water into a pond.

“What’s happening?” John asked, confused.

“You’re being given a boon, it looks like,” Dirk said, stepping to the side to tap at a massive chunk with his sword’s tip.

“From who? Why?” Dave asked, just as confused.

“Earth. Hell, maybe your contractors too. You must’ve done something they approved of, or done something when your contracts interacted.”

“Look at it all,” John mused quietly as it continued to pour out from its unspecified source, wind picking the smaller pieces up to carry away towards his ship he assumed. “I’ve never seen this much grist in one place.”

“Guess you found a new way to earn grist aside from theft,” Dirk smirked. “Now that you’re not all fucked up and gray, I assume you’re gonna stop the whole tryin’ to kill people for theirs thing?”

The kiss was not discussed, though John slowly got up and helped Dave to his feet after the contracts returned to their original places, then darted up into the air to get a better look. The grist wasn’t just coming from where they’d been fighting. It was coming from the entire city, from the trees, and appeared to be separate from the distributed grist caused by the earlier destruction. A higher value. All of it was going towards his ship, collecting itself on the breeze and being stored. He drifted back down and quickly hugged Dave, spinning him around with the force.

“This is going to be more than enough!” he said excitedly. “If this keeps up, I’ll be able to get my home back! I’ll be able to get everyone back! My world will be okay!”

“When will you be leaving?”

“As soon as it’s done being collected, I guess. There’s no time to waste, I’ve been away long enough and nothing will happen until I get there and-” John rattled off, only going quiet when Dave hugged him back.

“...I’ll come back, you know,” John said softly.

“Do you promise?” Dave asked. “I only now get to see the real you and you’re leaving.”

“I promise. Someday I’ll come back to you. And this time it’ll be as a friend,” John swore, savoring the closeness while he could as the dark sky was alight with floating chunks of gemlike grist that twinkled like candies in the moonlight.

#johndave #homestuck #john egbert #dave strider #dirk strider #my fic

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