#he was smoking in his hot tub when he died rip my love

[luvbugtrait]

day six: The Sacrifice/The Fool

for @windbrook's slashed challenge

day five / day seven

[oops-aquarius]

tainted kisses

summary: steve needs some relaxation, which you provide to him

warnings: smut (!!!!), praise kink, slight degradation kink, a little bit of angst cuz a hoe is sad, oral fixation (duh), slight dom/sub dynamics (?), mentions of sadness/depression, tiny mommy kink (like barely there)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

note(s): not edited well at all, also i used a prompt generator to get the promt i used (which is below !!)

prompt: ���baths or water (tubs or jacuzzis; hot springs; water houses or steam rooms; the ocean; swimming pools.”

kink: “Oral fixation or fetishization (lips, tongue, or whole mouth; french-kissing; licking; oral displays using food or beer bottles; smoking cigarettes, cigars, or pipes; biting or chewing one's lip(s))”

--

***this is post-endgame except nobody died, cause im a hoe for all of the avengers***

Steve never realized how much he liked things in his mouth. Not always in a sexual way, at least not until after fighting Thanos.

After fighting for so long, bottling up his emotions was not at all how Steve needed to cope. He tried the yoga and meditation route Wanda had so kindly suggested. Yeah, after one session of hot yoga, Steve decided that it wasn't going to happen. Tony, obviously, suggested sex. Said something about it being a “healing experience for the soul”. That’s bullshit were Steve’s first thoughts when that came out of his mouth. Bucky told him to get some goats and raved about how therapeutic it was to raise them. But Steve could barely take care of himself, how would he even take care of a goat? Steve felt a hot sense of hopelessness burn against the back of his eyes as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the adjoined bathroom door.

���Steve?” A soft knock came from the front door. He took his thumb away from his mouth, he had resorted to subconsciously nibbling on the tip of it. Pulling himself off the door and towards the voice, he rubbed his tear-stricken cheeks in attempts to clean himself up a bit before seeing you.

“One sec, Y/N/N.”

When he opened the door, your face softened a bit before the smile that Steve, secretly, loved so much dropped off your face completely. “Stevie, what happened?”

Stevie, a nickname he hated for his entire life. A name that reminded him of the days before the super solider serum where he was a little guy getting beaten up on the streets of Brooklyn. Stevie, a nickname he loved hearing from your caring voice. Nobody else’s. 

“Just tired, Y/N” he sighed, “so,so tired.”

“Stevie,” your voice caught at the back of your throat. Seeing him in so much pain made your life turn upside down. He doesn't deserve to be in pain. “ S’there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Just stay with me? Please?”

You took him back into his bed and sat with him, just talking about life until his breathing turned back to normal and he seemed partially-okay. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” you asked, still stroking the blonde strands of his hair.

“Are you saying I smell?” He took his face out of the crook of your shoulder, feigning a look of hurt.

“No, punk, I meant to relax. You seemed pretty shaken up and I just wanted to help. I mean, that’s what I do when I feel down, relax in a bat-”

He cuts you off, “I appreciate it. Really, Y/N, I don’t know many people that are as loving and caring as you, sweetheart.” The nickname made a pang in your heart. You had like the super solider since you had met him, but never felt like he reciprocated the feelings. Even though you both cuddled often, and had movie nights, and he always let you beat him while sparring, and that one time you came down with a stomach bug and he fed you soup and-holy shit. Did Steve like you? “Sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘A bath does sound nice’. What’s got you so suddenly zoned out?” He says, donning a smirk.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get you into that bath, mister,” you had a faux grumpy look on your face as you got up and walked to the bathroom, starting to fill the white, ceramic bathtub with warm water. “Okay, big boy. You need help getting up or are you okay?”

Rolling his eyes at your inauthentic tone, Steve pushes his tensed frame off the body and managed to stumble into the bathroom, while you following him closely to make sure he doesn't fall over from exhaustion.

“I get it, I’m old, but damn Y/N. I can walk perfectly fine,” He chuckles as he pushes himself up to sit on the counter top.

You start to fill up the bathtub with warm water, adding bubbles and lighting a few scented candles. He looked so pretty, hair sticking out in every direction, lips pink and puffy from biting them, his ocean blue eyes still misty as he looks down at his cuticles, picking them slightly. 

“Okay, I’m gonna leave so you can take this bath,” you say, shutting off the faucet, “Got it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Stevie.”

“Stay, please.” His eyes were watering more than earlier. He had those puppy dog eyes, lip quivering as his voice cracked and wavered even with just a few words. He looked so vulnerable, how could you say no to him?

“Of course, Steve. I mean, the bubbles with kind of cover everything. I’ll just sit next to the tub with you, alright?” You awkwardly giggled and scratched the back of your neck. He nodded, hopping off of the counter and starting to undress himself with a wobble. “Stevie, you’re shaking like a leaf, let me help you.”

His eyes never met yours as you helped him pull his t-shirt over his head and looped your delicate fingers through the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down his muscular thighs. “You’re not gonna finish your job, doll?”

His boxers. The only clothes he had left on were his grey boxers. You wanted to give him privacy and not look, especially in such a broken and vulnerable state. But god, you could see the outline of his partially-hard cock through the soft cotton. You thought about what it would be like to have your mouth around his hard length, chocking on it as he rammed himself into the back of your throat.

“Ummm, I just--I thought--I mean I can---Only if you want--” The dirty thoughts clouded your brain. It made speaking a speaking a sentence almost impossible as your mouth watered just thinking about his cock.

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he laughed heartily, “You’re too adorable.”

Pulling his boxers down his legs, he waddled tiredly over to the tub before stepping in. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water encapsulating his exhausted body. You imagined that’s how he’d groan if you sucked his cock so hard he was seeing stars.

You were still facing the door, like you were as Steve got completely undressed. You knew if you turned around and look at him, naked and at ease, you’d jump his bones in a heartbeat. “Come sit with me, Y/N”

And you did. You turned around cautiously, like you expected, the bubbles covered his body enough for you to be able to handle yourself as you sat down next to the tub. You grabbed his hand away from his lips, running your soft fingers over his rough calloused ones. “I always see you biting your nails or cuticle or lips or your pens. Why?”

He sighed, “I’m not sure, I guess it just distracts me?” He said it more like it was a question rather than a statement. “I guess I don’t truly know why I do it, I guess I just enjoy having things in my mouth.”

You could read Steve like a book, his pupils blown with lust, his lip stuck between his teeth, a blush heating up his cheeks. You took a leap of faith.

“Yeah, like what?”

“You.”

His lips were on yours in a flurry, it took a second for you to react, but as soon as you did it felt amazing. Neither of you seemed to care about the water splashing over you as his hands trailed up your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

He pulls away panting, “F-Fuck, Y/N, I need you. Please. Oh my god I need you so bad,” His eyes looked as if they were welling up with tears and he looked so pretty still in the relaxing bubble bath, whimpering and whining for you. 

“God, I need you too, baby,” you stop to look in his eyes sincerely, “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do or that you will regret.” Your hand caresses his cheek.

“Just get in here with me and I’ll show you how much I want you,” he whispered, “Need you, really.”

You sighed before your hands moved shakily to take off your t shirt. As much as you wanted this, you were still scared of how the ripped super solider would feel about you and your body, As soon as your shirt was off, Steve was whimpering, dipping his hand into the soapy water to massage his aching cock. This only spurred you to take off your clothes and join him faster. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself, puppy?” Your stern voice caught him off-guard, making him pause his actions with a look of fear on his face. You step into the bathtub, straddling him. Your nails raked up his milky white thighs, trailing up his body admiring the beauty of it. “Y’Know I was planning on being nice to you because you’ve been so good to me, but you might need to be punished, baby? Do you need to punshied like a brat?”

He mewled, bowing his head in shame. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the second and you were starting to go crazy with the empty feeling inside of you that on he could fill. “No, ma’am. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Mmmm, that’s my good boy.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested on his cheeks, hearing him preen at your praise, as you repositioned yourself over his cock. “Are you sure you want this?”

“If you dont ride me into next week right fucking now I’m going to scream, Y/N,” He breathed out with a chuckle, Grabbing your thighs, he helps you sink down on his cock. Both of you were moaning and whimpering messes by the time you were sitting at this base of him, trying to get adjusted to his large size. 

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes as soon as you lifted yourself up off of him, only leaving the tip of him inside of you, and slamming back down on his dick. 

“Baby-please,” he whimpered, “n-need, shit, need your fingers, bad.” 

You were confused, slowing down a bit to make sure he was okay. But his puppy dog eyes showed that he was okay. Slowly taking your wrist from his cheek, he puts your fingers in his warm mouth. Moaning around them and swirling his tongue around them. He did it the same way you always dreamed about sucking his dick, chocking and gagging on his length.

“Yeah, you’re such a needy little slut for me, for this pussy. Look at you, so ruined and fucked out just because I’m fucking you.” He moaned sensually at your words making your core tighten impossibly. 

You had gotten a good idea as you were riding him. Slowly, you start to thrust your hand in and out of his mouth, watching the saliva dribble out of the corners of his mouth as he choked on you. The band in your tummy starts tightening as you feel yourself getting close. 

“Shit, fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. Oh my god, you’re make me come with your beautiful cock, puppy. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your free hand dips into the water, cupping his balls and rolling them around your soft palm.

He nods, choking on your nimble finger yet again his you massage his sensitive balls. “Gonna come,” he slurred and spit around you.\, “almost there.”

“I didn’t” you moaned as you feel his balls tighten, fall back down on his cock at a faster pace, “give you permission to do that. I thought you were going to be good for me?”

“I am” he spluttered loudly, “i am good, I swear. Just please let me come. I need it, oh shit, mommy.”

The name went straight to your core, making you grow weak as you feebly give him permission to come as you come undone with one more bounce on his large member. His hands come up to grope your breasts as he come with hot spurts inside of your tight cunt. 

“Oh my god,” you stifle a giggle as you stand up on shaky legs. You wordlessly helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a white towel, walking him to bed while you dried yourself off. Collapsing on the bed with a grunt, the solider hollds out his hand to you, signalling you to lay down with him. You could easily tell he was still coming down from his sex high, starting to regain his self back.

“I dont know what possessed me to,” he pauses, trying to figure out a way to word the rest of his sentence, “to suck, I guess, on your hand. I’m sorry, Y/N, that was really weird of me.”

“What do’ya mean, baby? Having an oral fixation isn’t something to be ashamed of.” The words make him smile with droopy eyes, tucking his head into your neck and starting to fall asleep, happy and comfortable, cuddling you.

“And to be honest, puppy. I think it’s really hot.”

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓

____________________________

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌!𝕭𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖞 𝖝 𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙!𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕬𝖀

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: When the Queen falls sick and passes away, King Bucky must marry another, preferably the princess of an alliance kingdom nearby, in order to keep peace and order among the lands. However she is the most god awful human being anyone has ever met. Her guard however well she was definitely not what the king expected.

cw: brief talk about buck being tortured, suggestive infertility with reader, graphic details about death, talking about a violent accident to the reader during the battle, that battle, loki’s death too sorry (loki x reader past)….

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: smut 18+ (‘bathtub’ sex!, oral!fem, praise kink, cockwarming; blink and you’ll miss it, loss of virginity but who cares lmao, unprotected sex but reader can’t have kids… sorry), digusting amount fo fluff hahaha part 4?

𝕬/𝖓: tbh i saw this bathroom pic on pintrest and it was huge like all made of stone and gold with stain glass windows and the tub was like a giant jacuzzi and honestly that's what i imagine the reader’s bathroom to be in this but feel free to imagine something else lol

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2.7k (big boy lol)

part one | part two | part three | part four |

_____________________________

flashbacks in italics*

Bucky separated from Charlotte and practically sprinted to you. You looked behind you to find Bucky saying goodbye to his friends; them all winking at him. You scoffed and continued walking to your bedroom. 

Usually during these big parties the king throws, you reside upstairs to bathe the world’s longest bath. You can’t normally take these because you're always needed for service whatever it may be. You left your door open for Bucky to easily find you knowing he was trailing close behind. 

You turned the corner to enter the bathroom you had and glanced at Bucky who was still down the hall. You decided to tease him a bit and began stripping your dress, letting him see only your bare back and barely the side of your breast. 

Bucky walked into your room and shut and locked the door immediately stripping away his coat and shirt along with his shoes as well. He slowly walked to the door of your very large bathroom and pushed it open slowly to see you walking down the steps of your bath filled with hot water. 

Seeing your entire nude body from the back making Bucky’s breath hitch in his throat. The water raised to the middle of your back and it was hot enough to see a bit of steam. Oh how Bucky wanted to ravish you and be the reason you're wet and not the water. 

“You gonna stand there and stare or would you like to join me?”

Bucky stumbled and nearly ripped his pants off his body trying to get to you. You turned back forward and waited until you heard the splashing water and felt his hands circling around your waist pulling flushed against his body. 

His face went to your neck and he kissed and nipped at the flesh making you hum in content. You’ve never been naked with a man before let alone bathe with one but something about Bucky’s hungry eyes and hands roaming your body made you feel powerful. You had him wrapped around your little finger and you loved it.

Bucky loved it too. 

“You are so beautiful, my love.”

Bucky’s hand traveled down your stomach towards your center. A place that no man has ever touched before. You almost forgot about- 

“What’s this?”

“Stop,” you grabbed his hand and pulled it away. You wanted to cry. You completely forgot about what you had. 

You wadded to the edge of the tub completely embarrassed and scared of how ignorant and stupid you felt. 

“Hey, hey. What happened? Did I do something?” Bucky whispered to you, running his hands up and down your arms.

“No! It’s just, it’s ugly. I’m ugly,” you cried.

“What? Darling you are not ugly. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. How could you say such a thing about yourself?”

Bucky stopped for a minute and took the time to really look at your body now. He hadn’t realized until now but your entire back, shoulders, and arms with littered with painful scars; memories of the scary battles you partook on behalf of the kingdom. 

You sniffled and covered you breasts with your hands and arms as best as you could before slowly turning around to show the front of your body revealing a large, dark, and ridged scar across your entire abdomen. 

“It was the last battle before we retired.”

“Loki!” you screamed.

Smoke and fog from canons and the cold infiltrating your nose and lungs. You coughed and searched through the bodies and dirt that littered every inch of the battlefield. 

“I was with my partner and my love, Loki.”

“Loki!” you kept searching and shouting his name. You could hardly see through your thick metal helmet and ripped it off your head. You had to find him. 

“Loki! Where are you!” you screamed. 

Suddenly, a large man, a man like an ogre, came charging at you. You dropped your helmet and grabbed your sword and shield ready to take the fucker down. The rebels were at their peak of resistance and this battle had been your worst. 

Your men were dropping like flies and you couldn't hold them back much longer. And now you lost your best knight and your lover too. Loki Laufeyson.

You fought however. You were going to win the war. 

You gabbed your sword and cut the giant. He lunged forward and smacked your shield; you're still standing however. You danced around each other until you heard the familiar cry. Shouts and grunts you’ve heard a thousand times.

You turned and found Loki fighting another only feet away from you. The man took your turn away for advantage and lunged at you once again, completely impaling you with his makeshift sword. You were nailed to the ground literally screeching in pain. 

The man held your neck, cutting your airway, you could barely reach your sword to get him off you but your struggles were cut short when you looked to the side and found Loki being choked. He was lifted off the ground eyes turning red and skin turning blue. 

“They killed him,” you whispered to Bucky.

His neck was snapped in front of your eyes; his body collapsed to the ground limp. 

Your ears were ringing and everything went silent. You grabbed the sword and cut the throat of the man above you moving his body off you. You screamed and wailed for the loss of your love, your everything. 

“I was there for so long, his eyes staring at me with no life,” you broke down.

“Hey, hey, hey. I got you. It’s ok,” Bucky held  you. 

“It was so long ago; I moved on,” you said once you calmed down, “But it still hurts when I always have this constant reminder about what happened. What I could’ve done; I could’ve saved him.”

“You couldn’t have done anything more then what happened. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

“And all these scars and scratches remind me everyday of what I went through. It makes me want to ripped my skin off.”

“I know baby girl. I know exactly how that feels.”

You looked at him confused. He was a king, he had everything. How could he understand even the sheer amount of grief you went through?

He took a step away and you saw it. The scars that littered his body and the one across his chest and left shoulder. The scar shaped into a star on his left arm only to have come from branding by the rebels, Hydra they called themselves.

“Many, many years ago, I was taken from my parents by the rebels. They want goods or something, I don’t remember too much. They burned me and scarred me for information about my father merchants and traders. It went on for weeks. Until they left me for dead and moved on to different kingdoms I supposed. My father’s army found me else I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that,” you cupped his face. 

“But I’m here now stronger than ever and I know you are too.”

“It’s just, it’s hard. I have no one.”

“I know it is. And no you don’t have no one because whether or not there’s a marriage I’m still gonna be here for you and so is Natasha, Steve, and Sam. I’m pretty sure they love you more than they love me,” he chuckled as did you. 

“We are here for you now even if it doesn’t seem like it, you have us.”

“Bucky,” you whispered.

“Yes?”

“James….”

“Y/n….” 

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you with passion and lust. You hands cupped his face leaning further into the kiss. His hands were placed on your back pulling your body flushed against his own; he could feel your breasts pressed against his chest. 

“You are so strong,” Bucky pulled away and said between kissing your neck.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He moved back a bit and sat on a stone step pulling you to sit on top of his legs. His hands moved all over your body touching every inch of skin you had still kissing your neck and collarbones. Your hands raked through his hair and he hummed at the feeling. 

His hands roamed to your ass lifting you slightly. He waited for you to continue but when he saw the hesitation in your face he let go of your body.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Nothing, it's just… When I was with Loki we decided to wait to, you know. But then he died and I’ve never loved another. Until you. I’ve never…”

“I understand. We don’t have to do anything, we could just bathe,” he smiled.

“No Bucky. I love you, so much. And I don’t know what our future holds. What if I never see you again after tomorrow?”

“Hey, we’ll be together. I promise. Nothing’s gonna take you away from me.”

He kissed you again this time if felt a little different. Like he was also scared that he was gonna lose you. 

You stood up a bit and wrapped your hand around Bucky’s cock. You pumped it a few times eliciting moans from him that was music to your eyes. You could spend eternity like this if you had the chance.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t tease me,” Bucky moaned.

“But you sound so lovely,” you smirked.

Bucky grabbed your hips and sat you over his cock not yet pulling you down; almost like a warning that he can plow into if he wants. And boy is that something you want. 

You looked into Bucky’s eyes as you slowly but surely sank down onto his dick. You hadn’t actually seen it yet and feeling it in your hand you expected him to be pretty big but now sinking down on him, he was fucking huge.

You tensed up a little bit feeling yourself being stretched by his cock. 

“You’re taking me so well, baby. You’re so beautiful,” Bucky praised, “Take your time, darling.”

“You’re so big, James.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s starting to feel better.”

You slowly moved up to sink down again; beginning to feel less pressure and pain and way more pleasure. You moaned a bit before covering your mouth in embarrassment about your lude sounds.

“Don’t do that; I wanna hear you. I wanna hear how good my cock makes you feel.”

“It feels so good. Oh god,” you moaned.

You sped up the pace and your stomach felt like it was tightening in itself. This feeling was a whole new thing, but damn did it feel like heaven. Bucky started to join you in small thrusts up to you groaning in pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

“Keep talking Bucky. Please,” you moaned; Bucky’s words bringing you closer to the edge.

“You like it when I tell you how good your pussy feels? You want me to tell you how gorgeous you are? How perfect?”

“Yes!” you sped up chasing that high that you desperately wanted. 

Bucky grunted and grabbed your hips rutting his hips into you making you scream in pleasure. Your head tossed back and your toes curled, you felt a wave of euphoria come over you as you climaxed for the first time. Bucky grunted loudly and pulled you into a feral kiss as he climaxed hard. 

You slumped forward in fatigue on Bucky, his hands rubbing softly up and down your back. You stayed in silence for a minute before you moved to look up at Buck. 

“That was amazing,” you whispered, making him laugh.

Bucky lifted you and sat you on the dry stone counter kissing you softly. He dried you with towels and took you to your bed kissing your body up and down; kissing each scar. 

“”What are you doing?” you smiled at him.

“Oh baby, I’m not done with you,” his voice low with lust, making you incredibly aroused.

Bucky kissed your large scar on your belly and whispered how he loved you and how beautiful you were. Your heart fluttered at his words, tears pooled in your eyes. You could feel Bucky’s breath against your inner thighs and your head shot up.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you were confused as to what he was doing.

“I wanna taste you, doll. Is that ok? I promised it’ll feel good,” he assured you.

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.

Bucky licked up your folds and your hips jerked at the new feeling. He brought his hands up and spread your legs open for more room. His tongue moved up and down brushing your clit making you squirm underneath him. 

Bucky inserted a finger and pumped it in and out of your pussy, following with another soon after. Your body thrashed under him; another orgasm approaching fast. You moaned and cried at the intense pleasure that Bucky was giving you, the best feeling you’ve ever felt.

“Oh god Bucky, that feels so fucking good,” you hands entangled themselves in his hair.

Your back arched off the bed, your cum dripping down Bucky’s chin. It was truly a beautiful sight. Bucky lapped up everything you gave him and wiped his chin with his hand before kissing you. He positioned himself above, his hips settled between your thighs.

“You think you can be a good girl and give me one more?” Bucky positioned himself at your entrance.

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl.”

“Good,” Bucky thrusted fast into you, making you moan loudly.

“That’s baby, let the whole damn kingdom know who’s fucking you this good. Tell me, say it to me.”

“You’re fucking me so good! You feel so good, ah!” tears fell down your cheeks from immense pleasure.

“God, I love you, Y/n,” he buried his face into your neck, nipping at the skin. He was getting closer to another orgasm and his thrusts were getting wild and animalistic.

“I love you Bucky,” you said to him, bringing his forehead to yours. Hands scratching at his back.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again!”

“I love you, James. So much.”

You and Bucky both climax together, shouting ecstasy. His body rolled over to the side, his cock still inside you, pulling into him. Your head resting on his lightly sweaty chest. His hands scratched lightly on your back making your skin break out in chills. 

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked you.

“Yes. I'm perfect.”

“Good. I was scared that maybe I pushed you too far.”

“No, I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

There was a brief moment of silence; you almost fell asleep. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to ask the king for your hand instead.”

“What?” you head rose quickly.

“I mean it. I spoke with Charlotte before I came here and turns out she too loves someone else.”

“Henry,” you whispered.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I’ve sent letters to the duke’s home a couple times. She spoke a lot of his son; a good man. I didn't realize she may actually have fallen in love with him.”

“She did and I’m pretty sure like me, she went to tell her one true love that they love them. Very much. More than anything in the whole world.”

“You sap,” you laughed.

“I mean it. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“And if the king says no? You’re supposed to marry his daughter, not his knight.”

“I know, but I’ll make him say yes. I swear,” Bucky kissed you.

“Good night, James.” 

“Good night, my love.” 

======================================

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:

@velvetcardiganbucky ​

@chipilerendi ​

@heavenhatesme

@austynparksandpizza

@ahahafudge ​

@onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles

@smoochesfroggos

@thegeekybibliophile​

[bokukkokhmer]

I’m scrapping this script but I’ll leave the draft here for future reference

Int. Kitchen - Afternoon

A woman is doing the dishes when she looks out the window.

Cut to

Ext. Horse Enclosure - Afternoon

A teenage girl is horseback riding. She is a beautiful young maiden, with fiery red hair and cool blue eyes garbed in a forest green blouse and beige pants. She’s armed with a bow and arrow, she carefully stands on the horse and shoots at a target as she rides by. It hits close to the bullseye. She shoots another and another, always hitting close but never on the bullseye. She eventually gives up and stops her horse. She dismounts and begins to lead her horse back to the other horses. She sees the woman has come out to see her skills.

Regan: I’ve gotten better

Julie: You have, now I don’t have to worry about my windows being broken

The two laugh.

Julie: Come on lunch is ready

The two head inside

Int. Kitchen - Afternoon

The two sit down for lunch. Regan expresses joy at the sight of the boiled sheep head gracing the table. The two begin to eat.

Julie: Don’t forget that later you have to go pick a cow to slaughter for your uncle’s birthday.

Regan: Okay.

Julie: We need ribs, all the sirloin, the spine, the head and all the offal we can legally eat.

Regan: So you want the testicles too?

Julie: Yes.

They finish lunch and Regan goes upstairs to get ready. Closing her room door she fixes her hair and changes into clothing more suitable for labor.

Ext. Slaughterhouse - Afternoon

A young farmhand wrangles in a bull for slaughter while Regan is silently facing the wall.

Wesson: Whenever you’re ready Regan

Wesson turns around and sees Regan facing the wall.

Wesson: Regan?

Regan: Sorry, quick prayer.

Regan carefully approaches the bull, stroking it until it is calm and still.

Regan: Please don’t suffer

Regan quickly slits the bull’s throat. She places a container underneath to catch the blood. The bull collapses as it dies of blood loss. Wesson hangs the bull up.

Wesson: So your aunt wanted what now?

Regan: Ribs, all the sirloin, the spine, the head, organs and the balls

Wesson: You guys eat the balls?

Regan: That’s the only set of balls going in my mouth

Wesson and Regan laugh as he cuts the cut needed.

Wesson: The rest are going to be sent to restaurants

Wesson and Regan load the meat into coolers then onto a yak pulled cart.

Regan: Thanks Wesson, here’s the money and a sheep my aunt slaughtered today

Wesson unloads the sheep and notices that it’s headless.

Wesson: Why is the head missing?

Regan: (Casually) We ate it.

Wesson: Jesus.

Regan gets into the driver's seat and begins to drive off while waving goodbye. Regan drives down the road in her cart, humming casually. A wise shot shows a paved road and a car driving by which tells the audience this story is in fact taking place in the 21st century.

A car driving by slows down and the passenger window rolls down to reveal a tourist family.

Tourist mom: Excuse me is that-

Regan: A yak pulled cart? Yes it is. This is my beast of burden Edgar.

Tourist mom: (Beat) Which way to town?

Regan: Keep going straight and turn right at the roundabout.

Tourist mom: Okay thanks

The window rolls back up and they quickly speed away. Regan disregards this and begins to hum again as she makes her way home.

Int. Kitchen - Night

Julie preps the meats while Regan drinks some milk tea.

Julie: Put that on low heat to cook overnight and Regan can you stay up until 10 to make sure it’s okay and I’ll wake up at 4 to check on it?

Regan: Yeah.

Julie: Okay, then we’re also going to have Mala Xiang Guo, Fuqi feipian and Boortsog for dessert

Regan: Sounds good

Julie sets the ribs down in front of Regan.

Julie: You can marinate the ribs and smoke them.

Regan: Alright

Regan gets up and in a quick montage the audience sees Regan throw in heaping handfuls of spices in an empty bowl before cutting the ribs into manageable sections. She rubs the spice mixture onto the ribs before placing them in the fridge. Regan yawns but drinks more of her piping hot beverage. Julie goes to bed while Regan removes the scum. She puts the lid on the pot and goes to bed.

Int. Regan’s Bedroom - Night

Regan goes to bed in her burgundy nightgown. She lays in bed. In a bird’s eye shot time fast forward of her sleeping in bed, it stops at 2 AM. Regan wakes up and stares at her altars. The candles on the altars have been lit. Rolling out of bed, Regan crawls to the altars and attempts to snuff them out. The candles relight everytime she does.

Regan: What now?

Regan puts her hand on her back. There’s a burning sensation, her face contorted with pain. She gets up and runs to the bathroom. Regan rips off the cloth covering the mirror and checks her back. Angry red scratch marks along her back.

Regan: Uh, guys. A little help here?

A man appears and winces at the sight.

Poseidon: We tried to warn you

Regan: “Regan, there’s something extremely wrong” tends to work better

Poseidon: Right, sorry

Regan looks at the evil eye ring on her thumb. It still has its pupil.

Regan: It’s a love spell isn’t it?

Poseidon: Yup

Regan: Son of a-

Finally cue title card.

Int. Kitchen - Morning

Regan goes to Julie and shows her scratched up back. Julie gasps.

Regan: Nonconsensual love spell.

Julie: Are you okay?

Regan: Well I already got rid of the spell but I would like to figure out who did it so I can yell at them. After Uncle’s birthday of course.

Regan makes herself a cup of milk tea.

Julie: Can you pick him up?

Regan: Yeah I can take the cart.

Julie: Don’t get distracted

Regan: What am I gonna get distracted by?

Julie: I dunno, plants? Shiny rocks? Animal bones?

Regan: You just described my entire craft though.

Julie: Exactly

Julie gives Regan some toasted bread and a small bowl of urum. Regan is seen eating before it cuts to a man getting off of a boat.

Ext. Fishing Docks - Morning

A man dressed in proper fishing attire gets off a boat. He waves goodbye to his crew and begins to walk towards the mainland. He sees Regan and smiles with a wave. He throws his stuff into the cart and sits next to Regan.

Regan: Happy Birthday Uncle Andy

Andy: Thanks Regan, did Aunt Julie make anything for me?

Regan: She said you can join the horses in eating the grass

Andy chuckles as Regan grins. Regan drives them down the road. All is peaceful until Regan begins to cough. Her coughs become harsher and rougher until blood comes out from her mouth.

Andy: (Worried) Are you okay

Regan: I’m confused that’s what I am. Someone put a love spell on me without my consent and now this? Let’s get home so I can figure this out.

Cuts to Regan in a bathtub

Int. Regan’s Bathroom - Noon

Regan is submerged to her shoulders in water, crystals line her tub and a sachet full of herbs float in the water.

Regan: Gentleman, I might have to murder someone

Hades: Over a hex?

Regan: And the love spell

Zeus: Sounds reasonable but how are you going to track this person down.

Regan: I’ll figure it out after I put up charms for the house

[vagrantblvrd]

A Place So Dark (2/?)

Summary: Gavin died on a Thursday.

                 That’s what the official records say, anyway. 

                 They also say he died in an accident.

Notes: This is loosely (very much so) based on the movie The Wraith and inspired by Michael and Gavin messing around in the GTA V Jetpack Joyrides video. (Look, I don’t know what happened either. Also, let’s pretend Tron isn’t a thing in this AU, because reasons.)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 ||

(Read on AO3)

When Michael turns, Gavin has the helmet in his hands and this small, awkward smile on his face.

He looks...uncertain.

That hesitant little smile Michael knows so well. The one he’d get when he’d done something stupid or messed up and fucking well knew it, couldn’t apologize like a normal person, no.

Just.

A mess of issues and stupid about it all, and hoping Michael would somehow be able to read his mind. Understand that whatever had happened wasn’t his intent. That there really was a reason the toaster was suddenly in pieces, or the plumbing was fucked up.

A whole slew of things gone wrong that shouldn’t have, really, Michael, he didn’t expect it to happen.

After a moment Gavin’s eyes slide away from Michael’s, shoulders hunching because Michael cannot stop scowling at him.

Anger burning hot in his chest because this stupid bastard. This stupid motherfucker who got himself in trouble, got in so deep someone wanted him dead.

Fucking Gavin who made Michael promise him months and months and months ago. Goddamn years, that if he was ever in trouble he’d go to Gavin.

Ask for help and Gavin would give it, no questions asked because it was just that simple. They’d figure it together, no reason to go it alone when it was the two of them against the world.

Partners in crime, the two of them, and this stupid little giggle from Gavin because they’d both had a little too much to drink. Gotten the kind of serious you do sometimes when you’re like that.

Dumb jokes and stories, this sideways slide into the heart of things without a by your leave. Gavin worrying about Michael and the bruises and worse he’d come back to their shitty apartment with sometimes.

“Your arm,” Gavin says suddenly, frowning slightly as he sets his helmet down on the table and moves over to Michael.

Gavin moves slow, careful as he reaches out and pulls Michael’s arm toward him. Looking to him as though he’s asking permission as he examines a cut on Michael’s arm visible through the ripped sleeve of his jacket.

Michael fights the urge to yank his arm back, annoyance rising because now that Gavin’s called attention to the injury he can feel the damn thing. Feel a myriad of small injuries he must have gotten earlier and hadn’t paid attention to with his focus on getting them out of there. Quashes the feeling as he watches Gavin.

Concerned frown on his face so damn familiar it hurts. Sharp ache in his chest that’s almost a physical pain, because he never thought he’d get to see it again.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches for it,” Gavin says, and looks up to meet Michael's eyes. “But you should put a bandage on it at least.”

He glances at the abandoned bag with the medical supplies and cocks his head just so, a gesture Michael knows so fucking well because he’s seen it so many times before.

Just another one of the things he should have picked up on earlier. Another one of Gavin’s quirks and ticks Michael had seen the biker use and never thought to connect to Gavin.

So much evidence in front of him leading to the biker’s identity and Michael just never seeing any of it because why the fuck would he expect to when Gavin was dead?

The Gavin he’d known was an awkward, clumsy dork who was good with computers and loved playing with his cameras. An idiot who never let on he wasn’t quite who Michael thought he was, but then again the reverse is true because Michael did the same, didn’t he?

Lies upon lies, and all of them mean to protect each other because it was dangerous not to.

This fucking city.

And maybe it’s not just Los Santos to blame for all of this. The secrets they both hid from each other, thinking they were protecting each other and doing more harm than good in the end, but it’s easier to cast blame than it is to face up to how stupid they've both been about this.

The fact that somehow Gavin’s here, looking at Michael with those eyes of his. Big and worried and holding himself like he thinks -

“I can’t do this on my own,” Michael hears himself say as he stares at Gavin’s hands. Fingers curled around his wrist, thumb resting over his pulse point.

Gavin blinks, mouth opening to ask why – always with he questions because he has a curious fucking mind doesn’t he. Never satisfied until he’s picked something apart, gotten a good look at what makes it tick and finds a way to put it back together again. (Not always right, but he tries.)

“I’m right handed, idiot.”

The cut’s on his right arm, and Michael could manage to slap a rough bandage on it, keep from making things worse, but it won’t be pretty. Might as well not even bother for all the good it will do him.

“I’ll fuck it up,” Michael says, and shrugs at the look Gavin gives him.

Michael doesn’t know how any of this is possible. How Gavin is standing in front him, solid and real and so goddamned familiar.

Watching Michael with that worried look he used to get when Michael would come home after a rough job and lie to him about it. Tell him some idiot at work had run into him, or that he’d hit his head on something. Nothing important, serious, so no need to worry about it.

Nothing but lies mixed tied up with the truth like that was just the way things had to be and why change things if it worked?

Gavin patching him up with this little frown between his eyes and so, so careful no to ask even though Michael could tell he wanted to more than anything.

Gavin starts to let go.

“Gavin.”

Gavin freezes, eyes skittering away from Michael’s.

He still looks the same.

Dumb hair that looks like it never met a comb it liked and that fucking nose of his. Laugh lines around his eyes that Michael always hoped he’d contributed to. The mole under his eye, so many other things Michael was worried he’d forgotten, and it’s killing him a little.

This whole mess is killing him because he can’t do this alone the way he was so convinced he could.

Just him against Carmine’s organization like one of those godawful movies Michael loved as a kid.

Good triumphing over evil, white hats against black hats. Scenarios where good always won because that’s how the stories were supposed to go.

Somewhere along the way he forgot on of the hardest lessons he ever learned, forgot that life isn’t like that. Realized just how fine the line between good and evil is, and which side he landed on as he grew up, made the kinds of choices he did.

The way people like Carmine with money and power behind them win out more often than not. That people like him and Gavin get trampled underfoot and forgotten, because they were just a statistic in the end.

Michael’s been lucky so far. Luckier than anyone has a right to be, but that same luck is bound to run out on him sooner rather than later with his hard he’s been pushing things.

And for whatever reason Gavin’s here, he’s back.

He’s the asshole half the city’s talking about.

This incredible force – anger and fury and something else to him Michael can’t explain, doesn’t have the words for - going after Carmine and his organization with equally single-minded determination.

He’s done more to hurt Carmine in these past few weeks than Michael has in the entire time he found out about his involvement in Gavin’s death. Cracked the foundations under Carmine’s feet, but it’s still not enough.

Worse, after tonight they know Gavin’s not invincible. They managed to make him bleed, proved they can hurt him. Kill him, and they’re not about to forget that after what he’s done to them, cost them.

“I can’t do this on my own,” Michael says again, and he sounds like he picked smoking back up. Voice fucked up because he’s not just talking about Carmine and his hired guns, doesn’t think he could take losing Gavin again. “I’ll fuck it up if I try.”

He’s been driven by anger and grief, this need to make whoever was responsible pay and no real plan behind any of it. Belated realization that he never expected to make it as far as he has. Expected Carmine or Rat-face to sniff him out, realize what he was up to and make an example out of him the way they did with Gavin.

He’d only gotten as close as he has through sheer luck, and doesn’t know where to go from here.  

Gavin stares at him for a long moment, and Michael can’t read him. Can’t tell what he’s thinking, or even if he knows him as well as he thought he did to be able to read him.

“Let’s look at your arm first,” Gavin says, eyes dropping away from Michael’s as he goes to get the medical supplies. “Wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

Michael watches him walk away and wonders what the hell he as expecting. For Gavin to jump at the chance to team up with him like this is some kind of stupid superhero movie?

“Yeah, alright,” Michael sighs, and follows Gavin to the cramped bathroom where the lighting is better.

Gavin gives him a small smile as Michael sits on the edge of the tub. Helps him peel off his jacket, managing to reopen the wound a little in the process. Dried blood gluing it to his skin and it's not pretty, hurts like hell as Gavin cleans the wound up best he can with their available supplies.

His hands are cool, which isn’t a surprise because Gavin always runs cold, but there’s a different quality now that makes Michael uneasy.

“I’d hate to be the one to find that,” Gavin says, seeming to pick up on his mood and  trying for a bit of levity as he tips his head towards the pile of bloodstained washcloths he tossed into the bathtub.

Michael snorts.

“I’d hate to be the one to find anything in this dump,” Michael shoots back because there’s not enough money in the world for that.

Gavin makes a face, gagging as his mind pulls up likely scenarios, and Michael’s chest aches because it’s such a familiar sight. Michael fucking with Gavin because it was always so easy, and cackling about it because he’s that kind of asshole.

“You’re a bloody bully Michael,” Gavin says, wounded note to his voice like he hasn't learned better by now.

And Michael -

“Literally,” he says, unable to stop himself as Gavin spreads ointment over the cut and tapes a gauze pad over it.

Gavin sighs, world-weary and such a brave little toaster for putting up with the terrible shit Michael puts him through, and it hurts how normal this feels.

Gavin leaves his hands on Michael's arm, frown on his face as he traces the edges of old scars from Michael’s line of work.

A few are from knives, but there’s a bullet graze near his elbow. Road rash that never healed quite right from a spill off a bike running from the cops once. More scars and marks left from countless fights, scrapes, he’s been in hidden by his clothes.

Souvenirs of a life that’s probably going kill him before long.

“Gav?”

Gavin reluctantly pulls his hands away and looks at Michael.

“You’re not going to stop even if I say no, are you.”

That.

“No,” Michael says, calm, even.

It would be better if they worked together on taking Carmine down because Gavin’s the one with all the cards here. Found something that spooked Carmine enough to have him killed, and Michael’s just been fumbling in the dark.

But if Gavin says no, chooses not to work together with him Michael’s just going to keep going until he succeeds or gets himself killed, whichever comes first. Can’t just let it go, even with Gavin here in front of him now.

The worst part about is that Michael’s still a coward, isn’t he. Can’t tell Gavin why he’s so determined to do this. All those words he had time to figure out after Gavin died, things he swore to himself he’d tell him if he ever got the chance to seem to have dried up and crumbled to dust on the back of his tongue.

Gavin huffs a laugh, and sits back to look at Michael.

“I can’t stay,” Gavin says, and waves a hand toward the window they can just see through the open door of the bathroom, sunlight breaking through the curtains. “There are rules, limits, to this. To whatever I am.”

Michael feels that uneasiness from earlier rear its head.

“What, are you a fucking vampire now? Do you burn in the sunlight?”

Gavin gives Michael this look, like maybe Michael’s parents dropped him on his head as a kid one time too many.

“What? No. You’ve seen me in the daylight before, haven’t you?” he says, and his tone of voice backs up the look on his face perfectly. “But I used a lot of energy tonight, didn’t I, and I have to go back.”

There’s something about the way Gavin says it that sends a chill down his spine.

“Go back?” he asks, trying to hold Gavin’s gaze but the fucker is a champ at avoidance.

Motherfucking gold medalist.

“For a little bit,” Gavin clarifies, still not meeting his eyes. “Just to rest.”

“Gav - “

“Give it a day or two, yeah?” Gavin pulls the latex gloves he was using off and slings them into the trash can under the bathroom sink. Gets to his feet. “Try not to do anything stupid before then, and we’ll talk about things. Get everything sorted.”

Like they’re talking about whose turn it is to do the dishes or why the fuck Gavin can’t remember not to throw a half empty cup of coffee in the trash from across the room. Like it’s something simple, stupid, small.

Like Michael isn’t terrified that Gavin won’t come back. Will just be gone, or that Michael hallucinated all of this. Hit his head and ended up in some stupid movie coma only to wake up and find out it was a dream all along.

Gavin finally looks at him, bright smile on his face like this whole situation isn’t fucked.

“No promises,” Michael says, hands clenching where they rest on his lap, grasping on to the sting, burn, that runs through his injured arm. “Don’t fucking stop for coffee on your back, you fuck.”

There’s a mirror over the sink facing the tub Michael’s sitting on. Dirty and cracked, and Michael stares at his reflection in it as Gavin pauses to squeeze his shoulder as he walks past, hand burning cold where it touches him.

Michael doesn’t hear the outer door when Gavin leaves, and it’s a long, long time before he can make himself get up.

========

Jeremy knows something is up when Michael slinks back in later that morning.

Would have to be blind not to given the state Michael’s in even after he made an effort to clean up. His clothes are still fucked and there’s no adrenaline to allow him to ignore the fact he’s hurting.

Still, Jeremy doesn’t say a damn thing.

Michael gets this look from him. The kind of worry Jeremy shouldn’t waste on a shitty friend like him, but that’s just like him, isn’t it.

The same way it’s just like him when Jeremy sits down next to Michael on the couch and pushes a cup of coffee into his hands to help warm him up. Sets a plate down with one of the donuts he picked up a few days ago.

Pretends like he’s not keeping an eye on Michael to make sure he’s not about to keel over on him right there and then. Force Jeremy to drag him down to a clinic or the emergency room.

Turns on the television so they can listen to the news, hear all about the commotion the night before in the industrial district. Fire fighters still on site, and various news crews vying for the best  shots. Solemn faced reporters going over what they know so far, batting theories and rumors back and forth with their counterparts behind the anchor desk back at the news station.

“Looks like a mess,” Jeremy notes, taking a sip of his coffee and carefully not looking at Michael.

Michael sighs, slumping a little into the soft cushions of the couch.

It’s so goddamn tempting to just tell Jeremy everything. What’s been going on to make him worry about Michael so much when he doesn’t deserve it, but Michael wouldn’t even know where to start without sounding like  damned lunatic.

Weird shit happens in Los Santos all the time, but this?

Got to be enough to get him locked away, and he’s not sure it wouldn’t be warranted at this point.

“Yeah,” Michael says, and splits the doughnut between them as a peace offering.

He can’t tell Jeremy what’s going on, but he sure as fuck appreciates that he wants to help.

Jeremy snorts, flipping through stations until he lands on an early morning cartoon.

Bright colors and weird animal characters with no real plot to speak of. Simple cartoonish bullshit accompanied by whimsical music that is clearly meant to be a punishment of some sort because it’s all so bad.

Which is fair, really.

Better than what Michael deserves, that’s for damn certain.

========

Rat-face calls Michael and tells him to lie low for now. That Carmine and his top people are coming up with a plan to deal with Gavin once and for all and they’ll contact him when they need him.

Michael plays his part, gives him yes sir, and no sir, and I understand, sir, and feels this thread of fear wrap tight around his heart because he still hasn’t heard from Gavin.

Doesn’t know where he is, if he’s okay. Doesn’t know a goddamned thing, and the  not knowing is killing him, but there’s not a lot Michael can about it until Gavin decides to show his face again. (Michael’s half afraid he won’t, that he just imagined the whole thing and Jeremy’s not wrong about Michael losing his damn mind.)

He makes a few half-hearted attempts to crack Gavin’s password, and watches daytime dramas that he doesn’t pay attention to. Too worried about Gavin and what Carmine and his flunkies are up to to focus long enough to understand the plot.

Pretends like he doesn’t see the worried looks Jeremy keeps tossing his way and does his best to act like he’s not slowly going out of his mind.

After the fifth day it gets old, and something drags Michael back to the apartment building he and Gavin lived in.

There’s not much left to it anymore. It’s been hollowed out by the fire, scavengers and worse in and out picking over the bones, looking for anything of value and coming up empty-handed.

Michael kicks aside a piece of charred wood and carefully makes his way through the rubble left behind from the fire. The place smells faintly of rot and decay over the lingering stench of smoke, or maybe that last is his mind overlaying memories with what his eyes are seeing, who the fuck knows.

“Christ,” he mutters, walking into what used to be the his – their -old living room.

Barely big enough for that stupid couch Gavin made him haul up several flights of stairs so long ago.

Stupid heavy and ugly as all hell, but something about it had caught Gavin’s eye and he’d spent money they couldn’t really afford on it. Big, stupid grin on his face and cajoling note to his voice, and Michael?

He always did have a hard time saying no to Gavin, even when he knew better.

So he lugged the fucking hideous thing upstairs while Gavin fretted and fussed. Offered up completely useless advice as he “helped”. Dropped his end of the couch more times than Michael cares to remember, mumbling sheepish apologies and laughing about it.

The damn couch is a pile of blackened wood now, melted bits of metal.

So much of their lives here gone up in fire and nothing but rubble and ash under his feet and if that isn’t some kind of shitty metaphor, Michael doesn’t know what is.

Michael lifts his head when he hears footsteps behind him, hands curling into loose fists at his side because he knows who it is.

Heard that fucking bike earlier, the low purr of its engine as it pulled up.

“Fire department said it was faulty wiring.”

Bad wiring in an old building, and shit like that happens all the in a city like this where code enforcement is so lax. No one gives much of a damn unless it makes the news, and even then it barely makes a ripple in the news cycle.

Why would it, when this is the kind of place where the police look the other way when it comes to crime all the fucking time? When people tsk over a murder and shake their heads before moving on because it’s just another statistic?

Always such a shame, and so convenient that it happens to someone else.

Gavin doesn’t say anything, but Michael can hear him sifting through the mess, looking for something.

Michael finally turns around, almost expecting Gavin to disappear the moment he does like that fucked up Greek myth about the asshole who went to the underworld in search of his wife after she died.

But this is reality, for whatever that’s worth, and Gavin doesn’t fade away when Michael looks at him.

Seems solid and real as he sweeps a pile of debris aside with his foot, glancing around with this odd frown on his face.

“Michael,” Gavin says, frustrated note to his voice. “Where was the bedroom?”

Of all the things he was expecting to hear from Gavin, that wasn’t anywhere on the list.

“What?”

Gavin looks frustrated, annoyed.

“Well it’s not like I had the floor plans memorized, now is it?” Gavin asks, turning his head away when Michael keeps staring.

They lived in that shitty apartment of theirs for years. Tiny and cramped, hardly enough room in it for the two of them and their shit. The kind of place you learn where everything is real quick or otherwise end up with stubbed toes and bumps on the back of your head moving around in the dark.

Th single bedroom they shared because they were adults who could handle sharing a bed with their couch being uncomfortable as hell. Always a bout of insomnia or work project that couldn’t wait for a reasonable hour, some other excuse that would keep one of them awake and trying to be considerate of each other.

Gavin had been prone to those kind of nights more often than Michael, ended up knowing it better than he did.

Gavin still won’t meet his eyes and Michael lets it drop because looking around now, he can see how it  would be hard to pinpoint where the hallway ends and the bedroom begins. Where everything should have been.

“Over here, I think,” Michael says, and moves past Gavin to gesture towards a pile of debris where the doorway to the bedroom door used to be. “What are you looking for?”

Gavin twitches a shoulder in a shrug as he maps out where the boundaries of the room would have been.

“Of course,” he mumbles to himself, and sets to clearing away what looks like part of the ceiling and half of the wall.

“Don’t just stand there, give me a hand, you bastard,” Gavin calls over his shoulder in a fit of pique, and Michael snorts as he goes over to help.

Follows Gavin’s orders as they dig out a small area roughly where the bed used to be. Stands back when Gavin drives the heel of his foot down on a section of floor to reveal a hidden compartment containing a fire safe.

“Maybe it was worth what I paid for it after all,” Gavin muses as he crouches down to examine it for damage, eyes meeting Michael’s over it. “Did you get the package?”

Nice and casual, like Gavin’s asking about the weather or something equally normal.

As if Gavin hadn’t planned ahead, expected for something to go wrong with whatever he’d been doing.

For someone to kill him.

Like he hadn’t taken the necessary precautions to ensure that whatever he’d found made it to Michael, that he’d gotten him everything he’d need to start up a new life somewhere, like that something people just fucking did.

Goddamn, it makes Michael angry all over again just thinking about it. About Gavin realizing how much trouble he was in and taking all these steps to protect Michael without giving a fucking thought to how he’d feel about things in the aftermath of his death.

As though Michael wouldn’t lose sleep wondering what he could have done differently to get Gavin to trust him enough to ask for help. What he’d done to make him think he wouldn’t drop everything if Gavin had just fucking asked.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “About that.”

Gavin looks up, frown on his face like he doesn’t know what the fucking problem is.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this?” Michael asks, hating the way his voice sounds rough, cracks showing through because Gavin’s secrets got him killed and Michael was too stupid to ask. “I could have fucking helped.”

Gavin stares at Michael like he’s trying to think up a lie, some excuse or reason that he thinks Michael’s just going to buy and that’ll be the end of that. No reason to get bothered over any of it.

“I don’t care if you didn’t know I was involved in this shit,” Michael says, before Gavin can interrupt him, say something that will just make him angrier. “I would have fucking helped you, Gavin. Jesus fuck, you know I would have.”

If nothing else, they were friends and Michael thought Gavin had known that. Known Michael would have done anything for him if he asked.

But he hadn’t, had he.

Had just dug himself deeper into whatever trouble he’d found that it had gotten him killed, and Michael left behind to pick up the pieces of his life. Move on, like it ever would have been so simple.

“Carmine’s a monster,” Gavin says, low and quiet. This fierceness to his voice Michael's never heard. His hand is splayed over the top of the fire safe like he’s keeping whatever secrets are inside from spilling out like Pandora’s box for better or worse. “You have no idea what he’s capable of, Michael.”

Michael can guess, given what happened to Gavin. The things he picked up when he was trying to find a way into Carmine’s organization. Bits and pieces he overheard from the others once he did.

The way Jeremy and others Michael’s come into contact with on his search for answers have warned him away from the fucker. Want nothing to do with him, which says so goddamned much in a city like this.

“By the time I knew what kind of monster he was, it was too late to back out of things, and I wanted to keep you out of it,” Gavin says, gaze focused on the damn fire safe under his hand. “I thought if he didn’t know about you, you’d be safe. That he couldn’t use you against me if he found out what I was doing.”

Oh, Christ.

“He was toying with me the whole time,” Gavin says, and his laugh sounds all broken and wrong, jagged little pieces to it. “Let me think I was getting away with things, that everything was going to turn out okay. That I didn’t manage bollocks everything up.”

“Gav - “

“I had a plan, Michael,” Gavin says. “I had a plan.”

But life – especially here in Los Santos – has a way of fucking you over if you’re not careful. (Sometimes even when you are.)

Michael stares at Gavin.

At this fucking idiot who tried so hard to keep Michael safe with no one there to watch his back, no one to keep him safe. Lying like his life depended on to keep Michael in the dark, and managing it all right up until the end.

Goddamn.

“You fucking idiot,” Michael snarls, and drags Gavin into a hug. Closes his eyes at Gavin’s startled intake of breath, like he was expecting Michael to hit him instead, like he would have deserved it, and holds on tighter.

There’s no way to change what happened, no point in second-guessing Gavin’s choices when it would be nothing but cruelty now. Salt in fresh wounds, but maybe, maybe, they can find a way to make things right now if Gavin will let him.

“I have to go,” Gavin says, some time later, even though he makes no move to let go of Michael. “Michael, I have to go.”

Michael wants to ask him why. Plead with him to stay, maybe, because he knows Gavin’s not going to give up on Carmine. Knows he’s still going to after him even though it almost got him killed (again, a part of Michael’s mind points out, again) last time.

“Be careful, asshole,” he says, because he knows he can’t stop Gavin even if he tries. Might drive him away altogether if he does. “They’re planning something.”

Gavin laughs, like this is all a fucking joke.

“Of course they are,” he says, and then he’s untangling himself from Michael's hold, this sad smile on his face that’s breaking Michael’s heart. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Like he has any fucking right to say something like that after everything that’s happened.

Still.

“Same goes for you, asshole,” he says, and watches Gavin walk away.

========

Gavin goes on his hit and runs, and Michael hears about it on the news afterwards.

Watches the so-called experts attempt to analyze what little data about him they have. Pinpoint his methodology, reason for his attacks, with little success.

Gavin’s smart about things, switches up his plan of attack even as he focuses on Carmine’s allies with his organization laying low after the ambush.

Chipping away at his support, whittling away his options one by one by one.

In the midst of all this, Jeremy’s crew has him running around doing damage control. He’s out at all hours and starting to look like shit warmed over.

According to him Gavin hasn’t gone after them, shouldn’t have reason to, but they’re understandably concerned. Their allies are understandably concerned, and there’s not much Michael can do to help him without revealing too much.

Feels like an asshole as he watches as Jeremy spends less and less time at the apartment until he might as well not be there at all.

So of course, of course, that’s when Gavin comes to visit.

Picks a day when Jeremy’s out, or maybe he’s been watching them the whole time and waiting for just the right moment.

Either way, there’s no mistaking the sound his bike makes when it pulls up outside.

When Michael opens the door, Gavin has his bike helmet tucked under one arm and he looks -

He looks tired.

Exhausted.

Like someone at the end of their rope and barely hanging on, and he asks  after the package he sent to Michael.

“Why do you want it?”

Gavin opens his mouth to speak, and stops.

Eyes narrowing as he looks at Michael.

“You don’t know.”

Michael doesn’t bother denying it. Not when he’s been trying to crack Gavin’s fucking password for so long, been tempted to drag Jeremy and Matt into this whole mess when he couldn’t.

“No,” Michael says, and decides to try on some honesty between them for size. “But I sure as hell want to.”

He wants to know what Gavin found that was so important, so fucking terrible that he couldn’t tell Michael about. What Carmine wanted him dead for.

Gavin stares at him for a long, long moment. Long enough that Michael thinks he’s going to pull another one of his disappearing tricks. Claim he can’t stay, that he has to leave and then fuck off the was he’s been doing for one reason or another, but he doesn’t.

“If I show you,” Gavin says, like he’s still not convinced Michael's serious about this, or maybe just doesn’t want to pull him in any deeper than he already is, “there’s no going back.”

Christ, be more melodramatic.

“Really?” Michael asks. “Really?”

Gavin makes a face, looks away because even he knows that was a little over the top, even with everything else about this clusterfuck.

“It’s...complicated,” Gavin hedges, not quite making eye contact. “And it’s dangerous.”

No shit.

The fact Gavin’s still trying to protect him is as sweet as it is heartbreaking, but it’s a little too late for that now. Michael’s not giving up until Carmine’s dead, and while he’d be thrilled to work with Gavin on that, he’s not going to be deterred if he has to do it on his own.

“Alright,” Gavin says, because he must see all of that in Michael’s expression, or maybe he’s just tired of going it alone. “Alright. Bring the package along because we’re going to need it.”

========

Gavin takes them to several stops around the city. Has this cagey look to him as they pick up packages and other shit he’d stashed, all of them under different names and aliases.

Sends Michael on ahead with combinations or passwords. Shuffles his feet when he hands over a key and runs a hand through his hair when he tells Michael they’re almost done.

Avoids Michael’s eyes when he looks up from studying the scorched key chain singed tag attached to it like he wouldn’t recognize it as one of Gavin’s. (The way the metal of the key itself feels hot to the touch. Hot enough to burn.)

“There are only three people authorized to access it, and it would be awkward if I went in to collect it,” Gavin says, and flips the visor of his helmet down to end the conversation, a new habit of his that’s already gotten old.

It’s another storage facility. The kind of place that has the kind of security that requires ID to get past the main desk. Only one like it of all the places they’ve been to, and it has him paying even closer attention to things once he goes inside.

Unlike the others, this one is under Gavin’s real name. Paid for in cash with no paper trail to lead back to it and a certain air to the whole thing that feels borderline legal. Very discreet and hush-hush. Guards with weapons showing under their jackets and this veneer of civility that does nothing to hide how dangerous they are under it all.

The woman behind the counter gives Michael a cursory glance when he walks in, finishes up what she’s working on before turning to him with a polite smile.

“I’m here about locker 339?” he says, holding up the key Gavin handed off to him.

Her eyes narrow, but apparently she’s seen worse because she just asks for his driver license to verify he is who he claims to be. Spends a moment to make sure everything is in order before she buzzes him through the security door.

There's an attendant on the other side of the security door to escort him to the lockers, standing just inside the door while Michael checks the contents to Gavin’s.

There’s an external hard drive instead of the USB drives they’ve collected today, as well as several envelopes with Gavin’s handwriting on them.

Feeling oddly guilty, Michael flips through them. There’s one for the dead reporter Gavin wanted Michael to go to, and another addressed to Michael.

It looks older than the others, including to the one he had sent to Michael.

Battered, worn, almost as though Gavin kept it with him for a while before deciding to put it here.

“We have secure rooms,” the attendant says, because Michael's just standing there like an idiot staring down at it. “If you’d like to view your items privately?”

Michael blinks, realizes he’s taken longer than he should have. Was supposed to collect the locker’s contents. Gather up whatever Gavin had squirreled away here and close out his account, not whatever the hell he thinks he’s doing wasting precious time like this.

“No,” Michael says, sliding the letters into the interior pocket of his jacket along with the external hard drive and shuts the locker. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

He gets an odd look for that, but the attendant lets it slide. Probably attributes it to grief – their records are up to date, after all – and quietly leads the way back to the front desk.

Michael settles things with the woman there, something final about it that has him hurrying back out to Gavin. As though sighing his name on the dotted line is what’s going to be what sends him back to wherever he keeps disappearing off to, ridiculous as it sounds.

It’s raining outside the way it had been threatening to all afternoon and Michael instinctively pulls his jacket around him tighter to protect the external hard drive and letters.

There are dark gray clouds overhead, flashes of lightning in in the distance and the faint sound of thunder rolling in off the hills around Los Santos. Heavy downpour that cutting down on visibility, and the world around them muted.

Gavin, thank God, is still out there on that bike of his. Head tipped up to stare at the sky, rain trailing down the smooth face of his helmet.

“You got it, then?”

Gavin turns to look at him, and something about it – his posture, the slow movement – looks tired.

Far more so than when he appeared at the apartment earlier, like the weather is sapping his energy away.

“I – Yeah,” Michael says, nervous and unsettled for no reason he can name. “What - “

“One last stop,” Gavin says, and starts his bike, low growl almost drowned out by the rain, something almost like laughter in his voice. “Try to keep up, Michael.”

And then the damn cheater peels off, tires squealing as he gets one hell of a head start. Manages to weave through lanes of traffic the way he damn well knows Michael can’t in his car, the fucking asshole.

========

Michael catches up to Gavin at a red light a few streets over.

Glares when the asshole looks straight back at him and revs his bike’s engine. This full-throated growl he can feel through the floorboards of his car. It rises in pitch to a scream when the light turns green and Gavin speeds off, just missing the asshole who thought he could beat the yellow coming the opposite direction through the intersection.

Michael leans on the horn, flips the fucker off and races after Gavin who, terrifyingly enough, has gotten even more reckless now than he was before if that’s even possible.

Maybe it has something to do with what he is now, whatever that is. Doesn’t think anything can hurt him now, or maybe he just doesn’t care. (Michael isn’t sure which possibility scares him more.)

Gavin takes them through back streets to a quiet little neighborhood in just one more rundown part of the city. It’s late enough by now that most of its residents are either asleep or working the night shift.

A handful few people are outside smoking or talking bullshit, bursts of noise every so often, laughter echoing off the brick and stone walls of the buildings around them. Shady figures lurking just out of range of the streetlights.

“Safe house for when I’m...here,” Gavin says, entirely too cryptically as he gestures at himself when Michael gives him a questioning look. “No one else knows about it.”

That’s -

“Huh,” Michael says, adding it to the things he never knew about Gavin and wondering how many more there are left to discover.

Gavin lets them inside an apartment on the third floor. Shabby little place a few steps down from their old one. Decked out with tacky furniture and terrible carpeting. Has one hell of a lived-in look to it.

There’s a goddamned murder board up on one wall. Maps of Los Santos and the neighboring areas with what seems to be color-coded pins. News articles and other shit hanging up alongside the maps, and a laptop on the coffee table.

Goddamned plethora of old mugs of coffee and empty energy drink cans next to it. A medical kit or two, rust brown splotches and smears on the lid, the latches.

Michael looks up, catches Gavin watching him taking all of it in.

“You - “

Gavin smiles, this twisted thing, and gestures for Michael to set the boxes and packages on the coffee table as he shoves things aside to make room for them.

“I’m not invincible, Michael,” he murmurs, and leaves it at that as he starts his laptop up.

Like that’s not a fucking kick to the chest, hearing Gavin admit to it even after seeing the proof for himself. Imagining Gavin retreating here to lick his wounds alone, even with that healing factor he seems to have. (Knowing how fucking much Carmine and Rat-face want him dead, how hard they’ve tried to make it happen.)

Michael watches him for a long moment, feeling too wrung out to argue.

Much.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, looking around at the mess.

Gavin winces, slides him a look. A Little defensive, a little annoyed. Dumbass all the way.

“I’ve been busy Michael,” he grumbles, because they lived together too long for him not to know what Michael’s thinking. About all yelling that isn’t happening because what even is this situation right now? “Haven’t had the time to tidy.”

It doesn’t hold the usual bite it would because Gavin’s distracted. Rooting through the pile in front of him to organize the drives and memory cards according to some bizarre system of his. Doing his damnedest to ignore Michael as he works.

That’s so much like him that Michael can’t help but laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face as he gets up to collect empty cans and dirty mugs to put in the sink. Give them both a little time to gather themselves for what’s ahead.

Shakes his head at how familiar this much is in spite of the circumstances, following along to clean up after Gavin. Oddly soothing as Michael finds an old grocery bag for the cans and shoves as many of them in there as he can.

Opens the fridge to find more energy drinks and – of all things – a box of baking soda. Containers of take-out shoved to the back that are well past being remotely edible that immediately go in the trash.

Apparently still human enough to eat and drink, or as capable of it as still being the same fucking slob he always has been, whatever that means.

Christ.

Michael’s contemplating the task of cleaning out the cheap little coffee maker when Gavin calls him back into the living room.

“Michael,” he says. Stops. Fidgets. “Michael, you don’t have to – You can still leave.”

Michael stares at him.

“Take the money and leave, go back to Jersey if you want,” Gavin says, flicking a hand at the packages they recovered earlier, more than just USB drives and memory cards.

Enough money to get both them far, far away from Los Santos. False identities and all the paperwork to go along with them to go somewhere Carmine can never find them and disappear, if such a place exists.

No.

Where Michael can disappear while Gavin stays in Los Santos to finish what he started, make sure Carmine won’t find Michael.

Lie to him, claim he’ll be right behind him and Michael waiting for a day that won’t come, because he knows this little idiot, doesn’t he.

All the lies between them and some things that never changed because they’re such an intrinsic part of the people they are under it all.

Gavin’s looking at him like he wants Michael to just give in. Take the easy way out even thought they both know it’s too late for that. That Michael was fucking clear about things from the outset, and still.

He’s still trying to get Michael to see sense, to do the smart thing. Give up on his stupid quest for vengeance like it doesn’t mean anything. Like Gavin was never worth it.

“No.”

Soft and even, every last bit of Michael’s conviction behind it, because he’ll be damned if he walks away now. Turns his back on Gavin when he can help him this time, do something worthwhile.

“Fuck you, no,” he says, anger starting to bleed into it when Gavin looks like he’s going to try another tack. Come at Michael sideways like he won’t see it coming. “Stop trying of get rid of me and just let me fucking help.”

If his voice breaks a little on that last, neither of them mention it.

Gavin’s hands clench into fists before he lets out his breath on a long exhale that goes a little ragged at the end.

“Okay,” he says as he reaches for his laptop. “Okay, then."

Michael eyes him warily because Gavin folded too easily, backed down way too fast for him to believe this is the last time they’re going to do this.

“I had a system,” Gavin says, darting a look at Michael when he sits next to him. “Didn’t want Carmine or any of his people to figure out what I was doing, so I was careful about it.”

Gavin clicks on a file, smile on his face that says he was too naive about just how careful he was.

“Thought I was, anyway,” he admits with a humorless laugh as the file opens.

At first it’s meaningless to Michael, letters and numbers laid out in some kind of code.

Before he can ask about it Gavin plugs one of the USB drives they recovered into the laptop. A prompt pops up and Gavin enters a password and drums his fingers nervously as he waits for it password to be accepted.

“Shipment schedules here,” he says, gesturing to the spreadsheet while they wait for the USB drive to load, taps the screen as a new window for the drive opens. “Codes here.”

It’s empty.

Gavin flashes Michael a cheeky little grin and plays around with file options until hidden folders appear, and opens one showing several files that he clicks on.

More gibberish once they open, but Gavin resizes the windows and places them side by side with the spreadsheet open behind them.

“What the hell am I looking at?” Michael asks, even though he thinks he knows, focus flicking between the windows.

Gavin laughs, tapping the laptop screen again.

“A cipher key,” he says, and highlights a row on the spreadsheet. “Broken up a bit, but you see it, yeah?”

Michael looks at the spreadsheet, and down at the open windows. The cipher key isn’t complete with just the two files he has open to work off, but he can see what Gavin’s talking about. See how it lines up with the spreadsheet, able to figure out just what kind of information he’s looking at.

“This is all outdated,” Gavin says. “Old files I got my hands on in the beginning. Waters – the reporter I told you about in the letter – got a little too close around that time. Spooked Carmine into upping his security around his files. Made getting my hands on them harder.”

Gavin falters there, smile fading.

“Guess I should have known Carmine would know about him,” he says with a tired little laugh. “Bastard was always three steps ahead the whole time.”

Michael watches helplessly as Gavin goes through the files on the other USB drives, the memory cards. Connects them together like a fucking puzzle, shows him more shipping manifests and other incriminating evidence that could put Carmine and his people away for life.

Hesitates before the connects the external hard drive to the laptop and brings up a media player.

“I planted bugs, listening devices where I could,” Gavin says, palms flat on the coffee table as he plays goddamned audio clips of Carmine ordering hits against his enemies. “It was too risky to try to sneak a camera in, but even this is more than enough to incriminate him.”

Rival crews, gangs that didn’t bow and scrape fast enough for his liking. The rare few willing to cross him, testify against him for protection. Politicians and public figures in Los Santos and beyond who ended up dying in unfortunate accidents here and there.

The ones he wanted to serve as messages to anyone getting ideas about bringing him down.

Michael’s blood goes cold when he realizes there are several folders listed on the external, and they’re just listening to the first one.

Wonders distantly if there’s a recording out there Gavin wasn’t able to retrieve in time ordering his own fucking death. (Given the way Gavin’s hands shake a little when he stops the playback on the final recording, he’s had the same thought.)

Carmine’s a bigger deal than anyone realized. His influence is spreading through Los Santos like a disease, creating what threatens to be a vast criminal empire for him and he’s still not satisfied.

“Gavin - “

Gavin shakes his head, and holds up the package he had sent to Michael, pushing on because he promised he’d explain everything, didn’t he. Let Michael know what he’d been doing, what got him killed.

“I put copies of the most recent files I’d gotten on here,” he says. “Along with instructions on how to find the rest.”

All of it neatly packaged up for Waters, items he’d entrusted to Michael. Knew he would have gotten it to Waters because Gavin asked him to in that letter of his, told him it was important and to leave Los Santos when he’d done that and stay the fuck away from it afterwards.

Christ.

Michael stares at the USB drives and memory cards, the contents of Gavin’s stashes spread over the coffee table and can’t help but wonder would have happened if he’d just been able to figure out his fucking password.

Wonders if this could have been over by now, all this damning evidence in the right hands and Los Santos turned upside down to rip Carmine from its underbelly like cancerous growth. If Michael would have found a way to fuck everything up, gone to the wrong person without realizing it, and all of this buried with Michael the way Carmine had tried to bury it with Gavin.

Wonders where they hell they can even go now.

“Christ,” Michael says, mind reeling.

Gavin laughs again, the one that’s all wrong on him. So full of bitterness, angry at the edges.

“Carmine knew,” Gavin says, staring blankly at his laptop screen. “He knew I had...I had someone I was protecting. The whole time I worked for him, I thought I was being so goddamned careful. Never let anyone know about you, but he knew there was someone.”

Gavin looks up at him, crooked smile on his face.

“I guess he thought it was Waters. Must have had someone follow me, or someone told him about the two of us when we’d meet. I don’t know.”

And then Carmine had had Waters killed after he’d dealt with Gavin, leaving Michael to fumble in the dark on his own once he got his head out of his ass.

“It was a bit of a shock,” Gavin says, and there’s something to his voice that has Michael worried. Has him watch the way Gavin’s picking at his thumbnail, worrying the skin there. “When I saw you at the compound, I mean. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Oh, fuck.

Gavin laughs, mouth twitching like he’s trying to remember how to smile, make it convincing.

“I thought - “ Gavin shakes his head, frowns. “I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me back then, kind of new to everything and all. Not being dead, you know. Thought I was seeing things.”

There’s a stinging sensation at the back of Michael’s eyes, this ache in his chest he’s grown used to since Gavin died as Michael listens to him talk. Explain how he thought Michael had betrayed him, gone from being the one thing he’d been certain of all this time to -

“I wanted to be sure,” Gavin says, more to himself than to Michael. “I needed to be sure.”

Wanted to be sure Michael wasn’t involved with Carmine, Michael knows. That he hadn’t been working with him all along, or just sold him out for the right price, Jesus fuck.

“Gavin - “

Gavin keeps talking, like if he stops now he won’t be able to get the words out later.

“I followed you for a bit after that, figured you wouldn’t be doing all this if you had been working with Carmine the whole time, it just didn’t add up,” he says, like it’s not a fucking knife in Michael’s chest digging deep. “And you were so stupid about it, Michael!”

Gavin’s glaring at him now, all hurt and anger and fear under it all, because he’s already died because of goddamned Carmine. Somehow came back – and fuck if Michael isn’t going to get that story out of him – and here idiot Michael is trying to do the same fucking thing.

Only stupider.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Michael asks, so fucking tired. Feels cracked open and bled dry because he hadn’t stopped to think what he was doing might have looked like to Gavin. “The bastard killed you, what did you want me to do? Was I supposed to just walk away? Let him get away with it?”

It sounds so stupid out loud, like a kid angry at the world for not being fair, because this is Los Santos and so much worse goes on here every fucking day.

No one cares in this city.

People like Gavin, like Michael, they don’t matter here.

Go missing every fucking day, and no one thinks twice about it.

“Yes!” Gavin yells, getting up in Michael’s face. So fucking furious, and this light flaring in the back of his eyes.

The same blue-white of that fucking bike of his that gives Michael pause almost as much as the fact Gavin’s angry enough to yell, to mean it.

“He’s dangerous, you idiot! You should have taken everything I left you and gotten out of the damn city! Started a new life somewhere, been happy!”

Gavin’s breathing like he’s run a goddamned marathon, chest heaving and so damn scared under that anger he's wearing like armor.

“But you didn’t, did you. Just marched right on into the lion’s den like you had a bloody playdate scheduled!”

“Oh my God, no,” Michael says, even though Gavin’s uncomfortably close to the truth with that. “I had a plan too, asshole.”

Gavin’s still so fucking smart, though. Knows Michael well enough to know the kind of plan he’d come up with.

The stupidly suicidal kind, because he’s an idiot. Blunt fucking weapon compared to Gavin.

“What was your plan then, Michael?” he asks, so very quiet. “Tell me, Michael. What was your plan?”

It feels like Michael’s chest is caught in a vise, no way to shake it loose with Gavin this close after losing him the way he had. Everything Gavin showed him, told him, tonight and stupid, stupid Michael trying to play catch-up the way he always has when Gavin’s involved.

“He took the most important person in my life away,” Michael says, because that’s always been at the heart of this for him, this one simple truth. “And I’m going to kill him for that.”

Whatever it takes.

Gavin freezes.

Goes so still Michael doesn’t think he’s even breathing, and Michael lets him see everything. No point in hiding anything anymore when all their secrets haven’t done them any goddamned good.

Knows he’s probably fucking things up here. That there has to be a better way of doing this, damn sure there’s a better time and place for it, but he’s just so fucking tired of waiting on them to come around. (Already wasted too much time before, and  Gavin had died without knowing what he means to Michael, and goddamn but this is selfish of him.)

“You stupid bastard,” Gavin hisses, pulling away from him as he stumbles to his feet.

Michael reaches for him, but Gavin ducks away. Expression shuttered as he grabs his helmet he carelessly dropped onto a side table earlier, makes his way to the front door.

“Gavin!”

Michael follows, but stops just short of arm’s length when he sees the way Gavin’s holding himself. (Fragile in a way he’s never been, like the slightest breeze might be enough to shatter him and send the pieces flying.)

Gavin stops, ducks his head as he pulls the helmet on and glances back at him.

“I need to think,” he says, and then he’s gone.

========

Michael doesn’t know what to do after Gavin leaves, suddenly terrified that he’s pushed him too far too fast this time. That this is the thing that makes him leave.

Go back to where he goes when he’s not here, wherever that is, and Jesus Christ there’s still so much he still doesn’t know. (Might never know now because he just had to lay his cards on the table like that, think doing so would make things better sometime.

Jesus Christ, but Michael’s an idiot.

As much as he wants to go after Gavin, he knows he can’t. Has already pushed him hard enough as it is, doesn’t want to risk making things worse.

And he doesn’t want to leave the evidence Gavin worked so hard to gather, sacrificed his fucking life for just sitting here without anyone watching over it, so he waits.

He waits and hopes like hell Gavin’s going to come back at some point and feels useless and stupid as he does.

Picks his phone up off the coffee table where he left it before his cleaning spree and Gavin’s reveal, and fucks around with it. Deletes old apps and other shit he doesn’t need anymore and ends up scrolling through his contacts.

Stops he lands on Gavin’s, and wonders what would happen if he called him now.

Gavin’s phone was lost in the “crash”, but his account is still active. Bullshit clerical errors and something having to do with company policy because his name is the only one connected to his account and they won’t give Michael the time of day.

He doubts Gavin would pick up now, would probably just let it go to voicemail and delete whatever message he’d leave.

And honestly, Michael can’t find it in him to blame him if he did after that little shitshow, so.

“Idiot,” Michael mutters, and keeps scrolling.

Stops again when Jeremy’s name pops up, and almost calls him before he thinks better of it. Jeremy’s with his crew handling the city-wide crisis Gavin’s caused, managing to put the scare into anyone with criminal leanings.

All the crews and petty little gangs in a panic over what his next move is going to be, like they haven’t figured out that he only goes after very specific targets.

And even though Jeremy reassured Michael that his crew is sure to be safe from Gain, they’re smart enough to be concerned.

It’s still tempting to call him though, because Jeremy is a hell of a lot smarter than Michael. Solid and steady and has more common sense to him than you’d expect given his life choices. A voice of reason when it’s needed, and goddamn is it needed now.

Michael fucked up tonight, and he knows it. Spooked Gavin because he was an idiot and now -

“Fuck,” Michael sighs, gaze drifting back to Gavin’s laptop and the files still open on it.

Flips his phone back onto the coffee table as he slides over see if he can make better sense of them.

He spends a few hours slogging through the sheer amount of information Gavin’s put together, learning more about Carmine’s operations than he honestly ever wanted to.

Michael knew the fucker was involved with just about everything you’d expect to find in a place like Los Santos, but never suspected the extent of his involvement.

Traffics drugs, weapons. People, and Michael wants a shower just reading the damn files. Can’t imagine how Gavin must have felt being involved in it, taking the risks he had.

Listens to the recordings again, struck by how cold, indifferent Gavin sounds in the ones he must have been wired up to get. Like he’s not affected at all by what Carmine’s doing. That it’s all just business to him, another callous bastard in a city full of them, when he used to think Gavin was a shit liar.

Used to think Gavin couldn’t bluff his way through a game of cards for anything, and yet -

And yet, it makes a surprising amount of sense with how much time they spent lying to each other about what they did. Lies come so goddamned easily to them about it in order to protect one another from the truth that Michael hadn’t suspected a damn thing until the end.

When Gavin must have been under so much stress from dealing with Carmine he didn’t have anything left to lie convincingly to Michael.

And why should he, when Michael was so fucking clueless about it, caught up in his own lies? All Gavin had to do was offer up what scraps he had left and let Michael do the rest, so fucking simple.

Michael gives up then, puts his phone back in his pocket and freezes when his fingers brush up against paper.

Gavin’s letters, forgotten in the face of everything that happened. That odd reaction of his when Michael met up with him outside the storage company, like he’d known Michael would find it, but he’d never actually said anything, had he.

Michael feels strangely guilty, like a damn snoop going behind Gavin’s back as he takes the letters out of his pocket. Part of him so damn scared about what Gavin would have put in it after everything that had been in the letter he’d meant for Michael to have.

Why he locked this one away like this, kept it somewhere only Waters should have had access to if something happened to him. Where it would have been his choice whether or not Michael ever saw it.

“You idiot,” he mutters, not sure who he’s talking to, and takes care not to tear the envelope or the letter itself as he opens it.

The letter spans several pages, folded and folded again, uneven creases that Gavin bothered to go back to fix, which is telling in itself.

It’s clear he struggled with this one, Michael able to see the starts and stops in the flow of words. Dark blots where the ink from the pen bled into the paper, realizes Gavin must have used that old fountain pen his father gave him to write it.

The ink’s a certain kind of blue Michael remembers seeing staining Gavin’s fingers in the past. His bright laughter as he threatened to smear blobs of it on Michael before they dried. Use it’s refill cartridges as weapons when Michael bitched about what a mess he was making, papers everywhere and goddammit you asshole.

Michael’s chest aches because the pen was lost in the fire, just one more thing among many but so important to Gavin even if he always tried to play it off like it wasn’t. (Another thing for Carmine to answer for.)

He stares at the letter in his hands, and starts reading.

========

Gavin comes back a few hours later, moves with a  stealth and grace Michael’s never noticed before. Never bothered to look for, when Gavin’s always been his own best distraction, noise and flash and an uncanny ability to piss Michael off with a single word.

“Bloody hell,” Gavin says, when he turns around and finally notices he’s not alone in the living room.

Skirts around Michael warily after flipping the lights on, head cocked when Michael just watches him.

“Michael?”

Gavin seems...tired still. Slump to his shoulders like he’s carrying the weight of the world on them.

“I read your letter,” Michael says, glances at it sitting innocently in its envelope beside Gavin’s laptop. “The one you put into storage at that last place.”

Gavin sighs, moves to sit in one of the chairs across from the coffee table, picking the letter up as he does.

Michael watches him playing with a bent corner on the envelope like it’s something he’s done countless times before. Is the reason the damn thing’s bent to start with, and avoids meeting his eyes.

Has to be a goddamned pro at avoiding eye contact at this point, which is funny in all the ways it isn’t.

“We’re both idiots,” Michael says, another one of those simple little truths.

A couple of idiots who’ve been too afraid of risking ruining one of the best things in their lives. Always though they’d have time to do it one day, and ran out of time when they weren’t looking.

Gavin tenses slightly before forcing himself to relax, make it look like he’s calm and relaxed. Absolutely nothing to worry about here, really.

Worries the corner of the envelope over and over, nervous energy and this deep-rooted fear.

Michael doesn’t ask why Gavin never told him how he felt in all the time they’ve known each other because it would be insulting to them both, not to mention hypocritical as fuck.

Gavin laughs, turning the envelope over in his hands, seems to find it so damn fascinating.

“Always had a problem with terrible timing too,” he murmurs, one part truth, one apart deflection.

Michael smiles, stupid little thing.

Thinks about Gavin’s letter, all the excuses and rationalizations he gave himself that he explains to Michael. Lays out so plainly in a way he’d never been able to say out loud. So much easier to spill everything into a letter, leave it behind for Michael to find one day and read the truth of them. Where Gavin wouldn’t have to sit there waiting for the rejection he was so sure he’d get if he told Michael how he felt.

All of it so close to everything Michael’s told himself that it would be funny if it didn’t mean so fucking much, and his heart hurts at the thought of all the time they’ve wasted.

“I love you,” he says, words he’s choked back so many times before coming so easily now.

Gavin looks at him helplessly, so Michael pushes on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” he says, holding Gavin's gaze because this is important, something he doesn’t want to fuck up. “I’m sorry I didn’t see what was going on until it was too late. I’m sorry you had to do that alone. I’m sorry - “

Gavin’s face twists, strangled noise caught in his throat as he pushes himself out of his chair, closing the distance between them until he’s looking down at Michael.

“You stupid bastard,” Gavin says, nothing like anger to it this time as he searches Michael's face for something he must find because then he’s bending down to kiss him.

Awkward angle and graceless as hell, simple stupid human want, need.

Something heartbreakingly desperate to it, hands shaking where they cradle Michael's face, and so fucking sweet because of it. Pulls back to rest his forehead against Michael's, breathes out a little sigh.

“You stupid bastard.”

Far from being a confession of undying love except for all the ways it is, and Michael refuses to let it slip through his fingers this time as he pulls Gavin down for another kiss.

========

Waking up in a strange place is never a great experience.

That initial moment of disorientation where you try to remember how you even got there, and why.

If you should be worried, or just deeply disappointed. (In yourself, the universe at large, it all works out to be the same in the end.)

This time is no different as Michael closes his eyes. Hand coming up to massage his temples because of the steady, low-grade headache that’s taken up residency there.

Not enough sleep, or water. Too much stress, maybe all of the above, who fucking knows.

He bites back a groan when it spikes right behind his eyes, painful enough to make him grasp at any distraction at hand. His idiot brain deciding now would be a good time to retrace his steps to answer the questions of where the hell he is, and how the fuck he got here.

Flips back through flashes and glimpses of moments, remembers Gavin showing up at Jeremy’s apartment. The jumbled series of events that followed falling into some kind of order as his mind sorts itself out bit by agonizing bit.

Running all over the city to pick Gavin’s stashes clean, the drive back here. Gavin finally showing him why Carmine wanted him dead, what got him killed. The relentless soap opera level drama that followed, and -

“Oh, fuck.”

Jesus.

The two of them with their emotionally stunted confessions. The kisses that had lead to the bedroom because hell if they were both going to fit on that damned couch. Both of them too tired after the day they’d had to do much of anything pass trading kisses and giving voice to the things they couldn’t before. Things too fragile for the light of day, protected in the bubble around them under the overs with the lights out, whispered to one another in confidence.

Falling asleep, only for Michael to wake up alone and the other side of the bed long gone cold. (Waking up alone if never a great experience, but it’s so much worse after something like that.)

Michael looks toward the direction of the living room when he hears noises coming from there.

Footsteps and something heavy hitting the floor, the low murmur of someone’s voice pitched towards annoyance that follows not long after.

Gavin.

Michael breathes out a sigh of relief that he hasn’t managed to spook him again. Chased him away again, but trepidation comes creeping in soon afterwards because he doesn’t know what to expect now.

He listens to Gavin moving around in the other room until the ridiculousness of the situation forces him into action. He’s still dressed, jacket dropped by the side of the bed and his shoes kicked off by the doorway.

Michael feels more rested than he has in a long time even with that bitch of a headache, and remembers Gavin’s medical kits. Probably aspirin to be found in one of them he could take to get rid of it.

Nothing to be gained hiding in the bedroom anyway, so Michael shuffles out to the living room.

Gavin’s pacing restlessly in front of the wall he's turned into a murder board, arms crossed and a frown on his face.

He turns when Michael somehow manages to find the one goddamned squeaky board in the whole damned place. Just plants his fat fucking foot right in the middle of it to alert the goddamned world to his presence.

Michael almost misses the guilty look that flashes across Gavin’s face. Chases the frown away only to be replaced in turn by a small, hesitant smile.

“Good morning, Michael,” Gavin says, even though it has to be closing in on noon with the way sunlight is slanting through the spotty curtains on the windows.

Still, he Michael will give him an A for effort and all that bullshit as his attempt at normalcy, strained as it is.

The laptop is humming away on the coffee table, files from the previous night pulled up.

Gavin must have gone out, because there’s a new batch of empty energy drink cans that weren’t there the night before littered around the room, which might explain the pacing.

“Morning,” Michael greets cautiously. “What are you doing?”

Gavin tips his head as he considers Michael, and turns to look at the murder board like he’d forgotten it was there. Licks his lips nervously when he looks back at Michael.

Comes to some sort of decision and holds his hand out to him in silent invitation.

Michael goes, easy as anything. Lets Gavin pull him in close, feels the vise around his  chest loosen at the soft sigh from Gavin as he does, tension bleeding out of him.

Smiles at Gavin, small and shaky and closes his eyes when Gavin kisses him, slow and sweet.

Laughs a little when Gavin makes  a noise in his throat, muttering about morning breath when they break away for air, cheeks tinged red as he feigns annoyance to avoid meeting Michael’s eyes.

“Gav?”

Gavin elbows him for the teasing note in his voice. Turns his focus back to the damn murder board and Michael does the same, his smile fading as he takes it in.

Gavin’s been busy, it seems.

There are more pins in it this morning, overwhelmingly red with a few other colors scattered across it.

A healthy amount of black pins, along with a thin band of yellow and a broad swatch of green.

“I started this using locations of Carmine’s operations I knew about, remembered,” Gavin says, gesturing at the main map. “I needed the files on the drives and memory cards for the rest.”

Michael studies the map, eyes narrowing when he sees where they’ve been placed.

Matches it against the dodgy mental map he has of Los Santos and territories claimed by various crews and gangs.

“The black pins are for places I’ve hit. Yellow ones are for Carmine’s allies, and the red ones mark the rest of Carmine’s operations,” Gavin says, and shrugs. “The ones I’m still sure about, anyway. He’s probably moved some of them by now, or will before too long.”

There’s still a hell of a lot of red up, outer edges starting to bleed into the green.

“What the hell is the green for?” Michael asks, even though he’s pretty goddamned sure he knows what Gavin’s answer is going to be.

There are only a handful of crews in Los Santos that would have that large of a presence, that kind of reach. Really only one that might pose any sort of threat to Carmine and what he’s attempting to do, even without outside backing. One with more than enough reason to want to push back with him encroaching on their territory.

Gavin hesitates, arm around Michael tightening briefly because he has to know this has a significant chance of backfiring on them if they’re wrong about this.

“People we might be able to go to for help,” he says, and gestures to the side of his damned murder board covered in photographs and stills he must have taken from security cameras and God only knows what else. “The Fake AH Crew.”s

[arielsojourner]

Part 11 of Luke and Vader Save the Galaxy. Previous parts found under the tag #fatherandsonsavethegalaxy or #lukeandvadersavethegalaxy on my tumblr page.  Since this has morphed from sharing crack head canons into some sort of story told in scene format (I may actual have to clean this up and post it somewhere, I haven’t written a fan fic in over 10 years), this won’t make much sense without the other parts but if you do want to read this out of order, all you need to really know is Luke and Vader travel back in time to the clone wars and rescue everyone.

-The Temple is on fire. Rex and his men have managed to hold back most of the attack, but there are gaps in the shield and the outer walls are collapsing and chip controlled trooper are getting in on the west side of the plaza.  General Windu is suddenly beside him, ordering him to take his weapon off stun, to meet the attack with lethal force and press forward, Windu leading the way. Rex refuses.

“I don’t think you heard me, Captain!” Windu yells over the sound of battle. “We are pressing the advance and getting the Guard away from the Temple. Weapons must go hot. Order the men to shoot to kill and follow behind me as I lead them away from the Temple,” Mace repeats himself.

“I heard you the first time, sir. The answer is no. Please retreat back into the Temple proper. This area is under GAR control.” Rex will not kill his brothers if he can help it, never again. “Boomer! Waxer and Boil report the west line has broken. Send two squads!”

Windu turns, incredulous and grabs the shoulder of a nearby trooper pushing back a Guard member. “Trooper! Shield down and weapons hot. We are pressing the attack!”

Jesse shoves back the chipped brother and yells over his shoulder “Go to hell, sir!” and process to use his shield and baton to knock his attacker to the ground and into unconsciousness.

“Sir, I must insist you retreat back into the Temple,” Rex demands. “You are interfering with our operations.” He knows he cannot force the General or stop him if he wants to attack the Guard, but he will not comply. Windu looks from clone trooper to clone trooper fighting back their brothers who are attacking with deadly intent. He shakes his head and ignites his saber, but backs away to the ruins of the outer wall. Any Guards who get past the line he cuts down and kills.

Behind Mace Windu, Jedi young and old stand just within the wall and Rex dies a little inside each time he sees one of his brothers fall to a saber blade. This is torture of the most acute kind. It is Krell all over again. He tries to get ahold of himself, to shake it off, but it is so hard. He yells to his brothers to hold the line because any trooper that they cannot stop through non lethal means will meet death inside the Temple at the hands of the Jedi Order.

-In the airspace above Coruscant, Ahsoka takes a page out of her master’s playbook. Their cruiser is failing and will soon be destroyed. Kickback and Oddball have done what they can with ion bombs and fighters but it has not been enough. She orders everyone to abandon ship and get to Master Plo’s cruiser and she will maneuver her ship into place like a physical shield blocking any further orbital bombing of the Temple. She looks up and Commander Cody is still beside her on the bridge. She orders him again to leave, and he refuses. If she stays, he stays. She smiles at him through the smoke filling the bridge and together they turn the ship to protect the surface below.

-At the Senatorial Apartments, Padme has the babies tied in a sling to her chest, and is crouched down inside the ‘fresher tub, blasters in each hand.  Artoo and Threepio are pressed against the closed ‘fresher door, blocking it with their metal bodies being as much as a barrier as they can. She can hear Anakin and Obi-Wan and the clones fighting, she can hear her husband screaming. The babies are whimpering and she speaks to them softly as the room shakes and plaster from the ceiling rains down. “Shh, shh, little ones. Mommy’s here, Mommy’s here. Daddy will protect us, Daddy is fighting for us. Obi-Wan is helping. The clones are helping. Shh, don’t cry, don’t cry. We’ll be all right.”

-Anakin and Obi-Wan fight shoulder to shoulder using the Force and maiming cuts whenever possible as the Coruscant Clone Guard attempts to destroy the apartment complex, kill Padme and take the babies. Brothers fight brothers, and Senatorial guards, and assassin droids that attempt to enter through the elevator and stair wells, the ruined balcony, and even scaling up the building or down from the roof.

The holoscreen is still on, though it has crashed to the floor, but Anakin has heard enough even over the sound of battle to know it was Palpatine. Palpatine, his mentor and friend, the man he thought he could trust with his life, who made him believe that all the fighting, sacrifice, and bloodshed was worth it, has betrayed them all. This is the man who has made a mockery of all the death and suffering of the past three years, who has sent men and droids to kill his wife and take his children. Anakin has given his all, has committed totally to the war, to the safety of the Republic, to protecting the people and it means nothing, nothing! It was all worthless. The knowledge feels like a vibroblade to the chest. His whole world seems to be crumbling around him. Nothing makes sense, it is like he is in free fall, the Force feels so far away and fury threats to take over and have him slaughter everyone, everyone who dares attack his family.

It is only Obi-Wan’s presence at his side that gives him the strength to hang on to sanity by his fingernails when all he wants to do is let the red curtain of rage fall over his eyes and hurt everyone else for hurting him and his loved ones. Obi-Wan keeps up a stead stream of talking and sometimes shouting over the sound of blaster  fire, and whoever it is who keeps screaming, (someone keeps screaming, screaming in Basic and Hutteese) telling Anakin that he can’t wait to spend time with the children, how he hopes they are holy terrors and give Anakin at least the same amount of grief he gave Obi-Wan growing up, how strong in the Force they are, how Anakin couldn’t have picked a more lovely woman to be his wife than Padme, how Obi-Wan could not be prouder of him as a man, as a friend, as a Jedi, as a teacher, as a warrior, how Obi-Wan loves him like a brother, how he has to stand firm, don’t choke them, Anakin please, try and remember, the children and Padme need you, I’m here, dear one, I’m right here, hold on, Anakin, Force please, just hold on!

-For Luke, this fall is almost as painful as the fall from the gangway in Cloud City. The Sith Master clawing at him, lighting coursing out of his fingertips. The pain is agonizing, he can barely reach for the Force to slow their descent. He feels his father’s Force grip yank him free from Palpatine’s grasp and then his father’s arms are around him, holding him tight as they hit the ground. Somehow, Luke still has his lightsaber and he wastes no time staggering to his feet, pushing past the pain and igniting the blade just in time to block another lightning attack. Vader circles around the Sith Master, trying to pen him in between the two of them. Hardcase and Fives rush to join them and they circle the Sith, waiting for an opening.

The Force sends a warning nearly a second too late and Hardcase turns to block blaster fire from Senatorial Guards in sniper position. He blocks most but one catches him in the leg and another in the shoulder. Fives rushes to defend him and Sidious steals a saber and slashes Fives in the back. Luke prevents the killing blow and Vader hammers Palpatine back with punishing strokes.  Luke begins to drag the men out of the line of fire and there is Chatterbox leaping down to join them, pulling his brothers aside and blocking further blaster fire, ricocheting the bolts back to the attackers. Luke throws himself back into the fight.

--Slice and his team have been having a grand time the past months, robbing the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan and all the corporate guilds blind, hacking the code of the inhibitor chips, and using backdoor codes to shut the Seperatists down.  But now he, Gin, Wires, Mal, and Uni have to slice the entire Holonet galaxy wide and the Senatorial security feed and the Supreme Chancellor’s computer and back ups and they have to do it now before brother kills brother all over the galaxy and the Jedi are massacred and the friends all die fighting the Sith Master.

No pressure.

“Do we have the code to shut off the kill order or not?” Gin yells.

“There is too much, he has files buried within files,” Mal spits. “The worm is having trouble locating it.”

“We are running out of time!”

“There!” Uni says. “Patch me in to all comms via the satellites.”

“You mean the ones Kickback hasn’t blown up!” Mal complains.

“We have to switch the holo feed. We have eyes on them in the Senate Plaza,” Wires orders. “Slice?”

“Got it. Uni, broadcast the signal!”

-All GAR communicators spit out an incomprehensible screech of noise. At the Temple, the clones chipped and free stagger and some rip off their helmets from the pain, but when the noise ceases the attacking clones stop and stagger and drop their guns. Some vomit. Some look ready to turn their weapons on themselves. Others rush to help brothers that just a moment before they were trying to kill. The call for medics fill the air. The Jedi guarding the Temple stand down. Rex yanks off his bucket and sucks in great noisy breaths of air. He looks out into the dusk and falling night towards the Senate District where weapons fire continues. He calls for Jesse and a few others to get a transport here now.

-The turbolasers fall silent and Ahsoka staggers across the listing deck to helm control. She has spent enough time flying and crashing with her Master that she is sure she can land what is left of the ship on Coruscant. Cody hurries to strap himself in. “Are you sure you know what you are doing, Commander?” he asks as she takes the controls.

“I’ve seen Master Skywalker do this at least a dozen times,” She tells him as they begin their descent (begin to fall really, but Anakin always said attitude was important when flying, so descent it was).  

Cody shakes his head and braces himself. “That doesn’t fill me with a lot of comfort, sir.”

-When the chipped clone troopers fall and stop fighting and the last of the Senatorial Guard are dispatched, Obi-Wan puts away his weapon and grabs Anakin. Anakin, who is smashing an already destroyed assassin droid to bits, screaming obscenities. Obi-Wan pulls Anakin’s saber from his grasp and pins his apprentice’s arms to his side and yanks them both backward, holding his Padawan and trying desperately to reach his dearest friend with his words, with the Force, with his physical presence. Anakin finally stops struggling only to collapse on the floor, dragging Obi-Wan with him. He shakes violently and then as if some invisible hand is ripping into him, Anakin sobs, deep wretched cries. Kix moves to help, but Obi-Wan directs him with a shake of his head to see to the fallen troopers. Echo yanks off his helmet and takes one terrified look at his broken General and rushes to get Padme and the babies. 

Obi-Wan holds onto Anakin as tightly as he can, whispering soothing nonsense in his ear, hoping that this will be enough. The holoscreen flickers and security footage from the Senate Plaza now fills the screen and the sound of lighting strikes, screams, and lightsabers crashing blasts from the speakers.

-Luke and his father have never practiced fighting together but that doesn’t seem to matter, they move in tandem. He goes low and manages a hit to Palpatine’s leg and Vader moves in for the kill only for Force lighting to arc through him at close range. Vader drops his saber, his prosthetics shorting and sparking and Palpatine slashes out. Vader roars in pain and Luke uses the Force to shove his father clear so the blow maims, but does not kill. Luke blocks and parries, and finds his opening, slicing off Sidious’ hand. Maddened by pain, the Sith throws out great arcs of lightening, striking furiously around the Plaza. Luke goes down with a cry as his flesh begins to cook from the inside out.  In the distance over his own cries of agony he can hear Sidious gleefully cackling about power. It seems so far away and Luke can feel himself slipping away.

Palpatine’s sadistic joy seems to fill the air as much as the scent of ozone and burning. He is so engrossed in murdering the Jedi that he misses the dark shape of Vader looming out of the evening dusk behind him. Vader impales Sidious with one vicious stroke and then both he and the would-be-Emperor fall.

Luke finds the strength to look up only to be blinded by the explosion of Dark pouring out of the Sith’s body as he dies.