#hey my partner is cold and he’d like to keep his fucking coat on ok? :)

[romulusfuckingroy]

(watching any episode of season 4) this shit sucks i miss too much birthday

[inosukki]

stress relief, kenma kozume.

synopsis: after a rough day at work, kenma wants to try something new that might benefit the both of you.

warnings: titty sucking, handjob, cum eating <3

[a/n]: this is my first and last time writing nsfw content LOL. also did not proofread my bad bros😔

Things were eerily quiet without Kenma around.

Well, to be quite honest, things would still be quiet even if Kenma were in your shared apartment. But at least you’d here the clicking of his controller or the soft grunts of discontent that came with him playing his games. It was odd how he barely made a sound when playing, only opening his mouth to give a command or plan an attack with his team. Most guys you knew yelled at the top of their lungs, followed by insults and curses that left you wondering how someone could ever talk to another human being with such venom.

Maybe that’s what drew you to him back in highschool. His shy demeanor. Always cool, calm, and collected. Nothing like Kuroo, the brash and loud hyena-laughing third year who’d introduced the two of you to eachother.

Kuroo and you, despite being a grade level apart, had been placed into the same chemistry class. The two of you bonded over the fact that none of your friends had shared your wits, so you decided to be lab partners for the rest of the year. There was something about your persona that drew you to him, you were so welcoming and inviting and comfortable. Just the perfect person to get Kenma out of his shell, he thought.

So, one day, he invited you to his house (which at first caused you to raise a brow, you were just school friends, right?) to study for an upcoming exam. He was easily the smartest person in the class, but you took this as an opportunity to catch up to your senpai. Unknown to you, he had also invited Kenma to play COD, which lead you to come face to face with a cute boy with cat-like eyes that you would end up falling for.

That lead you here, sprawled out on your couch clad in boxer shorts and a hoodie, lazily scanning your eyes across a copy of The Awakening. Today was your off day from work which you’d hoped to spend with Kenma, but as you two were cuddling, he received an urgent phone call that left you cold and alone in bed. All you could do now was patiently wait for your boyfriend to come home.

As if on cue, you could hear the light tinkling of keys and the click of your front door. The creaking sound it emitted caused you to cringe (but you left a mental note to get that fixed soon) and place down your book.

“Hey honey, how was work?” You called, fitting your chin in between your knees. You wrapped your arms around your legs, squeezing them closer to your chest.

Kenma swiftly closed the door, shrugged off his coat, and slung it onto the floor all in one breath. He was visibly tense and irritation flooded his eyes. Sighing, you picked your book back up and payed him no mind.

Though your relationship with Kenma was amazing, it was far from perfect. He was sweet and attentive (to an extent) but he had trouble communicating himself. You could barely read him as he often showed no emotion. And when he did, he barely liked to talk about it. It was probably the only thing about him that bothered you.

You heard the creaking of the floorboards as he walked past you and into your shared bedroom, along with a deep sigh and the shuffling of feet. The only thing you could do right now was wait it out and hope he’d come to you.

The stress of being a CEO, Youtuber, pro-gamer, and stock trader was larger than you could imagine. Kenma was always up late nights, often on the phone or on his PC, discussing with other board members or filming a video. But he never once complained, which both worried you and caused your heart to swell. He was always independent like that, but it also wasn’t healthy to keep things inside all the time. You wanted to be the shoulder he could lean on, just like he was for you.

As your focus shifted from your thoughts to the book in your hands, you felt the a weight drop down beside you. You stopped yourself from jumping when you realized that it was just Kenma. Fuck, you thought. He really is like a cat. I barely even noticed him. Instead of the suit he was wearing when he walked in, he was sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a plan white tee. Once again, you placed down your book (would you ever finish it?) and faced towards him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You whispered, taking one of his hands and rubbing soothing circled with your thumb.

He shook his head, no. “Rough day at work,” he mumbled, his raspy voice causing a smile to form on your lips. “Make it better?”

Now it was your turn to sigh as you enveloped him in your arms. Kenma places himself in your lap, almost like a child, legs squeezing around your waist and arms encircling your neck. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, adjusting his body as to not hurt you. Gently, you placed your hand on his head, raking your fingers through his bleach-blonde hair.

What Kenma lacked in words, he made up for in touch.

Whether it was a hand on your thigh, a leg on your lap, an arm around your waist, or his head on your shoulder, Kenma was always touching you as to remind you that he was present. Instead of a simple ‘hey’ he’d press his lips against your cheek or wrap you up in his arms. It was cute, and the first time he’d greeted you with a hug and a kiss you almost melted on the spot.

The innocent embrace between you two was cut short by the sound of sucking and slurping ringing through your ears. You let out a sharp gasp, your breathing halting for a second. Kenma, without warning, had begun to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses in the crook of your neck. The hand that had been gently placed in his hair was now gripping onto the strands in shock.

The sounds ceased completely as Kenma pulled away to look into your eyes, a string of spit following in tow. It was only then you noticed the pool of saliva on your neck, reaching your hands to touch the dampened skin.

“Sorry, was that ok?” He whispered, suddenly shy.

That was more than ok.

“Uh, yeah that was o-it was nice...I liked it.” You affirmed, scratching the back of your neck.

What had come over him? Usually it was you that had initiated anything sexual between the two of you. Kenma was rather low-maifnence in that aspect of your relationship, and never asked you to do anything or even hinted at it. Sometimes it felt like the only reason the two of you had sex was because you wanted it. He seemed indifferent to the whole ordeal. But now he was suddenly attacking your neck unprompted. You were kind of thankful for it, honestly.

“I-Is it ok if I tried something?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a hopeful glint in them. He had placed his hands between his thighs, gently rocking back and forth as if he were nervous. You held back a laugh as to not embarrass him. He was adorable.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Go ahead.”

The rocking subsided as he let both sides of his lips turn upwards in a shy smile. He removed his hands from his legs, letting himself reach up to the hem of your sweatshirt. Slowly yet with anticipation he lifted your sweatshirt over your head, tossing them to the side with ease. The removal had left your hair parting in several directions, which caused you to chuckle and smooth it down.

A sharp intake of breath caught your attention as Kenma’s eyes bored into your bare chest. It was as if he was shocked that you weren’t wearing a bra. You watched in anticipation as he brought his right hand to caress your left breast, thumb lightly ghosting your nipple. It was your turn to inhale as the touch caused you to jolt upwards and lean into him. He smiled, that was the reaction he was looking for.

“Your tits are so pretty, baby. Soft...” The compliment sent waves of heat through your body.

Kenma let his thumb press circles into your soft nipple which was beginning to harden due to his intimate touch. Before you could urge him to do something, anything, he opened his mouth and let his mouth go to work on your breast. His tongue licked around the hardened bud, letting out a content sigh. He seemed to be enjoying this just as much as you were.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you pressed his face even closer to your tits. He sucked harshly, as if trying to milk you. Immediately, you bit your lip to stop yourself from making any more noise, almost embarrassed at how easily Kenma affected you.

He continued to suckle on your breast, even lightly nibbling it, as if begging you to make some sort of noise. The lewdness of him sloppily sucking on your skin shot arousal straight to your core.

He let his hand trail to your other breast, groping it with a rather strong grip before lazily giving you a squeeze here and there. A substantial amount of drool dribbled down the sides of his chin as his tongue swirled around your nipple. “I...I’m getting...hard...”

You hadn’t realized that your eyes were rolling into the back of your head until they began to unblur. Kenma has detached himself from your chest with a small ‘pop’ and was wiping his lips with his forearms. Your eyes trailed to his crotch, biting your lip at the darkened spot of his sweatpants. The faint bulge caused heat to pool in your lower stomach.

“Um, could you maybe... give me a–uh–handjob while I’m... doing this?”

You giggled, nodding feverently. He smiled nervously at you, avoiding all eye contact. Growing impatient, you gestured for him to get up, to which he obeyed. You snaked his sweatpants down, letting them fall to his feet, and did the same with his boxers. You bit your lip once again when his cock sprang free from the confines of his undergarments, slapping against his stomach.

“C’mere,” you whispered, guiding him back into your lap. Before he could continue his assault on your tits, you wet your hands with a generous amount of your saliva, licking it from the beginning of your wrist to the ends of your fingers. Then, you masterfully wrapped your fingers around his cock, ensuring that its entirety was covered in the sticky substance.

“Ah–” Kenma whined at the touch, arching his body into your hand. In order to keep himself preoccupied, he gripped your left breast and paid special attention to the one he left untouched.

As he licked and sucked on your breast, you went to work. His cock had stiffened in your grip, his thick veins almost protruding. You reached for his balls, light massaging them with your fingers, earning a groan into your chest. Smiling to yourself, you lightly grazed the area between his testicles, knowing how sensitive it was. His breath hitched in his throat, and once you were satisfied with the noises Kenma was making, you moved onto his length.

The tips of your fingers lightly scratched along his hardened cock, teasing his sensitive state. You continued the teasing with soft, slow strokes along his shaft, making sure you didn’t apply to much pressure and have him finish early (which happened quite a bit, to his embarrasment).

Your hand momentarily froze when you heard Kenma’s soft moans. How is it possible for a man to have such a pretty moan? The noises that Kenma made were heavenly. Whether it be a mewl or a groan, it always left you wanting more.

“Mm, keep going p-please.”

The request brought you out of your trance like state as you returned your attention to the task at hand. The tip of his cock was a flaring red, pre-cum beginning to spout out. You fisted the middle of his cock, spreading the fluid around.

Your focus on his length had almost blinded you to the fact that he was sucking on your tits. You jolted in surprise when he bit on your supple flesh. You could feel him smiling against you, reveling in the fact that he had elicited such a reaction from you. Two could play at that game.

With your nimble fingers, you slowly pumped his sensitive length, making sure to not apply too much pressure. The movement caused him to whimper and suck even harsher on your bare breast. You grasped his cock, making up and down movements starting from the base and moved up to the shaft , simultaneously rubbing your thumb over his slit.

“Mmf,” Kenma whimpered, his voice muffled by your skin. “Feels so good. You’re too good to me, baby.”

Pride filled in your chest at his words of encouragement. You decided to pick up the pace. Your grip around him strengthened, as did your rythym. As you built up a faster pace, so did he. The puckering sound that filled your apartment only got louder as Kenma violently sucked on your soft skin.

The lewd sound of slurping, sucking, and slapping of skin surrounded the two of you as you violently jerked his cock in fluid motions.

“Keep going, I-I’m almost there.” Kenma griped, no, whined, into you.

“You’re doing so well, Kenma, aren’t you? Your words caused him to bob his head up and down. “Don’t hold back.”

The pressure on his cock didn’t cease as you continued your pace, losing yourself in the bliss of it all. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of him as ceased his sucking and fell into your body in exhaustion.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna–” His warning fell on deaf ears as you continued pumping him. His whines grew louder and urgent. You loved how vocal he was during times like this.

Suddenly, thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, staining your soft, silky hands. Kenma was a tired mess, sweat sticking to his white shirt as he heaved and groaned.

The same eery silence from before attempted to creep back, but was warded off by the exhausted groans of your boyfriend.

“Feeling better?” You teased, poking at his side with your clean hand.

He scoffed in disbelief before letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah, much.”

“Good,” you playfully retorted. “Or else I’d have cum on my hand for no fucking reason at all.”

At the mention of his cum, Kenma’s face flushed. He didn’t notice the substance on your hand and immediately got up and began putting on his pants.

“I’ll get you a towe-”

Before he could finish the sentence, you were already lapping up the milky, almost translucent substance with your tongue. You licked up your forearm, catching the stray that had dribbled down. Then, you slurped the majority of it which had gathered in your palm. And finally, you sucked on your fingers, giving a few kitten licks here and there to ensure that you’d gotten it all.

“No need! Got it all. See?” You grinned brightly at him, showing him your clean hand before wiping it on your shorts. “Aww Kenma, your face is all red! Did I embarrass you? C’mere so I can pinch your cheeks!”

“Shut up!” He groaned, attempting to run away but failing to do so due to his pants being at his feet. “Get away from me!”

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 50

Last Time: Beard went into Papa Bear Mode, Greed pulled a Vegeta, and Mrs. Bradley was very confused and upset. Onwards!

Episode 50 - “Upheaval in Central” We’ve got the Beret!Officer from last ep talking over the title, saying that they can kill everyone besides Roy. Cue gunshots… Yup, the Officer’s just standing there in shock while all of his men are on the ground, clutching busted kneecaps or wrists. You fools pulled guns on Riza, what did you- Oh ok there’s a bunch of plain-clothes conspirators up in the rafters, and another guy with spiky hair putting a gun to Officer’s head. Where did all these guys come from? While that’s going on, Mrs. Bradley is facing two unfortunate possibilities; either the country is attempting a coup against her husband… or her husband has abandoned her. Roy “doesn’t know”, but promises to continue to protect her. Also, if she could maybe possibly use her position as spouse of the Fuhrer to pardon them once this is all over, that’d be greeeeeat. Now they’re on the move to avoid the commando’s backup, Roy’s being updated by Spiky Hair who apparently knows him (manga character?), learns he’s still at the wreckage and confirms Mrs. Bradley doesn’t know the truth just yet. Now, back to scaring off the hapless mooks! Said mooks’ boss is very upset that his men haven’t killed the five meddlers of the Conspiracy yet. Then reports start coming in that they’ve got a full platoon of rebels now, and that while they have a bunch of casualties there haven’t been any deaths. Whaaa? You mean the Good Guys are trying to fight nonlethally? Who would ever think of such a thing? Apparently not the rest of the Amestrian military, the mooks keep spending so much time wondering why they aren’t already dead that our heroes keep incapacitating them while they talk. Central Officer takes this as a personal insult, orders even more mooks out to get wounded.

The remaining Generals in the War Room are whining about how their troops getting systematically whittled down, until Armstrong the Great points out that it really should be expected. Think of it like the Military Police of Attack on Titan: While you’ve got more troops along the borders fighting in wars with other countries, these troops are in the very center of Amestris, with not nearly as much experience as those who are fighting daily on the borders. Armstrong the Great even points out their feeble performance against Mr. Freeze in the first episode, how a single rogue Alchemist decimated them and nearly froze over the entire city. Now they’re facing a rogue Alchemist with experienced and determined soldiers behind him.

The other General takes offense to the truth and her offer to step in and help, barks that she’s only there as a hostage to ensure her loyal troops toe the line (oh he is so dead). Armstrong the Great just laughs as Skyrim Chanting starts up.

[Armstrong the Great]: “Hahaha! You don’t understand a single thing about the resolve of my troops! Your plan is useless. The only law the men of Briggs know is Survival of the Fittest. They know to abandon me if confronted with a crisis. Even if you were to murder me in cold blood, my troops would simply write me off for being too weak. They don’t need me! Those men can act as their own force. That’s the strength of the Briggs army! Don’t even begin to assume that you know the soldiers I’ve trained!” Mowhawk. White Uniforms. Sandals? Ok so Buccy’s standing with some other unique Briggs troops and soldiers in the white Briggs coats in an apparent cellar. But sandals? And there’s a space in the back with two glowing red eyes. Who are these new people? Guess we’ll find out later, because the Briggs soldiers are on the move and the Oh Shit alarms are going off in Central, as Armstrong the Great “wonders” if her bear-killing soldiers will have any trouble with the dolls of Central. Let the curbstomp begin! But seriously, where were they? They mentioned a cellar but I don’t think they’d all fit under Madame Christmas’ bar even it wasn’t blown up. [Spiky Hair]: “The Armstrong Mansion?” Oooooh, duh. They even ‘subtly’ pointed it out when Roy visited Armstrong the Great after the timeskip, of course that’s where the Northern troops hid. Ok so apparently Spiky Hair is Charlie, one of his own subordinates comes running up asking for ammo. What, you aren’t getting enough spare bullets from the soldiers you’ve wounded? Or the dead now, seeing as the Briggs troops are in play. Or they’ve got a supply unit that hasn’t shown up yet. [Roy]: “Look guys, if it comes down to it just leave me behind.” [Charlie/Other]: “Roger that!” [Offended!Roy]: “You could at least pretend like you’re willing to die by my side!” Uh oh, but it looks like the Military’s realized they’re out of ammo. They make a push- and nearly get run over by a Funny Bear truck. Ooh, here’s that supply unit! With a familiar face, it’s Riza’s friend Rebecca! And oh my Leto that was certainly worth the wait, rifles bullets and bazookas galore! Roy gets a new rifle from the driver, a lady with a covered face? Someone who knows the Colone- … … … [HELL TO THE FUCK YEAH]: “Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, returning to active duty without permission, sir!”

Yessssssssssss Sorry, give me a minute. I need to walk around with a stupidly large grin on my face for a while. Ok, I’m better now. Let’s continue. Aw, Rebecca’s all upset that she came all this way only to find a bunch of “sissies” restraining themselves since they’re in the city. As she loads a friggin mortar Leto damn woman how is Grumman still alive? Oh ok it was a smoke bomb, just enough to disrupt the military so they can load into the truck and drive away. Rebecca’s showing off all the cool Xingese weapons Ross brought back. But she procured the rest of the conventional weapons through someone else? She says she’ll let “him” tell Roy, they hook up a radio. [Roy]: “This is Colonel Roy Mustang speaking. I’m honored to have your support.” [!!!]: “Heh heh, man, whose ass do you think you’re kissing?” [Roy]: *shock* [!!!!!]: “I’d prefer if we kept things casual!” Oh my Leto it’s Havoc! Running a General Store/Conspiracy Quartermaster! yessssss [Havoc]: “So, who do I send the bill to?” [Roy]: “The office of the Fuhrer. And start a tab!” yesssssss Mid-ep pictures of Ross and Havoc being awesome (all my babies are coming back I’m so happy!) and Beard pushing up his glasses. Seeing smoke and hearing sirens in the distant city, Ed and the crew (minus Greed and Al) are preparing to make their move. Ooh, and Beard says he has a countermeasure if the TC gets activated, but just says he’d rather stop it in the first place. So we’ve got two unspoken plans going on, this is looking better and better! Wait no Beard’s saying they need to destroy Uncle’s “flask” in order to defeat him and free the souls he gathered. Eh, just vague enough that I won’t count it as a stated plan. As for finding the guy, Scar’s going to show them the tunnel he and May found way back when I thought Beard was the bad guy. Lion’s staying behind because of his injuries, as is Marcoh for his wanted status and Yoki because Yoki. Ed takes a moment to say goodbye to Al still stuck in the Dome, they bump fists against the earthwork as Pride is still tapping Al’s helmet with a stick wait. Wait wait WAIT NO LETO-DAMNIT the Goth is clearly doing quick taps and longer taps it’s obviously Morse Code he’s sending a signal to the surviving Goths damnit Al take your helmet back! Ugh ok so while that ticking timebomb counts down we’ve got May running through Central with her covered jar, urged on by Envy to reach Uncle before he reveals the secret of immortality. She slips into the tunnel just before troops arrive to block the area off. Back in Central oh buddy you really don’t want to do that. The Military Police General is pointing a gun at Armstrong the Great, demanding she call off her soldiers. She’s all “What? But you stripped me of my northern command, remember?” But the General just whines that they’ve been chosen to ascend with Uncle and all the sacrifices are necessary- Nope! Just like with Raven, Armstrong the Great’s gotten bored of listening to their stupidity and stabs his arm while drawing a pistol on the other general, chiding them for being Armchair Generals who don’t dirty their own hands, espousing the “necessity of sacrifice” while never making any of their own. Also, you threatened Armstrong the Great, so die. The Mighty Armstrong? What are you- oh shit, did nobody tell you about the Promised Day? Holy crap, if The Mighty Armstrong wasn’t updated then he’s still working for the Military, just sees his comrades apparently go crazy and start shooting up soldiers and setting the city on fire. Someone please update this poor man- Oh hey, it’s Brosh! Speaking of updates, someone tell this guy that his partner isn’t dead, he’s had to spend all this time thinking she was killed by Roy! [Brosh]: “That devious coward! First he murdered Lieutenant Ross and now he’s kidnapped the Fuhrer’s wife?! The man has got to be pure evil!” Ooof, even if he doesn’t know the Promised Day plan The Mighty Armstrong did know Ross was alive, he’s probably feeling a bit guilty for not telling Brosh. Fu’s off to the side, overhears The Mighty Armstrong being told about his sibling’s actions, and heads off to try and find Ling in the chaos. But he can’t sense his new Goth nature, what with Uncle giving off Big Bad Vibes underground. That have grown stronger? Uncle’s sitting in his pipe chair, lounging as machinery rumbles and pounds, disturbing mice and dogs even outside the city wait nevermind it’s not the machinery that’s making that noise. It’s the Littlest Goth with his helmet and stick, tapping out a message. Al, take you Leto-damned helmet back!

Three quick taps. Three long taps. Three quick taps. And Uncle opens his eyes. Al and the others have arrived at the cordoned off tunnel, think there’s too many to fight past. Come on guys, it’s just a couple of Military Police, you’ll be fine. That’s your only way in any case, it’s not like you can just manipulate the ground beneath your feet to make a new tunnel OH WAIT. Or is there actually another way? Oh yeah, the Third Laboratory! With only three guards at the gate too, that’ll be easy. Hold up, Ed says he has a plan- Right, I keep forgetting that he’s an official State Alchemist, he can just order them to stand aside and- [Ed]: “Oh please help me! That murderous Ishvalan Scar is trying to kill me!” [Scar]: “wait what.” [Guard]: “*gasp* Oh my, that man’s on the wanted list! Stay back little boy, we three Muggle Soldiers will tell this murderer of multiple State Alchemists to surrender!” [Ed]: “Mwahaha!” [Guard]: “Aaargh! No, our consciousnesses! We need tho-” Man, Ed can be a jerk when- [Beard]: “...that was a mean thing to do.” [Ed]: “Aw shut up, c’mon.” No, sorry Ed, but I’ve got to side with your old man on this one. Meek nerds in labcoats cower as our heroes brush past them in the hallways, until Ed finds the poorly-transmuted doorway and oh for Leto’s sake do you have to put tacky demons or skulls on everything you Transmute, you deranged midget? Anyways Ed made a new door, let’s continue. Oh yeah, I remember how Roy’s Crew had to split up to take both hallways last time. So how are the groups getting split? Apparently Beard leading one, and ooh Ed has to travel with Scar. Ed’s not happy with this, especially when Beard raises the valid but still condescending point that Scar could still fight against Uncle when Ed’s power was shut down…. Wait. Wait wait wait WAIT. Did you… did you seriously never get any lessons in Alkahestry? Not a single one? Dude. You KNEW that Uncle could shut down your conventional Alchemy. The whole POINT of tracking down May and Scar was to get lessons from the little girl. And you learned NOTHING of the discipline? Wow. Just, wow. So our Protagonist gets saddled with the repentant murderer because he’d be curbstomped on his own. Meanwhile Beard takes… nobody? Because he’s already so OP? [Beard]: “On second thought…” [Lan Fan]: “Huh?” *Old Man Flirt Mode Engage* [Beard]: “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a bodyguard, so I might as well take the young lady with me.” Somewhere Fu and Greedling feel rushes of protectiveness and anger about lecherous old men. After the groups separate and the Chimeras grumble about the “pervy old man”, Beard actually take a moment to Iroh at Lan Fan, lets her go to search for Ling. And like that she’s off, and Beard’s on his own. Oooh, shit. That’s the Golem Room. An officer’s just barged in with a labcoat running after him, shouting about how they haven’t been tested yet. But Officer thinks there’s no better test than a field test, and starts pulling levers. Tubes of liquid and shattered red stones start glowing, the pipes make a heartbeat sound, and red sparks OH LETO NOPE NOPE NOPE I did not need to see eyes pop up on their foreheads and AAARGH they’re all screaming nope nope nope Cue lots of dramatic head turns from characters at The Hell Is That Noise, and fade to black. Grrrrreat. This is going to go swell, I’m sure. End credits. Jeez. So on one hand, this episode had me grinning like a loon as characters came back from offscreen in awesome ways. On the other hand, that noise is going to give me nightmares tonight, and I really, really don’t want to see those creepy Golems moving.

[builder051]

If it rains I’ll wear my coat

Bad scribble sketch, but this fic demanded a doodle.  Whoa Bessie (AU featuring Trans Steve and Veteran/Amputee Bucky).  

Contains PTSD and panic attacks.

Steve’s in the middle of talking to a client when somebody knocks on his office door.  He’s set to ignore it and hope whoever it is reads and heeds the in session sign, but after two raps, the knob rattles.  Fury stands in the doorway, his phone to his ear.

The client whips around in her seat.

“It’s ok,” Steve reassures her.  “He’s my boss.”  He gives Fury a pointed look.

“Uh-huh.  Yeah.  One sec.”  Fury holds the phone against his chest as he addresses Steve.  “I’m sorry.  I know you’re busy, but I need to speak to you.  It’s urgent.”

“I apologize,” Steve tells the client as he gets to his feet.  “We’ll reschedule, and I’ll make sure you’re not billed for today.”

“Rogers.”  Fury beckons for him to follow, then resumes his call.  “Yeah, I’ll put you on speaker here in a second.”  He heads for an empty conference room across the hall and kicks away the door stop.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, his heart thrumming as his head works out a thousand different possible situations, most involving James, and none of them good.

“Ok, you’re strong in a crisis, but try not to freak out on me,” Fury starts.  He’s a good manager, and a good man, but it’s times like these when Steve’s forcibly reminded that his supervisor’s experience lies firmly in the realm of physical health.  He respects psychiatry and counseling, but well-intended slip-ups are unfortunately common.

Steve takes a breath, acutely aware of his heart rate continuing to rise.  “Ok.”

“Local PD gives me a courtesy call when they think they’re picking up one of ours,” Fury says, sitting on the edge of the conference table.  “And, uh, today they picked up yours.”

“What?”

“Barnes was wandering around, having a breakdown, and someone called the cops.  They have protocols, but any additional insight helps.  And usually they try to follow our guidance.”

“Oh god.”  Steve’s hand instinctively comes over his mouth.  “Oh shit.”

James is on some street corner falling apart, and it’s entirely Steve’s fault.  He’s gotten lazy and lax, and now there’s a price to be paid.  Guilt hits him like a wallop to the stomach.

They stayed up too late last night.  Steve should’ve put his foot down at midnight, but something about The Rocky Horror Picture Show jogged James’s memory and he started reminiscing about college.  After a year of watching him try and fail to access the details of anything before Afghanistan, Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop him.

Then chatting turned to love-making, which turned to drowsing, which turned to nightmarish thrashing, and the spell had broken at 4:30.  They’d gone to watch TV again, this time in silence.

When Steve had set coffee and a paper cup of pills on the side table and given him a kiss on the forehead, James had looked at him and smiled before glazing over again and returning his attention to Nova.  Steve could claim sleep deprivation or excessive hope and trust, but they’re just excuses.  He should’ve stayed five extra minutes and made sure James took his meds and started the morning right.  But he hadn’t.  He’d left.

“Rogers?”  Fury raises his brows at Steve while he presses buttons on his phone.  “I got Officer Coulson on the line.  He’s a good dude.  We used to work together.”

“Hello?” A voice says from the other end of the line.

They’re on speaker.  Steve needs to pull himself together.  “Yes, hello.  This is Steve Rogers.”

“Ok, Mr. Rogers,” Coulson says.  “We’re responding to call about an individual in distress.  He’s conscious and responsive, but not able to communicate.  Behaving violently toward officers, but scared, and maybe in pain.”

“Yeah, that’s,” Steve starts.  “He does that.  He has PTSD.  He dissociates.”

“We called for an ambulance,” Coulson continues.  “It’s obvious he’s having a medical episode, but I don’t think he’ll respond any better to that—”

“Yeah, he definitely won’t.”  Steve jams his hands into his pockets, closing his fist around his keys.  “I can come get him.”

“Ok, sure.”  Coulson gives him the cross streets.

It’s around the corner from the VA, near the block of apartments where James had lived for a few months when he first returned to civilian life.  “Give me ten minutes,” Steve says.

“Sure,” Coulson replies.  “Just, do you have any form of ID for him?  Nick’s pretty sure it’s James Barnes from the description, but, like I said, he’s not talking to us.”

“Yeah, um…”  If James is that far gone, who knows if he has his phone or his wallet.  Steve wonders if James’s entry at the top of his list of contacts will count.

Fury sets his phone down on the table and quickly wakes the laptop on the podium in the corner.  He holds up one finger as he taps a few keys.  “Copy of his VA ID card is on the printer now.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve says.  He mouths thank you to Fury.

“And you’re a family member?”  Coulson presses.  “I’m sorry, I have to ask.  Just for everybody’s safety.”

They’re close to two decades into the 21st century.  Steve shouldn’t be embarrassed to call their relationship what it is.  But even then, finding the right word is difficult.  He’s thought about it before, how challenging it is to sum up what James is to him, and he still hasn’t come to a good conclusion.  There’s no time to think now, though, so he says the simplest thing.  “He’s my partner.”  Then he adds, “I’m his emergency contact,” so there’s no space for argument.

Steve sees Fury pulling up James’s patient profile on the screen, too, the one that shows his relatives.  Steve tops the list, even though nothing binds them together but emotion.  One of the cases where water collects enough sediment and dissolved minerals to be thicker than blood.

“On the printer too.”  Fury points to the screen.  Steve nods.

“Good deal,” Coulson says.  “See you soon.”

“Ok.  Yes.  Thank you.”  Steve’s already halfway to the door before Fury returns to the table to end the call.  He can hear Coulson murmuring through the static as he fumbles with his own phone.  Steve’s coming, ok, Jimmy?  Steve Rogers.  It’s the wrong nickname.  But the right sentiment.

“Take the rest of the day,” Fury says, keeping pace as Steve jogs down the corridor to grab the documents from the office hub.  “I’ll clear your schedule.”

“Thank you.”  Steve realizes he’s not breathing, and sucks in a quick lungful.  “I’m sorry about this.”  The words tumble out, his body desperate to shed some of the stress so he can deal with the more pressing issues at hand.  “I probably could’ve prevented it.”

“Nobody sees emergencies coming.”  Fury claps him on the shoulder and holds the side door open for Steve.  “And this is well within the definition of what your sick time will cover.”

Steve’s timecard is the last thing on his mind.  “Thanks,” he says again.

“Hey.”  Fury gives him a meaningful look with his real eye while the glass one seems to stare through Steve.  “Call me if you’re gonna be out tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees as he walks backward toward his car.  “I will.”

Fury nods and gives him a smile.

***

The lights of the police cars are visible halfway down the block, but at least there aren’t any sirens to add to what has to already be an overwhelming amount of sensory input.  Steve pulls up to the curb and jumps out, papers shaking in his hands.

James is on his knees with his head resting on the bench at the bus stop.  His hand is fisted in his hair, and what’s visible of his face is ghostly pale.

“Are you Steve?”  An officer rushes up to meet him, interrupting his beeline.

“Yeah.”  Steve pushes the documents at him, trying to swallow his guilt and borderline panic and drudge up a calm frame of mind.

“Phil Coulson,” the officer says.  “We spoke on the phone.”

“Yeah.”  Steve can’t concentrate on him, though.  James makes an uncomfortable sound, and Steve’s stomach twists in response.  He notices the ambulance parked behind the cop cars, EMTs standing nearby.  “I think if I can just get him home…”  Plans are good, for everyone involved.  “He has a TBI.  Post-traumatic stress, a seizure disorder,” Steve explains.  “I’m pretty sure he forgot his meds this morning.”

It’s not James’s fault that he forgot.  It’s Steve’s fault. 

James groans again and mumbles something.  He blinks hard, but doesn’t look up from the bench’s chipped paint.

“Sure, we’ll stand by,” Coulson says.

Steve runs the last few steps to James’s side, but slows as he lowers himself into a squat.  “Hey, Buck.  Hey.  It’s me, ok?  It’s Steve.”

“Hm.”  James moves his jaw around, but no other sounds come out.

“Can you look at me?”  Steve hovers his hand over James’s arm.  He wants to jump straight to hugging him, but it’s better to go slow.  “I’m gonna touch your shoulder, just letting you know I’m here.”

James is too far gone to process the warning, and he lashes out as soon as Steve’s palm makes contact with his sleeve.  He catches a snag in his hair, and Steve can see strands of it clinging in the webbing between his fingers.  There’s no power behind the blow.  It glances off Steve’s chest, and he uses the opportunity to sandwich James’s hand between his own.

Coulson moves in Steve’s peripheral vision.  “We’re good.  It’s ok,” he tells the officer.  Then he gently squeezes James’s hand.  “You’re home.  Let’s bring you back, ok?”

James blinks again.  He turns his head a fraction of an inch so he can squint sideways at Steve.  There’s a second of recognition, then glassy dizziness again.  He swallows.  “I…  I don’t…” he mumbles.

“It’s ok, Buck.  You’re in DC.  It’s 2018.  It’s getting cold out.”  Steve thinks frantically of other sensory absolutes to point out, ones that won’t be further triggering.

“What’re you…?”  James shakes his head.  It starts slow, then the movement becomes a tremor, shaking his cheeks and his lips.  “You gotta…stop the fucking car…you’re gonna…hit another one…”  His voice dies with a wet sound.

“Ok, ok, Buck?  Look at me.”  But it’s no use.  He’s either going to throw up or start seizing.  James lunges away from the bench, but Steve still has his hand, and he snaps back like a stretched rubber band.  He face-plants into Steve’s chest just as he starts to gag.

Steve couldn’t care less about the mess or the dull ache from the impact of James’s forehead against his sternum.  All that matters is the twitch of tension in James’s hand as his fingers slowly interlace with Steve’s.

“Alright.  There you go.  It’s ok,” Steve murmurs.  He rubs James’s back until he’s done coughing.  “You’re safe.  I got you.”

James leans into him, pressing his face and the front of his neck and his shoulders against Steve’s body.  Steve returns the embrace, dipping his head till his nose brushes James’s back.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but eventually adrenaline wears off, and Steve’s knees ache from being jammed against the cold pavement.  He strokes James’s hair and whispers, “How about we go home?”

James takes a breath.  He’s not up to talking.  Steve still gets the meaning.  He’s heavy and limp like an overcooked noodle, but at least now he’s pliant.

“Ok.  Good.”  Steve plants his feet and slowly straightens his legs, heaving James up with him.  Coulson appears at his elbow, ready to help, but Steve warns him off.  “Don’t.  I got him.”  He pulls James’s arm over his shoulders.  “Sorry.  He just—”

“Isn’t good with strangers,” the officer finishes.  “I get it.”  He looks down at the splatter of sick on Steve’s jeans.  “You need medical, or anything?”

“No, it’s ok, really.”  Steve struggles to free his keys from his pocket.  “But can you help me unlock the car?”

Coulson holds the passenger side open while Steve settles James in the seat.  “Thank you,” he sighs.  “I’m really sorry about all this.”  Steve gently shuts the door and rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand.  “We’ve usually got things better under control.”

“Hey, no worries.  Everybody’s safe, and that’s what really matters.”  The officer gives Steve the keys back, then raises his hand in farewell and heads for his cruiser.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes.  “I guess so.”

***

He drives below the speed limit, then shuffles James across the parking lot and into the apartment.  The coffee and pills from this morning are still on the table beside the couch, but they don’t get that far before James is done with being vertical.

“Whoa.  Ok.”  Steve catches him around the waist before he hits the floor and slowly lowers him the rest of the way.  James gets a fistful of Steve’s collar, yanking his neckline down a few inches and begging Steve to hold him with everything but actual words.

Steve whispers to him and rubs his shoulders and matches his breathing to James’s, imagining the puffs of warmth on his chest feeding him with a little strength that he can foster and pass back to James on the next exhale.

It works for a while, but James starts to shake again.  He makes a humming noise, and Steve feels dampness on his shirt.  At first he thinks James is sick again, but when he pulls his head back to look down, he realizes James is crying.

Tears aren’t bad.  Steve tells that to his clients all the time.  Sometimes they’re necessary.  Emotional purging works very much in the same way as its physical counterpart: sometimes things just need to come up.

“It’s ok,” Steve soothes.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok.”

James pauses sniveling to listen to Steve’s voice, but then he sobs again, air gusting from his lips and making the wetness cold against Steve’s skin.  The vomit on his leg is cold too.  But the tears that run from the corners of his own eyes are hot.  He’d hug James all day and into the night, but he also can’t take this anymore.  The physical weight of him is too much on top of the weight of the responsibility Steve feels for him.

“Let’s get you to bed, alright?”  Steve manhandles James into the bedroom as gently as he can, then unlaces his shoes and tucks him in.  He catches a teardrop with his thumb and kisses James’s stubbly cheek, promising he’ll only be gone a minute.

It takes him longer, though.  Steve stops in the hallway and fights to keep his face from crumpling.  One deviation from routine, one skipped dose, and this is already where they’re at.

It might just be a bad day.  James had had a rough night.  Maybe if he’d slept, he’d be fine.  Or if it was warmer outside.  If Steve had just stayed and watched him swallow his pills, this wouldn’t have happened.

Or maybe if Steve wasn’t always coming up behind him, he’d pick up some more self-sufficiency.  No matter how he slices it, it’s his fault.  The pressure of tears yet unshed makes Steve’s head ache, but he’ll take the pain if it saves him from falling apart.

He strips out of his jeans in the guest bathroom and leaves them in the tub, then pads down the hall in his underwear.  He grabs James’s meds and fills a glass with water.  He digs crackers out of the cupboard, then looks over the spread.  Steve’s about to take it all back to the bedroom when he changes his mind and opens the drawer of pill bottles.

The benzos don’t do much for James’s sleep patterns, so he doesn’t take them.  Occasional insomnia is a joke of a diagnosis anyway; the sleeplessness is hardly a problem compared to the nightmares that cause it.  

He doesn’t like pills that make a fuzz his head, he’d told Steve.  But James is already in a fuzz.  What he needs now is rest.  Steve does too, and he knows he won’t get any if he spends the next couple hours with his heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as he listens to James cry.  

There are already four medications in the paper cup, a motley collection of capsules and tablets.  Steve can add one more.  James probably won’t even notice.

***

“Here, let’s take your meds,” Steve says, helping him sit up.  It’s not a lie.  They’re all James’s meds.

James complies without question, even shoving against the mattress with his shaking arm so Steve doesn’t have to do all the work.  He knocks back the pills and swallows a few times, squinting as if it hurts.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve whispers.

James slumps back toward the pillow, reaching for Steve’s hand.  “Steve,” he whispers, drawing out the name until it’s just a breath.

“Yeah.  I’m here.”  Steve forces a smile.  He perches on the edge of the mattress and watches James’s eyes drift shut.

Once he’s breathing evenly, Steve changes clothes and retreats to the kitchen.  He downs a dose of ibuprofen and shovels cold leftovers into his mouth until his throat’s too tight to swallow.  He drops his fork and folds his arms on the table.  He pushes his chair out, then buries his face in his sleeves, wondering if he’s any more put-together than James was when he was breaking down at the bus stop.  Tears aren’t bad, Steve thinks to himself.  He repeats it over a few times, just to be sure he doesn’t forget.

It’s a miracle that logic kicks back in once the weeping tapers off.  Or maybe it’s just his protective instinct playing up again.  Steve peeks in on James, and once he’s sure he’s alright for the time being, he starts a load of wash and does the dishes.

He wanted a few hours of quiet, needed it, in fact, but now it’s too quiet.  Steve opens his laptop and fires up Pandora, but after five minutes he’s out of skips. and still restless.  He calls Sam and puts him on speaker.

“Hey,” Sam greets him.  “I heard what happened.  How’s he doing?”

“He’s ok,” Steve says.  “He just dissociated.  Panicked.  Got sick.”  The need to act, to keep cleaning up, gnaws at him.  He opens a new browser and clicks through the process to order James a medic alert necklace.  “He’s asleep now.”

“Well, that’s good,” Sam says.  “I mean, that he’s getting through it.  And no seizure this time.”

“Yeah, no seizure.”  Steve stares at the computer screen, wondering how on earth this is going to help.  He’s treating James like a stray dog he’s deciding to keep for his own.  Or throwing him back to the Army, with his name on a tag around his neck.  Just with Steve’s phone number instead of a serial.

“But…it’s all my fault, Sam,” Steve whispers.  Not just today.  Everything.  James had joined the Army for Steve.  To support him.  Then, after they’d fought about it, to get away from him.  

And now Steve’s doing the same thing.  Escaping. Slipping drugs to his medically fragile significant other when he needs a break to cry.  At least James had only risked his own life when he’d signed on.  It was gallant.  Steve feels disgusting by comparison.

“Steve.  Hey.  I’m not your kind of therapist, but I’m pretty sure you’re wrong.”  Sam pauses.  “Mistaken beliefs?  Is that what they’re called?  You know I don’t always pay attention in seminars.”

Steve chuckles.  “That’s right, actually.  You’d probably make a better counselor than I would right now.”

“I’ll drop off my resumé,” Sam laughs.  “But I’m serious.  We spend so much time on our patients, our clients.  It’s hard when it’s a loved one.  And it makes it even harder when you realize your limits.”

“I just ordered him a dog tag,” Steve blurts out.  It’s suddenly hilarious instead of sad, and it makes him question his sanity a little.

“That’s a good thing.  What does it say?  ‘If lost, return to Steve Rogers’?”

“Just about.”  Steve sighs and wipes his eyes.  “I just…  I really love him, Sam.  I don’t want to hurt him.  I don’t want him to hurt.  At all.  Ever.”

“You’re doing good,” Sam says firmly.  “Not everything turns out perfect, but overall, you’re doing good.”

“Hm.”  Steve’s still not entirely convinced, but Sam’s words are reassuring.

“Do you want to order a pizza?”

“What?”  Steve wonders if he heard right.

“Since I’m applying for everybody’s job, I thought I’d add pizza delivery boy to the list.  And I didn’t want to straight-up ask if you wanted company.  Since I’m not that kind of therapist.”  Steve can practically see his friend’s grin.

“Yeah,” Steve says.  “I could use some pizza.  And company.  We could use company.”

“Alright.  See you in 20?”

“Sure.”  Steve closes his laptop.  “Sounds good.”

[manicparadox]

A Place Like Home

Something about the way the snow blanketed the city both comforted and unnerved Hank Anderson. The snow kept coming down, muffling sounds. Fewer people were out driving. He wouldn’t have been, either, if he hadn’t gotten an alarming call earlier from Connor that Hank needed to meet him at the CyberLife Tower to investigate a critical piece of evidence.

Now Hank walked from the CyberLife Tower, looking over his shoulder at the building as he crossed back to his car. It hadn’t been Connor, of course. Not really. He should have known as soon as he’d seen him, as the android he’d found waiting for him seemed reserved, hands at his sides. A huge difference from the animated android that sat on Hank’s desk venting his frustration at the investigation being ended prematurely. Just before Hank had started a fight with Perkins to let Connor get to the evidence room.

No doubt that would result in a write up, and Hank admitted to himself that it might even cost him his job. Worth it to see that smug asshole’s face when I hit him, though. Fowler had yelled at him for a half hour and told him to get out, but hadn’t outright fired him. Hank got the impression that Fowler knew the score.

He should have had more doubts when Connor called him on one of Hank’s days off, as the android frequently recited Hank’s own work schedule to him. Argh. Fucking androids. Connor probably knew Hank’s schedule better than Hank himself did.

Pulling his coat around him more tightly, he hunched down against the cold and the snow, stopping under a light and turning. From the main doors of the CyberLife Tower building, Hank watched Connor stride through the doors, an army of androids behind him. They started in the direction of Hart Plaza and the camp there, but as they reached the fence, Connor paused for a moment and seemed to look his direction. He raised one hand in a wave, and Hank raised his hand in silent acknowledgement. Good luck, kid. Then Connor disappeared out into the snowy night with a thousand or more androids behind him.

Deciding he’d go out the back exit to avoid the disruption, Hank got back into his car and left. Security let him out without question, possibly just wanting this strange night to end. Hank couldn’t blame them, particularly as he started blasting death metal shortly before he reached the gate.

He turned onto the highway and headed towards home, through the muted darkness of Detroit. Not going with Connor felt strange. He’d always tried to go in before him, to protect him. Keep him safe. In retrospect, Connor probably didn’t need the level of protection Hank provided, but Hank didn’t trust him to not get his ass kicked at first. The first time he saw Connor get hit in the face with a trash can validated Hank’s thoughts. Why did he insist on being a shield for an android, anyway? Training from years of going out with rookies? Not wanting to see his partner shot and possibly killed?

Or maybe it was me just not caring if I got shot.

Not that it mattered, as according to Connor, his memories would just have been transferred and a new android issued. For Hank, though, it wouldn’t have mattered. Watching someone get shot, human or android, wasn’t really a pleasant thing. He’d learned that blue blood was just as hard to clean up as red blood when Connor had been attacked at Stratford Tower and Hank had sat there on the floor with the shaking android after he’d helped him get the thirium pump reinstalled.

Sighing, Hank half heartedly tried to sing along with the music but found that he kept only muttering the lyrics as his thoughts wandered. He reached out and switched it to the radio, just in time for the announcer to acknowledge with a raised voice that staggering number of androids were marching through the streets. To Hank’s relief, no shots were being fired. That would have been more than I could fucking take. He would end up driving over there.

Between the time of night, the androids on the streets, and the snow, he passed no other cars until he got close to his street. Even the automated cars seemed to have parked themselves for the night, no doubt in response to the street closures that the chaos had caused. Just before he turned onto his street, three police cars zoomed past him, lights on and sirens blaring, and Hank wondered what took them so long to respond.

Finally at his house, he pulled into the driveway and sat in the car for a moment, listening to the news, but it seemed to just be the same thing about androids marching through the streets and the standoff at Hart Plaza.

As he listened, he heard the gunshots go off, and the sudden frantic reports of shots fired on behalf of law enforcement. “Shit,” he muttered, reaching to put his car into reverse, to go back.

A message appeared on his phone. Stay home with Sumo. We’ll be fine. It didn’t have a specific source, but Hank assumed the message came from Connor. Possibly scrambling the source so that the message couldn’t be traced.

“The fuck’s that mean, we’ll be fine. You’re getting shot at.” Hank dropped the phone and scrubbed at his face with his hands. It’s out of my hands. He hated the thought but also knew that Connor was right.  

Fucking androids. It had been easier when they’d just been machines. It had also been a more depressing world, to Hank. He put the car in park, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. Taking out his feeling of helplessness on his car door, he slammed it and locked up the car, heading for his house.

As the approached the door, he noticed two packages on the porch. “The fuck’s this?” he muttered, nudging one with his foot. He hadn’t ordered anything, but he looked at the labels and both were clearly labeled with his name and address.

Great, more mysteries. As if work weren’t full enough of them.

He moved both packages into the house and locked the door behind him. “Sumo, I’m home!” he called, looking towards Sumo’s usually spot. He wasn’t there, which Hank assumed meant he waited at his food dish. Heading to the kitchen, he found his dog staring at the empty food dish, and Hank remembered what he’d been about to do before he’d gotten fake Connor’s message. “Aw shit. Dog food.” Now what? He’d have to go back out.

Pulling off his gloves, he tossed them on the table and got down on his knees. “Hey boy, it’s okay. I’m going to go find you something.” He warmed his hands in his dog’s fur and Sumo leaned into him, already seeming to forgive him. You’re more than I deserve, dog. Hank sighed, pulling up close next to Sumo. “At least we’ve got each other.”

He looked around the kitchen, wondering if any more food that he’d forgotten about remained. His eyes swept past the plastic covered window and he frowned. Fucking androids. Connor owed him a window.

In turn, though, Hank supposed he owed Connor his life, so he could probably call that even.

A thought occurred to him, and he paused, looking at the empty bag of dog food that sat on the counter. It wasn’t far from the broken window. Hank cast a look back at the two packages, and got to his feet, retrieving the packages and setting them on the table. He flipped the latches on the first box, and found exactly what he expected: a replacement for the sliding part of his window. “Well son of a bitch.”

Connor. It had to have been Connor.

What was in the second box, then? Hank flipped it open and found a bag and 4 cans of dog food. “Well, Sumo, it looks like you’ve got a guardian… something.” He set the bag aside and pulled out one of the cans, and looked over at Sumo. The dog raised his head hopefully, and Hank laughed. “You deserve better than my idiot ass.” He popped open the can of food and scooped it into a bowl, then picked the bowl up and took it into the living room. Sumo followed him, and Hank set the food down next to his bed. “It’s warmer out here, and then we can see how things are going on the news. Sound ok?”

Sumo’s tongue lolled out and he dropped himself onto the bed, slurping at the food. At Sumo’s age, he should probably have the dog on more soft food anyway. Connor would know that. Of course he would. It’s exactly the kind of detail Connor would have thought of.

Hank ruffled the dog’s fur then got up to turn on the tv, sitting down on the couch. The standoff at Hart Plaza continued, and Hank searched the channels for any status of what happened, trying to figure it out. The fourth channel gave him his answer: it showed video of who he now knew to be Markus kissing another android, their hands linked together. “Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered, tugging off his coat and throwing it over the back of the couch.

As he watched, the armed troops around them lowered their weapons, and Hank found himself grinning. But where was Connor?

“The president has ordered the military to stand down, as a swarm of androids floods the streets…”

An aerial shot of the mass of androids from CyberLife showed on his screen. No one attacked. No one shot. They entered Hart Plaza unchallenged, Connor striding through the snow with a purpose that surpassed what Hank had seen him capable of as a machine. He moved with intention, with a smoothness that demonstrated what Hank had suspected for longer than Connor had. A camera zoomed in on Connor, a stray part of his hair now out of place and curling over his forehead. Machine Connor wouldn’t have allowed it.

Connor as something quite a bit more than that, though, didn’t seem to mind.  

“That’s my boy.” Hank didn’t know why he felt such a sense of pride, but he did. He watched his partner, his clueless rookie android that he’d gotten saddled with not even a week ago. It felt like so much longer.

He picked up the remote and flipped through a few more channels, most of which had variations on “swarm of androids”, “androids flooding streets of Detroit”, or “androids take Detroit.”

Hank felt something bump his leg and looked down to find Sumo there. “Hey Sumo. Come on up.” He patted a spot on the couch next to him and the St Bernard jumped up, putting his head in Hank’s lap. Hank ran his fingers through the dog’s fur, like Cole had so many years ago.

Cole.

Muting the TV, Hank put his head down to rest on Sumo. “I’m sorry, boy. I haven’t been the best the last few years.”

By now, on any other night, Hank would already have a beer in his hand, but he felt more sober than he’d felt in as long as he could remember. He didn’t want to get drunk. He just wanted to be here with his dog and take a moment to feel good about the fact that Connor and the androids had managed what they had. It would be a long road to freedom, but they proved what Hank had already started to suspect as he’d watched the other androids interact. The android and girl that had crossed the highway, and the look of plain fear on their faces. The desperation in the androids at the Eden Club, when they reached for each other’s hands and held on tightly like nothing else in the world mattered. And the way that Connor had prioritized Hank and his life over the mission, every time.

Connor choosing to pull him off the ledge rather than chase down Rupert. Connor breaking into his house to slap the shit out of Hank when he’d given up on his own life. Connor ensuring that Hank survived in CyberLife Tower, even if it could have got him killed.

Hank couldn’t remember the last time he loved even his own life half as much as these androids seemed to love. I’m watching them fight just to be considered alive… and I’ve been ready to throw my own life away.

He choked back a sob as the realization washed over him and he breathed in deeply against Sumo’s side. “I just didn’t know what to do without him.” There was more he wanted to say, but Sumo didn’t speak English, and probably knew anyway.

He’d spent so much time just wanting to die, killing himself slowly. A little every day, like he’d told Connor. That had been life without Cole.

Holding onto Sumo’s fur, Hank cried for the first time in over a year, not caring if it hurt. Hurting meant he was alive, which used to mean he needed to do something to stop the hurt. Being alive, though… Being alive was perhaps more of a gift than Hank ever could have realized without knowing Connor, without this investigation.

“Fucking androids,” he muttered, lifting his head and wiping tears from his eyes. He blinked a few times, looking back at the tv. More pointless headlines, but the most important information scrolled along the bottom of the screen: the military were standing down. There were reports of evacuating Detroit, which just made Hank snort. Humans weren’t in any danger from the androids. If anything, the opposite would be true. They had a long road ahead of them; Hank could say from personal experience that humans were assholes.

Sumo lifted his head then stood, his face now level with Hank’s, and licked him across the cheek. A wet, slobbery dog kiss that Hank scrubbed at with the back of his hand. “Hey what was that for?”

Getting up, Sumo moved off the couch, heading for the back door. Hank stood up and followed, grabbing his coat and phone on the way. He didn’t feel right leaving Sumo alone in the backyard after everything that had happened that night, although he admitted to himself that was more about him needing some kind of company than out of any concern for Sumo.

He pulled on his coat and opened the back door, letting Sumo out into the yard, and huddled next to the door, trying to stay warm. The snow still came down, and Sumo trotted through it, the snow sticking to his thick fur. While Hank waited for Sumo to finish his business, he pulled the news back up on his phone. Connor now had taken a place with Markus, and Hank turned up the volume on the phone.

“Tonight, our people finally emerged from a long night. From the first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves.”

Hank winced, feeling how close to home that statement hit.

“We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”

He had to hand it to Markus, he excelled as a motivational speaker. The camera zoomed in on Markus as he spoke.

“The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies. Humans are both our creators and our opposers but now, we must make them our partners. Maybe even one day our friends. But the time for anger is over. Now we must build a common future, built on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!”

“I’ll be damned.” Hank shivered in his coat, watching the crowd erupt in cheers. Maybe there was some hope for when all this is over. He pushed the phone back into his pocket and looked up to see Sumo ambling back over, his tongue hanging out as he picked up his pace and kicked up some snow. The snow caked on his legs, and Hank sighed. “Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Sumo let out a small bark and Hank smiled, putting his hand on his dog’s head as he stopped next to him. He opened the door and let Sumo in, following him. He grabbed a towel he’d left by the door and got down on his knees next to Sumo to start wiping the snow off. He managed to wiped down one leg when Sumo shook himself, flinging snow and water droplets everywhere.

“Aw Jesus Christ! Sumo!” Hank kept drying the dog off and tossed the towel into a corner. “Go get warm.”

He got to his feet and followed Sumo back to the living room, pulling off his coat as he walked and hanging it by the door. As he hung it up, he heard his phone chime. He pulled it out to see he had a message.

“1.4 times the daily intake of calories, and twice the recommended cholesterol. 8am.”

“The fuck is this?” Hank muttered, reading the message again. How cryptic could one android possibly get? He stared at the message and tried to figure out what that meant, replaying the events of the last few days in his head. Wasn’t this what Connor had said when they were at Chicken Feed? How the hell did Connor expect Hank to remember that?

Except Hank had remembered it. Why was Connor suddenly speaking in code? Was he worried about CyberLife monitoring their communications? Hank thought that becoming deviant would have made that a non issue, but he admitted for a detective that had been investigating this for a week, he really didn’t know that much. Or maybe he was just being snarky.

Chicken Feed. 8am. Hank looked at his watch and saw that it was already 1am. He sent a message back. Make it 9am and I’ll be there.

Holding the phone in his hand, he waited for the message. “9am. Get some sleep.”

He started to send a message back to the effect of “you, too,” then laughed at himself. Of course Connor wouldn’t need to sleep. Who knows what he’d do all night?

Setting the phone down, Hank looked around his house, all of the details of where he lived more clear now. The empty boxes of Chinese takeout, bits of sauce congealed in the bottom. With the exception of the two that Sumo had knocked onto the floor and licked clean. Empty pizza boxes, empty beer bottles…

He remembered in stark memory how Connor had chosen to save him before trying to convert the androids at CyberLife. How Hank had to determine which of the identical androids was Connor, and which was the imposter. Putting a bullet in the head of the android that looked just like his friend and partner but was not.

Hank reached his hand into his pocket and found Connor’s coin. He wrapped his hands around it. “Well, you didn’t go through all that so I could live in this disaster.” He pushed the coin back into his pocket and started picking up the trash, throwing it into the can. Sumo looked up at him, watching him as he moved through the room. What had he been doing, and for how long?

Since Cole died.

Drawing a sharp breath, Hank sat down hard in the chair at the table, looking down at the frame with the picture of Cole. It still laid face down on the table in front of him, where he’d left it days ago. When he’d been ready to give up but Connor had found him. He slowly reached out and picked it up, holding it in his hands for a moment before turning it over and looking at it. Cole’s face looked back at him, and he choked on a sob and held onto the picture with both hands. Cole deserved better from him than his picture laying on the table. He’d deserved so much more than Hank could have given him.

I’ve only let people down.

A tear slid down his face and landed on the picture, and Hank wiped it away. “I wish you were here. Sumo misses you. I miss you.” He held the picture to his chest and stood, walking back into the living room. He cleared off space on a shelf where he would be able to see the picture when he walked in, every day. He didn’t know if he’d leave it there forever, but for now, he needed it. He needed to remember the person he was, the man who saw the potential in life. A man who loved his son more than anything.

He set the picture down gently and let his finger rest for a moment on Cole’s face. “I love you, son.”

It was time. Time to rejoin the living.

Turning back to the room, he still saw small messes that he wanted to clean up, but there’d be time for that later. “Come on, Sumo, let’s get some sleep. Fucking androids want me up in the morning.”

Sumo lifted his head, and Hank didn’t know if he imagined it or not, but even Sumo looked more energetic. Maybe he was catching onto whatever Hank felt.

Hank turned out the lights as Sumo got to his feet, and they headed to Hank’s room. Sumo got up on the bed and settled on the far side, and Hank stripped down to his underwear and slide between the sheets. He set an alarm for early and decided he’d try to beat Connor to Chicken Feed, just to prove he could.

Sleep claimed him not long after he turned off the light.

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204806

[theredleopardposts]

Servitors chapter one

The Servitors: Chapter one: The Break out

By HMK07

Clawed hands racked down a metal cell wall leaving engravings and causing sparks to light up the darkness the hands owner belonged to. "This is bullshit... its inhumane, Ive got rights ya known" roared a voice from the cell. The cells occupant stood over six feet tall with a muscular build, black leathery skin with red veins, clawed hands and feet just as sharp with fangs and leathery wings petruding from his back. "Will you please shut up Paul? Are you so naïve to think that their just going to come up to the cell and let us out?" questioned a athletic woman with golden blonde hair and stone grey eyes. Paul looked over to the back wall of the cell they had been kept in the fire demon had made multiple tick marks to show the passage of time, to no avail though as he, the blonde half demon witch Beatrice or their partner the ice demon Frostbite even remembered when they'd been captured.

Paul musings were suddenly interrupted by Frank groaning, Frank by stood at about well over seven feet with a door frame body, fair caucasian skin, jet black hair and the looks of a dime store thug. "Whens meal time, im hungry" Frank mumbled aloud to no one at all with the look of a kicked puppy tugging a t his grey prisoners uniform. "Food?" Beatrice quired with a look of annoyance on her face "do you have any idea what these humans have been doing to our kind in here?" Beatrice asked Frank cupping his face like a small child's. Beatrice being the leader their little paranormal trio often had to come up with the plans, strategies and keep her two demon "henchman" in check but these were dire times. Ever since the paranormal who'd been dubbed the "unifying king" by humans and paranormals alike had risen the world had gotten stranger, a whole lot stranger.

Humans had developed newer, larger weapons to kill paranormals with and technologies along with them such as the new cell they'd been staying in. Beatrice couldn't allow herself to wander though despite everything she considered her two henchmen demons her family. "I heard that he goes around punishing humans who attack our kind and punishing our kind who attack humans. Like some dammed hall monitor" Frank said cheerfully with tinge of dread to his friends. "Yeah well the unifying son of a bitch had better shine his all seeing eye on us" Paul sated as he shifted back into his human form of tall muscular black male "Im tired of waiting to die". "Screw that" Beatrice spat "im not waiting for some random miracle to happen before im carted off to get experimented on." Beatrice wasn't stupid even without her paranormal hearing and other senses she'd still have heard the screaming of others of her kind werewolves, vampires, fairies and all the others.

Even other humans who used to hunt down paranormals called "Gargareans" weren't even sparred the indignities of the poking and prodding of their captures. "All I know is im getting us out even if I have to sell my soul to servitude" Beatrice said inwardly to herself and went to sit back on her cell bunk leaning her head up against the molded waxy cell wall and closed here eyes and drifted to sleep dreaming of her heyday in Detroit Michigan and her father Michio Montes. "Hey goldilocks wake up something's going on" Beatrice heard Paul say as her jerked her awake along with the sound of alarms "This had better be important or Im gonna be very upset Paul" Beatrice groaned to her would be second in command and found Frank standing at their cell bars in his black skinned, blue veined demon form with cold air rolling off his tense body as if he were a block of dry ice. "Cant you feel it?" Frank asked his voice sounding like razor blades. Despite the sound of the alarms Beatrice stretched her senses as far as she could and found what Frank had been so tense about, the ground was trembling it was subtle but it was there and it was getting less and less subtle. Paul grinned "At this rate the whole place will be destroyed". "Yeah dumbass and us too" chimed Beatrice as they watched the human scientist and personell scurry like mice trapped in a maze. "Whoever's here has them scarred shitless" Beatrice thought "I wonder what our guest is after".

Their cells had been built to withstand their elemental powers so their was no way of getting out at least not so far, so whatever was coming was going to have an audience, them. The sounds of explosions filled the air along with fire and debris as if the entire facility had been hit with napalm or mortier fire. "Hey "B" look over there, whose that?" Paul asked like child at his first magic show meeting a magician for the first time. "Hang on ill take a peek" Beatrice focused her vision down the corridor past the debris, flames and smoke spying a figure. "Who the hell is that?" Beatrice whispered as she could make out a figure in a brown sport coat, white shirt and black dress shoes. The figures face was abscured due to the smoke but Beatrice could make out his fine cuacasian skin, a muscular build underneath his close, dark neck length hair and glowing amethyst eyes. Then she spied his right hand, it was wielding a bronze engraved handle silver blade rapier sword, stained in blood. Beatrice quickly jerked back as the figure turned his attention towards her Paul, and Frank. "Oh shit he's coming this way" Paul said as he fearfully shifted into his leathery black demon form pushing Beatrice behind him for protection.

Beatrice quickly shifted into her demon form as well her skin became leathery black with white veins, clawed hands and leathery wings awaiting what ever came for them. The figures foot steps grew louder and louder with each step until he stopped in the middle of the cell block, he looked around with sadness in his amethyst eyes taking in the scenery before him. The figure spoke with a booming voice so all could hear him "MY FELLOW PARANORMALS AND HUMANS, YOUR IMPRISONMENT IS AT AN END". He then gripped the bronze handle of his silver edged rapier sword causing a bright flash of light to erupt around his body. No longer was the figure garbed in a fine brown sports coat and dress shoes but instead a long sleeved dark leather coat, bronze spualdered short skirted body armor, gauntlets , grieves and a visored helmet. 

"GLORY TO ARDOR, ALL HAIL THE UNIFYING KING" the entire cell block erupted cheers and clanging applause from their cells their messiah had come for them, he'd saved them. Beatrice was not impressed at all she because she Paul, and Frank barred grudges against Ardor Joncour alias The Unifying King from long ago. "Oh please, what a show off" Beatrice leaned against the wall waiting for the crowds roars to die down. The Unfiying King raised his rapier sword silencing the inmates cheers "Though I give you this freedom know this. Those who abuse it will face the most dire of consequences, Do you understand me?"

The Unifying king waited for everyone's response. All at once every paranormal and human in a cell bent a knee kneeling to the Unifying King in thanks and alligence. All but three. The Unifying King turned his helmeted head towards Beatrice, Paul and Frank casting his steely gaze towards them like a spotlight. "Oh you've got to be kidding me" mumbled Beatrice as she noticed all the other paranormals and humans eyeballing daggers into them. Beatrice knew when she was beaten and this was one of those times, thus she bent her knee and kneeled her alligence towards the Unifying King Paul and Frank soon followed. With their mini rebellion thwarted the Unifying King turned his attention towards the facilities ceiling swinging his rapier sword upwards sending a blue wave of energy towards the ceiling crashing it open like a egg shell leaving a gapping upwards hole to the world above. The Unifying King gripped the bronze handel of his rapier sword shifting out of his bronze armor and into his normal clothing erupting a beautiful pair of transparent light construct wings from his back. "Remember my words and live your lives" The Unifying King stated as he spread his wings and the degenerated them extending his hand towards a caged werewolf "guide yourself towards the light my friend, its ok". Cautiously the werewolf opened his cell door and stepped on the floor of the cell block taking the Unifying Kings hand and then walked towards the light and began walking towards light crawling upwards through the tunnel to the surface.

Beatrice watched from her cell and grimaced as every paranormal and human prisoner flooded the cell block floor and scurried towards the light like flies to a bug zapper. "What bunch a of fucking psychophants" Beatrice quickly shifted back into her human form, tied her blonde messy hair into a ponytail and straightened her grey prison uniform as much was allowed and headed towards the Unifying King with Paul and Frank in tow. "So your majesty, what's next? You planning on feeding the poor too?" Beatrice asked the Unifying King rolling her grey eyes while being flanked by her two demons. The Unifying King turned to face Beatrice, Paul and Frank his amethyst gaze piercing into the three. "Ive no intentions of feeding them, they have all the tools they need to survive in the world" The Unifying King shrugged "What can I do for and your friends Beatrice Montes?" The Unifying King asked with genuine curiosity. "ARE YOU SERIOUS???" Beatrice became irate shifting into her demon form swinging punches that could reduce stone walls to dust, the Unifying King dodged them with all the effort of breathing. "You took my father and my whole world from me and you have the nerve to ask me what you can do for me? Beatrice asked through bated breaths shifting between human and demon forms swinging a blow at the Unifying King the he easily caught.

The Unifying King gripped her wrist causing her to knell in pain. Paul and Frank tried rushing the Unifying King but were pushed back by his immense power shown in domed force field he'd erected. The Unifying King was annoyed and his amethyst eyes showed it "Enough, little girl. You feel ive been unjust towards you?" the Unifying King asked "Your father was a criminal and he threatened countless lives with his madness, so yes I and my allies killed him, Id do so again if I had too". The Unifying King released Beatrice from his grip and helped her to her feet his handsome features softening "Your free to do as you please Beatrice Montes but if you feel I owe you then you and your friends can come to my home and stay there as long as you'd like."  Beatrice was confused. She didn't know what to say. She hated this half angel warlock. She wanted him dead and he'd just offered his home up to them no strings attached what was she going to say? She had to consider her options, she and her cohorts had been imprisoned for at least a decade and had nothing and no one to go too. No where to run, nothing in there names but the clothes on there backs. They could leave and try to start up another criminal empire like her late fathers but to what avail to have it destroyed by either the Unifying king, a government agency, or the army no Beatrice and the had no where to run. Beatrice knew what her answer was and cleared her throat "Ok your majesty I and my friends accept your offer. We will be living with you...for the time being" Beartrice kneeled along with Paul and Frank behind her their hushed crumbles speaking their own discomfort for them. The Unifying King smiled winningly at Beatrice and her friends "Ok then its settled! Gather whatever belongings you possesses and we'll be on our way" The Unifying King generated his blue like construct wings and took off into the sky Beatrice shifted into her demon form and motioned for Paul and Frank to do the same spreading her wings taking off towards new and unknown future.

[kpopscenarios4u-blog]

Lethal Virus - Part 4/5

Part O N E || Part T W O || Part T H R E E || Part F O U R || Part F I V E Word Count: 1847 Requested by: mymisstina Themes: Angst, AU, Slight Fluff Triggers: Blood, Mentions of Death, Guns. A/N: We’re almost at the end of this series! I really didn’t want to make it five parts but I didn’t like how everything tied in without separating this and the last part. I hope you enjoy.

“How could you be so stupid?” Hoseok groaned looking at his computer, then a gleeful laugh fell from his lips. “Hey, Boss.” Hyunwoo looked up from his own computer, “Yeah?” “Jung Kisoo - the guy Kihyun said was involved in the medical scandal along with Dr. Kim.” “From the other company? Yeah, what about him.” “Jung got married three years ago to a woman by the name of Park Juhyun, but she got really sick. Apparently, he was working on a drug to cure her illness and was trying to rush through testing.” “Medical testing for new drugs can take years, right?” Minhyuk interrupted. “Yeah, exactly. This guy was doing everything in his power to get it pushed to human testing but his wife died before it ever got to that stage. Then, Kim’s company stole the drug and are supposed to be holding a press conference tomorrow to announce it and it’s properties.” “That’s a good lead.” Hyunwoo agreed. “Take Jooheon and stake out the conference tomorrow, he could be planning on releasing the virus then.” He paused for a minute. “Be careful.” “Your concern is touching boss, but that’s not what cements this guy as your lead suspect.” Hyunwoo waited, his eyebrows raised. “When his wife died, he took her last name. Park Kisoo.”

You walked back into the room, just in time for Hoseok to turn his screen around to show Hyunwoo a photograph. You gasped, finding it difficult to breathe for a moment. “T-That’s him.” You finally choked out, stumbling toward the desk, ignoring everyone’s concerned looks. “That’s Dr. Park.” “Hoseok, send me a home address. I’m going to ask this Park Kisoo some questions.” Hyunwoo stood, grabbing his wallet and car keys as he made his way to the door. His hands had just touched his coat hanging in the doorway when you caught up with him. “Where do you think you’re going without me?” You inquired failing to keep any anger out of your voice. How dare he assume that you weren’t going with him. “I know you’re not going to leave your partner behind.” “You’re too sick. If this is our guy… It’s too damn dangerous, ______-ah.” “What’s he going to do, infect me a second time?” You challenged, fire burning in your eyes. “If anything, I should be going alone and you should be staying here. I do not need your protection. I’ve yet to show any symptoms, so how can we even be sure that I’ve been infected.” “Uh, the tests that you had at the hospital?” Hoseok interrupted sarcastically. “Shut UP, Hoseok.” The both of you yelled, not even bothering to look at him. “Fine. Get your things quickly, because I’m not waiting.” As he stormed out of the room, you ignored the burning pain in your chest as you dashed back to your desk before hurrying out the door,

As you pulled up to the modest home, you noticed a light on in the front window. “First sign of danger, you are out of there.” Hyunwoo growled, his voice low and dangerous. “No. First sign of danger and you are out of there.” You quickly climbed out of the car and was followed closely by Hyunwoo, who soon took the lead. The door opened by itself and the two of you stepped inside. “Sorry.” Hyunwoo whispered. Just as the door went to swing shut, Hyunwoo pushed you down and out of the entrance way. The door slammed shut in your face with you outside the building and Hyunwoo inside with a madman.

“HEY! SON HYUNWOO! HEY! AHHHH! FUCK!” You screamed so loudly that you started to cough. Quickly, you got to your feet and pushed through the dizziness as you radioed in for backup and began to search around the house, looking for a way in. As you neared the back, you came across a window that looked into Park’s living room. You could see Hyunwoo and Park sitting, quite civilly, opposite each other. To anyone else, it might look like two acquaintances having a chat. Then you saw Park pull a gun on Hyunwoo, and your eyes widened as you looked for something, anything, to break the window glass. You eyes settled on a brick paver that was loose. Without even thinking of anything except getting inside, fast, you threw the brick paver through the window and the glass exploded, spraying you with thousands of sharp pieces. Ignoring it, you moved to run into the room but your body was too weak from fighting the virus. You stumbled and landed in the shattered glass, cutting your hands and face as you landed. “_____!” Hyunwoo made to jump up but the cock up the gun kept him still. He scowled at Park who began to laugh hysterically. “You did this to her, you arsehole.” “I remember her. She tried so hard to relax me. ‘It’s OK doctor, fighting. The police may seem tough, but we’re just people too’.” He mocked you. 

You shakily got to your feet, ignoring the blood that fell from your body and onto the carpet. Once again Hyunwoo moved to reach you but it was you that stopped him this time. “If my blood gets on me, you get infected. Think before you do something you’ll regret.” Hyunwoo hung his head and let out a pitiful laugh. “I could never do anything for or with you that I’d regret, ____-ah.” He said softly. Park let out a high pitched laugh. “Oh, this is too much fun. You have feelings for each other.” Your face grew red as Hyunwoo’s head snapped up to glare at the man holding you both captive. “She’s my partner, of course I do. We work so closely together, you develop a bond. I imagine you had one similar to your wife - or are you so gripped with madness that you can’t even remember that.” Park ignored him. “I want to play a little game.” He opened the gun and dumped all six bullets from it before selecting one and placing it back into the machine. “There’s a safe there, girlie. If you can figure out the four digit combination. You’ll have the vaccine.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you swayed slightly on the spot, the blood loss and virus working together to bring you down. You tried to take a step toward the safe but he stopped you. “Ah, ah, ah. I haven’t finished. Every time you get it wrong. I’ll fire this fun off at your partner’s little head.” Your eyes locked with Hyunwoo’s who nodded. “Come over here, detective, so I can tie you up. While you seem like the type to play fair, I don’t want any chances.” Nodding, Hyunwoo stood and made his way over to sit by Park, who tied the younger man’s wrists behind his back. “Since you both behaved so well. I’ll give you two clues. My wife and I were married on the 11th of April, 2014 and she died on the 1st of September, 2016.” You paused, he’d given you two options. “But I can’t promise that those numbers are in order.” He cackled before pressing the nozzle of the gun directly to Hyunwoo’s head. “Begin, if you please.”

You tried to fight the hazy feeling in your mind and forced your bleary eyes to stay open and alert. His wedding date was the 11th of April. You couldn’t think of a reason why the man would use the date he lost his beloved wife as a code for anything. “Don’t second-guess yourself.” Hyunwoo called. “You’ve got this - oof.” “Shut up or I’ll blow both of your brains out. Fuck the vaccine. Do you want the blood of those other policemen on your hands? Not to mention all the civilians that I’ll infect tomorrow at the press conference.” You forced their voices out of your head and entered 1104 into the safe. Three beeps were emitted from the safe and it didn’t open. You heard the Park pulled the hammer. Your eyes locked onto Hyunwoo’s, every nerve in your body on edge. Click. No bullet. Turning, you took a difficult and shaky breath. Breathing was getting harder and harder to do. 0414. Beep. Beep. Beep. Click. Empty again. You felt feverish and you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or the virus that was finally winning. You thought about what it would be to lose the person you loved. What it would be like to lose Hyunwoo. You wouldn’t want to forget that day for as long as you lived. A wedding was a special day, but death. That was the one true life altering event. The 1st of September, 2016. Did you try the date and month, or the month and the year? Just the month and the year were too vague. No. It had to be the day. Hell, the very millisecond if possible, but you hadn’t been given anything other than a day. “Oh dear… Is that pesky little virus finally winning?” Park cooed. “Hurry, hurry or I’ll think you’ve forfeited and take my next shot." Trying to steady your shaking hand, you typed in 0109.

A long, clear beep resonated through the room. Clank. The safe swung open and you let out a sigh of relief. “______!” You turned just in time to see Park pointing the gun at you before Hyunwoo threw his body onto him. The gun went off.

Someone screamed. It sounded like you, but it was if you were floating through the room outside your own body. Someone cursed. Hyunwoo. “HYUNWOO!” You cried, standing to rush over to him. His thigh was bleeding. Park made to move for the gun but Hyunwoo knocked his head against his own, knocking Park out cold just as the rest of the unit (minus Changkyun) burst through the window. You untied Hyunwoo but quickly moved away as you felt a horrible coughing attack coming over you. “_____!” You heard multiple voices calling your name as you doubled over and let your body heave, blood spilling from your mouth. The last thing you heard was Hyunwoo before everything went black.

Ignoring the pain in his thigh, Hyunwoo raced over to catch you before you hit the ground. “______!” “Boss, no!” Jooheon called. “You’ll get sick.” Cradling ______’s limp body in his arms, Hyunwoo gestured with his head to the safe. “He said there was a vaccine in there.” “What if he lied?” Minhyuk murmured, saying what everyone else was thinking. “I don’t want to live in a world that she isn’t in.” Hyunwoo choked out, his eyes burning. “We get it, Boss,” Hyungwon sighed. “We’d all do anything for our partners. It would kill me if Changkyun d-died, but you have to go on living for them as well.” “She’s not just my partner.” Hyunwoo growled as he lifted you up into his arms, shutting out the pain. “I love her.” He began to leave the house, limping badly as he made his way out to where an ambulance waited. “Bring the vaccine.”