#i feel like this fic is gonna turn out like the saving nickels fic

[nomorelonelydays]

kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1

-

Sidney retires a little earlier than he thought he would, at age 34.

 He retreats into a small town in Oregon. It’s not a hockey town. No one knows who Sidney Crosby is, and it’s an unexpected blessing.

 He hadn’t meant to land in Cardwell Point. It’s a little vacation-ville that boasts an annual fair every summer; it has an artificial lake, a small, quiet cabin that Sidney now calls home, a garden where he can grow tomatoes (that refuses to grow), and friendly enough neighbors who are all, for the most part, below the age of 18 or over 60 and have been in the town for about three centuries. It’s far enough away from Pittsburgh, he supposes, so that’s a plus.

 He knows the organization had expect him to stay, working with the team as a coach or at least for the sake of the Little Penguins program. He remembers the looks they’d given him when he’d broken the news to the front office. But it hurts more than it should, being so close to Geno hockey and not able to do anything about it.

 Maybe his heart has gotten softer with age.

 Maybe that’s why he packed so quickly, because when Geno asked him so mournfully, “Where you gonna be?” on his last day, he’d nearly changed his mind.

 “I’ll let you know,” Sidney promises. A little white lie.

 “You tell me soon, or I find you,” Geno says fiercely.

 Geno had hugged him like he didn’t want to let go, and perhaps he lingered a bit. But Sidney had simply chalked it up to him projecting. As usual.

 He’s spent the majority of his time in the NHL hoping for a man to love him back. He’d wanted the handholding, the late night, date night kisses on an empty street, and he’d been willing to wait years for it—did wait years for it. He had been ecstatic when they gave the C to Geno, finally. His heart had lurched forward, almost painfully, when Geno beamed at him, shy and determined under the weight of the letter, and Sidney tells himself that he’s happy. He is happy. He will be happy.

 “So what’s next?” Flower asks, voice choppy (always) through the phone.

 He figured he’d get a dog or something, maybe spend his hours fishing and not thinking about hockey or Geno or what anyone must think about him practically vanishing.

 He did not imagine that he’d be dragging himself up at 4 in the morning, post-retirement, to a bakery that must’ve been in this town when Christ himself was born, to be up to his elbows with flour and butter. The owner, Deidre, is 68 years old, had laughed in his face when she first met him, squeezed in the corner of her café and brooding over his coffee, when he’d told her that he’s retired.

 “What the hell do you mean, retired? You’re about 18, right?”

 Sidney knows he looks nowhere near 18, but Deidre also doesn’t look she’s got the best eyesight around, so.

 It takes about four more coffee runs, three “on the house” chess pies that Deidre insists on feeding him, and two times of Sidney helping her transporting bags of flour from the truck to the kitchen when she’d been short-staffed, that he realizes he’s accidentally stumbled into a some sort of volunteer-job hybrid.

 But he likes it.

 He has the time, and Deidre needs the help even if she won’t admit it. He likes listening to Deidre talk about the town and her husband (who hasn’t been alive since 2013, Sidney realizes way too late, when he makes the blunder of asking where he is—to which Deidre responds, ‘Who the hell knows. Fucking around up there, probably’) and her dry humor. He likes bringing out the trays of brioche rolls and learning the names of the regulars, from the adults stumbling in at 6:30 AM for their morning coffee, to the kids who come into the store for their afterschool cookies. (He endures the moms who—not subtly—tries to flirt with him while taking half the day to buy a dozen muffins.) He likes kneading the dough for the tarts, because it helps him forget about all those warnings the doctors said about how if he kept going, hockey’s going to knock out his knee once and for all and he’d be lucky to be able to walk at all.

 Deidre asked him how he ended up at Cardwell Point, just once.

 “You running away from home?” she asks, very seriously. Her glasses are sliding off her nose. “Don’t you lie to me. I’ll know.”

 “Not really?” He’d kind of googled ‘small town’ and ‘West Coast’ and ‘house for sale,’ because ‘where to go after retiring at age 34’ hadn’t given him a lot of useful results (or any).

 “This is a very small town, and I know this because I never left this place,” Deidre says. “No one comes here unless they were trying to get away from somewhere. A girlfriend, maybe?”

 Before Sidney can say anything, she quickly adds, “Boyfriend?”

 His hands stop for a briefly moment, but he catches himself and gets back into the rhythm of piping the cupcake. “Um.”

 “Anyways,” Deidre says, already moving on and washing her hands, “I’ve been thinking of naming the desserts. Like a person name. I think it’d give them character, help them sell better. I’d want to name a cheesecake after my mother—that was her favorite thing to make when I was little, but I never really got the hang of messing around with cream cheese. What do you think?”

 Sidney nods because it doesn’t matter to him either way. He’s suddenly struck with the fact that he hasn’t called Geno in weeks, even though he told Geno he would right after he’s settled in. And Geno hasn’t texted either, which aches like a dull, forgotten thing at the pit of his stomach.

 He doesn’t have the heart to be the one to break their silence streak, because there’s a tiny part of him that’s still that afraid if he hears Geno’s voice, sounding so far away, he’d want to fly right back where he started, to break his heart all over again.

 One afternoon, he’s making tags for the mini cakes and cookies with Deidre when, out of the blue, he blurts out, “I, uh, I really wasn’t lying. I had to leave my job because of medical reasons. My knee, it’s not—I can’t strain it too much. And um—he wasn’t a boyfriend. It wasn’t…it wasn’t ever going to happen.”

 He kind of wants Deidre to spit out some sage, grandmotherly advice, not unlike a fortune cookie. He could use a fortune cookie. She has four kids, after all, all scattered in cities across the East Coast or the Bay Area, working in tech or finance or whatever the hell she had said. But she merely pats his arm and nods.

 “Well, you have Cardwell Point now, if you want it,” she says, finishing up the lettering on her sign with a loopy ‘y’ for Lily. “There. My mother’s name. This one will be for the mini-cheesecakes. When I figure out how to make them right.”

 He doesn’t know if that’s what he’s waiting for. But he’s spent so long chasing after things he can’t have that Deidre unofficially gifting him Cardwell Point makes his chest bubble up with something wonderful. He ducks his head low and finishes up cursive ‘a’ on his own card.

Day 65 into retirement, and Sidney doesn’t write a tell-all, post-retirement article about his life and regrets like what Deadspin is probably salivating for. (To be fair, Sidney doesn’t even know who to go to first to start publishing something like that.)

 It’s way worse.

 He opens an Instagram account.

 @DeesBakeryCafe

Come in to see us and these lemon-curd filled, poppy seed muffins (The Trina) tomorrow! Happy Friday, everyone.

 The muffins are artfully placed next to the window seat, where the sunlight gleams off the drizzled glaze. It gets 56 likes, which Sidney honestly believes might be just about the general portion of the town who have working smartphones and knows how to use it.

 To Sidney’s surprise, they sell out the next day. Seeing Deidre’s display case empty at least an hour before they close and listening to Deidre chatter excitedly over their next seasonal item feels almost as exhilarating as winning a game. Maybe even just as good.  

 He only wishes he’d stop wondering what Geno would say if he knows what Sidney is up to. If he’d even want to know.

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (2/?)

Still dedicated to the wonderful @peachworthy. you read part one than you know - GMM Rhink AU - College Student Link/Pornstar Rhett AU

“Got it right again, man! You’re going to ace this test!” Rhett crows as he tosses down another notecard and Link pumps his arms in triumph. The two of them are settled in the kitchen, piles of books and notecards spread around as well as few bottles of beers and some bowls of chips.

Link picks up one chip and pops it into his mouth, grinning at his roommate fondly, “Well, couldn’t’ve done it without you, pal. You are, without a doubt, the best study buddy I’ve ever had.”

“Aw shucks, gonna make me blush,” Rhett laughs even though it’s Link who feels his cheeks actually grow warm, his friend’s laughter a common cause of the occurrence.

They’ve been living together for over a month now and it’s been beyond amazing. Link would’ve never guessed a guy like Rhett and a guy like him would work so well together.

It’s like they’re the world’s weirdest, most convoluted puzzle yet all the pieces click together to form a full picture that is nothing short of a masterpiece. True, there’s a lot about Rhett Link doesn’t know yet (and gosh is there a lot he wants to know) but their friendship is running smoothly.

Well, smoothly save for the massive crush Link has on the guy, albeit he’s doing his damned best to squash it. Yes, Rhett’s attractive and yes, he’s the first guy Link’s ever met that he’s felt a real zing for, but the fact of the matter is – Link would much rather have him as a friend and roommate than lose him as a…well, Link’s not sure if he’d lose him, but the mere possibility keeps Link’s lips sealed.

Besides, it’s okay to crush on someone and never act on it. People do it all the time. Not to mention that it’s a bit…odd to crush on someone in Rhett’s line of work. Isn’t it?

Link can’t think of too many people who will admit to crushing on an adult film star. Regular, mainstream film stars, sure – but adult film stars?

Yeah…

Although, to be frank, Link’s sure there are some that do. And, hopefully, some of them are not the creepy internet troll-y kind of people, but genuine salt of the earth folks like himself. Because, okay, he is crushing on one so…

Rhett is toying with the cards, maybe looking for the next question to quiz Link on when he asks idly, “Y’know, Link – I gotta say, I admire your stamina.”

That remarks makes Link choke on the drink he’s just been consuming, a cough clearing it up some as he croaks, “I’m-I’m sorry?”

Rhett hums noncommittally, as if not noticing the gaffe, “You’ve had yet to grill me about my job. Normally, once folks hear about it, that’s all they want to talk about.”

“Oh,” Link breathes out loosely, “Well, ah-? It-? It just…seemed rude to-to ask…”

“Been over a month living with me now. You telling me you ain’t interested?”

“I didn’t say that!” Link quips back much quicker than he would like, but Rhett just gives him the most perfect smile. All sincere and warm beneath his beard and remember, Link, you’re doing you’re best not to crush on him!

Rhett is still toying with the cards, eyelashes downcast, the very visual definition of shy as he murmurs, “Just sayin’…I don’t mind if you wanna ask some stuff.”

Link’s eyebrows rise in such a way as to damn near bump his glasses off, “Y-You sure?”

Rhett draws in a deep inhale and then sits the cards down. He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, looking quite serious even despite the casual red flannel and jeans, as if this was more of an interview (or perhaps an interrogation?) than anything else, “Shoot.”

The a million and one questions that Link has kept at bay about Rhett’s job and more personal life threaten to cave his skull in as they crash about in his mind. However, he has to go with the obvious, “Know this’ll be predictable, but…why?”

Rhett just bobs his head in an understanding nod even as Link pushes on, “Why and how?”

Rhett sucks on his teeth before picking up his own beer and taking a fortifying sip before continuing, “The two are kinda interconnected to be honest. Had a fallin’ out with my family. Think I mentioned it in passin’ to you once. But, to clarify; they weren’t too happy with my chosen living destination nor with the fact that I’d come to terms with the notion that I’m attracted to both the ladies and the gents.”

Link’s mind immediately (and joyously) clings to ‘the gents’ remark, bookmarking it for future reference, even as Rhett continues his tale, “You grew up where we did. So you get it.”

Link does. And then, to nail the point home, Rhett adds, “Probably get it a lot more than others. If my…instincts are to be believed.”

Shit.

SHIT.

Link’s whole body immediately bursts into flame, the tips of his ears so hot he’s sure they’re glowing bright red.

Rhett knows I’m gay. He knows. I thought having a radar for that kind of thing was bullhonkey, but he knows and oh, lord, oh lord – do I give off some sorta vibe? I know that girl in my screenwriting class, Stevie, she teased me about being an A-Level twink or something, but I didn’t think-!

Rhett’s laughter carves right through Link’s insecurities, “Take a breath, brother! Look like you’re about to pop!”

Link does and Rhett just shakes his head, still grinning, “Point being – I was pretty much a babe in the woods when I came to LA. Not two nickels to my name, so I took whatever gigs I could get. Managed to snag a few commercials and things of that nature, but you know the drill. Jobs are hard to come by. And a guy of my height?”

He blows out a big breath and tosses all of those luxurious curls about with a rueful head shake, “Yeah, most people fingered me for a baller, so – again – jobs were hard to come by. But then, wouldn’t you know it? A friend of a friend of a contact told me about this part they thought I’d be perfect for.”

Another deep barrel chested chuckle emerges as he reminiscences, “Mighta been nice of ‘em to let me know it was actually a part of me they thought would be perfect.”

Do not zero in on his crotch! Do NOT zero in on his crotch! Charles Lincoln Neal the Third DO NOT-!

Link keeps his eyes so steadfastly forward he probably looks like some bug eyed zombie. If Rhett notices, he doesn't comment, “Anyway, when I found out what the role was, I had planned to politely decline but, y’know, the money they offered…”

There’s an easy shrug and this Link can look at. He looks at Rhett, who looks a bit sheepish as he scratches at one side of his beard, “I mean, again, you grew up where I did. So, you know how the whole ‘wait until marriage’ thing was drilled into your head, but I figured it wasn’t like anybody would know. My family’d cut me off, my friends were few and far in between, and the people on set…”

Now he looks a bit happier and Link can’t help but smile along with him, “The people on set were all right. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the kind of stories people tend to spin – the exploitation, the drug abuse, other questionable stuff…place I was at wasn’t like that. I mean, maybe I just lucked out or something, but it was…”

Another shrug and he goes for his beer again. Link figures this is as good a time as any to get in another question, “So, you did that and then you…? Just kept going?”

Rhett nods as he drinks, the bottle leaving his mouth with an obscene pop that Link is going to do his best to forget all about right now and certainly not recall at any point in the future (and most certainly NOT when he’s jacking off later), “Yeah, I did the one and the director really liked me. He pull me aside and told me about this company he was trying to set up with a couple of buddies of his. They wanted to go in a classier direction – know how funny that sounds, but he was serious.”

“So, what? No, like, blockbuster porno knock offs? Like ‘Sex in The City and ON the City’ or ‘Arma-get-it-on’?”

“Think you stole that last one from an episode of CSI.”

“I did, doesn’t change the question.”

They’re both smiling like a couple of fools, but the mood is good and the atmosphere light as Rhett sighs, “Yeah, nothing like that. I’ve actually worked with a few female directors, shot some things with great budgets, nice lighting, good costumes…”

“Oooo, costumes,” Link teases in the silliest voice and Rhett swats out at him. Link avoids the hit even as Rhett rolls his eyes, “I’m serious, dude. Some of the things that department pumps out looks better than anything you’d see in Hollywood.”

“Hmm, some kinda wood,” Link snickers and this time Rhett’s swat makes impact, brushing Link’s shoulder and Link would be embarrassed by the giggle he lets out, if it weren’t for the way Rhett’s nose is all scrunched up, making him look beyond adorable, “You’re sucha brat!”

Link sticks out his tongue and Rhett just laughs. They turn their attention to the drinks and chips for awhile before Link circles around to another question, “You like it then?”

“It’s a living,” Rhett confirms, not really answering one way or another, “Like I said – make great money, work with some really nice people.”

“Uh,” Link scratches behind one ear, “Hate to ask, but, um…clean people?”

Rhett doesn’t seem offended, “You bet. Have to be. Another reason I’ve done this as long as I have. Money's great, but the safety is even better. I’m currently under contract with that same company I told you about – the one that director brought me under. On top of wanting to,” he air quotes his next words, “be classier’-”

He drops the quotes, “They wanted to provide an excellent work environment. Heck, me and the other actors and actresses probably have a cleaner bill of health than the entire state. Can’t shoot scene one until you’ve got the A-Okay.”

“Huh,” Link absorbs that with some surprise, but then, he supposes it really shouldn’t be. The adult film industry is a big lumbering beast right alongside it’s more recognized counterpart. No reason one shouldn’t be as cautious as the other. If anything, one has more right to be cautious.

Thinking on this, Link suddenly feels an odd pang. It’s a shame in one way that’s one viewed as more reckless than the other, more questionable. But, when viewed through a mostly puritan lens…

Not wanting to get too philosophical, Link switches gears, “You been in a lot of films?”

“My fair share.”

Another dodge, but Link will let him have it. However, he can practically feel devil horns rise as he asks with a naughty gleam to his eye, “Win any awards?”

Rhett’s practically preening, “Several.”

“Really?” Link asks with some surprise, but Rhett suddenly looks quite naughty himself. Naughty and…a bit too hot for Link’s liking as the heat that always seems to surround him when he’s near Rhett rises and woo boy, he’s really failing at this squashing-the-crush thing.

“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show you one of my trophies some time…”

Everything in Link melts into a puddle and he’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, but it’s one that makes Rhett’s whole face light up, “…or maybe, just maybe, I’ll show you a little somethin’ else…”

If it’s possible for a melted puddle to also explode, then Link’s just done it. Rhett bursts into guffaws as he reaches forward and, very smoothly, pushes Link’s jaw up because Link’s jaw? It dropped. He didn’t even feel it drop.

And then, to just add more fuel to the fire, Rhett rubs the pad of his thumb along the bottom of Link’s chin, right below his lip, “Damn, son…you’re just too much for words.”

“I…”

That’s it.

That’s all that Link can offer.

Just one sound, one vowel.

Silent and stunned and Rhett draws back, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he lets him go and rises up from his seat, “Think you need a moment. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And – just like that – Rhett saunters out of the room.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Liftoff

Summary: An alternate Infinite Darkness in which Shen Mei chooses a different person to partner with, Claire takes a more active role, and Leon turns to the dark side (only for a little while).Or: What if Jason had gotten to Leon with his 'fear into terror' speech, and Shen Mei had teamed up with Claire to put a stop to them both?

Notes: Canon typical violence, guns, explosions, threats. Spoilers for Infinite Darkness. (Help I’ve only loved Cleon for a day and I’m already writing angst fic for them!)

AO3

~

T-minus 30 Seconds

The first time Leon pointed a gun at her, fear flooded Claire. She’d barely heard his command until it was too late; her nervous system was going haywire, lighting up like a Christmas tree. He had shouted for her to duck and Claire had and Leon had pulled the trigger and saved her life. It’s been the same way the whole time they’ve known each other since; she gets into trouble and Leon tells her to get to safety and she listens or sometimes she doesn’t and sometimes it’s the other way around and she saves Leon instead, but in the end they both survive. That’s how they work. That’s how Claire thought they would always work.

This time, staring down the barrel of a gun with Leon S. Kennedy at the other end of it, Claire isn’t so sure they’ll both get out of this.

~

T-Minus 72 Hours

Witnessing a dead body is something Claire hates she’s gotten used to. Chris always gets that pinched, wan look on his face when she talks about what sights Raccoon City had to offer her, but she can’t help what happened any more than he can. The dead walked and Claire witnessed and then the whole thing went to hell in a handbasket all thanks to the U.S. government. If they had it their way, Penamstan is going to go the same way.

Claire resists the urge to tear down the papers swimming before her eyes. Instead she groans and rips her glasses off her nose, pinching her forehead. Her eyes throb but she knows she won’t find any sleep soon. The answers are here, have been staring her in the face for days or weeks, and she still can’t see them. “There has to be something I’m missing…”

A thump on the stairway outside has her spine snapping straight, ice flowing in her veins. Hurriedly, she snatches a lamp from the bedside table and yanks the cord out of the wall. She just has enough time to slip behind the door and ready herself before it opens with a quiet creak. The person on the other side is light-footed and sure, moves with the grace of years of training. They’re smaller than Claire thought they would be, just a slip of a shadow in the dark of her motel room. They are alone.

Claire lets out a grunt as she knocks the door closed with her elbow and brings the lamp down as hard as she can. The ceramic cracks and splinters from the force of her blow, but even though the body goes down with Claire on top of it, whoever it is still struggles. A fist catches against her shoulder and even though Claire manages to catch the other fist in her own hand before it connects, she wishes she had any of her firepower from Raccoon City with her now. The person beneath her bucks and twists, wiry muscle instead of the bulk Claire is used to fighting against. They slip their wrist from her hold before she can let out more than a cry of frustration, and a punch to the solar plexus doesn’t seem to slow them down for but a moment.

The darkness whirls in front of her eyes as Claire is flipped onto her back. Her head knocks harshly against the bureau in the room, stars erupting in her vision. Claire gasps, gags on the sudden nausea, and kicks out. Her foot connects with something boney, but it’s a glancing blow at best. Claire has survived too much to die in some shitty Washington motel room.

Long hair brushes Claire’s cheek as the person leans down; dark eyes glitter in the low light above her. “I don't want to hurt you,” the stranger says, and Claire laughs in her face.

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that before,” she spits.

“You are Claire Redfield.”

“Yeah, no shit!”

“You are investigating the Mad Dogs and their involvement in Penamstan. You know there was an outbreak there.”

That brings Claire up short. Her lungs burn and her breath is coming too fast, but the knock to her head doesn’t smart enough to make her believe she’s got a concussion. Hell, her ears aren’t even ringing. “So what? You gonna kill me for what I know? What I’m getting close to?”

“Claire Redfield, you know nothing.” The stranger raises her head and suddenly her weight lifts off of Claire. Claire struggles not to gasp in a huge breath of air, feeling like a beetle stuck on it’s back. The woman holds her hand out in offering. “Not yet. But I would like to tell you what really happened in Penamstan. I would like to tell the whole world.”

This could easily be a trick--but then, she could easily have killed Claire here in the lonely darkness without leading her on a wild goose chase first. Claire accepts her help and hauls herself to her feet. She straightens her jacket, brushes her fingers over her forehead, and is pleased when she finds no blood there. “I can help you with that, then.”

The other woman is not much smaller than she is, long black hair pulled into a sensible ponytail and leather jacket zipped all the way to the base of her throat. “My name is Shen Mei. My brother was in Penamstan when the outbreak happened; he was--”

“Turned,” Claire supplies, ash in her mouth.

Shen Mei nods, solemn and stony. “I thought one of the Mad Dogs--Jason--was helping me, but he is not. He wants to expose the use of bioweapons but he will get people killed to do it. And he has recruited an agent onto his side that I am afraid of. If we do not move quickly they will harm others so the truth can get out.”

“And cause mass hysteria as a result,” Clare finishes. “Then you can tell me the rest of what’s happened as we move. Let’s go.”

~

T-minus 68 Hours

Shen Mei is quiet, practical, and deadly with a knife. Just as she predicts, agents come after them. Shen Mei needs no help in fighting them off.

“You can’t--!”

The blood spills from the soldier’s throat as he twists, gasping, in Shen Mei’s hands. Claire lunges, trying to get her hands on his neck, trying to staunch the blood, but Shen Mei uses her shoulder to shove Claire back, shielding the dying man from her sight. “They will kill us before we can get to the chip in my grandfather’s safe.” Shen Mei hisses. “They will kill us for even suspecting what was done to those people, to my brother. They know now that I am a rogue agent, and they will come after me. You need to keep your hair and prints away from the crime scene so they do not come after you, too.”

Claire stares at the man’s eyes, glassy and empty, and breathes shallowly. She thanks whatever is out there that it isn’t Leon’s body cooling on the pavement at Shen Mei’s feet. Could she have stopped her if Leon were the one under the knife?

But Leon wouldn’t have tried to kill her in the first place. Claire breathes in, breathes out. Shen Mei sheathes her knife and beckons. “Our plane is on the tarmac. We don’t have much time.”

Claire leaves three dead agents behind her. She tries not to look back.

~

T-Minus 41 Hours

Shen Mei pockets the chip her grandfather passes her. Behind the sheer curtains, a heart monitor beeps steadily. Shen Mei’s grandfather motions Claire forward. The curtain pulls back and Claire tries not to gasp as she recognizes the grey flesh, the growths, the slow blood leaking through the sheets.

“My grandson.” he tells her quietly. “I used up my savings to help him. I failed--”

Even as Claire raises a hand to place on the old man’s shoulder, Shen Mei and the other man in the room stiffen. The doors slam open, rattling on their hinges as Claire whips around, eyes wide and hand going to the gun Shen Mei lent her. But she’d know those blue eyes anywhere, and they have always been safe for her. Claire doesn’t draw on Leon.

She doesn’t, but Shen Mei does. Leon’s gun is trained on her, dead center between her eyes, and Claire’s brain stalls. Why would Leon shoot Shen Mei? She’s good, she’s one of them. She needs protection just like Leon and Claire did during Raccoon City.

The other man tries to rush forward, but Leon growls at him and he subsides, eyes flicking between Shen Mei and her grandfather, looking for instructions that won’t come. Claire almost wants to shoo him out. This is no place for young blood.

“Leon!” She doesn’t wait until his eyes light on her, but pushes forward, placing herself squarely in front of Shen Mei. She might not be the one with army training, but she knows this man. She’s the one who can get him to see sense, not Shen Mei. She sees his face go a little slack in surprise as she raises her hand and curls it around the gun barrel, not bothering to push it away since he’d do it himself in a second. “Don’t shoot!”

“Claire.” Leon sounds like he’s grinding his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping, like always.” She rolls her eyes, tries to lighten her tone. It doesn’t work. His feet shift a little, but he plants himself again. He hasn’t lowered the gun. Something quivers in alarm at the back of Claire’s mind, but she ignores it. “Shen Mei is going to expose the outbreak in Penamstan I told you about, but we’ve got to move fast, because this Mad Dog agent, Jason, he’s--”

“Coming after Shen Mei for the chip. He’s going to expose the bioweapons for good,” Leon finishes. “I know.”

Her mouth feels cottony, her head stuffed with too much input to make sense of it. Leon is still and steady as a stone in the middle of a rushing river. His gun presses against her collarbone, the metal cool and frightening against her skin. His hair is lank and damp with sweat like he hasn’t had time to stop and rest for days and his eyes look wild in his face. Claire doesn’t--can’t--understand. Faintly, she tries, “Leon?”

Leon lets a gust of air out of his mouth, an explosive sigh, and he jerks his gun out of Claire’s face. Before she can even breathe out her relief (how could she have thought he’d do it? She chastised herself. It’s Leon.), he moves. His fingers curl, unforgiving, into the lapel of her jacket and jerk her forward. Surprised and off-kilter, Claire stumbles to Leon’s side. Anger and no small amount of worry at his aggression and strangeness course through her; Claire slaps at his hand but Leon refuses to let her go. It doesn’t take a genius to tell he’s moving her out of the way, moving her behind him, putting himself between her and Shen Mei--

“I told you she’s not the issue--”

“Yes,” Leon snaps, near snarling, his face so animalistic Claire doesn’t recognize him, “she is. I told you not to do anything stupid.”

Claire opens her mouth, about to retort hotly, and shuts it when the ground rolls beneath their feet. Shen Mei lets out a cry and her grandfather throws himself bodily onto what used to be his grandson. Beside her, close enough that Claire can feel his breath (when had he dragged her so close?), Leon curses.

“Damn it Jason, I said I needed more time.”

The house collapses down around their heads.

~

T-Minus 37 Hours

Shen Mei finds her in the wreckage. “You are lucky,” she says as she pulls Claire to her feet.

Claire knows she isn’t. She knows that because Leon had thrown them both behind one of the tables in the bedroom as the fires started. She knows that Leon had hauled her as far as he could from the blast, even as Claire ripped her throat to shreds screaming for Shen Mei and her family. His grip had been bruising. He hadn’t responded to her at all. He’d covered her as much as he could with his own body when the tremors took their legs out from under them. She thinks perhaps she remembers the feeling of weightlessness that comes with being carried in someone’s arms.

“Where’s Leon?”

“Gone,” Shen Mei tells her, grim. “We have to act quickly; he’s got the chip. He’ll bring it to Jason and set the world on fire if we don’t stop them.”

Every cell in Claire’s body screams at the wrongness of her statement; she wants to spit and rage and cry that Leon wouldn’t do this, that he’d never hurt people just to expose bioweapons, that he wouldn’t do this to her--but she just woke up alone after her world caved in. Leon left her here.

Leon left. If Claire wants answers from him, she’s going to have to follow after him--it’s almost just like old times.

~

T-Minus 5 Minutes

“The control room,” Shen Mei shouts as they run. Jason stands on one of the catwalks, Wilson struggling fruitlessly in his hold. A dark corner of Claire thinks about waiting until he’s dead before stopping Jason.

“I’m on it!” She answers instead, hopping one of the railings and hauling ass to the small booth Shen Mei had pointed out.

But when she bursts through the doors, Claire realizes she’s too late. Leon stands in front of the control panel, his back to her; Claire knows his eyes are on the dying man above him, on the bioweapon threatening to end the lives of innocent people for the sake of the greater good just like in Raccoon City. In his left hand, there’s a glint of light as the chip catches on the low fluorescents in the room. He flips the chip almost carelessly between his fingers.

“Leon.”

“Claire.”

Even now, with her heart in her mouth, Claire can’t stand to believe it. She moves forward, until she’s standing across from him, so close she can smell the dust and smoke on his jacket. He smells like the rubble of Shen Mei’s home.

“Listen, I don’t know what your game plan is, but we don’t have much time.” She says quickly, trying to outrun the alarm bells ringing in her ears. “I couldn’t tell Shen Mei what you were doing because you didn’t tell me, but she’ll understand once we stop Jason together. We can talk to her and she’ll forgive you--”

“I don’t want to be forgiven,” Leon says, calm as the moment before the storm hits, “and I don’t want to stop Jason.”

He turns then, and the gun’s metal is warm now when it presses into her skin. “And you won’t either,” Leon finishes. His eyes are still too wide, the white showing all around the iris and his pupils tight and small. He looks like a cornered animal, like a dog about to snap its jaws at her. Claire forgets how to breathe.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to finish this, Claire. We have to put a stop to it all.”

“By killing innocent people?” She spots it the moment he balks; it’s so small no one else would see it. A tremble in his fingers, a stiffening of his mouth where it settles in his face. Claire’s world is spinning, the fundamentals are changing, the foundations are rending, but some things stay the same. Even as Leon rips apart all she knew of him, he’s still the same. “Leon, this isn’t you. I don’t know what happened, but I know you wouldn’t want to hurt people even if it meant stopping bioweapon productions for good. We fought for more than this.”

“When will it end?" He snaps. Claire tries not to flinch. He’s never been sharper with her, never been so manic and wild. “When do we stop fighting, Claire?”

“When we finish it,” She answers. Behind him, acid begins to flood the production floor. How long do they have until it reaches the level she can see Shen Mei scaling up? How long until Wilson’s skull gives under the pressure? How long until Jason grows tired of toying with them?

Leon shakes his head and the barrel of his gun shakes with him. He wavers, and Claire's confidence in Leon wavers with him. “Don’t you see? This will finish it.”

“If you think that, you really have gone insane.” Claire shakes her head, and, slow as she can, reaches up, a mirror of just yesterday. This time, she cups his hand in hers, fingers overlapping on the butt of the pistol. “Leon, if you let Jason do this, it will only be the beginning.”

“Everyone will know, just like you wanted.”

“Everyone will be dead,” Claire replies, letting her tone get as harsh and abrasive as it wants to be. “God, Leon, what the fuck happened to you? This isn't the person I know. This isn’t my friend.”

His lip curls and the barrel grows steady again. Claire doesn’t recognize the man threatening her anymore. “Maybe this is who I’ve always been and you’ve just been too blind to see it.”

“If that’s the case, you might as well shoot me now,” Claire argues, feeling her own lips pull back from her teeth. “Because I’d rather be dead than know I love someone who could do this.”

The world stops spinning on its axis. Claire fights the urge to run, to hide, to bite her lip and drop Leon’s gaze because she hadn’t exactly known what would come out of her mouth when she opened it. Too late now, though. Go big or go home, that’s what Chris always told her.

Leon moves before she can register it.

~

T-Minus 30 Seconds

The gun clatters against the metal as it lands on the floor, bouncing once, twice, three times. It slides away from their feet and rests by the door, harmless.

Kissing Leon is not at all like Claire would have imagined it. She’d learned to shut that idea out of her mind quickly; she’s not blind and she’s not stupid and she has better things to do than pine after a man who will never give her the time of day. Still, in the glimpses of fantasy she’d allowed herself, she’d seen candlelight and romantic music. She’d seen herself brushing his hair out of his eyes and him smiling that goofy, wide grin of his. She’d seen softness.

Kissing Leon is like pressing on a bruise to test its tenderness. It makes something sweet and painful twist in her chest when he presses close as he can. Her hand does slide into his hair but she twits it into knots around her fingers instead of smoothing it out like she wants to. His hand does dip into the small of her back like they’re about to dance together, but he’s balled it into a fist in the leather of her jacket. His mouth is hot and devouring, but he takes and takes and takes and gives nothing in return, leaving Claire gasping for air and feeling something closer to despair than she’d like.

His breath is warm and wet when he pants against her mouth. “Everyone could know without you releasing the chip,” Leon says, quiet in the middle of destroying her world. She’s in the eye of the storm and it is so very lonely. “You’d be safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” Claire tells him, achingly slow, feeling as if her heart is being ripped out of her piece by piece.

He doesn't fight when she laces their fingers together, just pulls her closer. His heart beats a tattoo against her ribs. “I can’t protect you if you’re the one who breaks the story.” Leon's voice strains, cracks, breaks. Perhaps she’s not the only one feeling desperate.

Claire shakes her head. “I only ever wanted to help. If you won’t let me, then I’ll do it myself.” Slipping from his grasp, she palms the chip she took from the nerveless fingers of his left hand. With her other hand, she brings Shen Mei’s gun up and clocks Leon across the jaw as hard as she can with the butt of it. Surprised, he stumbles, slumping across the control panel. She hurries to shove him away and, praying her glances at the platform names over Leon’s shoulder during their conversation were enough, begins pressing buttons rapidly.

Shen Mei screams as the platform under her feet falls away. Jason’s center of gravity is lower than hers, and he’s heavier; even his claws and strength and agility and determination cannot save him. As Claire swings another platform around to catch Shen Mei, a faint groan rips through the air behind her.

It’s time to go. (If she stays for when he wakes, Claire isn’t sure she’ll survive. Her heart’s too weak for that.)

Shen Mei slumps on the platform Claire slid under her to stop her fall. She has to collect the agent and flee before anyone finds them down here. Claire hits one last sequence which will give her a path to Shen Mei and the exit, holsters her gun, and doesn't look down as she steps over Leon.

“Claire…”

It feels like her bones are all broken, or have been replaced with shards of glass. It feels like her muscles are being rent from her flesh one at a time. It feels like she’s being dragged beneath the waves of the ocean and the light of her only salvation is retreating, retreating, retreating, so far away. Claire turns her head, just enough to catch the glint of his eye in the corner of hers. She can’t look at him, not now. She might stay if she does.

“When you’re ready to make it right,” Claire says, ignoring how her voice quivers and her mouth twists. “Then we’ll talk.”

~

After Launch

Leon brings one last drink to his lips. He ignores the looming and the badgering. He ignores the yelling and insults. He ignores the way his companion slams his fists into the wooden tabletop and rattles the bottles in front of him. Instead, he thinks about the pounding of Claire’s heart against his own. He thinks about pointing a gun at her. He thinks about her sharp eyes and the way her mouth had twisted in disgust. He thinks about how there wasn’t fear in her face but anger, hot and terrible and poisonous. He drinks until the drink is gone.

“Are you ready to make it right?” Chris demands.

Leon thinks of Claire--of the way she turned from him there at the very end of it all. At the end of the world she left. But that isn't fair: he’d left her first. Leon stands.

“Let’s get started.”

[nitewrighter]

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.” 

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me. 

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly.  He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree. 

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.” 

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.” 

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.” 

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...”  he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.” 

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile. 

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.” 

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.” 

[addictofsupernatural]

OHSHC Rewrite: Episode 3a

Beware the Physical Exam!

Host Club x reader

Summary: Y/n has to deal with Maria's nephew coming for a visit right before the physical exams.

Word Count: 5k

Episode Masterlist

"Welcome ladies!"

You were outside talking to some of your clients, and they were excited that you wore a kimono for cosplay. In the middle of talking to them Kyoya appeared smoothly, trying to sell picture books of the host club. It made you wonder, how did he get those pictures?

A little later you didn't have any clients so you asked Honey and Mori if you could sit with them, and they agreed. You and the girls became quiet once Honey tried to make some tea. He was mixing too hard and almost everything had spilled out, but none of you knew what to say. You bit your lip and looked from the girls to Mori, who understood. He leaned over to Honey, saying, "You overdid it."

Honey looked at the almost empty bowl and looked very sad. "It's okay Honey-senpai! I'll drink it." One girl exclaimed.

"Yeah, if it was anything more it would be too much!" The other one chimed in.

He then beamed again. "Really?" He looked at you. "What do you think y/n-chan?"

You smiled. "I think you made enough for the ladies to not have to drink too much. It's very modest and considerate of you Honey-senpai. It shows how good your heart is."

He jumped into a hug with you. "Thanks y/n-chan!"

Once the Host Club closed for the day, you wandered around looking at the cherry blossom trees. Tamaki saw you and decided to try to work his charm again.

"Hello y/n."

"Oh, hey senpai." You gave him a small smile.

"The flower viewing reception went quite well. What do you think? Aren't the flowers today captivating?"

"Yeah, they're really pretty."

He took this as his chance. "Even so, it's rather daunting being admired than doing the admiring."

You sighed. "Wow senpai, I can really see how much you're blooming today." You said sarcastically.

"You noticed! Yes, today my beauty is in full bloom." He then flicked a heart with his fingers to you. "I bet you'll fall you me soon."

"I'll take that bet." You joked.

Tamaki smiled and was about to say something back when the twins interrupted. "So y/n, what are you gonna take for next term?"

You paid no mind to Hikaru's arm around your shoulder. "I haven't really thought about it yet."

"Why don't you take conversational French with us?" Kaoru suggested.

"Yeah, it does make sense," Hikaru added.

They then turned back to Tamaki, evily smiling as they said, "Since we're in the same class."

Tamaki sat near a tree and hugged his knees into his chest. "Say, mommy dear?"

Kyoya smiled. "What is it now, daddy?"

"It might just be my imagination, but it seems like the twins get to spend more time with my little girl."

"Tamaki, you're just now realizing that?" It was like Tamaki was struck by lightning. "If you look at these two charts, you'll see that the twins spend roughly 8 hours a day with y/n, which is a third of her day. You, on the other hand, spend a mere 3 hours with her, meaning about 12% of her day—"

"I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT!!" Tamaki quickly grabbed your shoulders. "Listen to me y/n, daddy wants you to stop hanging around those two shady twins!"

"Who you calling shady boss?" Hikaru asked.

"Yeah, take a good look at yourself!" Kaoru added.

"Tamaki-senpai, please calm down. It's just a class together." You took his hands off your shoulders. "You know what? If I need any help in French then I'll most likely go to you."

"Really?!" His eyes shown, only to go to confusion. "Wait, what do you mean most likely?"

"If I need help in the moment, I'll ask the twins." He began crying again. "Senpai, calm down—"

"All daddy wants is for you live a wholesome life!"

You sighed. "Why do you call yourself that?"

"Y'know y/n," Kyoya said. "It's pretty impressive that you're taking a class to learn a fourth language."

"Thank you senpai." You smiled at him.

"What does he mean by fourth?" Kaoru asked.

"Oh, Maria's latina so she taught me Spanish."

"A hispanic mother huh?" Hikaru said.

Kaoru then added, "You're very exotic."

You looked at them with an annoyed expression. "Sure." You then remembered something. "By the way, do you guys have anything you're doing this weekend?"

The twins looked at each other and then back at you. "No, why?"

You grinned. "Then let's do something! Anything."

They were taken back by your sudden forwardness. "What's got you so excited?" Hikaru asked.

"Yeah, where did this come from?" Kaoru added.

"Maria's sisters are coming over and one of them hates me."

"Why?" Hikaru asked.

"Cause I'm not Maria's biological kid. It's stupid. But it's not her I'm worried about." Your face then turned to a grimace. "It's her son, Satan."

"Geez, what's with the name calling?" Hikaru asked again.

"He gets his annoying personality from his mother, and he loves to go out of my way to try and get me mad. It makes him feel better or something. One time he cut the head off of my stuffed dinosaur my first mother had bought for me." You pouted.

Kaoru asked, "Just because Maria's not your mom?"

"Yeah, he feels like I'm at a lower class than him, and that I need to learn to stay like that. Maria tried to fix my stuffed dino, and God bless her tomboy heart, her sewing skills are terrible. It looks like a voodoo doll now." You sighed, shrugging. "Anyways, I wanna see his face as less as possible. So, you do two wanna hang out over the weekend?"

Tamaki jumped in. "I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN! YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SPENDING MORE TIME WITH THEM!"

"Why are you so weird about Hikaru and Kaoru?" You asked. "They aren't even doing anything."

"I'd hate to break up this little chat," Kyoya said. "But do you recognize the name Alarico Gonzalez?"

You whipped your head over to Kyoya's direction. "Why?"

"Because he's from y/c and just booked each host towards the end of host hours for tomorrow."

"It's him." You grumbled. "I'm gonna go clean up."

Tamaki then spoke up. "It's not to fret about. This is obviously a romantic comedy fic, and me and y/n the main cast! That means that in the end I'll swoop in and make her feel better."

"Yeah, then what are we?" Hikaru asked, referring to the rest of the hosts.

"You boys are the homosexual supporting cast!" He then drew a line on the ground with a stick. "So please make sure that you don't step over this line."

"This is ridiculous." The twins said.

"And boss, I don't think you get it." Hikaru said as he smiled.

"Y/n-chan values friendship very much." Honey said.

"And she considers all of us her friends." Kaoru said.

Kyoya chimed in. "If you were to take her away from the rest of her friends, she would probably become quite unhappy and limit her contact with you."

"That means that the rest of us get to spend more time with her, while she ignores you." Honey said.

"Especially more time with us," Kaoru said. "Since we're in the same class."

You walked up to them. "Okay guys, I'm done—"

"Tamaki grabbed you again." Don't worry y/n! I'll let you go with the twins this weekend."

"I mean, that's nice of you to say, but I wasn't asking for your permi—"

"As long as the rest of us go as well!" He then turned to everyone else. "Listen up gentlemen. We are all going to hang out with y/n this weekend."

"Sure, I guess. If you wanted to come senpai, why didn't you just ask?"

"Nevermind that!" He panicked. "Make sure you choose where you want to go."

You smiled sweetly. "Okay!"

The next day you felt irritated, knowing it was only a matter of time before you see Alarico and his stupid face. Kyoya reminded you that during host hours you had to be on your best behavior, which meant that you couldn't defend himself.

The twins were staring at you all day. They made in incredibly noticable when you were setting up the tea sets. "Can I help you two?"

"You haven't smiled at all today." Kaoru said.

"Yeah, this isn't normal."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to smile when the guests come." You went around them and kept working, setting everything up.

"Why do you look sad y/n-chan?" Honey asked, trying to guilt trip you. "I don't like it. You're not like that because of me, right?"

"Of course not senpai. You're a sweet person." You said with a straight face. "Now excuse me." You continued and eventually finished up everything. You then walked to your place to welcome the girls. Sucking in a breath, you put on a smile.

"Welcome ladies."

You greeted your clients and they talked to you about what was going on with their lives. You threw out compliments and encouragements, and you hoped your smile would pay off. The stress was slowly coming off of you and your smile was becoming real. You did enjoy talking to all of your clients after all.

Your smile eventually became forced when Kyoya told you that someone requested for you to greet them at the door. You walked over to the door and opened it, smiling as best as you could. "Welcome sir."

He slapped your back hard. "Hey nickel. Long time no see."

You remained calm. "I didn't know we were using our nicknames Lucifer."

"Nickel?" Kaoru asked.

"Y/n would play the guitar and sing in the streets to save up some money. That's how she could afford to move. She would come home with bucket full of change. It's hilarious. So I call her nickel." He said, breaking out into a laugh. Though he was two years older than you, he was the about the same height as the twins. He then tossed his coat to you. "Show me where I go."

"Your first appointment is with the King. Right this way."

He looked you up and down. "This suits you nickel."

You ignored his comment. "Have a nice time."

You went back to your couch and talked to your clients. Meanwhile, Tamaki smiled warmly. "It's nice to meet you. The only person I've heard of from y/n is your aunt."

"Yeah, well, that's because she doesn't like what my mom and I have to say." You could feel his smug smile staring at the back of your head. You kept talking to your girls, trying to ignore him. "She just needs to accept who she is."

"And that is?" Tamaki smiled.

He smirked at Tamaki. "You know what they say, you can take the girl out of the streets but you can't take the streets out of the girl." Tamaki frowned. "Hey, what do you think of her? She was very keen on starting over, so I was wondering if she would be willing to share her past."

Tamaki tried to keep his princely self in tact. He smiled and sat up straighter. "I think she's a bright and smart person to be around. I enjoy her company, as do the rest of us here. And yes, she has shared some information with us regarding her past. We are her friends, after all."

"Trust me man, you don't wanna be too deep in her friend group. She had some really weird friends in y/c, and it's cause she's weird herself. She's got a lot of issues, and I wouldn't blame you if it sent you running." You knew what he was trying to do. Tamaki knew it. The rest of the hosts listening in knew it too. He was trying to isolate you, just to mess with you. "Well, gotta go to my next appointment."

He then got up and walked over to the twins' table. They hesitated to speak, but knew they had to be nice. "Nice to meet you." They said.

He quietly laughed. "Do you guys like to answer questions at the same time?"

They shrugged. "Sometimes."

"That's... strange." He grinned. They looked at him, offended and annoyed. "That's also the opposite from y/n, which is even stranger to me."

"Shit." You mumbled. You began to breath a little unsteadily.

"What do you mean?" Hikaru asked.

He laughed again. "You guys don't know?" They stared blankly at him. "Y/n has a twin brother. He up and ran away before their mom died. Apparently all three were supposed to leave together, but her brother left them high and dry."

You were starting to panic. Other people were turning their heads. Exposed. You felt so exposed.

"Excuse me for a minute." You quickly left the room and sat down on the floor, trying to catch your breath. You couldn't breathe, and your eyes began to sting from tears forming. You just couldn't breathe.

Tamaki and the twins shot up and ran to the door, but we're stopped by Kyoya. "Go back to your seats. There are guests waiting for you."

"Are you kidding?!" Hikaru barked.

"We need to see if she's okay!" Kaoru added.

"Kyoya, step aside!" Tamaki exclaimed.

"I don't have any appointments right now. I'll check on her. Go back to your seats." He then quickly left.

He saw you on the floor and sat down right to you. He put his arms around your upper arms and began to squeeze you tight in a hug. You tried to push him off, but he wouldn't budge. Soon you stopped moving and your breath stilled.

"Thank you." You weakly said.

"Of course."

"How did you do that?"

"It's a pressure point that calms a person's nerves." You weakly smiled at him. "How long have you been having anxiety attacks?"

You looked down. "I don't know. Years. It's been a while since I've had one up until now."

"Have you been medically diagnosed?"

You frowned and shook your head. "Let's go back in." You patted his thigh and got up. You stuck your hand out and he took it, having you hoist him up. You brought back your smile. "Thanks again senpai."

He nodded, though he also felt like the conversation needed be revisited, and would have to make sure of it. He opened the door for you. "Y/n!" Tamaki and the twins zoomed over to you.

"Sorry if I worried any of you. I just needed some air." You then sat back down on your couch. "Momo, let's resume our conversation."

"O–okay." She said, unsure whether she should ask if you were okay. "Is it okay if we take a walk in the maze? It's wonderful weather."

You grinned. "If you want to, I want to. Let's go."

When you two left, Alarico scoffed. "Still a damn baby." He then checked his watch. "Oh, switching time."

He walked over to Honey and Mori. Honey smiled at him. "You made y/n-chan really sad, so I think you should say sorry to make up for it. Kay?"

He shrugged. "I don't have to make up for anything. Like I said, she just doesn't like what I have to say. She doesn't want to face her reality, and I'm just trying to help her see it."

"So," Momoka asked you with your arms interlocked. "I was wondering if you would like to talk about what that boy you knew said."

"And here I thought I was host." You teased.

"Well, as a host it's your job to make the customers happy." She quietly stammered. "It would please me so if you had someone to talk to."

You scrunched up your nose. "You are way too nice Momo. It's grossing me out." You then looked straight ahead. "But it's much appreciated." You felt her eagerly stare at you. "Okay, we can talk."

"Really?" You nodded, and she hugged you.

"Out of the people I talk to everyday, and those who make an impression on me, I'm glad you're the one to want to talk to me like this." She smiled brightly. "Now, lead the way to that nice sitting stop first. I have no idea where to go." She nodded and took your hand, rushing to the spot.

Honey's face became darker. "Don't say mean things about y/n-chan, or I won't forgive you."

"No offense kid, but how old are you?"

"He's the same age as you." Hikaru angrily said as he sipped tea.

"Even so, some may argue that he's twice a man as you." Kaoru said as he also angrily sipped on his tea.

"Who knew important people would actually care about some rando girl from the nowhere."

"Don't talk about her like that." Mori said, standing up to hover over him.

"Stop talking about her like that, now." Honey warned.

Alarico scoffed. "Sorry little man, we're out of time." He then walked over to Kyoya, who was writing in his notebook. Honey was about to attack, but Tamaki quietly assured everyone that he knows Kyoya would handle things. "You seem to be the only who isn't phased by anything I say. That's good, since everyone's being weird about y/n."

"I assume it's due to the impression she's left on everyone here. It seems like the hardships she's had to endure has shaped her into a hard working and ambitious person."

"More like audacious." Kyoya just kept writing. "Not much gets to you, huh? That's pretty uninteresting."

"Well, I don't have a lot to worry about considering the position I'm in. You see, my family owns the largest police force in Japan. Just one phone call away and I could have over a hundred men in less than five minutes. So you see, I in fact do not have anything to worry about in this particular moment."

He frowned as you and Momoka came back in. "We're back." You happily announced.

"Did you ladies enjoy your walk?" Tamaki asked as he greeted you two at the door.

You and Momoka looked at each other and smiled. "We did." You said. "I had the pleasure of learning a few new things about Momo."

"Y/n! Those are secrets!" She blushed heavily.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna say anything. Anyways, have a safe way home."

"You as well." She said, leaving.

You closed the door and saw that Alarico was the last person there. "Okay Lucifer, let's get on with this. Shall we?"

He said nothing but smirked at you as he bumped your shoulder walking to your couch. Everyone watched. You sat on opposite ends. "So, your friends don't know about Christian."

You calmly smiled. "He's not in my life, so there's not much to say about him. How've you been doing back in y/c?"

"You mean back home?" He asked tauntingly.

"This is my home now. A step up, don't you think?"

"For now, yeah. How's money been? You still singing in the streets?"

"Nope. Don't have to. Maria got a management position at this club. She got the job from a friend she made at a store. His name is Ryoji, and he's awesome. We've had dinner at his house a few times. His daughter's pretty chill."

"Look at you making little friends. Just like at the liquor store." You grinned, and he scooched closer to you. "Y'know, I just don't get the hype for you. There's something about you that I don't like."

"I'm well aware."

"I don't know where to put my finger on it." He looked you over. "Maybe it's because I've seen those nasty scars on your legs. It a pretty big turn off."

You grinned and shrugged. "Maybe that's it. Maybe it's because you don't like what I have to say about you. Just maybe."

He didn't like that. He grabbed your jaw, holding it tight. "Or maybe it's your face. I've seen the pictures of your parents, and you have your dad's looks." He roughly took away his hand. "Get me some tea."

"Of course." You calmly got up and went over to pour the tea.

"Hey, who was that Momoka chick? She was hot. You think she's easy to bed?" He then laughed.

"Hikaru, what time is it?" You asked as you stared straight ahead.

"Uh, 5:02?"

You nodded, setting down the tea pot. You calmly wrapped your arms around Alarico's shoulders, leaning in as if you were about to whisper him something. Instead you kneed his dick. He yelped and fell to the ground. "You bitch!"

"It's after hours now so I can say whatever I want." You looked down at him. "I don't give a shit about what you think of me, I never have. You know it, and you hate it. But when you talk about sleeping with a sweet girl just to spite me, that's when I get pissed."

"Fuck you!" He rolled to his side.

"Never talk about her in that way, ever, and stay away from her. Don't even try to fight me on this. It wouldn't be the first time I've kicked your ass. Now it's time for you to leave. Go." He got up and stumbled away.

You turned and saw everybody looking at you. "Well," Kyoya said. "I believe it's time to clean up."

You all began to clean up in silence. It was almost unbearable for the twins, as well as Tamaki. Hikaru and Kaoru had finally snapped when you accidentally bumped into them. "Excuse me—"

"WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY BEATING HIM UP BEFORE?!" They asked.

"Oh, that's what was bugging you?"

"Among other things." Tamaki said. "But that is a good question."

You remembered the fond memory you had of that night and giggled. "It happened one time, and it was totally his fault."

"Well, what happened?" The twins asked.

"He thought that it would be funny to scare me so he could hold it over me. But his plan for it failed miserably. He made a plan to come through our window in the middle of the night with a ski mask on and act like he was robbing us."

"But if it was in the middle of the night, wouldn't you be asleep?" Honey asked.

"Yup. He's not the smartest person around. Anyways, right when he climbs in he trips over our shoes and was unintentionally makes a lot of noice. I woke up and assumed there was a robber in the house, so naturally I grabbed the bat from under my bed and—"

"Why on Earth would you have a bat under your bed?" Tamaki asked.

"In case some idiot decided to put on a ski mask and climb through our window." You giggled, and everybody smiled in response. "Anyways, I ran up to him and swung to his stomach. He fell, and broke a flower pot in the process. When he got up, I swung again. He once again fell, but this time when he tried to get up he slipped and landed on our table, breaking it. He fumbled around and tried to grab onto this shelf, but the house was old and the shelf came down on him."

The twins bursted into laughter. "Where was Maria during all this?" Kaoru asked.

"Sleeping! I swear, I don't know what she'd do without me. There was so many crashing sounds!" The twins laughed again, and this time Tamaki chuckled as Honey giggled. "So I'm about to swing again, but he takes off the mask and yells at me. We're yelling at each other, and I drop the bat on the floor. That's when Maria finally comes in, by hearing the bat, and just asks if I'm okay. Super relaxed and half asleep."

The laughter erupted again. "What happened after that?" Hikaru asked.

"I told her that Alarico was trying to rob us, and she says hands down the most 'I don't care' question ever: So, like, I can go back to sleep then right?" More laughter. "I told her no, and she called her sister who came there dead silent. She wrote us a check for the damage and they left. One of the most satisfying experiences of my life."

Everybody was smiling at the story. It was no wonder why you became a host. You were very interesting. "Do you think you'll be in trouble when you get home?" Kaoru asked.

You shrugged. "I mean, Maria's sister will yell at me, but that's kinda it. Maria thinks that I should only be punished if I'm in the wrong. He was being a creep to another girl and I defended her honor. Not in the wrong, and I'll probably just get a smack to the back of the head."

"Seriously?" Hikaru asked.

You shrugged. "She is Latina. And don't worry, since she's not the wealthiest person here, Maria's sister won't try to fight the school or anything."

"Not the wealthiest? What does that mean?" Tamaki asked.

"They're high middle class so they flaunt their money at people who don't make as much. She's a Karen."

"A Karen?" The twins asked.

"I don't believe I'm familiar with the term." Kyoya said.

"It's when someone makes a not bad situation so much worse for no reason. Like, let me speak to your manager for something dumb or my child would never do that when their kid is horrible. Stuff like that."

"Geez, you have to go home to that?" Hikaru asked.

You pursed your lips. "I really don't want to go home right now. Maybe I'll visit Ryoji's house. Or maybe I'll just stay at a fast food place for a bit."

"We'll come with you." Hikaru offered.

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Kaoru added.

"Thanks guys. Let's go then." You began walking towards the door, but stopped and turned around. "And thank you, all of you. I'm really happy that you guys still like me."

"Wait y/n!" Tamaki zoomed over to you, invading your personal space. "I want you to be careful around those shady twins, okay?! Daddy just wants the best for you!"

You ruffled his hair and smiled. "I'll be fine senpai. You trust that I'll take care of myself, right?"

He looked at you, almost in a daze, and smiled. "Of course. Have fun." You nodded and left with the twins. "Well Kyoya, it seems like our little y/n is very capable of handling her problems."

Kyoya put on a smile and said nothing. On the outside, it could easily be seen as that. But that wasn't the case. You should see someone about your anxiety. You should accept help. That meant that he would have to tell Tamaki.

After having a fun time with the twins and getting chewed out by Linda, you went to bed hoping that the club wasn't actually upset with you.

The next day you got up and quickly left early before anyone else woke up. Unfortunately, you skipped breakfast in order to do so. So there you were, eating a breakfast burrito from WacDonald's on the steps of Ouran, way too early for anyone to be there yet.

The silence was pretty nice. It was peaceful, and the school was beautiful. You did notice someone though. A man in a lab coat. He looked lost, but you decided not to think anything of it. It was probably just a school doctor, since it is physical exam day.

Later on you threw away your wrapper and bought some coffee at a gas station. That's when some people began arriving. "Hey, you're the honor student, right?" One person walked over and asked you.

"Um, yeah. I'm sorry, I don't think I know you."

"I'm in the same year, though we're in different classes." He said.

A few minutes later the twins arrived to school, though they were peeved to see you talking to another guy. They ran over to you and began dragging you away.

"It was nice to meet you!" You called out. They then put you down, hearing you huff. "What was that for? I almost dropped my coffee."

"Who was that?" Kaoru asked.

You shrugged. "Some guy. He just came up to me and started talking."

"More like flirting." Hikaru grumbled.

"No he wasn't." You took a sip of your coffee. "Do you guys want some?"

Hikaru hesitated before shrugging. "Sure." He took a swig.

"Kaoru?" You offered.

"Are you sure that's Kaoru?" Hikaru asked, trying to trick you.

"Yes, I am." You said, taking back your coffee. "I'm not stupid."

Before they could say anything, you all heard. "Y/n~!"

A gush of wind passed you three as Tamaki ran over to you. "Morning senpai."

"Did those two shady twins hurt you last night?! I knew I should have gone with you!" He took your hands.

"No, they didn't. Calm down senpai. It was actually nice." You smiled at them.

"Oh, right." Hikaru took out an old phone. "Here."

You just stared up at him confusedly. "You don't have a phone, and this is my old one." Kaoru explained. "I don't use it anymore, so you could have it."

"Um, that's kind of a big thing to give someone." You nervously smiled. "You could turn it in to a phone company and get some money for it. Or maybe some store credit, depending on the company."

"We don't need money or credit stuff." Hikaru said. "Just take it."

You hesitated before taking it. You then smiled and wrapped your arms around each of their necks. "Thanks guys!"

"You're welcome." They smiled before looking darkly at Tamaki. Before Tamaki could say anything, the twins then pulled away. "Well, let's go to class!"

They rushed you off. "Bye Tamaki-senpai!" You called out.

Tamaki got angry. "But what about the plan?!" He barked.

"What did he say?" You turned as they carried you.

"Nothing!" They said.

Instead of going to your class though, you ended up going to the Music Room. "What's going on? Why are we in the host club class?"

Tamaki then stormed into the room. "You two could have waited for me!" He barked out again.

Kyoya then came out. "Y/n, we've come here today to talk about a problem regarding you."

---

Author's Note: I hit the limit for the paragraphs I can write (since there's a lot of dialogue), so I had to cut it short.

I guess I have to split it up into 2 parts and put the fast food part in my own filler .—.

---

Tag List: @krustykrabbspizza @animefan7420 @strangerthingsholland @the-dead-fucking-sea @blue-eyez-7

[stilldani24]

Seize the Day - Newsie!Bucky x Journalist!Reader - Chapter One

Summary: The Newsie Strike of 1899 made the world stand still for two weeks. For one kid and his bum-legged best friend, it meant The World was watching and they needed to make a difference. Based on Disney’s Newsies.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: Disabled character, violence, snarkiness, Bucky has a crush uwu

A/N: Hey guys! Finally the first part is here. Just to be clear, Bucky and Steve are in their late teens and Steve is his pre-serum body type. There’s also an example of a walking suit at the bottom of the fic beneath the tags. Okay, enjoy! Oh, and if you wanna be tagged, just ask!

Business was slow that day. Back when they were first in the business, people would feel sorry for them since they were young and Steve was a crip. Now that they were older and more newbies joined the game, people tended to buy their papes instead of the older boys who could easily get a “real job”. They had tried getting real jobs, but since Steve had his bum leg and Bucky was essentially a fugitive, being a newsie was the only option out there.

“Ey, Stevie,” Bucky told his best friend as he approached the dozing boy, kicking his good leg to jostle him away. “We might have to take ya up on that offa’. Cut off ya leg.”

Steve grunted as he was woken up, moving his cap from his face and squinting at his best friend. “Piss off, Buck,” he groaned as he gripped his crutch, standing it up before hoisting himself to his feet. “These folks jus’ don’t care about the t’ird week of some trolley strike.”

“No kiddin’,” Bucky replied, taking his own cap off and wiping his brow. “We need’a go back now, the streets are gettin’ bare.”

Steve nodded as he grabbed his paper bag, slinging it across his chest before making his way down the street with his best friend. Out of their two hundred papes, they only sold about eighty-seven at the price of a nickel each. They got about two dollars each, which after needing to buy papes and food, it left them with next to nothin’ since the World didn’t buy back unused papes. On their way back to their new fire escape, they attempted to sell more papes, but to no avail.

“C’mon, let’s just give it up,” Bucky told Steve, clapping his shoulder and leading them down an alleyway. As they approached the ladder to the fire escape, two burly looking guys rounded the corner. Seeing a quick few bucks, the guys were quick to pin the poor crippled boy to the wall as they attempted to pass.

“Lookie here. It’s one of dem newsies,” one guy spat. “Surely you got some money on ya, huh? Give it up.”

As the guy reached into Steve’s paper bag, the young teen trying to kick them away, Bucky approached them from behind and tried prying them off. While Bucky was strong, these two men were far stronger. The one not holding Steve up to the wall grabbed Bucky and shoved him back into a few garbage cans, causing a loud ruckus that scared away a few alley cats.

“Stay out of it, punk,” the man sneered, turning back to his friend only to receive a swift punch to the face. He stumbled back into the garbage cans as well, obviously surprised and in shock, but he quickly recovered to fight back, only to find a young girl no older than the two boys.

You stood there, arm on your hip with your head cocked while glaring daggers at the man you just gave a neat shiner to. “Now that there’s a lady present,” you say as you look back and forth between the two cowardly men. “Surely, you’ll gain a gentlemen’s charm and piss off, huh? Don’t wanna make a scene in front of a dame.”

The two men just stared at you, and the two boys stood in stunned silence. One of the men dropped the crippled boy and began to approach you.

“No?” you questioned as you cracked your knuckles, shaking out your hands. “Alright, then.”

As the man lunged at you, you quickly struck and punched him so hard in the throat, he stopped completely. His breath had been completely taken from him and the pain of a punch landing to his throat caused the breath to remain lost. As he struggled to regain oxygen to his lungs, the other man went to grab you but one swift heel to his groin made him stumble back in pain and drop whatever money he had taken from the boys.

“Now, if you’re done,” you said as you scooped up the money, returning it to the scrawny kid’s bag. The two men got up and began running away, looking behind them every so often. You then turn to the two boys, leaning down and helping the stronger looking boy up. “You boys alright?”

As you went over to the other, scrawnier boy, you scooped up the dropped money that the two bozos had left while scurrying away. You then helped him to his feet, making sure he was alright before handing him his crutch.

“We could’a had it, sweetheart,” Bucky spoke up as he stood, brushing the dirt out of his hair and from his clothes. You looked over with a little smirk, placing your hands on your hips and raising an eyebrow as if to say, “oh, really?”. Bucky took that chance to check you out, and gosh, were you ever a dime. You wore clothes that obviously meant you came from the upper class, in a matching walking suit. That was quite rare unless you came from wealthy parents. Your [Y/H/C] hair was in tight ringlets, but long and rested near your rear. They bounced whenever you moved. Oh, and your [Y/E/C] coloured eyes. Bucky swore he could be lost in them at any second, but he blinked to recollect himself. “What’re ya doin’ out ‘ere skulin’ around in dark allies, anyway?”

“Stories don’t come from anywhere, boys,” you replied, raising your notebook and pencil. “Gotta write somethin’ and it ain’t gonna appear out of thin air. Thanks to you, I got my story for the day. Can’t you see the headline now? ‘Brave Journalist Saves Two Newsies from Late Night Muggin’.”

Bucky scoffed as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, in what pape? The New York Sun?” he joked, nudging Steve with a chuckle. The remark made you cross your arms impatiently, tapping your foot.

“Yes, actually,” you replied, showing them the front of the notebook, which had the New York Sun’s logo. Their chuckles quickly quieted down at the sight of your emotion, which had turned from joking to serious now. “I’m done wastin’ my time. Have a good night, boys.”

As you turned to walk away, you could hear the taller boy let out a chuckle. You made sure to sway your hips a bit more as you walked away.

“I didn’t catch ya name, sweetheart!” he called after you, biting his lip. You smirked as you turned around to face him but didn’t stop walking, as you were walking backwards now.

“I didn’t throw it!” you replied with a cheeky grin, before turning back around and leaving the alley from the way the boys had entered it. When Bucky had jogged to the entrance to catch a last glimpse of you, you were already gone. Bucky chuckled as he walked back to his friend, hands in his pockets.

“What a gal,” he smiled to himself, nudging Steve again. Steve had been quiet the entire time since he had never once spoken to a girl before and didn’t know the first thing about talking to them.

“Out of your league, Buck,” Steve replied as they continued their way down the alley, finding an empty fire escape. Bucky took Steve’s crutch and threw it up each flight, helping him up the stairs until they reached the roof. “Ya damn ugly.”

Bucky shoved his best friend, who laughed as he toppled over onto his behind and moved to laying down. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight, dumbass,” Bucky replied as he took a cigarette from his front pocket, lighting it with the nearly empty lighter he kept in his paper bag. As he watched the sunset and traffic move across the square, he smirked to himself. What a gal.

Tags: @morsmordrethings​ @captainscanadian​ @thingsthatkeepmeawakeeveryday​ @wtfisachoncexx​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @jllngls02​ @abrilkatz123​ @writeturnlove​ @buckysgirls-stuff​ @tomhollandenthusiast​ @louisbaeee​

Here’s what a walking suit looks like:

[heller-obama]

Operation Newsboy

Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, things are heating up in this fic

It’s still smol but plot development *jazz hands*

Here’s the prologue, chapter one, and chapter two if you hadn’t read them

Chapter 3

Warnings: still nothing except Race smoking a cigar (things heat up next chapter I promise)

Words: 1,187

Editing: a lot plus grammarly (I got 20 newsies slang words marked grammatically incorrect this time)

***#***

When Jack came to, he was sitting against the wall, his bag of newspapers on his lap.

“Hey. Hey. Are you awake?” A kid was standing in front of Jack. The kid was wearing hand-me-down-looking clothes. Jack groaned. “Oh, you’re awake!” He said. He offered a hand to pull Jack up, and Jack took it, standing up and groaning.

“Aw, feels like a herd of horses been tramplin’ my head,” Jack muttered.

The kid smiled. “I know what that feels like.”

“Who-who is ya?” Jack stumbled, and the kid put Jack’s arm around his shoulder.

“I’m Wally,” the kid, Wally, said.

“I’m Jack.” Wally bit back the urge to say ‘I know.’

“Do you have a place to go? A home, or—”

“The only home I’s got is the Lodge.”

“Can you give me directions?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The two boys kept walking down the street, Jack stumbling every so often.

Finally, they made it to a building with a sign that said ‘Newsboy Lodging House’ in large letters.

“This is it,” Jack said. Wally unhooked Jack from around his shoulder, then opened the door. Before Jack went inside the Lodge door completely, he turned to Wally. “Hey, do youse got a place to sleep?”

“Uh, does the park count?”

“No. Come in. We’s got a bed for ya. I think.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Wally said. He didn't think it'd actually be that easy to get an in with the newsies, but here he was. They went inside, trying to find a bed for Wally. It was relatively easy, considering the rest of the boys were still out there selling papers.

“Eh, no problem. Ey, how’s ‘bout you come with me, tomorrow, to sell the papes? Unless you’s got a job.”

“I don’t have a job, but I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Eh, no trouble! Weasel makes more money the more papes he sells to the newsies.” The two boys stopped near a clean bed. “Ah, here’s a bed for youse. It’s next to the door to the roof, but—”

“It’s a bed. Better than where I thought I’d be sleeping tonight.” Secretly, Wally was ecstatic. He knew that Jack slept on the roof, and this was as close as he could get.

“Good. Youse got anything to put down? Somethin’ to mark ya spot?” Jack asked.

“I-I got my hat.” He said. It was just a newsie cap.

“Yeah, no, that’s gonna get stolen.”

“You steal each others’ stuff?” Wally asked in disbelief.

“Mostly for jokes or somethin’. The boys always gives it back. Usually.” He added quietly.

Suddenly, the door banged open. “Is anyone here?” Someone called.

“Crutchie!” Jack called. “We’s up here!”

After a few minutes, and a few muffled thumps, a kid of about fifteen with shaggy blond hair and a crutch staggered up the stairs.

“Hey, Jack!” The blond boy, Crutchie, said. “Who’s the new kid?”

“This is Wally. He needs a spot to sleep. And work.” Jack said. “Oh, yeah, Crutchie!” He said like he was just remembering something. “Today, when I's was sellin’ papes, two random guys came up to me to buy a paper!”

“That’s your job, Jack.” Crutchie teased him, his face deadpan.

“Yeah, but the first guy gave me a quarter! All I’s did was hawk the headline!”

“No way!” Crutchie breathed, his eyes as big as, well, quarters.

“Yeah! And the second man, he gaves me a dollar! A dollar!” Wally could guess at who the two guys were.

“Aw, Jack, it’s just you’s pale, pitiful mug that sells all the papes,” Crutchie said teasingly, and they gave each other a high five.

After a few minutes of joking about the people they conned, Crutchie stood up. “Hey, the boys said they was goin’ to Jacobi’s afta sellin’. You comin’?”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“Who’s Jacobi?” Wally asked.

“Oh, Mr. Jacobi runs the deli. He lets us hang out there before he lets his customers in.”

“Cool. What d’you do, perform large dance numbers or something?” Wally meant it as a joke, and then quickly realized he was being too proper. “I mean, like, dance crazy dances?”

Jack and Crutchie shared a look. “Eh, occasionally.”

Wally was gaping at them. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Lead the way, Captain Jack,” Wally said.

***#*** Wally watched, trailing a bit behind Crutchie, Jack as pushed the door open to Jacobi’s Deli, where a few of the newsies were already waiting.

“Afternoon, gents!” A tall kid with blonde hair and a cigar sticking out of his mouth called. “Who’s the new kid?”

Wally raised his hand in a small wave. “I’m, uh, Wally.” Truthfully, he was a bit put out with the fact that a teen-aged kid just had a giant cigar in his mouth.

The kid smirked. “What’s the matter? Ain’t youse sure?”

“I—” Wally began, but Jack saved him from complete embarrassment.

“Ah, Race, lay offa’ ‘im. Your ugly mug is enough to scare anyone.”

The kid, Race, put an exaggerated hand over his heart. “Why, Jack, youse say that to all the fellas, don’tcha?”

“Just for youse, Race,” Jack replied.

Crutchie limped off somewhere, talking to some other boys.

The boys stayed there for hours, joking, teasing, and yes, even a dance or two. More kids showed up and introduced themselves to Wally, who amazed them all with the fact that he actually had an education.

When the little party ended, and the boys walked in a large gaggle back to the lodging house. The newsies were laughing and joking like nothing was wrong, but Wally couldn’t shake the feeling that someone--or something--was watching them, but every time he turned around, nothing was there.

They all arrived at the Lodging House with no incident, and they were settled in their beds when a bright yellow and red flash illuminated the window.

Wally jumped up, whacking his head on the upper bunk above him, which was occupied by Romeo, one of the boys he met at the deli earlier.

“Wally?” The groggy voice of Romeo popped up from above. “What’re youse doin’?”

Wally didn’t answer, just ran out the door as fast as he possibly could without doing his “lightning thing”.

Not a second later, Race spoke up. “Romeo, youse owes me a nickel. I’s told youse that he’d do somethin’ weird before the night’s over.”

***#***

As soon as the door closed, Wally raced after the flash of red light. The Particle Accelerator doesn’t explode for the first time in 115 years, he thought. This is worth checking out, even if it’s not my time assassin. Then that really annoying, small voice in the back of his head whispered, what if it’s a diversion? A diversion to get you away from Jack and your friendly neighborhood time assassin knows who you are, waiting for the right moment to—

“Shut up!” He yelled loudly, in an attempt to quell the voices in his head.

The guy he was chasing stopped whirled around, his feet sliding on the pavement. Wally stopped just in time to avoid barreling over the other speedster.

“Wally?” A familiar voice said, pulling off the cowl over his face.

“Barry?”

***#***

Yeah no regrets here sorry fam

[themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy]

I saw you did the Alphabet with Peter, could you do it with Bucky as well? I love you so much 💗 thank youu 💗💗

This is Day 1 of my week long 700 follower celebration! We are having a week of themed night and Bucky Barnes is the theme of Day 1! Send in things for Bucky!

Masterlist

Join my Taglist

Prompt lists

Also requested: Can you do the fluffy/cute alphabet for Bucky Barnes please! 💓 and COULD THERE BE A BUCKY BARNES ADORABLE ALPHABET THING PLEASE THX

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Da booty lmfao 

Nah he likes your eyes but dat booty catches his eye every time

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He’s real sacred of hurting everyone so he’s torn. He wants to see you as a mother, but he doesn’t want to hurt the child

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You usually initiate it, he’s very cautious when showing affection so it’s up to you if you wanna snuggle

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He takes you out to the lil trolley rides and like picnics and those old-fashioned ways to hang out with you

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are my tour guide” - doesn’t sound romantic but he also means this in the relationship sense it’s been a while he’s a little rusty

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He’s very paranoid of being double crossed or tricked so it takes him a while to admit to himself that he loves you - it was about a year and a half after you two started dating.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He is the most gentle boi?! Like he’s realllllly gentle he really takes it into his head that he might be able to hurt you somehow :’(

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

At the start of the relationship he only held your hand with his regular arm, he slowly began getting more and more comfortable with his metal arm around you.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He didn’t really become attracted to you until he got comfortable with people, and you actually met him almost right after he was saved from Hydra so he actually didn’t really like you at first

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Yes, but he doesn’t act on it, and he only gets jealous bc he’s self-conscious about his own relationship skills  

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You had to initiate it, but once you assure him that he’s allowed to, he does it a lot :’) He kisses really soft aaaaaa

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He does, you knew that he had to first, bc you didn’t want him to think he HAD to say it back if you said it. you waited for him to say it and said it back when he did :’)

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Oof that’s gonna be the memory of when he took you to the beach and you guys watched the sun come up (no this is not one of my own fics that I’m promoting how dare you)

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

No, he spoils you emotionally bc he thinks that that’s better than material goods

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

A mix of orange and pink bc you guys watch the sunset really frequently :’)

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

So in every single fic ever written he calls the reader doll and who tf am I to contradict that?  also love and babe tho

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He really isn’t in tune to modern things so anything he does is really ‘non-modern’

I’d say a lazy sunday would always make him smile :)

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Stay inside and snuggle up with you and some hot chocolate

You guys take turns reading to each other :’)

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

To cheer himself up he relies completely on you, you really are his person :’)

To cheer you up he just snuggles with you 

To cheer others up (really just Steve) he just lets them talk and really actually listens

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

He likes to talk about you!!! Even to you he will just talk about his favorite things you do, aaaaa

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

A tub of ice cream, come blankets, and youuuuu

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He’s proud of you, he shows you off, he really doesn’t like himself argh I’m gonna cry

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposed six years after you guys started dating, he proposes by taking you on a ferris wheel and doing it there so that it was absolutely private and you couldn’t escape :’)

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

His song is demons by imagine dragons bc he really loves you but he’s scared that if you get to close to him that he’s gonna hurt you :’(

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Yes, only after the five years of dating, he proposes after six years 

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Like just a dog or a cat this boy needs some simple lovin

Taglist: @peachybabykxo @5aftermidnight @Spideyyypeter @book-wyrm-snacks @loki-sharpe-hiddleston-imagines @set-phasers-to-cuddle @thecurlyhairedwinchester @lou-la-lou @ilostcount-helpme @snazzy-posts @meisiisem @stevieboyharrington @clean-and-claire @peter-null @embrace-themagic @yafriendlyfangirl @fandomnerdsarecool @ellen_emb @soniaxmsj @avngersunite @m4shtyx @sparkling-gayyy @nervous-shawn @americaswritings @robinkat3 @buckybabyy @mrsstarkstrange @servamp-addict @Darkworld-Student @alexiamiky2003 @freightcarcap @dumbasscorn @cordelia-sagewright @multifandomshitblog @snoploop @johnnycadeissocute @all-thegayships @briisasinamonroll @bonjouritsellaa @ardentmuse @blueivysuniverse @dark-night-sky99 @ilovetvshowsblog @s0cial-retard @lady-of-lies

[docholligay]

This was a commission for @yamadara , and she and others all suggested I post it here. I hope you like it, and if you’d like to read more extra fic, please check me out on Patreon! I still have a slot open for next month’s baked goods! The prompt was, “Rei and Mina celebrate Japanese New Year with fukubukuro after a tough year”

“You know, every year I say I can’t believe this shit, and yet, every year, here we are.” Minako complained, but it may as well have been to the air, for all that Rei was listening to her. “And every year I’m misled to think doing something on New Year’s means something other than standing in line for 5 hours for a bag of crap.”

Rei whirled around in line. “Listen, the savings on these fukubukuro are fantastic.” She opened a large piece of paper, her eyebrows knit in concentration as she looked down, “And then we’ll go stand over at the department store--they’re staggered, so as soon as we get this bag, we’ll head over,” she nodded with determination, “and then, tomorrow morning--”

“What about food, rest….libations?” Mina shook her head, already knowing the answer.

“Mina, this is once a year.”

“God, do I envy Haruka right now. Even if she is with Squidward” Mina looked up at the sky, as if opening up a general request to any deity that might care to listen.

Rei gave her a scowl.

“I’m joking.” She crossed her arms and gave Rei a smile. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than a sidewalk, waiting.”

Rei had always been rather serious about her New Year’s bags, but this year her focus had taken a chilling seriousness, a lean and hungry look in her eye, the same as when she shot her arrow at an enemy. It was a unique blend of annoying, terrifying, and a little alluring, if Mina was being entirely honest.

The line moved ahead roughly three inches.

Rei whirled around. “See? Moving right now.” She tossed her head confidently. “You’ll see, just wait until we open them, I bet I’ll get a fur coat and then you’ll be forced to eat. Your. words.”

“Much as it does not surprise me to hear your dreams of being swathed in beaver,” Rei shot her a look, which she ignored, “you know no one ever gets those big prizes they advertise.”

“Just wait until I have my own company. I’m going to get those luxury fukubukuro, you know, from the big stores? The more you spend, usually the more savings you get per yen--you know, the higher end bags offer an average 67% real savings, while the lower--”

“Oh my god Rei.” Mina buried her head in her hands.

“--bags only offer something like 20% savings.” She tossed her hair back, near bragging over a victory she had not yet achieved. “I’ll win a vacation, or something like that, in one of those. I’ll be rewarded for all my hard work. It’s fate. You’ll see.”

“I’m not sure I believe in that kind of stuff anymore.” It was offered not as a judgment and not as a jibe, but as a simple fact, and it left them both quiet for a moment before Mina recovered. “You know, I’ve done enough of these and got screwed, I mean. I didn’t even bother getting on this year.”

And it was true enough that the year did not need to assist in Mina’s general sourness--between Rei’s constant and as yet unproven assurance that this year would be her year (it was, Mina loved to remind her, never quite her year), and Mina’s many times getting fukubukuro filled with lip balm and colored cellophane, and not much else, she was not predisposed to love New Year’s anyhow. That the grab bag of this year had turned up a net loss did nothing to soothe her, although perhaps, she thought fairly, even the best year of her life would have only resulted in more lip balm.

“Well,” Rei tossed her head authoritatively, “I know I’m excited. Oh, look, the line is moving again!”

They scooted ahead 6 inches.

__

There was a certain kind of pageantry that Rei took to these things, her bags all stacked up, ready for opening, waiting for her willing (or not) audience. The girls nibbled at their food as Rei cackled over the savings she’d won over.

Rei unwrapped her treasures, giving special attention to the cost savings of each one, cross-indexing websites to prove it. It was annoying in the way Rei always could be about money, and yet, with that, there was a comfort in it, that, despite the difficulty of the year, some things hadn’t changed, and never would. Mako still cooked in the kitchen. Rei still pinched a penny til it bled. There was hope in that, in the way there was in each sunrise, that no matter what, life continued, and they all continued along with it.

“The value of this bag ALONE is 4000 yen, and it was only 500” Rei nodded at the entire room as if teaching them an important lesson. “That’s a huge value.”

Mako laughed, wondering how it was that Rei ever got to know what a kitchen item was worth, and the warmth of it filled the room.

“Are you sure you want that stand mixer?” She tried not to show what a win it was, although Rei must know, there was nothing about savings that Rei didn’t know. “It’s just gonna take up space in your place, but I’d take it off of you.”

Rei looked at the large box. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about getting into baking…”

“Rei, I’ve had enough harrowing experiences this year.” Mina smirked at her from the couch.

Rei scowled. “I’ll have you know that I could learn to cook, especially with this,” she waved her hand over her winnings, “amazing and very valuable set of supplies that I’ve amassed.”

“Okay, okay, Rei,” Mako cracked her knuckles playfully, “What do you want?”

Rei’s eyes sparkled, alive with the glory of the deal. “I think a month’s worth of dinners is being extremely generous of me. For all this.”

“A week, tops, but I’ll throw in lunches.” Mako tried to look disinterested, but Rei was too shrewd, too quick, and too dogged for Mako’s will.

“Two weeks!” She held her fingers high, “and you throw in dessert with the lunches.”

Whether Rei actually wanted dessert was up in the air, but then, that was hardly the point of the exercise.

Mako shrugged and looked longingly at the stand mixer. “Fine.”

“Okay.” Rei frowned a little, disappointed that Mako had abandoned the game so quickly, and looked over at the pile of cosmetics. “Mina--”

“Forget it, Rei.” Mina moved toward the back of the apartment, looking for something.

Ami had a stack of books in front of her, her hand drifting over the covers, trying to decide which she wanted to delve into first.

“It looks like you did really well, Ami!” Rei beamed proudly. “What would you estimate your percentage saved was?”

“Oh this wasn’t a fukubukuro,” she looked almost apologetic, “I just bought these from the bookstore near my house, as a New Year’s gift to myself.”

Rei looked at her with a sort of shocked and disapproving wordlessness.

Ami blushed. “I used my membership card?”

Rei sighed heavily, but was interrupted by the sound of Mina setting something down with a small but decisive thump.

There was a simple wrapped fukubukuro on the table, indicating it came from the hobby store on the other end of town, and Mina sat down in front of it wordlessly.

“You got a bag, Mina? I didn’t think you were doing this.”

“It’s Haruka’s.” It settled over the room, echoing off the walls, and Mina could not stop herself from looking up at the photo on the wall from she and Michiru’s wedding, all smiles and warmth.

Rei put her hands on her hips, her mouth running. “How the hell did she get a bag for New Year’s, I mean she--um.” She stopped herself, suddenly realizing that everyone knew the end of the sentence, and the pain that lay behind it.

Usagi’s lip quivered, Mako’s arms crossed over her chest,

“Yeah, she had it preordered. Even though every year she thought she got ripped off,” She gave a huff, “Guess I’m not the only one who never learned from New Year’s.”

She opened the top of the bag, the crackle of each movement popping through the air and

She pulled out a handful of banded together nickel train tracks. “Haruka always talked about getting into model trains. She had a box of this stuff in the closet, just in case,” She looked back out to the girls, “but remember that year she got nothing but Roman warships and some army men, and some paint she already had? She was so pissed, I think she spent the rest of the day eating everyone’s osechi and pouting.”

Rei sat down next to her. “Michiru told her she could,” Rei smiled weakly and curled her hand in the air, her voice affected and haughty. “Buy you anything you care to have, Haruka.’”

Mina laughed, and popped her palm onto the table, “THAT’S NOT THE POINT, MICHIRU.’ You were right, buddy, your shitty luck was always the point.”

She took the last thing out of the bag, a large box with curled red writing on the front.

“A 1939 Jaguar. She’d have loved that.”

The girls stood around the table, looking down at the table, a small detail paintbrush rolling away toward the edge, almost falling until Usagi caught it and turned it over in her hand.

“I think we should build it.” Usagi spoke for the first time, and it was only then that Mina realized the strange quietness of the room as she’d opened the bag. The feeling of the room had been so oppressively loud that she had paid no mind to the actual lack of sound. Usagi let a tear fall from her cheek, but she did not sob. Not now. Now she was determined. “You still have her stuff, don’t you?”

Mina nodded. She could see it there, taking up space but somehow impossible for her to get rid of, years of hobby supplies and car kits that would never be made, placed in the back of her closet, hoping to be forgotten.

Rei put a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to.” She seemed to remember herself, suddenly. “I mean, we have plenty of other things to do today, we don’t need to sit around and--”

“No.” Mina looked up at her. “I think it’s a good idea. I think she’d like it.”

Usagi opened the box and studied the plans carefully, as if Haruka’s knowledge could be transferred to her by sheer force of will. Mina walked back to the bedroom, and opened the closet door.

It was a strange thing, she reflected, what we take and what we leave when someone dies. Why this box, of all the things? They had never made a car together, she’d never so much as sat and watched as Haruka worked on her models-it was a mostly solitary hobby by its very nature, and for Haruka it had been unusually quiet and contemplative, and not what most people would have defined her by. The leather jacket Mina now wore from time to time, a few coins from the last time they’d gone to the arcade together, those things seemed more natural and no one questioned them.

And yet this box was the thing she clung to the most tightly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The voice was so unusually kind that it took her a moment to recognize it as Rei’s.

She began to unload some of the paint and glue out of the box. “Yeah. I think I do.” She looked up at Rei. “help me carry this?”

“I’ll help you carry it all.”

__

Meanwhile, in the Ginza district, a pre-ordered fukubukuro as a gift for Rei Hino sat, waiting to be sent out. The card was signed, M. Kaioh.

[cinnamonglaive]

SakuIno cowboy fic

Heres the first bit of a naruto fic I wrote between Sakura and Ino. Important things to consider: theyre texas cowboys how fuckin dope is that. 

Its still a draft and not complete but uhhh.... enjoy

Part one

A hot wind meandered through the taproom, failing to cool the air by any noticeable degree. The dust and dirt of desert life was evident on every possible surface, on the leather of thick-brimmed hats, on the worn wood floor, even on the inevitably rusted tin mugs. Ino could wipe a rag across the dented metal for days and they’d still smell of copper and clay. She paused her struggle against the grime, sweeping a glance across the inn’s patrons. A group of regulars was grouped in the center of the room, all deeply drunk and seemingly oblivious to the early hour. The Edron brothers, near the center of the bunch, were notorious for passing out before noon. Old Man Cray was seated next to them, leaning back in his chair and watching his pipe smoke drift to the rafters. Johnson, a big bear of a man, was telling the elder Edron, Jake, some tall tale. One of the village busybodies was leaning in to hear Johnson’s story, and her hearty laugh followed every turn of the tale.

Ino returned to her task, continuing to note the other customers scattered from corner to corner. There was a father urging his young sons to finish their lunches, and an old woman napping in a long knitted cowl. Many of the town’s young men were hurriedly devouring their meals before returning to work, and several girls were undoubtedly here to garner their attention.

There was only person Ino didn’t know, a tall stranger isolated from the rest, their wide hat pulled down over their face. She didn’t know whether or not visitors were in town today, but she figured anyone at a bar might want some ale. Ino filled a mug and sauntered over to the figure, ignoring Johnson’s catcall and Old Man Cray’s petition for more beer. She stopped before the figure, holding the ale out.

“Pardon my asking, um,” She peered at the figure, hoping to discern the features of who she was talking to. “But would you be wantin’ some of this ale?” The figure pushed their hat up and Ino found herself staring into the eyes of a beautiful woman. Ino paused in surprise before remembering the task at hand.

“Only a dime a mug y’see.” The stranger was new to the town, Ino would have remembered her otherwise. Above the woman’s striking green eyes, there was a purple diamond tattoo the likings of which Ino had never seen. Ashamed for staring, Ino averted her gaze, but the woman did not seem to notice. Ino waited as the woman dug around in her pockets, eventually emerging with two nickels. After setting down the ale, Ino reached for the change, but was interrupted by the sound of drunken yelling. Johnson and Jake Edron were fighting again, and Ino feared their topic of conflict. Confirming her fear, Jake pointed a finger in Ino’s direction.

“She’s mine, y’hear me y’fat bastard?” Jake’s other hand was on the back of his chair, augmenting his balance. Johnson, who was slightly less drunk but a great deal more angry, laughed cruelly.

“Ino won’t fall for you, Jake,” Johnson leaned across the table and smiled. “ ‘cause… cause... you’re shorter’n her!” His slurred words were met by Jake’s fist, a crack that made everyone in the bar real quiet. Slowly, silently, Johnson wiped a drop of blood from his torn lip. In the space of a second, the two men exploded in a flurry of fists. Ino gasped as they crashed into the table, causing the nearby patrons to back up. One of the young men ran off to fetch the constable, and another went to find the innkeep. Ino wrung her hands in fear. This was the third time they’d fought over her, and even though Ino herself had not galvanized the fight, she knew where the innkeep would place the blame.

“I’ll stop them, don’t you worry, miss.” A strong hand clasped her shoulder and Ino turned to find the tattooed woman looming over her. Ino tried to stammer out a protest but the woman was already striding over to where Johnson was beating up Jake. The stranger had seemed tall enough while seated, but now Ino could see that she could match the height of a man even so large as Johnson. The woman removed her cloak, revealing a rosette blouse clinging to her wide shoulders and enviable muscles. With one swift move, the tattooed woman grabbed Johnson’s neck and pinned Jake to the floor with a boot. Johnson gave a roar of rage and struggled against her grip, but the woman did not let him go. Jake thrashed at her momentarily, clawing her pants with clumsy drunken fingers. After several moments of tensed muscles and grunts of effort, the men gave up their resistance.

The remaining patrons quickly left, and Ino stared in awe at the mysterious stranger. She had never met such a strong woman. In fact, Ino had never met anyone who could best Johnson in a fair fight. The four of them stayed immobile and silent, save for Jake’s hitched breathing. None of them moved a muscle until the constable and the innkeep raced into the bar. With her free hand, the woman quickly pulled her hat down over her diamond tattoo.

“Dammit,” The constable swore, “not again.” He took in the scene, with the woman holding Jake and Johnson apart, and Ino standing to the side.

“Who’re you, ma’am?” He asked the woman. She shrugged.

“I’m just a passin’ cowhand, mister.” The woman looked down at Jake. “But these men seemed to be givin’ that lass a problem,” She nodded to Ino, “so I went an’ restrained ‘em.” Ino winced as the innkeep turned his glare to her.

“A problem, y’say? I think Ino here is the problem.” He stomped over to where she cowered. “You come inna town with no parents, no family, an’ I took you in. Nowadays, you cause men to fight, an’ that causes less customers to come to my inn. Nowadays, you’re the problem.” The inkeep’s smoldering cigar mirrored his eyes. Sure enough, Ino could remember coming into this dust mote of a town, alone and impoverished. She also remembered how her appearance was the only thing people valued her for, and how the men of the town pursued her, regardless of her own opinions. What man would stop to consider the feelings of someone they already took for granted?

He looked right into Ino’s eyes and growled. “You’re fired, Ino. Get outta my inn.” With that, he stormed out of the bar.

The constable seemed unperturbed as he tied up the hands of Johnson and Jake.

“Don’t stay here too long, miss.” He said to the woman. “You might get yr’self into trouble. I’m not gonna arrest you for dealing with these fools,” He pointed to Johnson and Jake. “But if you get inna another fight, we might just see.” The constable led the men to the door and waved goodbye to Ino. “Hope you find someplace. You’re a good enough kid.”

Part Two

After gathering her things into a sack, Ino trudged out of the inn and looked miserably down the road. The sun’s heat was an oppressive wave, and she regretted not having a hat or cloak. Ino squinted, weighing her options. The meager shops and shanties lining the dirt path were of no refuge to her- the innkeep had been the only person kind enough to take in an orphaned girl. With no family, Ino was without a home to return to. She sighed and looked in her pack. She had money saved up, as well as some threadbare clothes and her dearest belonging, an ox bone hairbrush. Ino counted the money silently, dismayed to find that she did not have enough for a train ticket. She had depended on the innkeep for food and a bed, but now she had nowhere to stay.

Ino sighed loudly and plopped down on the side of the road, resigned to her fate. She could try to slip onto a caravan to the nearest town, but who would take her in there? She could beg for food- and die of hunger, no doubt. She could marry one of the men of the town, but what life was that, clinging to the whims of a man who could not see past her body? Ino laughed darkly, because hell, the town was so small she couldn’t even prostitute herself.

Ino sat against the wall of the inn for some time, mulling over her options. Desperately, she tried to think about her mother for guidance, but fading memories of lavender-scented hugs could not give her a home. No, Ino could not recall the day she was left alone, because she had chosen to forget. She remembered only her parent’s smiles, and the feeling of isolation once they were gone.

“Miss? Are you alright?” Ino was startled by the sudden voice, and the long shadow that had approached unnoticed. She looked up and found the tattooed woman staring down at her in concern.

“What do you mean am I… oh, damn.” Ino found tears on her cheeks and wiped them away angrily. “I’m sorry,” Ino said, “I didn’t see you there, ma’am.” Ino grabbed her bag and stood, trying to pull herself together. “I’m fine.” She finished lamely, embarrassed at her lack of composure. The woman looked her over, doubt in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” The stranger asked.

“I’m Ino, ma’am. I was a barmaid here, but, uhh…” Ino fidgeted with the hem of her sack, intimidated by the woman’s height and piercing stare.

“The innkeep said you don’t have a family, Ino. You got anyplace to sleep?” Ino didn’t say anything, and the woman nodded.

“I see. Would you like to come with me? I can give you a job, or at least a ride to the next town.” Ino thought for a moment, shamed by her poverty. She had no other options, but this woman was a stranger to her, not to mention intimidating. However, Ino would rather catch a ride with a brawler than starve in the shadows of the town. She nodded.

“If you would take me, ma’am, I would be grateful of your help.”

“My name’s Sakura, Ino. There’s no need to be callin’ me ma’am.” She said. Ino smiled up at her.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Sakura. Your help is much appreciated.” Sakura held out her hand for Ino to shake, and Ino was surprised by Sakura’s careful grip. Ino marveled in the shift she had seen in Sakura, from the barfight to now. Sakura was the first to pull away, pointing in a direction leading out of town.

“My herd’s just up that way, but I’m in need of some supplies.” Ino was confused for a moment, until she remembered that Sakura had told the constable she was a cowhand. “I’m a bit new to these parts, so it would be helpful if you could show me to a general store.” Sakura glanced at Ino’s meager sack. “And I recon you could use some things, too.” Ino blushed and shook her head. “Modesty will get you killed out there. Ino, let me see your pack, why don’t you.” Ino begrudgingly handed Sakura her bag. Sakura peered inside and whistled as she rifled through the belonging. “What’s this, a comb? Why, that’d fetch a pretty penny, but I suppose y’know that. Let’s see… some clothes, and only around ten dollars in change.” Sakura looked Ino suspiciously. “Are you stuck on dope or sommat?” Ino shook her head quickly and wrung her hands.

“No, ma’am! I just worked for tips is all, an’ the innkeep said a bed an’ a meal was reward enough.” Ino said. Sakura’s eyes still held doubt, but she sighed and handed Ino the bag.

“I can’t believe you survived offa this.” Sakura said. “We’d best get going if we want to leave by sundown.”

Ino shouldered her pack and led Sakura up the way a bit. When they reached a building with a sign declaring “Eldron General” Ino turned to face Sakura.

“Th’ owner’s a piece of work,” She warned Sakura, “But don’t you mind him none.” Sakura looked up at the store’s sign and scowled.

“Is that short man from the bar the owner?” She asked.

“His family owns the place, but hopefully the constable tied him up for a bit.” Ino shrugged. “If one of his sisters is minding the shop, we won’t have any trouble at all.” Sakura paused to study the store, thinking over the situation. Ino was distracted by Sakura’s hair, the way it’s pink hue was a contrast to her green eyes. She marveled over the beautiful colors, as pretty as the flowers her mother would- no, no. Don’t think about that now, she admonished. Ino pushed the thoughts away and focused on Sakura’s face, the pensive knit of her brow and the low brim of her hat, which was still pulled down to cover the diamond tattoo. Her skin was deeply tanned from hours in the sun, and Ino noted the variety of scars covering not only Sakura’s face, but all of the other parts of her that weren’t covered. Ino wondered how a cowhand could come by so many wounds, especially the thin lines on her neck. Sakura straightened up, conviction clear on her face, and Ino forced herself to stop staring.

“We’ll both have to go in, I’m afraid.” Sakura said. “I don’t want him to return and find me in his shop. I figure with you there, he might not start another fight. Ino, I know he harassed you, but we can leave more easily if you go in with me.” Ino shrugged.

“I would have gone in anyway, ma’am- I mean, Sakura.” Ino said. “That’s not the first time men around here have caused trouble, so I’m not too shaken up by Jake.”

“You’re saying men do that stuff around here and nobody does anything about it?” Sakura said, confused. Ino just shrugged again and Sakura frowned.

“Well,” Sakura said, “then I’m glad we’re leaving.” She walked up on the porch and pushed the door open, Ino following behind. The inside of the store was a mess of shelves and cans and tools, all leaning up against each other in the small space. Ino was relieved to see one of the female Eldrons asleep at the counter, evidently bored by the lack of customers. When the door smacked shut she woke up, raising her eyebrows at Sakura’s colorful pink hair and her rifle but not saying anything. Sakura paced the aisles, picking up items and walking them to the counter. When she had a veritable pile of goods put together, she motioned Ino over and started counting out her money.

“Do you, by any chance, have red wine?” Sakura asked the Eldron. The girl looked under the counter for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems we only have a bottle of white wine. If you’re interested, we also have some liquor for sale.”

“No, that’s fine,” Sakura said. “Do you sell pistols here?” The girl nodded and took out a small gun, proffering it to Sakura. She checked the price tag and grimaced, but added it to her pile anyway. Seeing the look on her face, Ino quickly took out her own money and gave it to the Eldron girl. They waited as the prices were added up, and Ino bemoaned her lack of money when the total was given. Sakura paid the girl and then sorted the goods into two piles, one for Ino and one for herself. All three of them jumped as the door slammed shut, heavy feet tromping towards the counter. Ino groaned inwardly as she recognised the voice of Jake Eldron.

“Do you know where I just came from, sister?” He said, glaring at Sakura. “The sheriff's station. Because of her!” He pointed an accusatory finger in Sakura’s face. “She held me down, and then the constable had time to make a big fuss over the matter!” Sakura never wavered, but Ino was paralysed with fear as Jake spotter her hiding behind Sakura’s tall figure. “Ino, darling. Why don’t you just admit your love for me, then I won’t have to protect you from other men. Stop lying to yourself already so you can be happy!” He reached for her hand but Sakura stepped in his path, swatting away his hand with contempt.

“Sir,” Sakura said, “I am new to this town, and do not know its laws. But, I cannot allow you to harass this woman any longer, as she is under my protection.” Ino was surprised. Since when had Sakura decided that giving her a ride was the same as protecting her? Jake started to open his mouth again, so Ino interrupted him.

“I’m leavin’, Jake. This woman has offered to take me with her, and I’m… I’m goin’ away.” Ino almost whispered, hunching her shoulders and peering at the ground.

“Leaving? You’re goin’ with her?” Jake was dumbfounded. “But how… how are you goin’ to marry me if you leave?” He tried to look into her eyes, but Sakura moved again to block his line of sight. “How are you gonna marry me if you leave?” He demanded again, but no one responded. Eldron’s eyes watered and his voice rose in volume. “Who are you gonna find out there? Huh, Ino? Who?” His fist was shaking now and Sakura tensed up. Jake started laughing, the same angry laugh he had used in the bar. “I’m the best man for you Ino, Why can’t you see?” He stepped closer to Sakura. “I suppose you can just marry her, can’t you? Because I’m the best man you’ll ever find.” Abruptly, Jake walked around the counter and strode through the back door of the shop, still laughing to himself. None of the girls moved for a few moments, trying to remember what they had been doing before Jake strode in and exploded at them. Sakura shook herself and started to put items into her bag, pulling Ino’s sack from her numb fingers so that it, too, could be filled. The Eldron girl put the money into the cashier and then left, presumably to find Jake. When all of the items were packed, Sakura gave Ino her things and led her to the door. When they were outside, Ino breathed in the fresh air and tried to calm down. Surely, Jake had asked for her hand before, but he had never been so emotional about her refusal. Sakura watched Ino and waited patiently until she was ready to move on.

“We only need some clothes for you, miss, and then we can leave.” Sakura said. “I saw where the tailor was on my way in, and I figure in a town as small as this one, it will also sell hats.” Hefting har bag under her arm, Sakura noticed how Ino’s hands were tightly clamped onto her sack. “I’m not gonna to intrude on your personal business,” Sakura said, “But I think it is a good thing that you are leavin’ this here town.” Ino nodded and they walked to the tailor’s, wary for any sudden appearance by Jake. Once inside the shop, Sakura busied herself with finding a cloak.

“You don’t mind the look of this one, do you?” Asked Sakura, holding up a long, hooded cloak. If Ino was being honest, the color reminded her of the damned dust, but she nodded. After all, Sakura was being extremely generous in buying clothes for someone whom she had only met an hour before. Ino walked to the hat rack and picked out the cheapest one they had before meeting Sakura at the counter.

“Oh, no. That won’t work.” Sakura shook her head at the hat. “The brim is simply too small, and you aren’t accustomed to long days without shade. Here, let me find one.” Ino gave her the hat and Sakura returned with a long-brimmed model. The hat even had a fancy leather cord to keep it in place! Sakura looked at Ino’s clothes and frowned at her long skirt.

“You need some pants as well, because we’ll be travelin’ on horseback most of the way.” Sakura found some men’s trousers and held them up to Ino’s legs. When she found a pair that was the right length she handed it to Ino. ‘What do you think?” Sakura asked.

“I don’t fully know.” Said Ino. “I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“They don’t make these for women,” Said Sakura, “so it’s a good thing you’re so tall.” At that, Ino nearly laughed, because Sakura was at least a foot taller than herself. Back at the counter, Sakura paid for the clothes and then helped Ino put on the cloak and hat. They nodded goodbye to the tailor and went back outside, dismayed to find that it was shaping up to be a scorching afternoon. The additional clothes made Ino hot, but she couldn’t deny the relief of being shaded from the sun.

“Thank you so very much, Sakura, Ma’am.” Said Ino. “I can work off my debt to you as we travel if you wish.”

“That will not be necessary.”Sakura said. “Here, you should take this.” She fished around in her bag and handed Ino the pistol. Before Ino could hand it back, Sakura was already walking away.

“Ma’am, I can’t take this! Women should not…” Ino’s refusal was cut short as Sakura turned around, one eyebrow raised.

“Women should not do what, Ino?” Sakura was not mad, just questioning. She shifted the strap of her rifle and the stock shone in the sunlight. When Ino did not respond Sakura sighed.

“If the people in town do not want their women to be armed, that is not of my concern. But when we go out there,” Sakura said, gesturing past the town to the vast plain, “you must carry at least that pistol with you.” Her eyes grew dark. “The bandits and thieves do not care whether you are a man or a woman.” With that, she continued to walk out of the town. Ino ran to catch up to her and did not speak for a long while.

Part Three

After filling their canteens at the town pump, Sakura led Ino in the direction of her herd. Ino was intimidated by the prospect of leaving. The innkeeper had taken her in when she was no older than six, and she hadn’t wandered far from town since. Ino recognised the farmhouses surrounding the town, but was unable to distinguish one peice of flatland from the next. As they walked, Ino looked in her bag, noting that she now had food, pants, rope, and a knife. Ino refrained from asking Sakura about the knife, seeing how liberal she seemed to be about weapons. There were also other things in the bag, odds and ends that Ino guessed were for Sakura. She took a can of food out of the bag labeled ‘dehydrated eggs’. Ino supposed they could put the powder in water to eat it, but it didn’t seem a very good use of precious water. She shrugged and put the can back in the bag.

They walked for a while more, the dirt grinding under the heel of Ino’s boot. She could see a dust cloud shifting in the wake of Sakura, swirling aimlessly. Her new hat was helpful, but it couldn’t stop the heat from resting across her shoulders and back. A bead of sweat formed on the nape of Ino’s neck and she wiped it off. She was becoming more tired by the minute, but Sakura seemed no worse for wear. Her pink hair was left to fall out from under her hat, too short for a proper braid. Ino pulled her own braid over her shoulder and studied the loose strands. The blonde ends were frayed, but she liked the way her hair looked. Ino knew cutting it short would be cooler, but taking care of her long hair made her feel better. Brushing her hair was calming, and Ino’s ox bone comb had been a gift from her mother.

The sun sank lower in the sky and they continued on, no cows in sight.

“Sakura,” Asked Ino, “why is your herd so far away?” Sakura motioned to the town.

“I’ve had trouble with townspeople before. Young men’d run off with calves and such. I left them in a place that is more hidden.”

“You said we would be riding horses, why didn’t you just ride one of them into town?” Sakura didn’t answer right away and Ino sped up a bit so that they walked side-by-side.

“Wouldn’t it be faster to ride?” Ino asked. Sakura just shrugged. Ino couldn’t figure out where she had gone wrong. It was a simple question, and yet Sakura’s lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyes were focused on the horizon. Slightly off put by this response, Ino tried to change topics.

“Where’d you get that tattoo from?” She asked. “You know, the one you keep covered up half the time.”

“That’s none of your business.” Said Sakura, squaring her shoulders. Ino sighed and reached into her pack for water.

“I only meant that I think it looks pretty,” Ino unscrewed the cap of her canteen and took a sip. “It seems a shame to keep it hidden.” Ino offered the water to Sakura, who ignored her. Out of boredom, and to fill the silence, Ino continued to talk to Sakura’s cold shoulder.

“I have never seen such a nice tattoo as yours. Some of the Elrons used to mess around with inks and such but all they ended up doing was cutting themselves. Thinkin’ on those men seems like a waste of time if you ask me. They were always fallin’ over themselves to ask for my hand. That tall one, Johnson, was the strongest guy in town but you beat him easy! You coulda made money off betting if you wanted to.” Ino glanced back at the town, which was fading farhter away by the minute. “I’m glad you took me outta that town, an’ I’m glad you helped me out with Jake back there. He was really frightenin’ but you stood up to him no problem! I’ve never seen him go off like that. It was like a whole tornado or somethin’ was inside a him. But his feelin’s were surely because of my looks an’ not my opinions, otherwise he would have listened to me right quick when I told him no all those times. I’m sorry to be givin’ you so much trouble, Sakura. You prob’ly thought I would be able to pay for my own trip, but I turned out to be poorer’n a well during drought. An’ I had high hopes for me too, y’know? As a kid, I thought I would grow up to be one a those fancy hair trimmers, but I lost my folks and my home and now my job... Well, I’ll just have to find a job in the next town I suppose. And a house, too! I think having a house and a job would be a good way to be.” Ino wore herself out and quieted down, surprised to hear the deep sound of Sakura laughing.

“Where did all those words come from, Ino?” Sakura huffed. “You could barely string together a sentence back in town, and here you are, wearing out the wind.”

“I was just taken aback by all the hubbub today. First the fight, then I lost my job, then Jake did, well, whatever that was… I suppose it’s just freein’ to be away. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve got more words than cents.”

“I enjoy hearin’ you think. It has been just me out here for the longest time… as for your situation, I could not have left you there on the street. If payin’ for clothes an’ food keeps you from starving, I don’t overly mind the cost.”

“Thank you, Sakura.”

“You are welcome.”

The sky was just darkening as they finally near the herd. A gradual dip in the ground gave meager cover to an enormous group of cattle, over a hundred in number. Ino ran to the outcrop, overwhelmed by the mass of animals.

“Dear god. Do you manage these all by yourself?” Ino asked.

“There used to be others to help.” Sakura replied bluntly. Ino was frustrated by yet another short answer, but she let it slide. Sakura led Ino to the side of the herd and stopped, pointing at an indiscernible point near the middle of the group.

“We need to get to that point, do you think you can make it?” Sakura asked. Ino eyed the stomping hooves and chomping teeth of the nearest cow. Sakura saw her hesitation and held out her bag.

“Here.” She said. “If you can carry both my bag and yours, I will be free to clear our path.” Ino nodded and slung the pack over her shoulder, stumbling a bit at the weight. It was heavy, heavier than she had anticipated.

“What do you have in here, anyway?” Ino asked. “You must be stronger than these bulls if you can lug this around all day.”

“These aren’t bulls, Ino.” Sakura nudged a cow out of the way and began to step into the herd. “I put all of the bulls in the center so the females would stay close.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“I tried a bunch of things to keep them from getting lost. I even had them all tied to each other at one point, if you can believe it.” She laughed again, deeply and unabashedly. “You can’t even imagine the trouble that caused! A whole line of animals, all trying to go in different directions. Oh, it was real tough with nobody else to help.” Sakura pushed against a stubborn cow, exertion causing her to forget her need for secrecy. “I nearly died of exhaustion the day they… were no longer there.” The subject in question wasn’t specified; Ino could see the way Sakura’s mind was skipping over an important detail. “And I ran around trying to keep all the animals from getting lost! Like keeping this herd together would keep me from falling apart.” The muscles in Sakura’s shoulders bunched and twisted, heaving the cow to one side. Striding forward again, she remembered herself and got quiet.

“I can help you, ma’am.” Ino said. “I don’t know much about herding, but I’d like to learn. At least until we reach the next town.”

“Thank you, Ino. It’s much appreciated.”

By the time they reached the center of the group, both of them were panting with exertion. Ino thumped the bags onto the ground in relief and looked about. Sakura had put up two metal posts, one for bulls and one for horses. Long tethers connected each animal to the pole, and in the middle of the poles was a rough firepit and a pile of saddlebags. Ino sipped out of her canteen and counted. There were six bulls, all as far from each other as possible, and three horses. Sakura pointed to the bulls and laughed.

“When I first tied them up like that, they bickered for days. Each of them wanted all of the space, and none of them would share. After months of it, though, they’ve learned that it’s easier to be quiet that lock horns.”

“They don’t look that calm to me.” Said Ino, positioning her pack on the side closer to the horses.

“Well, this is nothin’ for them. You might have seen a few bar fights, but a bullfight is a different matter. Here, help me start the fire.” Ino fished flint and steel from Sakura’s pack while Sakura went to gather fuel. She returned, laden with dung wrapped in prairie grass, and Ino coaxed a flame to life. The sunset made the surrounding prairie seem golden, a wave of shimmering stalks. When the fire was steady, Sakura pulled out strips of died beef and offered them to Ino.