#i gotta investigate but if anyone knows where i could watch the movie or something lmk^^ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flamencodiva · 4 years ago

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Hunter Encyclopedia: 2 in the Morning

Description: Y/N has traveled the world and faced every kind of monster imaginable which is why the nickname Hunter Encyclopedia, or H.E. for short has stuck. She grew up in the hunting business and knew all about the Winchesters and read the Carver Edlund books before they came to ask her for help. Sam is the researcher and Dean is the action man, or at least that is what she thought, but could she have been wrong?

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventual), Sam x Reader (Platonic Friendship)

Warnings: Supernatural level Violence.

A/N: written for @spndeanbingo

Square filled: 2 in the Morning

Word Count: 6717

This is also for @supernatural-jackles Bi-weekly Challenge.

Prompts I used: I dare you to kiss me and I don’t owe you an explanation

A/N 2: Border by @talesmaniac89 Beta’d by @emoryhemsworth and a special thanks to @waywardbeanie for the amazing summary!

Dean paced at the foot of the motel beds with his cell phone in his hands. It had been a few weeks since he talked to Y/N “Hunter Encyclopedia” Y/L/N. Even after the conversation they had last time they met, she still seemed to put Dean in a very peculiar box. It annoyed the elder hunter when Sam would get a phone call from her asking about specific research topics she would need, but never seemed to ask about him. Honestly, what made him hesitate to call was how she would react to it, but right now he and Sam were desperate.

Right now they were dealing with some form of Chinese monster that they stumbled upon. Dean got excited because the witness they were talking to had said the word Mogwai. The first thing that popped into Dean’s head was the movie Gremlins, but he had to be careful. He, more than anyone else, knew that sometimes stories changed over time. Naturally, one only had to look at the vampire lore to know that garlic did jack shit to them. Lifting his head from the phone in his hand, he looked at the clock on one of the motel nightstands.

2:00 am

Would she even be awake? If she was a hunter, most likely, but could he really risk calling her and waking her up from the rest she needed? He could feel Sam’s eyes on him before the movement made Dean turn his head.

“Don’t you dare,” he called out, finger pointing at his younger brother. “I’m going to call, I just need to know what to tell her.”

“You mean you need to figure out how you’re going to flirt with her,” Sam sighed as he flipped the page of the book he was reading. “Can you just call her and tell her we have an unknown Chinese monster and so far all we got is the word Mogwai?”

“I was not thinking of a way to flirt with her, I just… shut up,” Dean huffed. “I know what I need to say so I’ll call her,” he declared looking down at his phone once the screen awoke from its slumber.

Sam watched as Dean started the call, placing his phone to his ear. The younger Winchester couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of how his older brother was acting. It was rare to see Dean stumble over a girl, let alone someone who brushed him off easily. Sam chuckled when Dean’s back straightened. He figured that Y/N answered his call.

“Y/N, Dean Winchester,” Dean said as he smiled brightly. “Sorry for calling so late, Sam and I—” Sam watched as he paused and tilted his head in amusement. “Is that the Thundercats theme song?” Dean sounded like a kid being told he was getting ice cream. “Right, sorry, I just—yeah, about my call…Sam is a bit tied up at the moment, we have a very strange case going on.” Sam shook his head as Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hard to explain, I think it’d be great if you could meet us where we are.”

“Dean, if you could describe what’s going on it would save me the trip,” Y/N’s voice rang in Dean’s ear. He could hear the hesitation in her voice at meeting up with them again.

“Y/N, we really need fresh eyes on this. I mean, all we got is one word out of one of the witnesses, an elderly Asian man,” Dean turned his back on Sam and bit his lip. “I’m not sure what it means or how to even say it, the guy spelled it out in Chinese,” he lied through his teeth.

“I mean, my Chinese isn’t the best,” he heard her sigh. “You know you can send me the picture of the word and I can have an expert look it up for you if you can’t find one.”

God, she was being difficult.

“Y/N,” Dean practically whined, “Sam and I could really use your help here. You helped us out with Ladon, you were quick on your feet,” Dean pleaded. “We could really use you. I mean, what better team could you have to hunt an unknown Chinese monster than the Winchesters and the Human Encyclopedia, Y/N Y/L/N, huh?”

“Dean,” he heard her all but whimper. “Fine,” she gave in, “give me your location, but so help me, if this is information you could have just given me over the phone I will kick you in your balls.”

“Come on,” Dean chuckled, “you know you’re dying to get to know the real me, I can tell. Besides, who says we can’t have a fun little adventure figuring this thing out? You can write about it in your journal for future generations to find.”

“I’d prefer it if this ended up as artifacts of things we never have to do anymore,” she grumbled. “Hunting is not something I would wish on even my worst enemy.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “You have a heart of gold, sweetheart,” he licked his lips. “Sam and I are in LA. Seems this thing decided to hit up Chinatown,” Dean let out a soft chuckle. “You know they have great food here, not to mention all the iconic places.”

“Are you asking me to be there for a hunt or to treat me like a tourist?” she asked.

Dean heard when she stopped packing her things to go join them.

“The hunt, of course!” Dean scoffed in mock offense, “After we take this thing down we can just kick back a bit and enjoy the scenery, you, Sam, and me,” he croaked out pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh,” she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay, I guess hanging out with friends once this hunt is successful sounds fun.”

Dean could hear the hesitation in her voice but stifled the groan at the fact that he had to include Sam in their outing. He turned to glance at Sam and waved his arms while his brother mouthed what? at him and shook his head. Dean put his finger to his lips, signaling Sam to stay quiet as he continued his conversation with Y/N. He gave her their current location with the hope that they would see her tomorrow since it was already past 2 am. Knowing that Y/N was coming made Dean a bit more relaxed.

“Come on,” he sighed before shedding his jacket, button-up shirt, and t-shirt to get ready for bed. “We should get some shut-eye before Y/N gets here tomorrow. Maybe we can talk to some more people and see if we can figure some things out on our own.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed, “why did you ask her to come? We could have—”

“You saw how she helped us with the Greek monster case,” Dean reminded him. “She’s a valuable asset and she can help us in a tight pinch! She helped your ass when the nymphs got a hold of you.”

“True,” Sam smiled, “but then that would mean they liked me more than you. Night, jerk.”

Dean scoffed. “They didn’t like you more than me, they saw me and knew they couldn’t entrap me,” Dean muttered. “Night, bitch.”

Later that same day, after Dean and Sam got at least four hours of good rest, the brothers continued with their investigation. So far, Sam had been able to acquire a book on Mogwai, and unfortunately for Sam, it was all in Chinese.

“Good thing Y/N’s on her way, right?” Dean smiled at Sam, who seemed to have a scowl on his face. “What?”

“Dean,” Sam turned to face his brother. “What are we going to do once she gets here? I mean, we know the name of the damn thing. I can find a professor and you can call Y/N and tell her not to come.”

“Not to come? Sam, we need her,” Dean said as he raised an eyebrow. “She could be an extra set of eyes.”

“Why do you want her here so bad?” Sam asked, crossing his arms.

“She’s a good hunter, and she helped us out the last time we went up against something we didn’t know about. I mean, do you know what a Mogwai is?”

“No,” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, “but it’s not that hard to figure out. I mean, I can research!”

“Awwwww,” Dean mocked, “are you jealous that I’m calling H.E. for help?”

“H.E.?” Sam asked.

“Short for ‘“Hunter Encyclopedia,” Dean shrugged. “I mean, you’re still going to do the thing you love, but she’s coming in as a fresh pair of eyes. Besides, we know she travels all over the world, so why not have her help us out?”

Sam sighed and looked over at Dean. “You’re right, she can help us out.”

“Knew you’d see it my way,” Dean leaned over and gave his brother a playful punch on the shoulder. “Let’s head back to the motel with the book and grab some food. I’m starving.”

Sam stayed silent as they made their way back, but as they got closer, he noticed the familiar car. With a smirk, he slapped Dean on his chest and pointed to the compact 2005 Honda Civic. Dean rolled his eyes at the car. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, not in the slightest, it was just something he never thought a hunter would ever drive, let alone someone like Y/N. He would have pegged her for a convertible girl, a nice Mustang in her favorite color. Dean reached under his seat and pulled out a small package, ignoring Sam’s call as he made his way towards the grey Civic.

Dean adjusted his jacket and knocked on the window watching as Y/N rolled it down. “Gotta say, H.E., I never pegged you as one to drive a Japanese sardine can,” he chuckled softly. “How about I take you out to a car lot after we gank whatever this is and get you a real car?”

“Compared to your very sexy car,” Y/N smiled, “I don’t have to stop every few miles to gas up. Are you going to let me get out or keep leaning on my door all day?”

Dean jumped back slightly and blushed in embarrassment, the package he had for her behind his back. “Sorry,” he waited for her to close the window and climb out of the car. “Gotta say, I didn’t really expect you to get here until tomorrow. You okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed as she turned around to flip her chair forward to reach for her bag, missing the way Dean tilted his head as he checked out her ass. “I sorta drove as fast as I could to get here, kinda stayed up all night.”

“Shit, Y/N,” Dean cursed as he reached for her bag. “You can stay with us in our room. You should take a nap.”

Y/N shook her head stifling a soft yawn. “This is nothing. I’ve done all-nighters before, and you said it was urgent.”

Dean kicked himself mentally for doing this. Maybe Sam was right, maybe he should have just told her what they had found and sent her pictures of the text.

“Were you on a hunt?” Dean asked curiously.

“More like hunting for more artifacts,” Y/N sighed. “Got a tip on some more resources and books on some ancient things. I do have a trip to Turkey planned in the next couple of months. I have a contact who says he got some information on a different kind of Djinn, a real-life Genie. They’re not the ones we encounter here, but they seem more like a dying breed than anything else.”

“So they actually grant wishes?” Dean asked as he led her to their room. “Because I can say I was captured by𑁋”

“Djinn, yeah, I heard. How was that? I mean, I know they put you in an induced dream state that reflects your innermost desires,” she started to ramble, “but I know other Djinns induce fear and panic or just give you a recurring nightmare.”

“You could say that,” Dean sighed as he placed her bag on his bed. “You can use my bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No, I can take the couch. I don’t want to take your bed away𑁋”

“You’re not, I promise.” Dean held up his hand and walked over to the small table, placing the package on top of it. “You go ahead and nap, Sam and I will order food and show you what we found.”

Y/N nodded reluctantly and let Dean help her into his bed. Something about the way the huntress curled up onto the pillow had Dean yearning to caress her cheek, but he thought better of it. They were just starting to become friends, he didn’t want her to think that she was a conquest. Then again, he wouldn’t mind if he was able to steal a few kisses from her, or more. Dean was amazed at how fast she fell asleep.

Dean and Sam ordered Chinese food from a local place close by, making sure to save some for Y/N for when she woke up. It didn’t take long for the aroma of food to rouse the sleeping huntress.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean joked. “Sleep okay?”

Y/N simply nodded as she let out a small groan and stretched. Dean couldn’t help but bite his lower lip at how adorable she looked, her hair a mess, and her shirt slightly askew. With one last stretch and a roll of her neck and shoulders, Y/N got up from the bed and made her way towards the table where Dean helped her to her seat. He offered her a container of food, which she happily accepted while grabbing a pair of chopsticks to use.

Sam and Dean seemed to have a silent conversation as she ate. She could feel the tension building between the brothers. She had read countless times how the brothers seemed to be able to have a telepathic conversation. She could tell it was from years of having to take care of each other. Y/N, on the other hand, never had siblings. She’d always been alone, having to fend for herself. Her father didn’t get into hunting later as John Winchester did, he was bred for it. Her mother was killed by a shifter pretending to be him, which led him on a crusade to end all the shifters he could.

Her father every now and then remembered he had a daughter who needed him. Not to say he didn’t have his moments, but Y/N learned to be compliant and become a good soldier. The way he spoke of her mother and the heartbreak he endured caused her to turn to books and lore for solace. It also helped keep her father alive when she found information that he could use to his advantage.

After swallowing a few mouthfuls of food, Y/N put down the container and took a sip of the beer Dean had placed in front of her. “So, what have you got so far in terms of information?” she asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, you guys are having trouble identifying the thing right? Are there any characteristics that you can tell me? Things that this thing might do that seem like a habit?”

“Oh, it’s called a Mogwai,” Sam said before his smile fell and he looked over at Dean who was ready to murder him.

“Really?” Y/N turned to look at Dean and raised her eyebrow at him. “How did you figure it out?”

“Well, H.E., you see,” Dean let out a small nervous chuckle, “we were coming back from talking to more people and found someone who could translate the word we got,” he let out beautifully, mentally patting himself in the back for being so smooth. “I mean, I was going to call you when we got back but then, well𑁋” he broke off and motioned to the bed and smiled.

“Right,” Y/N gave him a suspicious glare and nodded while clicking her tongue, “ you know it’s a thing called a Mogwai, so what does it do?”

“We don’t know,” Sam spoke up. “So far we’ve come across a shit ton of mischievous encounters and accidents that don’t seem normal.”

“Okay,” Y/N turned to Sam and smiled, “did you guys find anything useful on your second go-around with witnesses?”

“We found a book,” Sam answered, getting up from his chair and walking over to the bag on his bed and procuring the book. “We can’t really read it because it’s all in Chinese.”

“You know,” Y/N said as she turned to Dean, “you owe me big time for getting me out here. You know you guys are more than capable of handling this thing on your own.”

“Y/N, come on!” Dean whined. “You know as well as I do that if it wasn’t for your sharp senses Sam would be under the influence of nymphs and Ladon would have made me his dinner if I went to attack him head-on.”

“Dean𑁋”

“Y/N, what’s so wrong with you giving us a bit of extra hunter power, huh?” Dean asked, giving her a slightly pleading look.

Y/N tilted her head at Dean before shifting her attention to Sam and giving him a silent look. When Sam shrugged she sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed at her temples. When she opened her eyes she gave a nod and stood from her seat, grabbing the container and chopsticks. Dean watched as she paced at the foot of the two beds, shoveling the food into her mouth. Her face was pensive, different from when they had to hunt Ladon.

“Fine,” she let out, “I will help you out.” She pointed to Dean before speaking again. “The only reason why I am helping you is that for some reason, some of these monsters from outside the States seem to be coming here, and since I have been traveling quite a bit recently, I can be useful in getting things straightened out.”

Dean happily slapped the table and let out a small cheer. “Yes! Thank you! See, you hunting with us, we are going to make an awesome team!”

“Winchester,” Y/N shook her head and placed her now empty container in the trash before turning to the green-eyed hunter. “You are not to call me for Shifters, Vamps, Rugarus, Werewolves, Djinns, Vetala, Leviathan, or any other supernatural creature that I know you know how to gank.”

By the end of her list, Y/N had walked over to him, poking his chest with every creature she named. Dean couldn’t help but swallow thickly as he gazed into her eyes. There was something there, he could see it, but he wasn’t sure what it was. When she backed away, Dean let out a sigh of relief. He continued to observe her as she went to her bag and began ruffling through it. Y/N had taken out her scanner, a portable printer, her laptop, and her battered up, almost full journal.

“Okay, do you have anything that I may need to scan to try to run it through my translator app on my laptop?” She asked looking at Sam. “I can’t guarantee success, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam snapped out of his trance having watched her handle his brother. “A guy gave us this book; he said it would tell us what we needed to know about the Mogwai.”

“You know,” Dean let out trying to join the conversation, “that damn name sounds familiar to me.”

“What? Mogwai?” Y/N let out a scoff. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize it. It’s what the fluffy gremlin was named in the movie Gremlins.”

“Holy shit! That’s it!” Dean clapped his hands. “So is it anything like the movie? I mean, what, uh𑁋no getting it wet or feeding it after midnight right?”

“Not everything is like the movie genius,” Y/N almost sneered before taking a deep breath. “Look, it might be the same thing, there could be some truth to it, but who knows.”

Dean was taken a bit aback at her tone and licked his lips, bowing his head. “So what do you need?”

“Why?” Y/N asked him as she looked up from her laptop. “From you? Nothing, Sam and I’ve got it.”

“Don’t do this again, Y/N,” Dean groaned. “I can help.”

“Can you read Cantonese?” She asked, leaning back in her chair and raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, but Sam can’t either,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but Sam knows his way around a good computer program,” Y/N shot back trying to get back to setting up her program.

“Hey,” Dean slammed his hand on the table making her jump, “I’ll have you know I was shown how to hack and how to look through back doors by one of the best hackers I knew. His name was Frank, and he helped us stay low when the Leviathans were after us.”

“I heard about that,” Y/N couldn’t help but smirk at his attempt to be helpful, “but this isn’t hacking. If you want to help, do you think once the pages are printed and translated you can start reading?”

“I𑁋yeah, I can do that! I mean, I can read,” Dean let out before groaning in embarrassment.

Y/N reached over and patted his cheek. “I know you can, big guy, you must be so proud.”

Dean frowned and shot Sam an angry glare when he let out a laugh before coughing to try and hide it. Dean watched as Y/N put Sam to work scanning the pages of the book and waiting for the translated pages to pop up.

“Okay, I’m not going to waste what little paper I have. Once I see the word, I’ll start printing,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes.

It took an hour before Dean heard the printer come to life and start printing. Once the page was done, Y/N reached over and held it out to Dean.

“It won’t bite,” she let out, “just don’t expect me to keep handing you the pages. I need to do my own reading to make sure I’m giving you the right pages.”

Dean nodded as he took the page and began reading. For the most part, it gave a history of the different Chinese legends. He smiled when he read the next paragraph.

“Looks like there was some truth to how the movie went,” he said. “Listen to this: ‘The Mogwai is a demon that reproduces during the rainy season but is careful not to reproduce when it rains as to not bring good fortune. It likes to cause mischief and self-destruction upon any unsuspecting humans they find as their prey.’”

“Okay, so the whole thing about getting wet is because they don’t want to bring good luck while they screw?” Y/N said as she nodded. “Okay, anything on where they might hang out?”

“Sounds like it’s in every monster’s favorite place to hide,” Dean said with a smile, “any place dark and dank.”

“We’re in LA,” Y/N scoffed, “might as well say the whole city is its playground.”

“Well, let’s not waste time,” Dean said grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go and find it in Chinatown,” he suggested. “I mean, it’s where everything has been going wrong.”

The trio had left the motel room heading right back to Chinatown for their search. It took another few hours before they found the demon: a woman with red eyes and sharp teeth, her ears pointy and her fingers long. Y/N and Dean both used the idea that fire could kill it, much like the gremlins in the movie. Once it was over, Dean pulled Sam aside and cleared his throat.

“Okay, you are going to go back to the motel room and Y/N and I are going to stay out and hang out,” Dean said to Sam, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“What? Why?” Sam asked, tilting his head in confusion, “I want to hang out with Y/N too!”

“You two will have plenty of time to talk later,” Dean insisted, “so just tell her you’re not feeling too hot after I suggest we go out and explore the city.”

“You want me to lie to her?” Sam said in disbelief. “You know she could have helped us over the phone and you dragged her here for what? Because you want her to not have this ‘man whore’ image of you?”

“Tell ‘er you’ve got a tummy ache,” Dean suggested giving his brother a pleading look.

“A tummy ache, Dean? I’m not saying that.” Sam gave his brother his best bitchface.

Dean ran a hand across his face before putting both hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Then tell her you’ve got intestinal distress, something, man! Tell her you can’t go!” He gave Sam a pleading look. “Please? Sam come on, let me just have alone time with her. If I’m going to have a chance to show her that I’m more than just a ruggedly handsome face, I need to spend time with her, please.”

Sam looked at Dean’s face and sighed. His brother clearly had a thing for the huntress that had been given the title Encyclopedia. It was one of the few times Sam had seen Dean desperate to impress a girl.

“Fine,” he conceded, “but you fucking owe me, big time.”

“Absolutely!” Dean agreed, “But for now, you need to vamoose!”

Sam gave Dean a smile shaking his head before turning to Y/N and saying his goodbyes. Dean wasn’t sure what Sammy had said, but he could see Y/N’s face grow with concern.

“So, since Sammy is going back to rest,” Dean offered her a smile, “want to find a good place to hang out, eat some good food and drink?”

“I appreciate it, but I should head back and pack,” she turned to walk away from him. “Thanks for this, it was fun.”

Dean ran after her. “Whoa, wait there H.E.,” he said, cutting off her path and putting his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong with one drink, an arcade game, or a midnight snack?”

“I𑁋” Y/N looked into his eyes and could see he really wanted her to stay. “I guess it could give me a chance to know the real you. I mean,” she offered him a small smile, “you did recognize the theme song to Thundercats, so I’m sure we can talk about a few things.”

“See,” Dean pointed out, “this is the perfect opportunity for us to talk and you can know the real me.”

The two of them walked down around Chinatown before finding a Korean barbecue spot that was open. The conversation flowed and they talked about their favorite books to read, To Y/N’s surprise, aside from Vonnegut and Tolstoy, Dean actually had an extensive collection of books.

“So how come no one knows this side of you?” She asked as she grabbed her chopsticks to pick up a piece of meat that was grilling between them.

Dean gave a shrug before downing the soju Y/N had served him. “I mean, I never really thought about it. I always tried to make sure Sam was the smart one. School for me was just a placeholder until I could hunt,” he said, grabbing a piece of meat from the grill. “I tried, don’t get me wrong, but then we’d move again and I’d have to start over and it just wasn’t my thing. I like being the cool guy, you know?”

“I get that,” she nodded, “but who said you can’t be the cool guy and smart?”

“You got a point there,” Dean said. “At the same time, I don’t really see myself doing anything else but hunting.”

“Yeah, I hear you there,” she knocked back her own shot of soju and hissed as the liquid was warm going down her throat. “I mean, I dove into my books because it was all I thought I was good for, that and my dad didn’t want me to end up like my mom. I𑁋” she paused and offered him a smile, “you’re lucky to have Sam, and he’s lucky to have you.”

“No siblings?” Dean asked and frowned when she shook her head.

“It sucks I know, but Dad really did try his best. I mean, he wasn’t perfect, but he tried.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she stared at the hot burning coals through the metal grate.

Dean rushed over to her side and pulled her in for a hug. “I know better than anyone about dads and their revenge kicks,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” she echoed and pulled away, “thanks.”

“So,” Dean decided to change the subject, “play any video games?”

That threw them into a conversation about arcades and about trying to get as many prizes from the crane machine and learning all the different tricks to win. Y/N was letting go a little more around him, the handsome hunter who she never thought she could ever talk to, yet here she was swapping stories and having a good time. The conversation turned to hunting and Y/N was laughing at a few of Dean’s stories.

“So your brother is closing up the grave and he𑁋” she stopped to giggle.

“He split his pants open, yup,” Dean chuckled. “Needless to say, I took a nice picture of it. I had to, it’s blackmail material.”

“Of course it is,” Y/N laughed.

Dean turned to look at her and his heart pounded in his chest. The way she put her whole body into it as she laughed really had him feeling something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something about Y/N that had him wanting to spend more time with her.

“I dare you to kiss me,” he said with a cocky smirk and a wink. “See if any of the stories gave you the right info about how I kiss.”

Y/N let out a snort, turning her face to hide the blush that rose in her cheeks. She blamed the soju for that. When she turned to face Dean, his face was slightly closer to her. Lifting her hand, she playfully pushed it away with a giggle. “You’re such a dork,” she let out shaking her head. “I’m not going to kiss you. Besides, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“Who says I don’t?” Dean asked as he smirked at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes before pointing to Dean and saying, “Fred Jones,” then pointed to herself, “Velma Dinkley.” She poured herself another small shot of soju. “We had this discussion before, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Dean chuckled, “but I think you’re wrong.” Dean poured himself some more soju and smiled. “You really know how to kill a guy who’s trying.”

“Trying to what?” Y/N snorted, grabbing another piece of meat from the hot grill before placing some more on it.

“Trying to have a chance of getting a date?” Dean said casually and quickly moved to pat her back when she started coughing. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded, swatting him away. She must have heard wrong; there was no way that Dean Winchester wanted to go out on a date with her. Her, the nerd of all nerds. The nerd whose head was filled with nothing but brainy information that would turn any guy away. She looked over at Dean, whose green eyes seemed to be awaiting an answer. It was a joke, right? So Y/N did the only thing she could, laugh.

Dean raised his eyebrow in confusion. She was laughing? What was so funny about what he said?

“Sorry,” she let out after her laughter subsided, “it just sounded like you were trying to ask me out?”

“I, um,” Dean gave her an awkward smile, “I was. I mean, is the idea that funny?”

His words sobered her up really quickly. “Oh, oh gosh,” she covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.” Putting her hands down, she seemed to be focusing on a spot on the table. “That’s a bad idea.”

“To go out with me? Why?” Dean asked, “I mean, we’re out right now.”

“Yeah, as hunting partners, celebrating a hunt that was successful,” she pointed out. “Look, I agreed to get to know you so that I could shed the misconceptions I had about you, but right now, you seem to be trying to prove me right.”

“What?” Dean tilted his head in confusion. “Me asking you out on a date is proving the misconceptions right? How?”

“Look, you’re a flirt by nature and I can’t fault you for that,” she grabbed a glass full of water and took a huge gulp, “but right now, you flirting with me is,” she took a small pause, “let’s just say that we are not each other’s type.”

Dean let out a small scoff, shoulder slumping forward. “You’re still thinking that I’m just a playboy, huh?”

Y/N swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat, “I don’t owe you an explanation, that’s how it is sometimes Dean,” she grabbed her wallet from her bag and pulled a few bills from it.

“Put it away, it’s on me,” Dean said as he placed his hand on hers forcing her to put away her wallet. “Look, I will tone the flirting down if I need to but, I do want to be your friend Y/N,” he looked up at her.

“Dean,” she found herself staring into his eyes. She couldn’t help but get lost in them. She could swear there was a small glint in his eyes, but she was imagining things. “Friends is all I can do. I’ve been burned before.”

“You tell me who he is and I can guarantee I can kick his ass,” Dean offered with a smile.

“That’s sweet, Fred,” she smiled back at him. “All I can say is that he used me for nothing more than my brains and said that my looks were nothing compared to the other huntresses he’s been with.”

“Yeah, he’s a douche,” Dean huffed. “I can promise you, H.E.𑁋” he paused and snapped his fingers shaking his head, “nope, you called me Fred, only fair I call you Velma,” he declared. “Velma, I can promise you that, and I am totally saying this as a friend, you are beautiful, and if you let me I could be your wingman!”

“My wingman?” she raised her eyebrow at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? I can filter out the assholes from the good guys,” Dean said. “I mean, you’ve read Chuck’s account of me. Tell me, has he ever written me as some of the douches you know?”

Y/N thought for a moment, and he was right: every story she read, every account she had heard all pointed to Dean being a playboy, but never in any of the stories did she ever hear of Dean treating a woman with disrespect. In fact, in some of her travels, she had encountered girls who had Dean for one night and they all said the same thing: he was a gentleman the whole night and a god in the sheets.

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded. “I’m not really looking for anything. I mean, you know this life, it’s not very conducive for having a healthy relationship.”

Dean couldn’t help but nod at that. “Yeah, I know, but doesn’t mean we have to hide and hole ourselves away from having some fun, right?”

Y/N had to laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess we should head back to the motel. I hope Sam is doing okay. Kind of sad he missed out.”

“Yeah, he’s got a very weak constitution,” Dean sighed. “Poor guy eats healthy just to keep his body from falling apart, unlike me,” he gave her his best Dean Winchester smoulder. “I’m just stronger and fitter. It’s why the ladies love me.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Y/N muttered.

“Why, Velma,” Dean acted in mock surprise, “are you saying you find me attractive?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and bumped her hip with his. “Shut up, Fred.”

When they got to the motel, Dean let Y/N change in the bathroom while he changed out in the room. Sam was laying in bed and awoke when they arrived.

“So, what happened?” Sam asked as he sat up.

“We talked,” Dean shrugged, “got to understand one another. We’re friends. Oh, and I hope you can still feel that tummy ache in the morning because you do have a weak constitution, Mr. Health Nut,” Dean said as he gave his brother a pat on the shoulder before grabbing an extra blanket and a pillow from Sam’s bed and made his way to the couch.

“What? Dean, you𑁋” Sam stopped mid-sentence when the door to the bathroom opened and Y/N walked out.

“Hey Sam, are you still feeling sick?” She asked softly, giving him a warm smile.

“Had some ginger tea, so I’m feeling slightly better,” he forced out with a thin-lipped smile.

“We should get some sleep, I have a long drive back home and I’m sure you guys have somewhere to be,” she climbed into the bed and laid down to sleep.

The next morning as they packed their things, Dean couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. There was just something about her that Dean just couldn’t put his finger on. Sure she was easy on the eyes, but there was something else, something that kept nagging him about the way she talked badly about herself. Shaking off his thoughts, he finished packing the last of his things and zipped up his bag.

“So I guess you head to Turkey in a few days, huh?” He asked, walking over towards her once she zipped up her bag.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “but I’m sure I’ll be able to grab some good information and artifacts to bring back,” she smiled brightly, her voice giving off a hint of excitement.

“If I wasn’t afraid of flying I’d definitely love to join you,” Dean said. “I mean, it’s the Mediterranean, so I’d love to see if you know how to belly dance,” he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows, earning a smack on his chest from her.

“Can you turn off the charm for two seconds?” She let out a soft giggle.

“Nah,” Dean shook his head, “I wouldn’t be me if I did.”

“Touché,” she muttered. “I’ll see you guys around,” Y/N said as she was about to turn to climb into her car when she stopped and turned back to poke a finger to Dean’s chest. “Remember our deal, only monsters that you have never hunted before mister.”

“I’ll try,” Dean shrugged. “I make no guarantees. I might just want to hang out with you again.”

Y/N rolled her eyes leaving Dean to chuckle by himself as he watched her climb into her car. Once she had started to pull away from the parking lot, he turned to the Impala and Sam who was leaning against the car waving at Y/N who waved back.

“So, are you finally going to call her just to talk or will you only call her when you need her help again?” Sam asked, earning him a punch.

“Baby steps, Sammy,” he sighed, “baby steps.”

Watching the Honda Civic turn away from the motel, Dean found himself itching to call her again. He already missed the sound of her voice and the way her eyes shined when she was excited about a hunt. He swore to himself that he would call her the next day, even if it was just to check in. After all, the way to build a friendship was to take baby steps.

HE: Impala

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fromiftowhen · 4 years ago

Text

fic: my offering is true (an Upstead one-shot)

For the fifth day of the @upsteadofficial Christmas prompt challenge -- HOLIDAY TRADITIONS.

Rated T | 2860 words | Title from Offering by The Avett Brothers.

“So what's the plan for next week?”

She pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Um. Work? I don't know?”

He shakes his head. “I mean for Christmas, Hailey. I know it'll look different this year, but what do you normally do?”

She shrugs and sets down her fork. “Pre-pandemic? I dunno. Work, usually? Some years I’d get Chinese food on Christmas Eve, hang out with friends who weren't spending the year with their family.”

“Okay,” he says. “Chinese food is good.”

“We don't have to-- we can do something else.”

It's their first Christmas together, and he knows it's a weird year to start spending holidays together. Huge parties are a no-go, and besides their coworkers, they haven't spent much time outside the house as a couple.

(Being cooped up inside the majority of the time has its benefits, and he's not ever gonna complain about it, but.)

But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about Christmas with Hailey, waking up in the morning with her, snow covering the windows, exchanging gifts over Christmas breakfast in bed.

“I love Chinese food,” he tells her, grinning. “I've just gotta FaceTime Will after we eat, and I'll be good.”

“Now?” She asks, and he laughs.

“No, on Christmas Eve. It's a thing. No matter where we both were or how much we might have not liked each other all the time, we've always found a way to talk. It's a tradition, or whatever.”

She glances down at her plate for a moment, and when she looks back up, he catches just a hint of sadness she couldn’t quite cover in time. “That’s nice,” is all she says, but the look sticks with him.

——————————

He doesn’t bring it up again until later in the week, when her legs are still tangled with his and their breathing is coming back to normal, early in the morning.

He runs a hand up and down her arm gently. “You really don’t go home for Christmas?”

“I am home,” she says quietly.

“No, I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, you don’t go see your parents, your brothers?”

Her hair tickles his chest as she shakes her head. “No. By the time I was old enough to realize Santa was just my mom, up late at night alone, wrapping gifts after my dad passed out, I had a hard time getting in the family spirit. And my brothers have their own things going on now,” she says. “Normally I’d see them later in the week. I guess I’ll just call them this year.”

He nods.

“What about you?”

He laughs softly. The holidays were never the same after his mom passed away, after he and Will got busy with their own lives. “Will and I would go see my dad every year we could, he’d give us a six-pack of beer to split, we’d eat some steak, call it a day. We didn’t do gifts after my mom.”

Her arm wraps around his chest and her lips press against his skin, but she doesn’t say anything.

——————————

“Do you have any good memories from when you were little, things you did on Christmas that you loved?”

They’re in his truck, surveilling a suspect a couple of days before Christmas Eve. The sun is setting, and when she glances over at him, there’s a halo of light framing her face.

“What’s with you and Christmas this year? We’ve never talked about it this much.”

He shrugs.

She side-eyes him for a moment, but relents. “On Christmas Eve, my mom would bake cookies. You know, like for Santa. She and my dad would drink eggnog and we’d all eat cookies and read ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas in front of the fire. I think I fell asleep in front of the fire most years. I guess that’s the best memory.”

“That’s nice,” he whispers.

She nods, smiling. “It was. What about you?”

He thinks back to being little, trying to quietly creep down the stairs after his mom had put him and Will to bed, anticipation aching in his chest for the next morning.

“Will and I used to try to see who could stay up the latest and wait for Santa,” he laughs. “Will always swore he heard sleigh bells or whatever, and we could never agree on who fell asleep first, but it was totally always him.”

“Little Halstead brothers competing against each other, I’m shocked,” she says, her smile bright.

He leans over and presses a kiss to her cheek quickly, something they don’t usually let themselves do in public while working.

“What was that for?” She asks, but her fingers drag over his knee slowly, and she smiles.

“Just ‘cause,” he says. “I’m just excited for Christmas for the first time in a long time.”

Her smile this time is slow, and it really feels like he earned it. “Yeah, me too.”

——————————

She wasn’t lying. She’s excited for Christmas in a way she hasn’t been since maybe those nights around the fire with her family as a young kid, and Jay is the biggest part of that. She wants to eat Chinese food in front of a cheesy Christmas movie with him and fall asleep only after they’re both exhausted.

Except, of course, because it’s 2020, things don’t go as planned at all.

The suspect they were surveilling ends up being a bigger piece of the puzzle than anyone thought, and by the time Christmas Eve rolls around, their investigation has turned into a Title 3 wire that has to start immediately.

Kevin and Adam spend the morning getting everything in place, setting surveillance, and she, Jay, and Kim get everything in place in the tech room.

By late afternoon, Voight tells them he’ll need two of them to stay overnight and cover the wire, he doesn’t care which two, but it’s Christmas, don’t fight.

When Voight leaves, she looks over at Jay and nods toward the break room. When he meets her in front of the sink, she sighs.

“I know,” is all he says.

“It’s just… Kevin’s sister quarantined for two weeks so she could come to spend Christmas with him, and Kim is going to her sister’s, and Adam dresses up as Santa for his nephew every year,” she says.

His fingers find hers at the edge of the counter. “Hailey, it’s fine. I just wanted to spend Christmas with you. If it’s gotta be like this, we’ll make do.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, come on.”

Kim hugs her, quick and tight when they tell them all to leave, and Jay grins before calling goodbye to “Santa” as Adam gathers his stuff.

“Dude, Hailey,” Adam groans. “Just because you saw the Santa suit in my closet one time doesn’t mean you can tell everyone that story.”

“Bro, you own the suit? That’s so much better, thanks for that detail,” Jay calls, and laughter follows Adam, Kim, and Kevin down the stairs.

Voight leaves a while later, with a promise to be back in the morning to check-in. By the time they’re settling into the tech room, it’s almost 7, and her stomach is rumbling.

“Hey,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I know this isn’t the Christmas we planned on, but can we still get Chinese? My treat. I’m hungry.”

“Read my mind,” he says, handing over his phone for her to order, the website of their favorite place already open.

——————————

By the time the food gets there and they eat, they’re a couple of hours into the wire. His phone beeps as they’re cleaning up their food, and he glances down to see a text from Will.

“Hey, are you good here for a few minutes? Will’s got a couple of free minutes now.”

She nods, and he leans over to press a kiss to her temple. “Back soon.”

“Tell Best Halstead hi,” she calls over her shoulder to him, grinning.

He settles down onto the couch in the breakroom and dials Will’s number, his brother’s stupid red hair the first thing he sees in the low light of the doctor’s lounge.

“Hey,” Will says. “Where is your significantly better better-half?”

He rolls his eyes. “If you couldn’t tell by the breakroom, we’re still at work. We caught a pretty big case, so she and I are working the night shift. She says hey.”

“Dude, that sucks.”

He shrugs. “At least we’re together,” he says. “Plans changed, but… 2020, right?”

Will nods. “What were your plans?”

He glares at the screen, raising an eyebrow. “Bro.”

Will laughs. “Ugh, never mind.”

Jay shrugs. “Hey, you asked. But we had some Chinese food, and we’ll just postpone the other plans.”

“That beats my granola bar and Red Eye.”

“Glad to see some things never change, even this year. Hey, I should get back. You okay over there?”

He watches Will’s face crease with stress. “No, but. You know. We’re all trying.”

“I know, man. I’m sorry. Merry Christmas, almost.”

“Merry Christmas, bro. Tell Hailey your face is no match for hers. Thanks for keeping the tradition alive this year.”

“Same, bro.” He waves and reaches out to end the call, grateful for a tiny piece of normalcy, a little tradition in a weird, scary year, and on a holiday that isn’t going how he planned. He glances around the room, to the sink where he’d told Hailey he just wanted to spend Christmas with her, where he’d almost told her everything a couple of years prior. He thinks about her face in the truck the other day, her smile as she’d told him about her favorite childhood Christmas tradition.

His eyes fall on a box in the corner of the room, supplies from when the city went through a run of rolling blackouts in the heat of summer. He knows there are candles in there still, and his mind sets to work.

——————————

“How’s Will?” She asks, stretching her arms up over her head as he comes back in the room a while later.

“He’s going through it still, but he’s good. Apparently, he thinks you’re prettier than I am,” he tells her, and she laughs.

“Told you he was the best Halstead.”

“I’ll admit he’s not wrong about that, but I dunno about best Halstead,” he says, coming to stand behind her. His fingers dig into tense muscle in her shoulders, and she sighs, taking her hand off the mouse and relaxing under his touch. His left thumb digs into a knot at the base of her neck, and she closes her eyes.

“Did I miss anything?” He asks quietly.

“No,” she whispers. “This guy is boring. Maybe it’s the holiday, I don’t know. But it’s gonna be a long night, I think.”

His breath on her neck makes her open her eyes. His lips press just below her ear, and more tension eases out of her from beneath his fingers.

“Wanna go knockout for a couple of hours? Relax?”

She shakes her head. “No, you go first. I’m still wired. I just need to stretch a little. You know I wouldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Okay,” he says. “Come get me if you want me.”

She grins, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. Come get me if you need me.”

She winks, and he presses his lips to her neck slowly for a moment before backing away and heading out the door.

She stands and stretches slowly, breathing in and counting out breaths slowly as her muscles start to relax. She settles back in front of the computer and loses herself in watching the wire, copying video files, and organizing files. She’s not sure how much time has passed before Jay peeks his head back in the room, but she knows it hasn't been any more than an hour at most.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah,” he says. “Hey, come take a quick break with me.”

She glances at the screens in front of her, at the clock above her.

“C’mon,” he says, gesturing out the door. “You said yourself he’s boring. Set all the videos to autosave. Just 15 minutes. We’ll go back through it later.”

She considers for a moment and nods, clicking a few buttons and following him out the door.

——————————

“You were supposed to be sleeping,” she says, walking into the breakroom and turning quickly to face him.

He shrugs. “Figured maybe we’d try to have some new kind of Christmas tradition tonight.”

“Jay…” He waits for her to say more, but she trails off, and he nudges her hip toward the couch.

The candles had been easy to pull out of the box and set up on the table, and he’d stolen matches from the box, lighting them before he’d left the room.

The cookies had proven more difficult, but he figures Oreos from the vending machine in the lobby are better than none.

They obviously didn’t have a copy of ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas hanging around, but he’d Googled and printed off the poem, and that would have to do.

She just watches him as she sits, and he lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile. “I know holiday traditions can be hard as you get older, and some have to change, but some are worth bringing back.”

She just nods as he comes to sit next to her, and he watches her take in the flicker of the flames from the candles.

“It’s not a fireplace, and if anyone ever asks, I definitely did not burn the emergency preparedness candles. And there’s no eggnog, but Kim does have a half-empty bottle of eggnog flavored coffee creamer in the fridge if you’re feeling brave.” He hands her the Oreos, and she laughs. “They’re not homemade, but they’re better than I could make. And, here,” he says, pulling the poem out of his back pocket and handing it to her.

She bites her lip as she unfolds it, reading the first few lines aloud.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;”

“I love you for doing this,” she says quietly, her lips finding his in the dark of the room.

He presses his thumb against her jaw and kisses her back slowly.

She pulls back and smiles, leaning into him. “Thank you.”

“We need our own traditions,” he says. “Hopefully, they won’t always include Christmas in this breakroom, but I think I’d be okay if they did.”

She nods. “Me too.”

He wants to spend the rest of the night like this, but he knows they have to get back to work eventually.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her against his chest. “Finish the poem.”

The candlelight bounces off the page as her quiet voice fills the room again and his lips find her neck.

(Her voice is fading in and out as she reaches the final lines, and he presses his lips to her temple as he eases her down onto the couch, blowing out the candles and pulling the door shut quietly behind him.

She’ll wake up soon, and come find her spot next to him, working beside him easily, and that’ll always be his favorite tradition of theirs.)

#my fic #upsteadofficial #upsteadxmaspc2020 #upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction

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sitcomified · 3 years ago

Text

fighting dragons with you

summary: amy gets injured on a case and jake pays her a visit. (pre-canon) word count: 3.5k rating: teen?

read below or on AO3

content warning for minor depictions of violence and general discussions of assault

Amy Santiago wrote her life plan when she was sixteen years old, and revisits it each month like clockwork. She figured out from a young age that if she could clearly define a set of rules to follow to a tee, then she would never fall off course. Most nights, the three inch purple binder lives on her bedside table, where after long days of life-threatening work, she can put everything into perspective. Most days, the plan works out great for her. But she’s not invincible. She still scrapes gum off her brand new shoes and wrestles with her too warm pillow.

It’s not that she can’t deal with unpredictable situations. If anything, being almost comically prepared for every possible situation has made the challenge of taking on these changes that much more thrilling. She knows she excels at tasks that demand quick thinking and efficient problem solving. Hell, that’s why she became a cop.

Amy clocked into work two minutes late that morning. She stared at her watch, already mentally preparing how she would make it up to her squad (even though a quick glance around the bullpen would let her know that she was still the first officer there for her shift.)

By the time her partner showed up nearly thirty minutes late—an occurrence so routine she’d be surprised if anyone even noticed—Amy was already wrapping up her first report of the day. As she reached across her desk for the folder containing crime scene evidence, her partner finally acknowledged her.

“Nice spiderman band-aid,” Jake greeted her, gesturing to her right hand. She sighed deeply. The band-aid in question is nursing a particularly nasty paper cut from when she tried to intercept one of her partner's paper airplanes (probably made from some actually important file) the previous day. Amy rinsed the cut under the precinct kitchenette’s ice-cold water, swearing she’d be fine for the rest of the day, but her finger still stung when she got home and discovered that her only first aid supplies were from the last time her nephews visited.

“Hello Detective Peralta,” Amy replied, trying to salvage any semblance of workplace professionalism. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if her partner’s retort warranted a response.

“Aw, is that your pet name for me?” he joked, clearly not wanting to drop their banter, “I’m going to call you sugar...nose.” He extended a finger and lightly tapped her on the nose, to emphasize the point.

Amy flinched in response. “Sugarnose?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah I didn’t want it to be too sexual, and then I panicked,” Jake explained. Amy half expected him to follow it up with one of the “title of your sex tape” jokes that he was so prone to making, but thankfully, today she would be spared.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peralta. At his best, he could be just as sharp a detective as she was. The problem was, that was rarely ever his goal. He showed open disrespect for any authority that would dare get in his way, almost as if it were a game to him. On the field, he spent more time trying to portray himself as an action movie star than trying to catch criminals, and she’d be surprised if he actually followed any of the NYPD’s safety guidelines.

Her day went on as it usually did. Finishing up reports, interviewing witnesses, investigating a crime scene—fortunately on her own. Amy had no idea why Captain McGintley was so adamant about partnering her and Peralta. Their approaches to every aspect of police work seemed fundamentally incompatible. Her captain probably just needed someone responsible to babysit New York’s Least Mature Detective (a title he had bestowed upon himself) in the field. It was a horribly sexist and insulting implication that gave Amy flashbacks to a whole childhood’s worth of classroom seating charts and group projects, where she was put in the exact same position.

That afternoon, just as she was getting into the rhythm of responding to the perpetual flood of emails in her inbox, Peralta tore her away from her work to go on a stakeout for a case they were working on, insisting that the new lead was “actually legit this time.”

When Amy left the precinct she was surprised to see that her partner decided not to “ball out” and instead opted for a sensible SUV for their stake out. “Nice ride, Peralta.”

“Thanks, I borrowed it from some guy Diaz is testifying against,” he said smugly. Amy raised her eyebrows in return. Of course there would be a catch. “Kidding,” he reassured her. “It’s the precinct’s, I’m surprised you don’t like have the license plates memorized by now.”

Amy wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or insulted by that. She had only been there a couple months, surely that wasn’t an expectation; if it was, it was never conveyed to her in the brief amount of training she received. Regardless, she responded, “very funny, but I’m still driving.”

Jake soured with mock offense, “Seriously, Santiago? You think that my driving is more dangerous than that drug ring you busted last month?”

“I’m a detective. I know that I might die on the force. What I’m absolutely not okay with is dying because some idiot would rather play air guitar than follow basic road safety concepts,” Amy said, crossing her arms. On their last stakeout, they almost lost their perp during his particularly enthusiastic rendition of Lose Yourself.

“Too-shee,” he responded, with a smirk on his lips. He was messing with her. Surely, he wasn’t actually that dumb.

Amy corrected him, “you know it’s pronounced touché.”

“Ok nerd,” he replied, and tossed her the car keys. “But I get to stay on AUX.”

She was a bit taken aback by how quickly he agreed to cooperate with her. “You’ve gotta stay focused,” she added, as she climbed into the car. There was a foul smell that she couldn’t quite place. All the more reason to rush this.

“Of course I am a professional, Santiago,” he said from the passenger seat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a giant pack of Cheetos. “Want one?” he offered. She shook her head in disgust.

“Alright, so the informant, Dragos, said the operation is based out of a pharmacy on Atlantic, I assume that’s where we’re going?” Amy asked, as she started the car.

“Toit, and also holy shit is that his real name?” Jake questioned, eyes wide. “That’s badass.”

Amy frowned. “Did you even read the case file?”

“I skimmed it. Your sentences are all so long!” he complained.

“I’m sorry that I’m thorough and I actually follow procedure. Maybe you should take a cue from me, I mean that’s gotta be why McGintley assigned us to this case,” she said.

Jake laughed at her. “I have the most arrests in the precinct,” he bragged. Amy wanted to bring up that arrests weren’t actually a good indication of community safety, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to articulate the problem to him once more.

“That’s just because you make Boyle do all your paperwork,” she retaliated. “If you did everything you were supposed to, you know that I’d be ahead of you.”

Jake stopped fiddling with the car’s radio, and turned to face Amy. “First of all, Boyle loves paperwork. And for the record, I actually asked the Captain to put us together on this case.”

“Exactly, because you knew I would do all the work,” Amy said, smugly.

“No! It’s ‘cause I knew it was a tough one, and you’re obviously super smart.” Amy blushed a little. She assumed that Jake thought as little of her as she did of him. “Plus, I heard you talking to Diaz about how you weren’t getting any good cases,” he continued. She’s surprised, not at what he noticed, but the fact that he actually cared enough to try and fix her problems. It was true that McGintley was underutilizing her—the other day he had her spend an hour finding an anniversary present for his wife.

“Well, thanks,” Amy responded with an awkward smile. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“‘Course, you’re part of the 99 now. Anything for the squad.” he said. Right, Jake was just doing what any good cop would do for their team. He didn’t actually care about her, at least not enough to not get cheeto crumbs on the seat that she’d have to clean up.

Jake points at the car’s speaker system at the next red light. “Hey, do you know how this works?”

“Do you seriously not know?” she teased. It was a strikingly simple set up.

“Obviously not, or else we’d be listening to my sick beats right now.” Jake said. “My car still uses cassettes exclusively and I fear my mixtapes would cause this lame car to spontaneously combust.”

Amy sighed. “Here, give me your phone,” she told him, and plugged in the audio cable. Immediately music started blaring out of the speakers. She recognizes the opening chords instantly and starts laughing. “Is this what you listen to?” she asked.

Jake started frantically pushing buttons on the dashboard, only making the music louder by accident. “No. I swear I don’t know how this got on here.” Amy grinned. It was so rare that she had the upper hand in embarrassing him and she was already thinking of how to capitalize on it.

“Keep it on,” she said, guiding his hands away from the speaker system before he had the chance to break something. “I like this song.” He leaned back in his seat and helped himself to another handful of Cheetos. Amy returned her focus to navigating the complex puzzle of Brooklyn traffic.

Over the revving motors and honking of angry drivers, she heard him begin to sing along. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud and it didn’t feature impromptu parody lyrics. His voice was surprisingly soft, and she wondered if he was even conscious of his singing. She was perplexed by how he managed to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. How he managed to let loose in the most tense situations. Amy couldn’t even bring herself to have that kind of fun when she specifically scheduled it in her planner.

What the hell, they were still a fifteen minute drive from the pharmacy. She joined in with the chorus. He looked at her with a confused, yet happy, expression, and ramped up his volume, and even incorporated his own dance moves. “Damn, Santiago, didn’t know you had it in you,” he said, after they finished the chorus on a tone-deaf harmony.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Peralta,” she replied, raising her eyebrows with feigned confidence.

Jake chuckled and opened his mouth; she assumed to argue, but instead he just continued the second verse. She didn’t know the rest of the lyrics, and she certainly couldn’t decipher them from the dramatic voices he was adding into it.

“Hey isn’t that our guy,” he interrupted, pointing to a man who was standing by the trash cans on the corner, despite his right of way. Amy paused and took a closer look. Surely enough, their perp, Andrei Volkov, was standing there, waiting for the deal they had been told would occur miles away.

“Oh my god,” Amy said, turning to park their car just out of eyesight.

“Luckily he didn’t seem interested enough in the two adult Taylor Swift fans, to notice we’re a police vehicle.” Jake replied. He leaned towards the trunk window to sneak a better view of their target.

“Do you want to call for backup?” Amy asked. “How many guys are there?”

“Looks like about three, and it seems pretty exposed for back up unless they have access to one of the houses,” Jake said, propping himself back in the seat. “I think we should be good.”

Amy paused for a second. Her instinct was always to air on the side of caution, but Jake had proven himself to be more reasonable than she assumed. “Okay, I trust you,” she said.

“Take my lead,” he instructed, before she could argue, and secured his vest as he left the car. Amy followed him out hesitantly, one hand hovering protectively over her radio. They crossed the street while Volkov’s back was turned. As soon as they made eye contact, Jake whipped out his gun, and cornered him against the lamp post. “NYPD, you’re under arrest.” Amy instinctually dove behind the trash can. Through the grated metal she could see both of Volkov’s men pull their guns at Jake from behind his back. She can’t quite recognize exactly which members of the operation they are. He held one hand on Volkov while he turned to face the others. They kept their guns raised in his direction.

“Here’s the deal, come back to my precinct, and I won’t shoot. I’m all alone out here.” Jake kicks the trashcan Amy is ducked behind. Then twice, to get her attention. And again. The Funky Cold Medina, she realized. Amy felt her heart pounding all the way in her fingers and toes.

“What’s the matter with your leg, pig,” one of the men scoffed. She recognized the voice. Apparently Dragos was more involved in the operation than he led on, and had intentionally given her the wrong address. Amy reached for her gun and jumped up, turning to cover Jake.

“Hey, you’re the lady with the thank you notes,” Dragos said, as he lowered his weapon, “almost made me feel bad for lying to you.”

Amy fixed her eyes in his direction, “yeah well, thanks for nothing.”

“That was a pretty weak comeback, Santiago,” Jake muttered from her side. She shot him a nasty look.

“Your partner’s right,” Volkov added, still struggling against the lamppost.

“Nice try but you’re still arrested,” Jake said, as he reached for his handcuffs and began reciting the Miranda Rights. Amy stared down the other two men in the meantime, instructing them to drop any weapons they’re carrying. They obeyed and placed their guns at her feet. Just as they began to stand up, Dragos punched Amy in the face, his ring leaving a deep gash on her cheek. The metallic taste of blood floods her mouth. Her vision was blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, causing searing pain in the open wound.

Dragos started to bolt but Jake managed to trip him and keep him pinned to the ground. He struggled to handle both perps, however, and Amy watched as the third man ran away. She tried to chase after him, but she was too shocked to make it any farther. “Dragos, you’re coming with me,” Jake said, locking the handcuffs in place. “Amy, I’m calling you an ambulance.”

She was too dishevelled to protest.

That night, Amy’s brother drove her home from the hospital where she received seven stitches. Half her face was still numb from the anesthesia. Still, the second she got her phone back, she sent a text to her partner: “LMK if you need help processing.”

Half an hour later she heard her apartment buzzer go off. She paused her episode of Jeopardy, kicked on her fluffy slippers, and answered it.

“Delivery for Lady Amy Santiago,” Jake said, in a terribly butchered British accent through the phone.

“Come up,” she replied, stifling a laugh. The meds had worn her down enough that she could fully embrace his immature humor.

Three minutes later Jake announced himself with a knock on her door. “Alright, so I got you this. Hope you like shitty diner food because that’s all that’s open right now,” he held up two take out bags. Through the semi-opaque plastic she noticed two liters of the horrible orange soda he spilled on her desk once and still couldn’t get the stain out from.

“Yeah that’s fine,” she said, gesturing for him to come take a seat. She braced herself to be tormented for her decor. Suddenly she realized Jake came all the way to her house for her. He didn’t have to be here. Why was he here? “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He took a seat on her couch and plopped the bags on her coffee table. She never ate there, it was reserved for drinks, at most, but she didn’t correct him. Especially when he was doing her a favor “I know. I wanted to though. I also finished processing Dragos and Volkov, all by myself,” he said.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Amy asked flatly. She peered into the bag and examined the feast he brought: two cheeseburgers, a plate of chicken tenders, one hamburger, a salad, about three orders of fries, and of course the two orange sodas. For someone who was proudly in debt, he sure spent a lot on this meal.

“Cause it’s my fault you’re like this,” he said. Amy wanted to protest, he made a bad call re-backup, but she could have gotten injured either way. “Also you’re so hopped up on painkillers there’s no way you’ll remember this,” he added, cracking a smile. He really wasn’t capable of a genuine moment.

Amy rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not that much stronger than Advill, and memory loss isn’t a side effect,”

“Hmm,” he frowned, “we’ll see about that tomorrow.”

Amy froze. “I hope you’re not here to try anything,” she said, half joking. Jake was a jerk, but she never thought he would stoop that low. Even still, she couldn’t let her guard down that much.

“Oh, God no, absolutely not. I would never take advantage of you—of anyone—like that. Is that what you thought?” Jake stammered, scooching himself away from her on the couch. He looked as if he had seen a ghost or something, and his messy hair only added to the effect.

“I dunno,” Amy said, “I guess I can’t be too trusting.” She took out a container full of fries and handed him one as a peace offering.

“Right, right, men are a nightmare,” Jake agreed through a mouthful of potato. He even didn’t try to distance himself from “other men”, or go with the “but I’d never do that route”. Her chest was heavy with guilt at the thought of making such an implication.

“No, no, no, it’s fine, really. Sorry for accusing you.” Amy said.

“It’s not fine. And you shouldn’t apologize because that’s a real fear. It’s on me,” he replied. She looked at him with confusion. It was rare for guys to understand that much. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you these past few months,” he blurted out.

Amy couldn’t believe that the guy sitting in her apartment was the same one who decided to address her via paper airplane for a week, and only stopped when he ran out of papers on his desk. “Hey I wasn’t much better. I was so obsessed with out-doing you, I never went to you for help—” he shot her an expectant glance,“—also I’m sorry for ratting you out all the time.” He nodded, and helped himself to another fry from her container.

“Why are you so competitive?” he asked through a mouthful of potato. She noticed a bit of ketchup on his chin and reached for a napkin.

“I have seven brothers,” she provided him with the stock answer.

“I know that,” he said, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

She pauses. “My parents were always comparing us, so many siblings meant the bar for anything was set super high, I don’t know, that sort of stuff.”

“But why do you care?” he pushed. She hadn’t ever considered that before. The endless treadmill she shoved herself on was just always there. Even when she knew the goals she set were irrational she would just keep running, because the idea of falling off was so much worse.

“I guess it makes me worried, if I’m not measuring up,” she confessed. “I feel like I did something wrong.”

“You know you’re crazy, right?” he asked, smirking at her.

Amy rifled through the bottom of the takeout bag. “Did they give you any mustard packets?” she asked.

“Nah. But, as your self-appointed guardian angel, I will go to the bodega and get you some,” he said, picking up the jacket he threw on her floral carpet.

“You don’t have to do that, really,” Amy insisted.

He looked back at her as if the very notion were ridiculous. “Amy, you just got injured in the line of duty. If all you want is mustard, you can have all the mustard in the world.”

“Thanks, Jake. You’re a really good friend,” she ventured. She waited for a moment, to see how he would respond, hopefully solidifying their friendship. Maybe she was friendzoning advances she wasn’t even aware of. Maybe he was confused, and he was just doing a nice thing for a coworker.

“You too,” Jake said. However he interpreted all the implications, he didn’t let her know. “When I get back we’re watching Die-Hard!” he added as he rushed out the door. Amy smiled to herself as she heard the lock click into place.

#tropetember #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 fic #brooklyn nine nine fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #tropetember day 1 #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #my fic

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actuallybarb · 4 years ago

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 8

Summary: y/n meets the 99th precinct in brooklyn and gets a ride to school with a cop, brad still tries to be friends with her even though she’s told him off multiple times, and pepper potts saves the day, as always

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, more i’m forgetting

Word Count: 4450

A/N: truly, sorry not sorry. obviously you gotta keep reading tho, it all resolves in the end.

//////////

The police were there in fifteen minutes. They had the apartment taped off after five, and two detectives from the ninety-ninth precinct were on the scene after ten. The detectives, Peralta and Diaz, let Dad and I grab a few things before the apartment was entirely given over to the investigation, but there wasn’t much else we could do.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we get the blood results back and if any new developments are made, but for now, just keep trying to find your mom.”

Detective Peralta was talking to me while Diaz took over talking to my dad - he was a little more distraught than I was. (I was 17 years old and had seen a lot of shit, call me heartless.) But something wasn’t sitting right with me about all of this. I looked at the detective with narrowed eyes. “Let’s do everyone a favor and not bullshit, okay? I just want an honest answer: do you think my mom is dead?”

He flinched a little bit and looked around the crime scene, but his eyes looked clear when he answered. “I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies, kid, and you get familiar with how much blood a body has. There’s too much to make me think there’s only one victim here, so we took multiple blood samples. I wouldn’t put the chance of your mom being alive high, but the amount of blood makes me think she might be.”

“Huh. That wasn’t what I was expecting you to answer.” I looked around the apartment though and could tell he was right. “Thanks.”

“If you need anything, give me a call, okay?” I took his card and nodded, then left with Dad again for the second time that day.

“Where are we going to stay?”

Dad scratched the scruff on his jaw and sighed. He looked exhausted, and it wasn’t even two. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.” He opened the door to the stairwell (he always took the stairs, a real curse when we lived on the twenty-third floor) and let me lead the way down. “We could get a hotel. I can book it before I go to the hospital and drop you off.”

I slapped my feet on the stairs. As much as I scrubbed my hands in the bathroom, I still felt like there was blood under my fingernails. It still smelled like it, too. And the last thing I needed was to be by myself washing my hands until I got so tired I passed out. “I don’t want to be by myself in a hotel, Dad.” I slowed down, thinking about my options. “I could call Jess. I could stay the night with her then we could get a hotel tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to have to bother her...”

“I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered.

His eyes softened immediately and he needed no other persuasion. “Okay, Y/N. Let’s call her when we get to the lobby.”

“Okay.”

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Can I stay the night with you?”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. My dad’s going to the hospital tonight and—and—” I couldn’t breathe. Holy shit I couldn’t breathe. Who the hell would do something like this? Where the hell is Mom?

My phone was pulled out of my hand. “Breathe, Y/N. Deep breaths, that’s it.” He pressed the phone to his ear. “Jess? Yeah, it’s me. I can drop her off and we’ll talk then? It’s - it’s bad. Okay, see you soon.” He hung up and leaned down beside me. “You okay?” I nodded as convincingly as I could. “Okay.” He helped me off the ground and we walked slowly to the parking garage.

We eventually made it back into Queens and outside Jessica’s house. She and her husband, Brayden, were waiting for us on the porch.

I ran into her arms as soon as I got out of the car. “Hi.”

“Hi, Y/N. Let’s talk inside.”

I didn’t do much talking. Jess got me a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket and I stared into space while Dad relayed all of the happenings in the last few hours to them. But then he had to go to work, and even though I was with Jess and Brayden, I still felt alone. I guess I was more distraught than I thought.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll sort things out, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” He drove off, and I curled in on myself.

“Come on, let’s talk.” Jess lightly touched my arm and I followed her up to her room. She opened the french doors to the balcony and we both took a seat, but even the blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders couldn’t keep out my chill. “I’m not going to make you go to school tomorrow. But you should probably tell someone so you don’t get behind on work.”

I nodded numbly, then sent Peter a text.

I won’t be at school tomorrow, will you get my work?

Course. Everything okay?

Not enough energy. Thanks Pete

Any time Y/N

Jess nudged my foot with her own. “What’s going through your head?”

I put my chin on my curled up knees and sighed. “There was so much blood, Jess. The detective thinks there might be a chance she’s still alive, but it was everywhere. And I can’t help but think that this person is coming after me, because of everything. Venice, Prague, London, even helping Spider-Man clear his name. Maybe Mom was just in the way, so they got rid of her.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/N. It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty,” I mumbled.

The sun started to set and my stomach started to grumble; the only thing I had eaten all day were Sam’s pancakes. Delicious, but not a fix-all. Brayden made dinner - grilled chicken and mashed potatoes - and I got to sit beside their little girl, Hayley, who was getting the hang of small full sentences by now.

“I like you.”

“Well that’s good, considering we’ve been sitting next to each other for the last twenty minutes. I like you too, Hayley. I’m glad we get to be friends.” As much as I hated using a three-year-old as a coping mechanism, Hayley was an easy distraction. She didn’t have to worry about dead bodies and superpowers and the chemistry test on Tuesday.

Shit, the chemistry test. I was still missing some notes. And, as much as it surprised myself, I didn’t want to ask Peter for them. But I knew someone else in that class.

Eugene, will you send me the notes from Monday?

Finally realizing your sleeping endeavors were poorly timed?

Stop using big words and send me the notes

Why don’t you just ask Parker? Aren’t you two attached at the hip?

Believe it or not, Eugene, I’m actually trying to form some semblance of a friendship here, and you’re kind of ruining my plan (okay, I wasn’t trying to make a friendship, but it’s something Taylor’s griped about for months, so might as well try with someone who won’t get offended at my relentless roasting.)

The fact that your grammar is perfect even when you text is infuriating. Whatever, I’ll send them. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the favor you owe me.

Of course not, Eugene. Thanks

I grabbed my backpack and started copying down the notes, but even though I was asleep for some of the class, I could tell Flash didn’t have all of the content. There was one other person I could text before Peter. But we weren’t necessarily speaking.

Hey can you send me the chem notes from Monday?

yeah sure. ready for the test on tuesday?

Hell no, why do you think I’m cramming now 😂

and then we have that english paper due on friday 🤢

If I fall over dead in the middle of the test on Tuesday do you think we’ll all get an A?

i’ll take one for the team if you don’t

Haha sounds good. Thanks MJ

no problem

Thank god MJ actually took good notes. Combined with her’s and Eugene’s, those pages of notes were better than any I had actually taken in class. Maybe I would actually do well on this test. But that was a cramming problem for tomorrow.

///////////

Hayley reminded me a lot of Morgan: too smart for her own good. Jess called in sick to work so the three of us stayed home and watched Disney movies, but Hayley was starting to guess the endings halfway through. I mean, they’re all pretty predictable, but she’s only three. She had just guessed the ending for Brave when my phone started ringing.

It was Peter.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Y/N what the hell is going on?”

My blood went cold. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I went by your apartment to drop off the notes I got for you and it was covered in police tape and blood. Wha- Is everything okay?”

I couldn’t get the words to come out of my mouth. I couldn’t say anything, let alone answer his question. So I just texted him my location.

“I’ll be there soon.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was probably for the best.

He pulled up to the curb half an hour later. “May let me borrow her car.”

“I didn’t know you got your license.”

“Right before Europe, actually.”

“Oh.” I sat on the porch steps with plenty of room for Peter, and he just sat and looked at me. Waiting for me to start talking. “Thanks for getting my notes.”

“Yeah, no problem. There’s a review for the chem test in there, too, but it’s not an actual assignment.”

“Oh, okay.” I brought my knees up a step and wrapped my arms around them. We sat in silence for a while, but he came over for a reason, and if I was going to tell anyone about what happened, I’d want Peter to know. “We found it after we dropped you off at your apartment.”

“The blood?”

I nodded. “We opened up the door and there was blood everywhere, and my mom wasn’t home, which was weird, because she’s usually making something in the kitchen on Sunday afternoons. So we called the police, and they took some blood samples, and I stayed with Jess last night because my dad was on-call at the hospital and I- I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Have they called with any news?”

“Not yet. But hopefully they’ll get the blood samples back and know whose it is.”

Peter just sat in silence for a second. “Are you doing okay?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, trying to put a semblance of a smile on my face. “What do you think?”

The corner of his lip lifted up. “Yeah, I figured.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and let me lean against him. “When’s your dad supposed to get back?”

When was he supposed to get back? It was getting closer to five, and he was usually home around then. I checked my phone, but there were no new messages. “Hold on,” I told Peter, and I called Dad’s cell.

No answer.

I called the hospital. “Southwest Mercy Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Is Doctor Y/L/N in right now?”

“Might I ask who’s calling?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. His daughter.

“One moment please.” A few taps on the other end. “No, he’s not. He was actually supposed to come in last night, but he never showed up.”

“Can you call me back if he shows up?”

“Of course.”

I hung up.

Where the fuck is he?

Why didn’t he show up at work?

There was something warm in my hand, and it took me a second to recognize it as Peter’s own hand. “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s going to be okay.”

“My dad’s missing, Peter,” I wanted to shout, but it was barely a whisper. “My dad and my mom, in less than forty-eight hours. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“We should call the police. If they’re really connected, they’ll be the ones to figure out how.”

I nodded in agreement and pulled out Detective Peralta’s card. “This is Jake Peralta.”

“Detective Peralta? This is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Wow, what timing, we were actually just about to call you. Is your dad with you by chance?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” I squeezed Peter’s hand as tight as I could. “My dad is missing.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“He was supposed to work the night shift at the hospital last night and he never showed up. And he’s not answering his phone.”

Peralta was scribbling something down frantically. “Would you be able to come by the precinct, Y/N? We found something interesting in your apartment that you’ll want to see.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

I hung up and pressed the palms of my hands over my eyes. “God, when did my life become a living nightmare?”

“Five years ago,” Peter said, “when everyone turned into dust.”

I can’t argue with that. I stood up, brushed off my jeans, and sighed. He stood up beside me, and, completely unprompted, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held on tight. “Thank you,” I mumbled into his neck.

His arms wrapped around my waist. “Call me when you hear something, okay?”

I pulled back and nodded, then kissed him on the cheek. (I was unbelievably upset and needy and decided I was not going to deny myself the simple wants of physical contact with Peter Parker. Sue me.) “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I ran back inside and had a quick conversation with Jess and Brayden (who somehow got into the house without me noticing, weird) and he handed her the keys to his car. We were on the road a minute later.

“It’s not necessarily linked with what happened to your mom, Y/N,” Jess tried to console me as we trudged through traffic to the 99th precinct in Brooklyn. “It could be completely unrelated.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying, Jess.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it could just be a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said as we reached the parking garage. The man at the front desk told us which floor, and I was too anxious to wait for the elevator so I ran up the stairs. I waited for Jess before I walked in, but it hardly made a difference; I’m sure I still looked like a crazy person.

An extremely muscled man approached us first. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for Detective Peralta,” I wheezed out, still catching my breath.

“He’s the second desk on the left.”

“Thank you.” Detective Peralta turned around and shook both of our hands. “What do you have on my mom?”

He brought over another chair for Jess and sat behind his desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the information for your dad first. Just so we can get an APB out for him as soon as possible.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Okay, when was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night, around 5? His night shift usually starts around 6.”

“And where was he?”

“He had dropped off Y/N at my house, we talked for about ten minutes, then he left for his shift.” Jess told him her address and where Dad worked while I looked around the precinct. Peralta’s desk had a picture with him and another detective and a little girl between them. Detective Diaz’s desk was across the little walkway, and there was a man at a secluded desk in his own office.

I kept looking around at the office until Jess put a hand on my arm. “Sorry, what?”

“We got the results from the blood samples. There were two different bloods in the apartment, like I thought, so I got forensics to use a UV light and some sort of magic I can’t explain to differentiate between the two. And this is what came up.” He slid over a picture and five words were shining against the mass amounts of blood.

I know who you are.

“Whose blood is it?”

He took the picture back. “Your mom’s. But those are the only traces of it we could find.”

“And the rest of it?”

“The DNA isn’t in our system. We contacted the FBI and CIA to see if anything comes up in their systems, but we haven’t gotten any results yet. Y/N.” He leaned forward, extremely serious. “Because of the message left behind and the fact that your dad is now missing, we want to relocate you to a safe house —“

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Y/N,” Jess started, but I cut her off.

“If they’re actually trying to scare me, I’m not going to let them go after anyone else I care about. Let them come for me.”

“Y/N, you could be in serious danger. We shouldn’t take this lightly.”

“I’m not. But this person already took my mom and my dad. They’re not getting anyone else.”

Peralta and Jess looked at each other, but Jess knew me better than most; she knew I wouldn’t budge on this. “Okay,” he conceded, “no safe house. But I’d like to have a detail on you, just in case, okay?” I nodded. That wasn’t the issue. Besides, if I wanted to go to a safe house, I’d just go upstate.

Detective Peralta walked us to the door of the precinct. “We’ll keep a look out for your dad’s car and let you know if it comes up. Officer Mason will be keeping an eye on your house tonight. Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” It was closer to eight, and I still had that stupid chemistry test tomorrow, but all I wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up.

But that wasn’t how the world worked, and I was up until one studying. Jess handed me a to-go cup of coffee when I walked into the kitchen right before school, and I raised it to her before taking a sip. “See you later.”

“Have a good day.”

I walked down the steps and knocked on the window of the patrol car outside of the house. Officer Mason started and looked around, then rolled down the window. “What’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride to school?”

He looked at me like I was incredulous. He wasn’t wrong, but still. “That’s not really what I’m here to do, kid.”

“You’re here to keep an eye on me, right? So let’s go.” I pulled on the handle until he unlocked the car and let me in.

I got to school with five minutes to spare (shout out to Officer Mason for running that last red light). My Spanish book was so unused it collected dust on it, but I brushed it off quickly before I walked into class. I took my spot among the few in class and looked over Peter’s notes from the day before, just in case there was a pop quiz.

“Hey.”

Shit. Brad.

“What do you want?”

“You weren’t here yesterday, and you showed up today in a cop car. Everything good?”

I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. “Why the hell would you think I would tell you anything personal about my life ever?“

“I was just asking, Y/N, fuck.”

“I don’t like Brad either.” Peter sat beside me and gave me a small smile.

“I think most of that has to do with the fact that he tried to make a move on MJ.”

“And the fact that he took a picture of me in my underwear and was going to show it to everyone in Europe.”

“Everyone in Europe? That’s pretty big, Peter, you could’ve been famous.”

“For almost-nudes I didn’t even take,” he said with a smile. “What did the detective say?”

The bell rang and Peter flinched just slightly. “I’ll tell you after class.”

No pop quiz, and lunch was turkey and gravy. I was feeling slightly better, and I remembered almost everything I needed to study for the chem test. I was halfway through it, feeling good, when Principal Morita was at the door of the lab, asking for me. I looked up, and none other than Detective Peralta was standing beside him, giving me a look full of nothing but pity.

My heart dropped down to my stomach.

I looked over at Peter and his eyes were as wide as mine, his heart racing. But there was nothing he could do.

I left my test at my seat, grabbed my backpack, and met Mr. Morita and Peralta in the hallway. “What did you find?”

“We found your dad’s car, and I had forensics do the same test as the one in your apartment. This is what they found.”

I know what you did.

“I need you to come into the station, Y/N. We need to ask you a couple of questions.”

I looked between the two adults and could feel my heart rate rising. “I, uh — I didn’t finish my test.”

Mr. Morita spoke up. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Phelps and make sure you can finish it later in the week.”

“Okay.” I followed him to his squad car and sat in the back, making me feel like I had actually done something wrong.

Detective Diaz joined us in the interrogation room at the Nine-Nine, and I could feel two others behind the mirror. But none of them stopped me from being set on edge.

“Y/N, I hate for having to bring you out like this, but we need some answers. What is this second picture about?”

I shifted around in my seat. Where to even start? “I’m not going to talk with the people behind the mirror.”

Peralta sputtered. “What? There’s no one behind the —“ Diaz glared at him and he stopped. “We have them there as a precaution, Y/N, they’re detectives too.”

“Either they join us in here or they leave, but I’m not talking to someone without being able to see their faces.”

They looked at each other for a second before Peralta turned to the mirror and motioned for them to leave. I felt their footsteps retreat down the hall until I couldn’t feel them anymore, then I at least let my shoulders drop. Just a little bit.

“You guys remember Quentin Beck from the summer? The Mysterio guy who fought the Elementals?”

“Yeah, that dick that said Spider-Man murdered him?”

“Yeah, him. He kind of... hijacked our field trip.” I told them everything; well, almost everything. “Beck blackmailed me into helping him with his plan, so I, uh... I ended up hurting a lot of people. That’s probably what this person is talking about. It could be a family member, or one of Beck’s crewmen.”

“Why would one of the crew come after you, you’re just a kid.” Diaz hadn’t said much, but she was an observer, like me. I just wish I could shove away my emotions like her.

“I, uh, kind of got them all put in prison after they put up the video of Beck outing Peter Parker as Spider-Man.”

“Oh. Well that would do it.”

Peralta thought for a second then spoke up. “We’ll keep an eye on the families of the crew, see if anyone has a similar timeline to the disappearances. Until then,” he put his hand down on the table and looked me in the eye, “I have to insist that you stay in a safe house, Y/N. Staying anywhere else could put yourself and others in danger.”

Staying in a place by myself made me want to throw up. But I could see how selfish it was.

“One more night. One more night, and then I’ll go. And I want to stay at my own safe house.”

“You have a safe house?”

I shrugged. “I know a — a person.”

They glanced at each other again. “Okay, we’ll talk about it. But I want to talk to them. Today.”

“Fine.” I pulled out my phone and clicked on Pepper’s contact. She picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N. Is everything okay?”

I laughed lightly, even though nothing about this situation was funny. “Not even close. So much has happened in the last three days.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “I, uh, need to come up to the compound tomorrow, but I need you to talk to these detectives.”

“You’re freaking me out, Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to put you on speaker.” I set the phone on the table. “I need to go to a safe house, and I figured the compound is the best place to go. But these detectives have some questions.”

“Okay.”

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Detective Jake Peralta, I’m here with my partner, Detective Rosa Diaz, and we’re concerned for Y/N’s safety. We’ve been trying to get her to go to a safe house provided by the Nine-Nine, but she says she’ll only go to her own safe house. Mostly we just need to verify that the location is legit and we need a squad car there at all times. Would you be able to come to the Ninety-Ninth Precinct in Brooklyn so we can talk in person?”

“Um, I’m not actually in New York right now, but I could be there by tomorrow. Could I come by in the morning?”

“That should be fine. Can we get a name?”

“Pepper Potts.”

They both balked. Their eyes got huge and they looked at me with disbelief. “Pepper Potts?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, we look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.”

“Perfect. And, Y/N? You better call me back within the next hour about what is going on.”

“Yes ma’am.” She hung up and I tucked my phone back in my pocket. “Am I good to go?”

“You know Pepper Potts?”

“I told you, I cleared Spider-Man’s name. I have a lot of connections.” I stood up and opened the door, deciding for myself that the interrogation was over.

“You know Spider-Man?”

“Jake’s loved Spider-Man since the first video came out on YouTube,” Diaz said. “He won’t admit that he has a fan account, but I think he does.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I know Spider-Man.”

“Can you get me his autograph?”

I glanced at him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Officer Wade drove me back to Jess’s, and I happily left her at the curb.

I had an important phone call to make.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries @yougottalovefandoms

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #spiderman #spiderman far from home #avengers #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #mcu

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bxthharmon · 5 years ago

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Never Go Home Again, Pt. IV || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3551

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: drinking / violence / the murder of JJ’s favourite rooster :(

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: JJ, JB and Y/N investigate Ms Lana, and Y/N’s dad brings up old memories.

A/N: This is wayyyyyy longer than I expected so... oops? I was gonna have all the chapters around the same length but? oh well??? Also, i need to stop posting in the middle of the night, (it’s past 3 am where i live), let me know if you want to be tagged!

Chapters linked in masterlist.

“masterlist”

“I don’t know, man.” JJ sighed, popping a beer open, “I really fucking like her, but I don’t wanna rush it, or mess it up. Like last night, we were on the beach, talking about constellations and shit, and I wanted to kiss her so bad, and I pussied out.”

“I’d say that’s sweet, but you literally just need to do it, bro.” John B laughed. “I mean, what happened to you being the impulsive one?”

“But it’s also like, she’s super open, telling me about, like, LA and her friends, but anytime her family or the reason for her moving is mentioned, she closes right up.”

“Dude, don’t push her - she’s not pushing you. She’ll open up, give her time.”

“I know, I know. But I think it’s serious - I found police papers in her moving stuff.”

“You snooped?”

“Nah, bro! I didn’t snoop.”

“But you went through her stuff?”

“Nah, I was helping her move.”

“So you haven’t looked through her stuff? At all? JJ, something about the face your making makes me think you snooped.”

“Okay so I found a shoebox-”

“You snooped?”

“I snooped. She has a box with like, pictures of her and her mom and shit.”

“And?”

“And her dad got full custody! Her mom’s still in LA!”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, might be to do with her parents divorce. Like I said, her dad got full custody, so it was definitely something fucked up.”

John B shrugged, “Sure. But I think you’re reading into it too much.”

“I’m not-”

“JJ, chill.” John B pulled up at your house. “Let’s just go get her.”

The pair hopped out of the VW, walking through the battered front garden. JJ knocked on your door. He expected you to answer - your dad was never home and you always seemed to be the one to answer, but this time, he was greeted by the sight of a man, who looked the scruffily dressed pair up and down. “How can I help?” he asked.

“Uh,” JJ glanced at John B, who shrugged, “We’re here for Y/N, we got plans.”

The man looked the pair of them up and down. “Are you JJ?” the man asked, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and trying to ignore the surprised eyebrow raised that came from John B.

“Oh my God! Dad!” they heard from upstairs, “Stop! You’re embarrassing me and I’m not even there!”

“Well, JJ,” your dad continued, “Don’t hurt her, she’s been through enough without you.”

JJ looked at John B as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“Dad!” you yelled again, running down the stairs, “Stop inviting people into my problems.” you pushed JJ and John B out of the doorway, turning back to your dad, “Jeez Dad, I’ll be back later, love you.”

“Love you too.” he watched you run to the Twinkie, climbing in the back after JJ.

“God, Jay, I am so sorry about him.” You rolled your eyes, “Ignore whatever he said.”

“It’s cool.” he grinned, “But how did he know my name?”

“Oh my God,” You groaned.

“Have you been talking to your Pops about me?” he mocked, and you buried your head in your hands.

You piled out of the car, walking towards the house.

“You know what this house looks like?” JJ asked, “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.”

“So like yours then?” You joke, and he glares at you playfully.

As you approached, you could hear glasses smashing, and JJ put a protective arm in front of you, signalling for you to slow down.

“Bullshit!” you heard from in the house.

“Maybe we should come back.” JJ glanced at you, “It’s a little too soon.”

“No, no, shut up. Shut up, JJ.” John B shook his head, walking quietly towards the house, you and JJ close behind.

“Tell me where it is,” the voice from inside yelled again, “or I’ll fuck you up!”

You could hear Ms Lana crying, and wanted to puke.

“I’ll sink you in the fucking-” the voice was shut up by a load crash, the three of you ducking next to the window and Ms Lana screamed.

“Where the fuck is it, you bitch!”

“I don’t know!” came the wail, and JJ looked at the tears building up in your eyes.

“Is it here in the house?” the crashing continued. “Is it somewhere else?”

You could hear Ms Lana begging. JJ left your side to pull John B back from the window.

“You still think we should stay?” JJ asked, and you shushed him, smacking him lightly with the back of your hand.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it Lana?”

“I don’t know!”

You could hear the sound of wood breaking and glass smashing, like Ms Lana was being thrown around. Chips of painting were falling all over you.

“Is that paint?” JJ asked, trying to shake it out of his hair.

“Yes, it’s paint.” John B hissed.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man.” you heard footsteps leaving the house.

“We should just go,” JJ whispered as you and John B crept to the corner of the house, “He’s got smuggler-”

“Shut up!” you whisper-creamed, whipping around to face him, forcing him to take a step back.

John B pulled back from the corner as two guys left the door. You watched them leave on a boat.

“Those are the guys who shot at us.” You pointed out. Once they were gone, you followed John B into the house, feeling JJ pull at your hand, you ignored him.

“Ms Lana,” you called softly. You darted to her side, grabbing a first aid kit from the cabinet over the bath and rummaging through it for painkillers, offering her them as John B knelt beside you “Do you need a doctor?”

“Call the Sheriff's department.” John B told JJ.

“N-n-no cops,” She stuttered, “Please.”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s just go.” he pulled at your shoulder and you shrugged him off.

“You shouldn’t be here.” she cried as you looked her over for any serious injuries.

“That’s enough for me, come on.” JJ grabbed at John B’s shoulder again, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wait, wait,” John B pushed him off, “What do you know about those guys?”

“They were looking for something.”

John B pulled out the compass, “Does it have anything to do with this? Do you know anything about this? This is my father’s, and Scooter had it. Why?”

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that.”

“Come on.” JJ urged, again.

“Don’t let anyone know that you have that! They can’t know that you have that!”

“What do you know about the compass?”

“You gotta get out of here, you gotta go!”

“What do you know about the compass?”

“Go! Get out!”

The boys ran, and you were about to follow, when you turned back, kneeling down beside the sobbing woman again. “Ms. Lana, please, call us if you need anything.” She nodded feebly, and yous sighed again, kneeling beside her again, reciting your number to her, as she nodded, repeating it. You heard JJ yell your name, and got up, scanning the wrecked house once more before jogging out of the house, following them to the car.

“... And we were right outside, like this,” JJ mimed how you had leant on the wall, “And all we hear is just ‘Bam! Bam! Bam!’ Knocking paint off the wall, G! From the inside! All right, and I’m looking at him like-”

“So dramatic.” You mumbled, Kie pulled her skeptical gaze from JJ and grinned softly at you.

“Wait, first off, look at this shit!” he shakes the paint in his hair onto the table.

“That’s dandruff, disgusting.” Kie muttered.

“Look at all that, all right? That’s paint.” he sighs, “At that point I was just like… I’m waiting for death!” You rolled your eyes.

“So you saw the guys who shot at us, right?” Pope confirmed.

“Yeah.”

“Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like? Anything we can bring to, like, a police report?”

“Burly.” JJ said simply, making you snort.

“Burly?” Pope confirmed.

“Yeah. You know, like-”

“That’s not very helpful.” Kie pointed out.

“Okay, well, no, like, the type of guy at my dad’s garage.” he sighed, “I mean you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers.”

“He made cargo hides for drug smugglers?” you asked, and they all turned to you, faces telling you that now was not the time. You shrugged, “You’re explaining that to me later, okay?”

“Yeah, yes. No, we know.” Kie said, and you shook your head.

“I don’t.” You pointed out, earning a glare from Kie.

“Well I can tell you with full confidence, these boys, these killers,” he took a dramatic puff of his vape, “they’re square groupers.”

“They’re square groupers, like, narco square grouper?” Pope asked, “Like Pablo Escobar square grouper?”

“You guys,” Kie said, “Not everything was a kingpin movie.”

“So what does this square grouper look like, specifically?”

“You weren’t there!” JJ yelled.

“-because apparently you don’t know what to look for!”

“Dude,” You interrupted, “in fairness, we weren’t taking little mental polaroids the whole time. We were under duress.”

“But I can tell you,” JJ took back the centre-stage, “I can tell you from the way Ms Lana was screaming, that these guys are serious, serious hombres, man.”

“Hardcore motherfuckers.” You added.

“It’s a heavy vibe right now, okay?” JJ sighed, “I’m not liking this very much.”

“Why do they want the compass?” Kie brought the logic back.

“It’s a piece of shit.” Pope confirmed, “You couldn’t pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to. No offence, John B, I know it’s your family’s-”

“The office.” John B interrupted. “My dad, My dad’s office.” he led you through the overly cluttered house to it. “He always left the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. We used to laugh at him all the time, like he was actually gonna find it, but now that he’s gone I’ve just kinda… I left it as he kept it.”

“Yeah, for when he gets back.” Kie nods as he unlocks the door.

“I’ve slept over here like six hundred times and never seen this door open.” Pope points out, and you all crowd in.

John B shows you all the history of the compass, showing how each guy died while they had it.

“Sounds like there's a recurring theme there.” JJ points out.

“Dude,” you look up from the corkboard, you and Pope sharing a glance, “You have a death compass.”

“No I do not-” John B argued.

“You have a death compass.” Pope confirmed.

“Seriously dude, just get rid of it.” JJ nodded. “It’s cursed, and it’s made its way back to you.”

“Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here, soldiers used to hide secret notes,” he sat down, untwisting the compartment. Kie pointed out some writing on the lid. “This is my dad’s handwriting.”

“How can you know that?” Pope muttered, full of skepticism.

“Because he does these weird Rs, see-”

You stopped paying attention, the continuous sounds of the rooster doing your head in. you looked out the window to the hen house, the shack blending in to the woods behind - well enough for you not to notice it until now. You looked over to the pontoon, and the HMS parked next to it. You scanned you eyes over to the beaten track to the front of the house, the black car breaking the pattern of greens and browns. “Guys,” you mutter, watching a car pull up. “Guys!” they looked at you. “There’s a car outside.” they walked to the window, squeezing beside you and peaking out.

“Guys, guys is that them?” Kie asked, “Is that them?”

“This is suboptimal.” Pope stated.

“Jay.” you turned to him, he didn’t hear you. “JJ!” you grabbed his arm, “Where’s the gun?”

“Gun?” he frowned, “Uh, I, uh, I can’t-”

“Now you don’t have the gun,” Kie panicked, “the one time we need the gun?”

“It was in my backpack, and then I-”

“On the porch.” John B guessed.

“It’s on the porch.” JJ confirmed. He went to leave, immediately backing straight into the room again, shutting the door after him. “Where’s the compass?”

“Where’s the gun?” John B shot back.

“They’re on the front porch guys.” he whispered.

“We gotta leave.” You swallowed.

“Guys, the window. The window.” Kie said, pointing to the sill. JJ and Pope tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t give.

“What’s happening?” You asked, “Why is it taking so long?”

“It’s painted shut,” JJ snapped, “Okay?”

You stepped back, Kie grabbing a letter opener to cut the seal. You could feel yourself starting to hyperventilate. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whispered, watching the window get pried open. As the door got kicked repeatedly.

JJ helped you all through, letting you out last, and then pulling the window shut behind him as the door bust open. Crouching, he pulled you along the side of the house, making a run for the henhouse. Once inside, you looked at him for the first time, sat in the hay, and he pulled you into the crook of his neck, eyes closed, steadying his breathing.

You watched the two men load the van, Kie panicking about shutting the rooster up. JJ reached forwards, two hands around its neck. You closed your eyes as the crowing stopped, and JJ let the dead rooster fall to the ground. The car doors shut. You could see Kie sobbing next to John B, and JJ looked up at you, both of your eyes full of horror and shock, breathing heavily.

“Fuck.” you whispered, for the hundredth time that day.

When you got home, you had a shower, changing into a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie. You wanted to refresh yourself after the eventful day you’d had, and food sounded like the perfect remedy. You went downstairs to find something to eat, and your dad was sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a beer.

“Hey Dad.” you chirped, rummaging through the brightly coloured packets in the cupboards.

“Hey honey.” he responded, his tone colder than you were used to. You turned back to him, not bothering to swing the door back shut.

“You okay, Dad?” you frowned. He nodded slowly.

“Those boys,” he started, “From this morning, who are they?”

“John B lives down the road, and JJ’s his best mate.” you shrugged, not understanding the big deal. You turned back to the snacks.

“Y/N, honey, you need to be careful.” he insisted.

“I know, but it’s not like that.” you assured him, throwing an empty sweet packet in the bin, noticing the piles of cans inside. So he was drunk.

“Y/N,” he warned, “You can’t be friends with them.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned, your smile fading, “It’s chill.”

“No, Y/N, it’s not.” he stood up, “This is just how it started with Tyler.”

Fucking Tyler.

“Dad, they’re nothing like Tyler.” you countered, “Even if there was anything there, neither of them would hurt me like that. Trust me on this, okay?”

“But I can’t fucking trust you, can I?” he exploded, “Last time I trusted you to be ‘Just Friends’ with a guy, you decided to be a fucking slut!”

You stepped back, surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst. You could feel tears building in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your throat felt thick and dry, and your face was contorting in your efforts not to cry.

“That’s not fair, Dad.” your breathing was ragged and shaky.

“Isn’t it?” he shouted, knocking the stool backwards. You stepped away, knowing he wouldn’t hit you, but scared that he might.

“Fuck you.” you mustered, the first tear sliding down your cheek, the dams opening for the emotions you had been pushing down for the past two months. He lurched, and you began to run up the stairs. He stumbled after you.

“Always running, huh?” he chuckled to himself, “From fucking Tyler,” he followed you through the bedroom door, “from your mom,” he watched you grab your phone and keys, “from this fucking conversation?”

“You were the one who ran from mom. Not me, I didn’t want to leave! And you decided I couldn’t deal with going back to school without even asking me! I’m stronger than I look, Dad! I could have managed, moved on! But no, you wanted to run! You!” You dodged past him, running to the door, letting him follow you into the street. You pulled your bike from the garage, vision blurred from crying. He stood on the doorstep, shouting profanities at you as you peddled away, unsure of your path.

You found yourself on JJ’s street. The houses were bungalows, squat with gardens that reached far back. His was rundown, unsurprisingly, from what you’d heard about his dad. There were weeds creeping onto the paved path to the door, and the porch was battered, some of the posts broken and splintered. The house felt dull, depressing, the kind of place that felt riddled with bad memories even if you’d never been there. You pulled your phone out, the white light making you squint in the darkness, as you sat on the cold curb, your butt beginning to ache. You pulled up his contact and pressed the call button, letting into ring until you were invited into his voicemails. You hung up and tried again, only to be answered with the same result. You looked at the house again. No lights visible from the front were on, and the windows were dark. You called again.

You kicked your bike, and it squeaked slightly as the gears and chain clattered. You pushed yourself up, grabbing your bike from where it lay on its side in the middle of the road, and made your way to the rickety sire gate, pushing through and onto the overgrown paving. You dropped your bike on the patchy grass next to the path, and stepped onto the porch, knocking lightly on the door. You stepped away, looking back over the frail neighbourhood. You heard talking inside, and the latch on the door clicked.

The door opened an inch, and after a pause, it opened all the way. JJ stood in front of you, still in his shorts and top from earlier, but a confused look decorating his features. You hardly hesitated to pull him as close as you could, inhaling his smell and absorbing the feel of his shirt against your hand. You pulled away, this time his face was a conflicting mix of worry and bliss. He stepped away, grabbing your bike and wheeling it to the back, reappearing and taking your hand, his thumb rubbing softly over the back of yours. You let him lead you, slowly and quietly, past the sleeping man on the sofa. You didn’t fail to notice the beer bottles and alcopop cans. You could almost feel the shame radiating from JJ. he guided you to his bedroom, shutting the door softly and turning off his games console. You stood in the small open space, taking in his unmade bed, and the clothes on the floor. You noticed the collection of band, gaming and surf stickers and posters, and the shelves of random shit, some of it useful, some of it decorative, some of it pointless. He had countless DVDs, CDs and a few bits of merch. He sat down on the bed, tugging on your hand lightly to indicate that it was okay for you to do the same.

“Are you okay?” he asked, smoothing your hair down.

You shrugged, not really sure yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know why I came here, I just needed to get out of the house.”

He nodded like he understood the feeling. “Y/N, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” you looked at him, eyes glassy, “Like, I’ve known you a couple of weeks and I can tell you went through some shit, and I get that it takes time, but if you need to talk or - or get anything off your chest, I’m here. Like, I’m not gonna judge you. I just, I haven’t known you long, but I want you to trust me, because I wanna help you.”

“Can you just give me some time?” you whispered, “Everything still feels pretty raw. I mean, it’s been a couple of months, but it still feels really present. I just, I wanna sort it out in my head before I invite someone else into it.” he nodded again, “I’m sorry.”

“You got nothing to be sorry for.”

He stood up, grabbing some joggers and a t-shirt for you to sleep in. You changed, and he held you the whole night, still having you pulled close in his arms when the morning rolled around.

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars

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ellewritesathing · 4 years ago

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So Close - S.S. XLIX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 49

Word-count: 6.5k+

A/N: so i thought i had this queued up for a few weeks ago?? but here it is!! this was one of my favorite pieces to write

Maiming you and Theo and then eating the Ghost Rider’s pineal gland wasn’t the only thing on Hauptmann’s - or Douglas’, the name he used at the high school - agenda for last night. He’d stolen the Ghost Rider’s whip and made Corey disappear.

It wasn’t all bad news, though: Lydia had managed to do the impossible. She brought back something of Stiles’ - only been his lacrosse jersey, but it was enough to solidify Stiles’ existence far beyond what you and Lydia felt or what Theo apparently remembered.

Malia managed to get some information out of a newly-healed Peter while they were looking for a rift in the woods. Peter told her a bit about what happened when he was in limbo, chalking up his surviving the rift between worlds to his werewolf abilities because he and Stiles had watched a human burn into nothing when he tried to cross it.

You felt sick to your stomach listening to Malia summarize Peter’s information. Despite all the craziness that your friends had been through, Stiles was human. He didn’t want to be anything other than human, and you couldn’t force him to change even if you wanted to.

But Scott was willing to change him. If it meant bringing Stiles home, Scott was willing to take the risk of biting him.

When all you could bring yourself to do was stare at him, Scott added in a strained voice, “We have to get him through the rift.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the desk where Liam and Malia were looking through papers as he said, “It’s the only way.”

Peter raised his hand as you and Lydia walked hesitantly over to the desk. “Just to clarify: Are you planning on biting everyone in the train station?” he asked.

“With Stiles back, he’ll be able to help us figure out a plan to bring back everyone else,” Scott said. “He’s good at that.”

Annoyance tinged your vision. Did Scott want Stiles back because he was his best friend, or because he was the only one who could come up with a plan to save the day?

“So the plan is to get Stiles back so that he can come up with a plan?” you asked, sounding more venomous than you meant to.

Giving you a harsh look, Malia asked, “Whose side are you on?”

“Malia, look around,” Peter said. Your annoyance grew as you realized that you had been agreeing with Peter. Oblivious to your thoughts, he continued, “We’re the only ones left in Beacon Hills. If they take us, Lydia will be the only left to haunt this place.”

“That’s why I’m the only person that’s going in,” Scott said.

“No,” you said instantly. You were arguing before you even knew what your argument would be; all you knew was that Scott wouldn’t go in there alone.

True to his older brother fashion, Scott talked over all your protests. “You guys will stay here with Mason. As long as somebody is left in Beacon Hills, the Wild Hunt can’t move on,” he said.

“I like your plan, Scott. I really do,” Peter said in a tone that implied that he didn’t like Scott’s plan, not even a little bit. “Especially the part about turning Stiles.” He stopped pacing. “But it can’t work.”

“How do you know?” Malia asked.

“Logic. Life experience,” Peter said. “Liam, what are the odds that he’ll get taken?” Without waiting for an answer, Peter went on. “What if Stiles isn’t there? What if there’s no Beacon Hills for you to come back to?”

“Okay, you got a better idea?” Liam asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, sounding like it should have been obvious. “It’s called ‘run like hell.’” He turned to Malia while the rest of you were too stunned to say anything. “So, we leave in five?”

“You promised you’d help us,” Malia said as she walked closer to him.

Watching her argue with him - knowing that Peter was her dad - made you feel like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to. You knew whatever happened with their relationship wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t block it out no matter how hard you tried.

“If you can’t help us find the rift-” Scott interrupted their argument, “Then we’ll find it ourselves.”

“Scott, I admit that you have a flair for beating the odds,” Peter said with a sigh. You wanted more than anything for Derek to be here instead of him. “But this? You don’t walk away from this.” He started backing out of the sheriff’s station. “You run.”

“I hate him,” you said without meaning to. Ever since your memories of Peter had come back, you’d been very careful about what you said in front of Malia, but all the memories of comforting her and talking to her about Peter was nothing compared to the anger you felt in that moment.

Malia turned away from the door with a sad look in her eye. She set her face into a carefully cold expression and said, “Me too.”

---

The new plan was essentially the same as the old plan: divide and conquer. Liam, Hayden, and Mason were supposed to babysit Theo in the sheriff’s station while you, Malia, Scott, and Lydia went into the woods to find the rift.

“When you were out here the last time, how long until the Ghost Riders showed up?” Scott asked.

Malia stepped over the tree roots carefully, squinting against the sun slightly. “A couple minutes.”

“That’s reassuring,” Lydia mumbled as she stepped over the same roots.

“What is the rift supposed to like?” you asked. “Like some magical portal or more just noticing that something isn’t quite right?”

“If it’s a tear in the fabric of our world, then theoretically it could look like anything from a microscopic black hole to a free-floating Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Lydia said.

After a second of awkward silence, you asked, “You, uh, don’t happen to have any pictures of those on you, do you?”

Lydia gave you a look that she only reserved for Liam when he tried to steal some of her Red Vines on movie nights. “No,” she said, “I don’t have any pictures on me.”

“Let’s split up,” Scott suggested, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

Instead of arguing, the four of you went off in opposite directions and hoped for the best. You didn’t get very far before Scott called you all to look at an old drain pipe. The bars had been broken and curled outwards, like something had burst out of the pipe.

Scott bent down to investigate and picked up a leaf.

“The rift’s not above us,” Lydia said. “It’s below.”

“Well,” you said with a sigh and knelt down next to Scott in the dirt. “Who wants to go in first?”

Scott gave you an uneasy smile and crawled into the pipe. You followed close behind him, helping Lydia over the bent bars, and Malia crawled in after you guys. After about a minute, you guys arrived at a service hatch and climbed down the ladder to find yourselves in the same tunnels that the Dread Doctors had used.

Dusting off your hands, you set to work looking for the rift in the very frustratingly normal-looking tunnels. You made your way as a group until you reached a fork in the road. You went left and Malia went right, and then Malia crashed backward into the floor.

“Found it!” Malia said triumphantly as you helped her to her feet.

Lydia walked past you and towards the rippling in the air. She held a hand out but was careful not to touch it. “It’s remarkably similar,” she said quietly.

“To what?” you asked.

“To the Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Lydia said. “See why I couldn’t have shown you a picture?”

You sighed and nodded reluctantly before turning your attention to the rift. It looked almost like nothing, but you had to figure out a way to cross all that nothing without being flung backward by Lydia’s Einstein-Rosen bridge.

Malia, it seemed, was thinking something similar. She broke off a piece of pipe and threw it into the rift. After almost decapitating Scott, she picked up the pipe again and started ramming it into the rift. All that happened was that the pipe got burnt and Malia burnt out. She groaned and threw the pipe to the side.

“There’s gotta be another way,” you said. “Lyd, do you have any other ideas?”

“I just need a minute to think,” Lydia said with a strained smile. She lifted her hand to her face to help her think.

“Think about how to get through a supernatural rift that melts steel.” Scott met your eye and frowned slightly.

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Lydia said, sounding partly humorous and partly defensive.

A voice caught your attention from the dark. “But it doesn’t have to be so hard,” he said. Douglass. Hauptmann. Creepy physics teacher. He stepped into the light with a look that could only be described as devious.

“He followed our scent,” Scott said as he stepped forward.

“I followed your desperation,” Douglass corrected. Your back ached with the memory of when he almost killed you; it had been so easy for him to take you out. “We’re all in a tough spot. Desperate to get inside and save everyone, and hoping to find a way to stop this army of the dead. We all want the same thing.”

There was something about the way he worded his sentences that creeped you out, but you were starting to think that everything he did creeped you out.

“He has a point,” Lydia said with a reluctant tilt of his head.

“Yeah, if he doesn’t kill anyone,” Malia said.

“Else,” Scott corrected. “If he doesn’t kill anyone else.”

“All that matters right now is getting through the rift,” Douglas said.

“Anything that touches the rift either bounces back or burns,” you said. “So you’re welcome to give it a try.”

“Oh, I think I’ll let someone else try it out first,” Douglas said with a sinister smile. He didn’t move, but Parrish walked out of the darkness behind him. He snarled at you, and his eyes were a bright green color instead of his usual golden red.

Lydia called his name gently, trying to get his attention.

“If the Hellhound can open the rift, we all go together,” Douglas said.

“You’re the bad guy,” Malia told him. “I’m pretty sure helping you is a bad idea.”

“Good guy, bad guy. When has anything ever been so black and white?” Douglas asked.

“Says the Nazi,” you scoffed. Your friends looked at you and you forgot they hadn’t been there when Douglas and Theo spoke to one another.

“And he wants the Hunt for himself,” Liam said as he appeared from the other tunnel. He looked like he'd run all the way here from the police station. “He wants his own supernatural army.”

Douglas sighed and unfurled the whip he’d stolen from the Ghost Rider. Your breath hitched.

“We’re not letting you through that rift,” Scott said.

“Not letting me?” Douglas repeated. “I see. You still think you have a say in the matter.”

Douglas cracked the whip and you pulled Liam back with you as your friends ducked. Scott shifted in an instant and roared at him, and Douglas cracked the whip again. He wasn’t trying to make any of you disappear, though you knew he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move out of the way. Douglas just wanted you out of the way.

You pulled your friends, one by one, to the side of the tunnel.

“Hollenhund,” Douglas called.

Parrish followed behind him obediently. He started tearing through the rift without needing to be told what to do, and for a moment you were too hopeful to remember that he wasn’t on your side.

Scott remembered. “Parrish, stop!” he yelled.

But Parrish wasn’t listening to anyone other than Douglas. He continued to rip through the rift until it completely dissolved, not caring about how burnt and damaged he’d gotten in the process.

“Wunderbar,” Douglas said as he looked at what was left of the rift.

Parish roared at you as Douglas said something in German. He roared again as the burn marks spread further across his body. They started walking through the rift.

“Now!” Scott yelled.

The five of you bolted towards the rift but it sealed shut before you got there. Liam pulled you back before you lost an arm to the rift as it closed.

“No, no, no!” You pulled your arm away and reached out for the rift again, but Scott pulled you back just before two Ghost Riders stepped out. “No,” you whispered, backing away while keeping your eyes on the rift.

“Y/N, take Liam and Lydia to the bunker,” Scott said over his shoulder.

You forced yourself to look away from the rift and nodded at him. Taking one of Lydia’s hands in yours and Liam’s in the other, the three of you started running towards the bunker while you ignored the sinking feeling that hope was for suckers.

The bunker was further than you expected, and you had to keep tugging Liam back so Lydia could keep up. You froze when a roar broke through the tunnels.

“That wasn’t Scott,” you said. You recognized it but you refused to let that roar belong to Scott.

“Well, it didn’t sound promising,” Liam mumbled.

“They rarely are. We need to keep going,” Lydia said. She shuffled to the front but all three of you stopped when you saw a Ghost Rider. It snarled at you and Lydia pulled you and Liam behind her.

You started to argue that you should be the one to take the hit, but the Ghost Rider raised his gun slowly up to the ceiling. He didn’t shoot at you.

“What’s happening?” Liam whispered.

“I don’t know, but you guys need to stay behind me,” Lydia said.

You couldn’t let anything happen to her. “Lyd-”

“Trust me,” she said.

Using Lydia as a shield, the three of you edged your way around the Ghost Rider and ignored the snarling until it was safe enough to start running to the bunker. It was closer now, but you didn’t stay long before Scott and Malia came to tell you that the coast was clear.

The coast didn’t feel very clear when they told you that Peter was taken, or when you came home to an empty house. It was very, clearly muddy when the operator told you that the number you’d dialed had been disconnected and asked you politely to check the number and try again.

“Scotty,” you said gently, reaching your hand across the table to hold his. Scott pressed the redial button. “Hey.” You touched his face. “We’re getting her back, okay? I promise.”

Scott didn’t say anything. You held his hand a little tighter and let your other one fall to your side.

“What do we do now?” Liam asked awkwardly.

“We can’t hide from them,” Malia said, easing herself into the chair across from you.

“What about Lydia?” Liam asked as he stood up. “The Ghost Rider was afraid of her.”

“It wasn’t fear. It’s …” Lydia took a breath. She and Liam sat at the table. “It’s almost like reverence.”

“It doesn’t matter. The rift is gone,” Scott said. It had been a long time since you’d heard him sound so hopeless. “We’re the only ones left in Beacon Hills.”

A knock at the door interrupted your hollow comforts and Noah stepped into the kitchen. You hadn’t realized how happy you were that he hadn’t disappeared like everyone else until you saw him, despite the argument you’d had the last time you’d seen each other.

Noah met your eye as he pulled up a chair. “I have a son,” he said. “His name is Michislav Stilinski, but we call him Stiles. I remember.” He took a breath. “When Stiles was a little kid, he couldn’t say his first name. Not sure why, it pretty much rolls off the tongue,” Noah explained with a hollow laugh. “But, uh, the closest he could get was ‘mischief.’ His mother called him that until …”

You reached a hand out to Noah and he didn’t pull away. His hand was warm.

“I remember when, uh- When Stiles first got his Jeep,” Noah went on. His voice sounded raw. “It belonged to his mother. She wanted him to have it. The first time when he took a spin behind the wheel, he went straight into a ditch. I gave him his first roll of duct tape that day. He was always getting into trouble, but he always had a good heart. Always.”

Noah squeezed your hand and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“And we’re here tonight because my goofball son decided to drag Scott - his greatest friend in the world - into the woods to see a dead body,” Noah finished.

“How did you remember?” Scott asked softly.

Noah sighed. “It started with Stiles’ jersey,” he said with a look at Lydia. “Then I found the red string for his crime board. Finally, his whole room came back … and all the memories.”

Your mind drifted to the Feliscore Arcade token in your pocket and you felt a sudden stab of jealousy that was so violent that you had to check to make sure that your claws weren’t out. They weren’t. Noah still had his fingers.

“And then the strangest thing happened,” Noah said, snapping you back to reality. “I- I thought I saw him. It was like something opened right there in the middle of the room. Just for a moment.”

“A rift,” you said instantly. “It doesn’t matter the other the rift closed. If we remember Stiles, then we’ll open another one.” You got to your feet. “Can you- can you take me to his room? Anything. I need-”

Lydia said your name when you were talking and then again louder when you didn’t listen to her. “We need to slow down and think,” she said.

“I can’t!” you snapped. “All we’ve been doing is waiting, Lydia. I need to remember him.”

“We will,” Lydia promised. Her voice was strained and her eyes pleading. “We just need a little more time. Please.”

You clenched your jaw and caught Noah’s eye. Reluctantly, you sat back down. “Okay,” you said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

---

As you got the freezer ready in Chris’ bunker, you thought of submerging Isaac in ice water to get him to remember what happened when he found Boyd and Erica. It had been dangerous, but he insisted on doing it to find his friends. This was dangerous, but you all insisted on doing it to find Stiles.

As you hoped Isaac was doing alright, Scott slammed the bunker door shut behind Lydia and strained to turn the lock.

“Do you think it’ll hold them off?” Malia asked.

“No, but it’s all we’ve got,” you said. Your eyes flicked over to the freezer and you walked over to it. “I don’t know how cold this thing gets but it didn’t kill Parrish so I think I can handle it.”

“What does freezing have to do with remembering anyway?” Malia asked, clearly not impressed by the freezer.

“It’ll slow your heart rate and put you in a trance-like state,” Lydia explained. She looked at all the dials, buttons, and levers. “If we can figure out how to work it.”

“Well, this says ‘start’ and that says ‘stop’ so maybe it’s not that complicated,” Malia said. “Who’s first?”

“Me,” you said instantly.

“No,” Scott said. He looked at you carefully, doing his best not to argue. “Please. I need to do this.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. You nodded at him. “Be careful, please.”

Scott nodded and flipped a switch on the freezer. He turned around to take off his shirt and you tried to prepare yourself for what was going to happen. At least when it had been Isaac, you could hold his hand, but there was no hand-holding through the metal.

“Okay. It’s doing something. Are you ready?” Malia asked.

Scott gave a run-of-the-mill answer as he opened the freezer door. He looked at you as Lydia locked him inside. You hated this.

“Remember,” Lydia said, “this will get cold enough to kill you. So if something feels wrong or like it’s not working-”

“It’s going to work,” Scott said.

“I hope you’re not saying that because you think I know what I’m doing,” Lydia said.

Scott smiled. “I’m saying that because I know you can figure it out.”

Without another word, Lydia nodded and turned the temperature down on the freezer. All four knobs were turned to their maximums.

Scott started gasping and shivering. “Oh, okay. Alright, yeah- that’s really cold,” Scott sputtered. “Like really cold.”

“Scotty, it’s okay.” You took a step closer and put your hand on the glass. “I’m right here with you and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe.” You were distantly aware of Malia and Lydia talking behind you but you were focused on your brother. “I need you to focus on my voice, okay? Can you hear me in there?”

“Scott, you have to concentrate on Stiles,” Lydia said as she took a step closer to you. “Try to picture him in your head. Think about what he looks like. The things he said.”

The freezer whirred loudly and Malia tensed. “I don’t like this,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”

“We need to give it a few seconds,” you said quietly. “With Isaac, he freaked out before it finally-”

Scott groaned and put his hand on the glass, exactly opposite yours. And then his whole body went still. He opened his eyes and they shined a brilliant red.

“Scott, can you hear me?” Lydia asked. He didn’t answer but his heart beat steadily. He was still breathing. “Scott, don’t fall asleep. You have to keep your eyes open.”

Scott sounded far away when he spoke again, “I’m trying.”

“It’s not sleep. I think you’re losing consciousness,” Lydia explained. “And if you do that, I think we’re going to lose you.” Scott’s eyes kept fluttering closed.

“Scott, stay awake,” Malia ordered. “Scott!”

Scott’s eyes closed. In that far away voice, he said, “Stiles, please let me out. It’s the full moon, I swear.” Your blood ran cold. It was working. “You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. And it’s killing me. I feel completely … completely hopeless. Just let me out. Please?”

Your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Scott kept mumbling disjointed conversation and looking around him like he was looking for something.

“Scott, try to find him,” Lydia urged. “Try to find him in your memories.”

Scott’s heartbeat skyrocketed and he looked more frantic. It was just like when Isaac didn’t want to remember finding Erica’s body. He was terrified.

“Find him in any memory. Good or bad,” Lydia told him.

Scott looked like he was having a panic attack. Malia said he looked like he was lost.

“I think he is. I think maybe it’s too much information,” Lydia said.

“Isaac overloaded when he tried to remember,” you said quietly. You took your eyes off Scott to look at Lydia. “How do we get him to focus?”

Lydia took a shaky breath and looked at your brother. “Scott, can you hear me? You have to try to focus!”

Scott covered his ears with his hands.

“You hear that?” Malia asked, walking towards the door.

“Thunder?” Lydia asked.

“Maybe,” Malia said.

“Guys, we need to figure this out,” you said. “Scott is going to fry his brain if we can’t get him to focus, and then he’ll freeze to death.”

“I know!” Lydia took a shaky breath. “This is my first time opening a dimensional rift in space-time. I’m kind of just fumbling around in the dark here.” She got a look on her face that you recognized whenever she got an idea. “The dark,” she repeated. “I think we have to treat this more like actual hypnosis. They use images to guide you through the memories.”

“Okay, then let’s give him an image,” you said.

“Scott, can you hear me?” Lydia asked again. “Listen to me. I need you to imagine this. Imagine you’re in the high school. Visualize yourself in the high school, in the corridor where all the lockers are. Just try to imagine standing there. That’s where your memories are. They’re all in the lockers. They’re locked away behind each one. Every memory of Stiles is in a separate locker.”

Scott was still straining. He looked like he was in pain.

“Scott, you’re there. You’re in the high school,” Lydia said. “You’re standing there now.”

Scott went still. He dropped his hands and looked around slowly, carefully.

“Stiles, you there?” Scott asked quietly. Louder, he said, “Lydia, I need your help. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t figure it out.”

“You have to keep looking,” Lydia said gently.

“There are all these memories, but I don’t know which one’s the right one,” Scott said.

“Find another memory,” Lydia said. After your whispering, she added, “Any other memory will work. You just have to keep trying.”

Scott stayed still for a long time without saying anything else.

“It’s getting too cold,” Lydia said behind you. She walked closer to the tank to read one of the gauges. “He’s getting too cold.”

“What if it’s not enough to remember him?” Malia asked. “What if it’s some kind of a connection he’s supposed to make because of a memory?”

“Like an emotional connection?” you asked.

“That could be why it worked for Stilinski, right?” Malia asked.

“Scotty,” you said hesitantly. “All these memories are important, but Stiles is more than just a memory, okay? He is your best friend. He’s the person that’s been with you even before you were bitten, and he’s the person that will be there for you long after all this is over. He’s a piece of you. Scotty, he’s more than a memory. He’s your brother.”

Scott was so still that he looked dead. His heart was thready, faint. For a moment, he stopped breathing. Then he gasped and his eyes burned bright. Malia managed to pull him out just before he collapsed.

“What’s wrong? Why did you bring me out?” Scott cried. You never thought you’d be so happy to hear him whining.

“Your heart rate dropped. You were going to die,” Lydia told him harshly.

“We had to,” Malia said.

“But- but nothing happened, did it?” Scott asked. You looked away from him. “It didn’t work.”

You wouldn’t allow yourself to feel hopeless. You stood up and set your jaw. “I’m going in,” you said. “We know how to make it work now. You can get me to focus quicker. I- I’ll remember more.”

“No, put me back in,” Scott said. “I could feel something happening.”

“Yeah, hypothermia,” you said as you stepped around him. “Scotty, you’ve gotta let me do this or it will kill you.”

Scott stared at you for a few hard seconds. “Okay,” he said eventually.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Lydia argued.

“Lyd, I love you but I’m going in there whether you help me or not,” you said. “You can either help me, or you can let me fumble through the dark and melt my brain.”

Lydia didn’t want to help you, but she knew you weren’t going to back down. “Okay, I have an idea for a visual,” she said. “But I’m not letting you kill yourself in there. If your heart rate drops-”

“You’ll pull me out,” you said with a smile. You kissed her cheek as you dashed around her into the freezer. “Let’s do this.”

Malia locked you in the freezer and Scott turned all the dials. You did your best to ignore them and focus on Lydia telling you to picture yourself in a car. Any car, as long as it had a radio.

“Every memory is a station,” Lydia said in her calm and clear voice. “You can change the station whenever you want. Are you sitting in the car right now?”

You looked around and found yourself in the powder blue Jeep. You felt yourself smile. “Yeah,” you said, putting your hand on the old gearshift. “Yeah, I’m in the car.”

“Okay, I need you to turn on the radio,” Lydia told you. “Every station is a new memory, and I need you to find a memory where you connected with Stiles. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. You took your hand from the gearshift and touched the radio knob.

Taking a breath, you switched it on and immediately fell into a memory.

The spring in your bed poked into your back uncomfortably, but you didn’t hardly noticed anymore. Your body was sore and tired, and all you could think about was Stiles’ voice on the other end of the line.

“I really miss you,” you said before you could stop the words tumbling out of your mouth. Your hand tensed around the drawstring you’d been fiddling with. “I mean, not like you specifically. I miss being at home. With Scott. And my mom. And …”

“Me?” Stiles suggested drily. You heard him move around and sigh on the other end. “I miss you too, McCall. No one’s here to drive my Jeep into an old lady’s mailbox.”

“That was one time! It’s your fault for not telling me which one was the brake and which one was the accelerator.”

“I thought that was pretty freaking self-explanatory.”

You argued with him but you laughed anyway. You were filled with a light feeling in your chest as the line got quieter. The tiredness in your muscles faded into fuzzy happiness.

“You still there?” Stiles asked quietly.

“I’m still here,” you said softly.

“Good.”

The line was quiet again. After a few minutes, you heard Stiles snoring softly.

“I’ll see you soon, Stilinski,” you said with a small smile. “I love you.”

You breathed heavily and tried to focus. That wasn’t enough. You turned the station.

Stiles taught you how to drive. You taught him how to punch someone without snapping his wrist. He wrote you letters while you were at Willow Creek. You wrote him poems. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

He was everywhere but none of the memories were the right ones. None of them felt powerful enough to bring him back. You changed the station again, begging the Jeep to show you something meaningful.

The cold air washed over your face mercilessly, but you didn’t mind. The music coming from inside the rave was so far away that it actually sounded peaceful; thumping in time with your heartbeat as you balanced along the inner arc of Stiles’ mountain ash barrier.

“Is it always like this?” you asked, shooting him a teasing smile. He looked pretty in the moonlight.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stiles said with a half-hearted sigh. He looked like he was going to say something else but then he squinted at the bag in his hand. Something was wrong. “Hey, does it look like this bag is getting empty?” He brought it closer to his face to take a look, but before you could answer, he’d poured what was left into his hand. “Crap, crap, crap, cr-”

“Stiles,” you said, snapping him out of his stupor. “Calm down.” You put your hands on each of his shoulders and shook him lightly as you took a deep breath that you hoped he’d mimic.

Stiles refused to take a deep breath. Instead, he said, “Calm down? There’s like fifty feet of ground to cover and I’ve got like three sprinkles of magic fairy dust left!” He looked over to where the mountain ash needed to reach, shook his head, and took a shaky breath. “You know what? I’ll call Scott. Scott always knows what to do. I’ll call him.”

Stiles started fumbling for his phone but you caught his wrist and placed your hand over his. He stopped moving. “Stiles,” you said gently. “You don’t need to call Scott. You’ve got this. Plus, he probably won’t answer anyway.”

Stiles said your name in a replica of your tone of voice and added, “We don’t have enough mountain ash. Scott will help us.”

“Stiles!” You let out an exasperated sigh and let go of his hand. Looking him straight in the eye, you said, “This is your job. It’s all on you. You’ve gotta believe you can do this. Scott believes you. Deaton believes in you. I believe-”

You didn’t get the chance to tell Stiles that you believed in him because he kissed you. It was the first time that Stiles had ever kissed you, and it was better than anything you could have imagined. Your hand moved up to the side of his neck and your fingertips lightly covered his jaw.

“What was that for?” you asked quietly when he pulled away. You looked in his eyes and tried to find the answer.

When he spoke again, Stiles sounded like he was telling you a secret. Something he couldn’t quite explain himself. He said, “For believing in me.”

You let out another harsh breath as Lydia yelled that they were pulling you out.

“No!” you yelled. You changed the stations again until you found something. “One more memory. I just need one more-”

“It’s me. I’m next.” Stiles' voice sounded hollow as he lowered his phone from his ear. He slid it into his pocket and then he started running.

Even though you couldn’t remember him, you ran after him. He’d already been taken from you but you were determined not to let him disappear.

When you finally caught up to him, you grabbed his hand. “Hey!” It took Stiles a painstaking second to realize that you weren’t a threat. He recognized you, even if you had no idea who was back then. “Hey, let me help you,” you said quietly.

“What’s my name?” Stiles asked with a trembling voice and tears in his eyes. You knew him, and you knew the way his hands felt, and you knew his favorite color was blue, but you didn’t know his name. All you knew was how badly you wanted to make him safe. “Oh, god. You don’t remember me.”

“I know you,” you said adamantly. Your hand tightened around his. “I don’t- I don’t know how. I know you.”

Even though your hands were intertwined, Stiles lifted your hands to either side of your face and kissed you. The kiss was over in a second but it felt like you’d been kissing him all your life.

“I love you, but I’ve gotta go,” he said, sounding heartbroken.

He pulled away and started running again when you grabbed his hand again. “No! Let me come with you,” you begged.

Stiles looked like every second he spent with you broke his heart, and now you knew why. “You don’t even remember me.”

“But I know you,” you said. You changed your grip on his hand so that your fingers laced together tightly. “And I’m not letting anything happen to you. So wherever you’re running … I’m running, too.”

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly, not entirely believing what he’d agreed to. He nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

Stiles started running, leading through the school at a pace too slow for a werewolf. Back then, you’d thought he might have been like Lydia because of how he kept looking at things that you couldn’t see and pulling you out of invisible danger.

“Don’t look at them,” Stiles warned. He sounded frantic. “Whatever you do, don’t fight them and don’t look at them or they’ll take you too.”

“But I-”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. No matter-”

The words caught in your throat. You wanted to yell ‘no matter what’ until you were blue in the face, but you had no control over the memory.

Stiles dragged you to his Jeep and fumbled for the keys as you slammed the doors shut behind you. He froze when he realized there was no escaping. He looked around and took a deep breath, holding the keys in his hand.

“Hey, we can still get out of here,” you said gently, leaning over to touch his hand. Fire spread through your fingertips.

“No,” Stiles said quietly. He looked over at you with the saddest, most hopeless expressions you’d ever seen. He broke your heart. “There’s no time.”

“There’s plenty of time,” you argued. You moved closer, trying to move his keys into the ignition. “Just start the car. We can go anywhere you want.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Stiles turned and cupped your face like he did in the hall, but he didn’t kiss you this time. “My name is Stiles. I’m gonna be erased, just like Alex. You’re going to forget me.”

“Stiles,” you repeated. “Stiles, I won’t forget you. Not again, okay? I can’t- I can’t lose again.”

“I love you,” Stiles said. And you knew he meant it. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and he loved you.

“I lo-”

The doors opened and you fell out of the freezer too soon. You didn’t get the chance to tell Stiles that you loved him, no matter what he did, no matter what happened to him. That you'd loved him since before you knew what love was.

“No, no, no,” you cried, fighting against Scott to crawl your way back to the freezer. “Let me go back to him. I need to tell him-”

“I know,” Scott said. He held you so tightly that his skin burned you to the touch.

“Scotty, please.” You sounded pathetic. Your face was clammy and wet with tears. You didn’t even know what you were asking him for as the whole bunker shook and green light filtered through the few windows high up. “Stiles,” you whispered.

You got to your feet and walked over to the door, leaning too heavily on Scott as the ice stubbornly clung to your bones and stabbed your muscles. There was a white light at the end of the tunnel and you pushed away from Scott to move towards it.

And then he started walking towards you. Stiles was right there.

You started running towards him with all the supernatural speed you could muster up, but he was gone before you even had the chance to give out beneath you. Stiles was gone and all he left you with was a pair of bloody palms to break your fall.

“No.” It was all you could get out. “No, I have to… have to get back in the freezer. I have to remember.”

Scott said your name gently as he helped you up. He told you that you couldn’t go back into the freezer because it would kill you.

“But he was here,” you said. “You saw him.”

“We didn’t see anyone,” Malia said.

“I saw him,” Lydia told you. “Stiles was here.”

Tagged: @ietss @used-avocado @trustfundparker

#teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #so close #mccall!reader #stiles stilinski #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine

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goosewhisker · 4 years ago

Text

this crooked posture (is all you’ve ever known)

read this on ao3 || read this on fanfiction.net

i wrote this whole thing in a span of about 5 days :pensive: as u can maybe tell i have a lot of feelings abt that one conversation btwn scourge and jules...there is so much potential here and im sad we never got to see it

as far as timeline goes- this would probably take place in the pre-boot universe about six months or so after scourge & co escape from zone jail. the destructix are camping out on mobius for the time being to avoid drawing zonic's attention and knothole has wrapped up the ixis naugus/metal sally arcs.

Summary: Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic.

Or: Scourge avoids his problems, Fiona is exasperated, and Jules is mostly oblivious.

It's the early hours of the morning. So early, in fact, that it shouldn't even technically be called morning because it's still basically nighttime and no one sane is up right now.

Which is probably why the idiotic robian is up at five o'clock in the morning, puttering around in the kitchen and making breakfast. There's literally no reason for it. It's not like he can eat anything, after all, and his stupid son lives off chilidogs, so he's not going to eat it. And his stupid wife isn't getting up for like two hours, so she's not eating it either. See? Idiocy.

Yet another thing that their universes seem to have in common.

"What are you doing?"

Scourge almost shrieks - key word is almost, 'cause he's too cool to scream like a dork - and tackles Fiona into the bushes. "Shhh!"

Fiona splutters indignantly and a second later her fist bounces off his jaw, which, ow. "Are you nuts? Get off me!"

"Shhhut up!" Scourge throws a quick glance over his shoulder at the window. No one's come outside to investigate, so hopefully no one's heard. He rolls off her a second later. "You wanna get us arrested, woman?"

"Hey, I'm a legal citizen of this universe!" Fiona protests. "If anything, it's you who's getting arrested, Mr.-Snooping-Through-Other-People's-Windows. That's so creepy."

"We're both wanted criminals here; if we get caught, we're going down together," Scourge points out, graciously ignoring her last comment. "And anyway, I'm... gathering intel."

Fiona snorts. "Pull the other one, Scourge. That's not gonna work on me." Crossing her arms, she adds, "You've been gathering intel every night for the past week. And I know you're technically the same person, but watching Sonic sleep is really weird."

"I'm not watching him," Scourge snaps before he can help himself.

"Oh?" Fiona's eyes glint and it's then that Scourge realizes he's slipped. "Then who are you watching?"

"Uhhh..." Scourge fidgets while trying not to look like he's fidgeting. "No one. I'm just passing through, not watching anything. Why'd I want to do that anyway?" He forces a laugh. "So lame."

Fiona regards him with a flat stare. "Your fingerprints are smudged all over the window."

"What?" Scourge whips around to check the window. He'd been so careful not to leave any traces of his visits, but-

Waitaminute.

"Very funny," Scourge growls into his gloved hands. Fiona snickers.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me, I won't make you," she says, standing up and brushing the dirt off her pants. "But I'll find out eventually. And if this new obsession of yours endangers yourself or the team, I'm going to put a stop to it."

"Yeah, yeah," Scourge mutters, waving her off. "Get lost."

"Mhm. We still on for that movie night?"

"'course. See you there, babe."

Fiona heads off with a wave, and he's left where he started - staring through a window into a nearly-empty kitchen, looking in on a life was never his and never will be. Inside, the robian sets bacon on the stovetop to fry and starts making toast, blissfully unaware of the hedgehog just outside. It's hard to tell on a robot, obviously, but he looks perfectly content with his life. Happy, even.

Pathetic.

Scourge kicks the side of the house, suddenly incandescently furious with everything. Inside, Jules looks up in surprise, but Scourge is already gone.

"I need to stop," Scourge says later. The movie is over - some samurai flick that Simian had picked out and Lightning had ruined with his constant nitpicking - and they'd gone out for ice cream afterwards (read: robbed that nice gelato place downtown). Getting used to having teammates again is... something, Scourge supposes. But it's not completely terrible.

"You need to stop," Fiona agrees. She's texting furiously, slouched into the ratty couch in their current hideout with Scourge's head on her lap.

"It's just weird seeing him alive, is all," Scourge tells the ceiling. "That's all it is. Like, when you see something weird, and you just gotta look at it. It doesn't mean anything."

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me?"

"Not tryin' to convince anyone. I'm just saying what it is."

Fiona sets down her phone with a sigh. "Look, you gotta stop hurting yourself like this."

Scourge sits up a little too fast. "Hurting myself? What? Babe, have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm Scourge the Hedgehog, I don't hurt."

Fiona gives that all the acknowledgment it deserves, which is none. "I told you about the... the prison, when I was a kid," she says. Scourge falls silent. "I went back there a few times, after I was big enough to handle myself. There wasn't a reason, really. I just thought I had to see it. And it sort of helped the first time - I cleaned out all the bots and made sure that place couldn't hold anyone ever again - but after that, I just went back again and again because it made me hurt and that felt good. Because I was hurting anyway, and being able to make it worse when I wanted to made me feel like I could control it."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

"But that wasn't true," Fiona says. Her voice shakes just a little, and without thinking Scourge takes her hand. It's stupid (sentimental) but she smiles faintly. "I wasn't healing or in control or anything. I was just hurting myself. And I can't stand watching you do the same."

"Babe," Scourge begins hoarsely.

"Tell me it's not the same," Fiona says flatly. "Or tell me- tell me that if I went back to that prison and crawl through that tunnel I dug with my own hands and relive every moment of the hell I went through, that you wouldn't stop me. That you would watch me do it."

He can't tell her that. He can't tell her that and she knows it.

Scourge looks away.

Fiona sighs and runs her hand along his spines. "He's not your dad, Scourge," she says quietly. "He's an entirely different person. Hurting yourself isn't going to make anything better."

"Okay," Scourge agrees. "Okay." Then, after a moment, "Thanks, babe."

Fiona smiles again, and there's something so sad about it he squeezes her hand again (uncool, but it's not like there's anyone else to see it). "No problem, hun."

He goes back again the next day.

This time, the wife is there too.

Scourge crouches in the massive oak tree beside the window, pretending he doesn't feel like a massive creep. His green fur blends neatly with the leaves, rendering him all but invisible to any casual observers, particularly when it's not-quite-light. With luck, it'll fool robian eyes as well.

Anyway.

Scourge doesn't remember his mother. She was simply never in the picture; whether because of death or divorce he never knew. Generally, he suspects the latter - months upon months of neglect, of being constantly passed over and ignored for the more important burdens of the state and the good of the people - yeah, he can see how a divorce would happen. Not that he'll ever know now.

The hedgehog in the kitchen doesn't look neglected. She throws her arms around the robian, not seeming to mind the cold metal, and dances around him as they prepare breakfast. The robian, in turn, leans into her touches and takes advantage of a moment of distraction to dab pancake batter on her nose. It's disgusting. Scourge gags.

Part of him wonders what he's gaining out of this. Hiding in a tree, spying on some losers and their dumb domestic life - not exactly fitting behavior for the former king of Moebius, after all.

It's not... It's not that Fiona's right. It's not like he's hurting himself - like he told Fiona, he's Scourge the Hedgehog. He doesn't do that emotions garbage. That kind of wimpiness is more Sonic's thing.

(Let alone that Fiona had said it happened to her. Let alone that she's usually right, and that she's one of the strongest people he knows.)

He's just curious. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

(The voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Fiona whispers, Yeah, right.)

Inside the kitchen, the robian starts flipping pancakes. For a second, Scourge tries to imagine his own father like that: Jules the Hedgehog, king of Moebius, flipping pancakes in a frilly pink apron and laughing with his wife. Arguing over who gets to wake up their son. Talking and hugging and laughing and living -

- and the illusion dissipates. Jules wouldn't set foot in a kitchen. He had servants to do that kind of thing, just like he had servants to take care of his son.

Scourge drops down from the tree branch and lands lightly on his feet. He's done here. He slinks off into the streets, hiding his face from the strengthening sunlight as synthetic laughter rings out behind him.

"Hey, Simian," Scourge says a few days later.

Simian continues lifting weights without slowing. "Yes?"

Scourge likes Simian, as much as he likes anyone. The ape is steady and has a solid head on his shoulders, and while it's kind of a drag most times, he does occasionally have helpful bits of advice. And when he goes loose on the battlefield, he can be really fun to fight alongside.

So that, plus the fact that Hawk doesn't care and Lightning would probably make fun of him and he'd rather eat his own shoes than talk to Fly, makes him Scourge's best option.

Scourge swings his legs back and forth as they dangle off the chair and tries to think of a way to broach it. He just needs to be subtle, right? "When was the last time you saw your parents?"

And maybe that wasn't super subtle after all, because Simian stops in the middle of his workout session (he never stops in the middle of a workout session) to stare at him. It feels... extremely uncomfortable, actually, wow. Scourge hops up and starts his stretches (anything to avoid looking back).

"When I last left my village, I was eighteen," Simian says at last. He sounds thoughtful, which is never a good sign. "That was several years ago... six years, I believe."

"That long, huh?" Scourge moves to quad stretches. "You're pretty old, man. Slowing down anytime soon?"

He's rewarded with a sharp grin. "I'm not that old. Though I suppose most people look slow next to you."

"Damn straight!"

"Why do you ask?"

And that's the issue - when even Scourge isn't sure why he's asking. He takes his time answering. "Oh, you know... just curious. Ever think about 'em?"

There's another ponderous silence, which mostly just succeeds in making Scourge antsy. Well, antsier.

"Sometimes," Simian says. "But I am a dedicated member of this team. You can rest assured of that."

And that's nice, but it's not what he's asking-

"...but that's not what you're asking, is it?"

Scourge freezes. Is he just that transparent? Why can everyone suddenly read his mind now? "What're you on about, man?" he deflects.

Simian shakes his head. "I do miss them, sometimes. It is natural for children to miss their parents."

"Not me!" Scourge laughs, and if it comes out a little too sharp, well, who's to blame him?

"Of course," Simian says, sounding vaguely indulgent. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Uh, sure," Scourge lies. "A little heavy on the oversharing, but it's cool." And then he scarpers, because if super speed's good for anything it's for escaping uncomfortable conversations. Simian doesn't say anything about it later, and thank Chaos because he doesn't think he'd be able to face Fiona if she ever got wind of that little talk.

The next time he's in town, Scourge picks up a new set of woodworking knives and leaves it on Simian's equipment. It's not like he's gone soft, buying presents for his friends or whatever, Scourge tells himself. He's just... buying Simian's silence. It's a bribe, is all.

(Simian saves him some extra ice cream the night after and that's that.)

It is natural for children to miss their parents, Simian had said. Ha! As if. Scourge hasn't missed his old man a day of his life and he's not about to start now.

... that'd carry more weight if he wasn't spending two or three mornings a week moping outside their kitchen.

Scourge sips his frappe and pretends he's not sulking. Right now, he's outside some random diner in Knothole in full disguise, complete with a trenchcoat, fedora, and sunglasses. He was honestly expecting someone to stop him before now - this kind of garb is about as suspicious as it gets - but no one seemed to even notice anything out of the ordinary. Idiots.

Fiona would kill him if she knew the kind of risks he's taking - which, of course, is why she doesn't need to know.

Scourge checks the time. Seven o'clock, meaning the wife is just getting up and they're having breakfast right now - Chaos, he has their entire morning schedule memorized, doesn't he? Fiona was right, he is obsessed. Scourge slumps over the table and buries his head in his arms.

He can still turn this around. Knowing their schedule is useful, from a strategic standpoint; he could threaten them, take them hostage... even kill them. Sonic would be taken completely offguard. It would be simple. Easy. The smart thing to do.

Scourge's groan is only partially muffled by the table.

"...you alright, son?"

What-

Something electric shoots up his spine. Scourge's claws dig into the edges of the table with a crunch as he bolts upright. And there, before him, with a look so familiar but so foreign in his eyes is-

He's not the same.

His skin is metallic where it should be flesh, plated where it should be furred. His eyes burn a bright pixelated red when they should be brown. That stupid tuft of fur on his head is shining chrome that glints under the bright sun.

But the way he stands - colored though it is with a hint of a soldier's posture - that proud tilt of his chin, the gentleness in his hands as they reach out to him -

It's Jules.

It's different from seeing him in that dim, lamp-lit room. In the daylight, the differences are exaggerated - and so are the similarities.

For a second, Scourge can only see his dad standing there.

He reacts on instinct. Scourge rears back and smacks Jules' outstretched hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Jules straightens up, virtual eyes widening with shock. "I'm- I'm sorry, it looked like you were unhappy. I only meant to-"

"Well, don't," Scourge spits. "Get lost."

Jules looks at him longer and then, for some Chaos-forsaken reason, doesn't leave. Why isn't he leaving, Scourge thinks furiously, and only realizes he's breathing heavy when his breaths start coming too fast and harsh in his ears. Jules says something, but the words don't make sense and he can't tear his gaze away from the polished metal. Beneath his fingertips, the table starts to splinter.

And then there's warm hands on his shoulders, and a steady voice in his ears, saying, "Listen to me. Do you want me to leave?"

Nothing comes out of his throat. Scourge shakes helplessly. He wants him to leave, he wants him stay, he wants to never see him again. He wants his dad.

Jules must take it as permission to stay, because he doesn't leave. The grip on his shoulders is a solid, unmoving presence, and Scourge can't help but lean into it. "I'm going to count slowly. Try to match your breathing to my voice - it's alright if you can't. Starting now. One, two..."

For some completely batty reason, he tries, and it helps some. His breathing is a little too fast and a lot shaky, still, but it settles into a more even pace instead of the uncontrollable rush. Sense comes back slowly, and with it, an acute, uncomfortable awareness of what just happened.

Well. At least he's not crying.

Scourge stands abruptly, tearing himself from Jules' arms. The robian raises a brow but doesn't protest. "Are you feeling better?" he asks instead. It's entirely casual, with no hint of pity, and Scourge hates himself a little for being pathetically grateful.

"Peachy," Scourge snaps and whirls around, hiking up his collar. Jules isn't screaming yet, so he clearly hasn't realized who he is, and Scourge is in no hurry to correct him. Honestly, this hedgehog's stupidity knows no bounds.

"Well." The robian stands up, reaches for a grocery bag that Scourge only just realized was there, and adds, "Stay safe, son."

Scourge's vision briefly whites out from fury. "Don't call me that," he snarls and takes off running before Jules can reply.

He finds a secluded place in a lonely corner, throws his warp ring, and promises himself that he'll never go back.

Scourge does some research.

It's called a panic attack, apparently. Common among soldiers, which is probably why Jules knew what to do - he said he'd been on the front lines, hadn't he? Common among victims of PTSD, the website says, and Scourge scoffs and closes the tab. Trauma - ridiculous. Scourge doesn't do trauma. If anything, he gives it to other people.

He's still snickering at his joke when Hawk comes in to tell him that Finitevus called in with another job. Normally, Scourge would tell him to screw off, but he's offering a massive stack of Anarchy beryl in return - something they've been in short supply of since they ditched Moebius.

Scourge's body itches at the thought of going super again. He accepts.

Thirty minutes later, they're waist-deep in smashed Eggman bots and struggling to fend off a fresh wave while Fiona and Hawk bicker over the terminal.

"I'm telling you, if we do that, we'll get locked out of the system entirely!" Fiona snaps.

Hawk throws up his hands. "Fine! Ignore me! It's not like you literally just have to enter the code or anything!"

Scourge spindashes down the line of Eggpawns, smashing through them like paper. He hits the wall at the right angle to bounce right off and uncurls in midair to land on his feet.

"Wrap it up, guys!" he yells and ducks beneath a stray kunai. "Watch it, Lightning!"

"Thought you were supposed to be the fast one," Lightning calls back.

"And I thought you were supposed to be able to aim!"

"I can." Lightning flicks a wrist and Scourge drops backward into a roll to avoid the next kunai that comes his way. When he springs back onto his feet, ready to chew out the idiotic trigger-happy lynx, there's a Badnik pinned to the wall right where he'd been standing. Lightning shoots him a smug grin.

"Right back atcha," Scourge mutters and barrels through the cluster taking potshots at Hawk and Fi.

"Ugh, fine!" Fiona shoves Hawk away and starts typing furiously.

Scourge drops another five Badniks and skids to a stop as an Egg Launcher smashes through the wall directly in front of him. "Fiona!"

"Give us a minute," Hawk snarls back.

The Launcher brings its arms down to eye level and Scourge leaps into the air as its targeting system locks on - and then Fly drops out of nowhere onto on its shoulders. "Need help?" the frog giggles (sweet Chaos Scourge hates him) and rips the thing's head off. Scourge blitzes right through its chest.

As its body slumps bonelessly to the floor, another Launcher steps through the wall behind it... and another one. And another. Chaos.

"If those things unload all those missiles in here, we're going to have a problem," Lightning says, echoing Scourge's own thoughts.

"Out of the way," Simian grunts, swinging the first bot's disembodied missile launcher-slash-arm onto his shoulder and taking aim.

"Are you nuts, man?" Scourge yells. "Didn't you hear Lightning? You fire that thing and this whole building's going down!"

"Better have the exit ready, then," Simian returns evenly.

"Got it!" Fiona announces, jumping up from the terminal with a chip in hand. Hawk follows, looking severely disgruntled. "Turns out we really did just have to enter the code. Hah."

"I told you," Hawk begins, but Fiona waves him off.

"You were right once, don't go getting a big head. You got the ring ready, sweetie?"

"Everyone over here! You miss the ring, we're leavin' you behind!" Scourge doesn't wait for a response and throws the warp ring. The portal spins into existence, glistening faintly in the electric light, and they all pile in. Simian fires off a final missile salvo before the ring vanishes and they tumble haphazardly into the Doc's lair to the sound of the entire base going up.

For a second, no one moves, too tired and bruised and tangled together to bother getting up. Lightning sighs heavily from the bottom of the heap. Scourge laughs.

"I trust you have what I asked for?" Finitevus asks from literally two feet away, and Scourge isn't even going to question how he knew where they'd end up. After all, they are at his mercy inside his weird evil lair, and Scourge knows how to be tactful.

Scourge props himself up on an elbow. "So do you like, practice being creepy, or is it natural?"

Without looking, Fiona smacks him in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"We have it," Fiona says, extricating herself from the tangle. Scourge considers tripping her as she walks past, decides against it, and settles for hooking his ankle around Hawk's heel as he stands up. The bird goes down with a satisfying squawk right on top of Lightning and the ensuing chaos lets Scourge hop up onto his own feet.

Fiona ignores it.

"All the files relating to the roboticization process are on this USB," she says, holding it out. Finitevus takes it and, after a moment's inspection, slips it into his robes.

"So why'd you want that, Doc?" Scourge asks, adjusting his sunglasses. "Woulda thought that robot stuff wasn't quite your style."

"It is true that roboticization is a perversion of the natural order and representative of that which I seek to destroy," Finitevus concedes. "But I am not opposed to much that will give me the advantage against my nemeses. And I must admit the idea of enslaving your opponent's will to your own has a certain... charm."

Scourge and Fiona exchange a look - of the literally why is he like this and the why do we talk to him again variety - and Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and steps up. "Uh... yeah, man. Totally. Anyway, if we're done here, can we have the beryl now?"

"Of course. But first, I have one more task for you."

Scourge scoffs disbelievingly. "Are you kidding? The deal was we break into Eggman's lab, steal your stupid information, and hand it over. We've done that. It took like forever and it was a massive pain in the butt the whole time, we are not adding anything else onto that and that's final."

"...I'll double the amount of beryl."

Scourge hesitates.

... which is how they ended up here. Scourge crouches on the windy rooftop, tugging his dumb fancy suit jacket closer and hoping idly that something happens soon. "Can we go in yet?" he asks.

Hawk, who's busy adjusting his own disguise, shakes his head. "You really have no patience at all, do you?"

"Nope!" Scourge tugs on his overly-tight tie and mostly just makes it worse. "How 'bout now?"

"If you were any good at infiltration, Fiona would've let you go in already," Hawk says. He's typing on his communicator, syncing all their devices into something they can actually use. It's not that Hawk's particularly adept at technology, or anything; it's just that all the rest of them are so abysmal at anything electric that tech duty usually falls to him or Fiona. "Unless Plan C falls through, you're not headed in 'till the last minute."

Scourge sighs loudly, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building. "I could just walk in and grab him. They wouldn't even see me coming. Then we wouldn't have to spend a million years sitting out in the cold."

Hawk doesn't look up. "And then Sonic would pursue, and then we'd have to fight him off while trying to kidnap a geriatric former soldier without killing him. Which, given our previous track record..."

The bird trails off and Scourge grimaces. Yeah. They'd given up on kidnappings for a reason. They wouldn't have even considered this one if not for the offer of Anarchy beryl - which has been in extremely short supply recently, given they can't hop dimensions without instantly snagging Zonic's individual attention. And it's not like Scourge isn't flattered that the self-important dimensional cop will drop everything for a chance at catching him, but he's not planning on seeing the inside of Zone Jail ever again.

Anyway. It's a small blessing that Zonic hasn't come looking for them personally, or sent Sonic after them, but it's one Scourge isn't willing to throw away just for a power-up. Thus the kidnapping mission.

Scourge swings his legs contemplatively and longs for Fiona to hurry up so he can bash some heads.

Right on cue, their communicators ring. "Alright, boys," Fiona's voice comes through a little tinnily. "You ready?"

"Heck yeah," Scourge says immediately.

"Ready to go whenever," Hawk confirms.

"Roger. Meet me where we agreed." The comms unit crackles and goes silent. Scourge hops up and starts stretching quickly, trying to limber up his half-frozen muscles. Hawk sets his communicator down and picks the lock on the trapdoor they'd been sitting next to. Once it's open, they slip down a small flight of stairs and through an empty hallway. At the end, they take a right through another hall and stop outside a janitor's closet.

Scourge raps on the door. "Knock, knock," he says.

There's a moment of silence. Then Lightning opens the door. "Hurry up," he whispers, peering over their shoulders.

Scourge clicks his tongue in disappointment. "Dude, you're supposed to say 'who's there.'"

"Yeah, Lightning," Fiona says from inside. "You're ruining the script."

"I- what?" Lightning sputters. "You people are so immature. Simian, can you tell them to shut up?"

There's a good fifteen seconds of judgemental silence. "...you should've said 'who's there.'"

Lightning rolls his eyes and Scourge pushes past him into the room. Simian nods as he enters and Fly, who's doing something he can't quite make out, cackles in a corner. Scourge spreads his arms wide. "Alright, I'm here now, the party can start!"

"Good to have you," Fiona says. She's sitting on an overturned bucket, one ankle folded over her knee and eyes glued to her phone. "Alright, so Plan A failed."

"Yes!" Scourge cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

Fiona shoots him a glare. "We weren't able to get him away from his bodyguards and the speech is about to start soon. I didn't want to do this in front of a crowd, but we may not have a choice. Right now, we only have to deal with the normal security and Sonic. After the ceremony, they're going to meet up with a bunch of Sonic's friends before going back home to Knothole."

"Wouldn't it be better to wait, then?" Simian asks, folding his arms.

Fiona shakes her head. "No for two reasons. We can handle the normal security easily, especially if we use the crowd for meatshields while Scourge is distracting Sonic. Sonic's friends are, frankly, a much greater threat than the security, and they will not be holding back. And if we wait until they go back to Knothole, we have that... woman to deal with."

Everyone shudders at the mention of Nicole. Their last attempt on Knothole is not a memory anyone wants to relive.

"So if we use the crowd for cover and Scourge's able to distract Sonic for long enough, this is doable," Fiona resumes. "We'll just have to time it right. And we can not let Sonic know our target at all costs. If he realizes we're trying to kidnap his uncle, he won't let the old man out of his sight, and our job will get a lot harder. Got that?"

A quick briefing on everyone's roles later and it's time to go. Scourge starts to follow the guys out the door and is caught short by Fiona's hand on his wrist. "Sweetie, can I talk to you for a second?" she asks and drags him back inside before he can answer.

She turns him loose and Scourge spins around, rubbing his wrist. "Alright, if this is about what I think it's about-"

"Don't worry, I'm not yelling at you. Just..." she trails off to stare at him.

Scourge tries not to fidget and goes for a confident smile, propped up against the wall. "Babe, don't worry about me. This'll be a lark."

"It's... you know." Fiona shrugs and apparently decides to just go for it. "You've been having issues about your dad. I need to know if that'll affect your performance here."

"What?" Scourge is almost kind of offended. If it was anyone but Fi asking, he would be offended. "Babe, my uncle was a total nutjob. Like, worse than my old man. No issues here."

Fiona looks at him a second longer. "Alright," she says at last. "If you say so. I'm counting on you."

She brushes past him on her way out, squeezing his hand on the way, which is nice since she's weird about stuff like that. Scourge follows a minute later.

I require one more thing for my research, Finitevus had said. Charles the Hedgehog. Inventor of the roboticization process. He is receiving an award for his technological advancements in Central City in two days. Bring him to me alive and you will have your full reward.

Scourge scans the crowd for Charles now, leaning on the fancy railing of the fancy indoors balcony overlooking the fancy banquet hall. There's a name for a balcony like this - a mezzasomething - but he can't remember what it is. Maybe Fiona would know.

Scourge tugs at the collar of his unbearably fancy suit jacket and longs for his sunglasses.

He'd told Fiona the truth earlier - his uncle was a wackjob. Paranoid, jittery, simultaneously ravenous for power and terrified of it - no one had liked him, least of all his nephew.

Jules had liked him, probably. Enough to give him a home and a laboratory for his crazy experiments and to turn a blind eye when they started getting darker and more deadly. That had gone on up until Charles had invented a machine that turned moebians to robots, and its first (unwilling) test subject had been Jules.

Yeah. After Ivo managed to save Jules' life, they'd put a stop to that real quick.

They'd told Scourge that Charles had gone far away to someplace he could be happy. He still remembers that scene - Jules crouching down before him with mournful eyes, one arm cold and stiff where the roboticization process had gotten it before Ivo had pulled him out. His flesh hand had been warm and comforting on his shoulder, and Scourge had been so distracted by the touch that he hadn't even cared that his uncle was gone. He'd faked tears just to get Jules to stay with him a little longer.

Scourge shakes his head wildly, dissipating the memories. Anyway, it was painfully obvious in hindsight that Charles had either been jailed or executed for treason. Not that Scourge would have cared either way. Mostly, he's just vaguely curious to see what Charles is like in this world. Still a mad scientist, or something more benevolent?

A mass of whispering erupts at the main entryway of the hall. Scourge straightens up.

A bunch of bodyguards in black enter, followed by a few people who could be family or friends. Sonic's there, obviously, and next to him can only be Uncle Charles.

Scourge doesn't really remember his uncle; he was, after all, a kid when the guy vanished, and he avoided him whenever possible. But the face before him is undeniably like his own. He has the same sloping forehead, the same pointed muzzle. Honestly, he looks exactly like Sonic with a mustache.

Scourge leans forward, intrigued, as the old guy says something that has Sonic pitching forward in laughter. It's weird, seeing him. Not like seeing Jules, or even like seeing the mom. Just... weird.

Not the kind of weird that Fiona's worried about, thank Chaos. No, he'll have no problems handing this schmuck over to the Doc.

Charles and his little squad sit down in the front row while the bodyguards split up to cover the exits. Scourge tracks their positions automatically, mostly focused on the target. Charles claps his nephew on the back and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Scourge looks away with a sneer.

The ceremony starts. A bunch of people Scourge doesn't know talk about a bunch of things he doesn't understand, blah blah blah. Scourge yawns and taps a tattoo on the railing with his claws. Luckily, all the civilians seem to have gone down to the seating area, so he's alone on the balcony. As long as the security doesn't notice him, he should have no problem staying under the radar until it's time to make his move. Until then, he amuses himself trying to find the rest of the Destructix hidden in the crowd.

Down below, the speeches start wrapping up. Charles ruffles his nephew's quills one last time and heads up to the stage. Scourge straightens up as he accepts his award and takes the mic.

"First, I'd like to thank you all for being here today," the hedgehog says. Scourge taps his foot impatiently. "I know it's a bit of a long way for a lot of you - we've got some visitors from Holoska, even! - and it means a lot to me that you'd take the time to make it here today. So thank you."

Ugh, so boring. Can't Fiona hurry up? At this rate, they'll be doing the audience a favor by sparing them all this drivel.

"- of the University of Spagonia for funding my research and going out of his way to help me whenever I needed it. Thank you, old friend."

Scourge taps his communicator and almost jumps when it crackles to life.

"Alright, everyone's in position," Fiona says. "On my mark, Scourge, you're going to distract Sonic. Jump down there, challenge him to a fight, anything. His sole concern needs to be beating you up."

"All he has to do is be himself and Sonic'll be jumping at the chance to tear him a new one," Lightning interjects. "Works on me."

"Oh, shut up," Scourge says. "Fiona, tell him to shut up."

"...well, he has a point."

Lightning's amused huff is audible over the comm. Scourge rolls his eyes. Traitors, all of them.

Fiona's voice goes serious. "But for real. Get him mad and get him out of here. Make him chase you 'till I call you back, and don't give him a second to realize there's more going on. If he comes back here before we're done, it's over. Okay?"

"I got it handled, babe," Scourge says. "Worry about yourself."

"Believe me, I am." The comms go silent a second later. Scourge stands up, shakes the stiffness from his limbs, and hops up to crouch on the railing. It's showtime.

On stage, Charles is still talking. Does the hedgehog not know how to shut up? "And finally, I'd like to thank my family, who loved and supported me every step of the way, up to and including being here with me today as I accept this award. Sonic, my amazing nephew - you've grown so much and, while I wasn't there for all of it-"

Well, that's enough of that. Scourge leaps into the air, curls up, and lands a perfectly executed homing attack on the podium. Splinters, chunks of wood, and a massive dust cloud fly everywhere. Someone in the audience screams, and behind him he can hear Charles stumbling back and coughing furiously.

"Uncle Chuck!" In the front row, Sonic rockets to his feet and dashes forward, only to come skidding to a stop. As the dust dissipates, Scourge grins. He can feel the light glinting off his fangs.

"Long time no see, faker," Scourge spits. He pulls his sunglasses out of the stupid suit jacket's pocket and slides them on with a flourish. "Can't exactly say it's a pleasure seeing you... then again, I always look forward to a chance to kick your butt."

"Wh- Scourge?" the blue idiot sputters. The shock only lasts a matter of seconds before fading, as the flabbergasted expression turns into something more like a smirk. "Well, well. I haven't heard from you since I demolished you and left Zonic to drag your sorry carcass away. Did they let you out on good behavior?"

Good behavior. Hah. As if Sonic knows anything about what goes on in Zone Jail. "Please. I smashed my way out of there the first week. The Zone Jail's in shambles; just ask Zonic! Oh wait - you can't." He laughs.

Sonic's smile slips a notch and the quills on his back bristle. "What happened to Zonic?"

Scourge keeps laughing.

"Alright, pincushion. Maybe you'll tell me when I beat it out of you!" Apparently done talking, Sonic curls up into a spindash. Scourge, still laughing, topples off the wrecked podium and leaves Sonic to smash into the stage where he'd been standing. People are screaming, someone's escorting Charles off the stage, and Scourge is reveling in the chaos.

"Slowing down, blue boy?" he mocks him. "You'll never find out about your stupid friend if you can't even touch me." Zonic's perfectly fine, actually, unless you count the truckload of paperwork Scourge saddled him with after his escape from Zone Jail. Not that Sonic needs to know that, 'cause if anything ticks him off, it's a threat to one of his friends.

And, true to form, Sonic snarls wordlessly and Scourge knows he's got him.

"You're looking kind of slow today - let's see if those legs of yours still work," Scourge calls over his shoulder and takes off. The world blurs around him as he taps into his speed, rockets between panicked partygoers and confused waiters and angry bodyguards. Out of the corner of his eye, he briefly spots Fiona crouching behind a pillar before she's blown away in his wake. Like this, outside sounds, sights, everything drops away, leaving him alone with himself and the wind.

It's nice. Peaceful, even.

And then the only other being who can keep up with him barrels into his side, sending them tumbling over each other right through the big open doors outside. Scourge lands a kick to Sonic's chest, sending him spinning away, and sprints down a sidestreet towards the marketplace. A moment later, the sound of footsteps running at 300 mph picks up behind him.

Scourge grins. The plan's working, then - Sonic's so ticked that he hasn't even stopped to wonder why Scourge isn't stopping to fight, or why he crashed the party in the first place. Now he just has to play this out 'till Fiona's done.

"Been slacking your exercise regimen lately? 'Cause I thought you were faster than this!" Scourge calls out.

"That so?" Sonic returns. The sound is unexpectedly close and Scourge looks back to see Sonic running only a few paces behind him. "I could say the same for you."

Scourge growls and vaults a fruit cart, sending it flying with a back kick. Sonic dodges the cart and dives through the onslaught of flying fruit, coming up without a scratch. Scourge's gained a precious few seconds, but in a contest of speed, those seconds mean everything. He blocks Sonic's path - kicking over trash cans, dodging in front of moving cars, knocking a baby out of its mother's arms with a well placed swipe. Sonic dodges the trash cans, goes over or around the vehicles, and loses a good fifteen seconds saving the baby. By the time they've cleared the marketplace, Scourge is about thirty feet ahead and gaining.

"What's wrong?" Sonic yells. "Scared of a little fight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scourge yells back. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not wasting my time fighting someone too slow to keep up!" Up ahead, a pile of trash bags is stacked against a sloping wall, reaching up to the edge of the roof. Scourge leaps up in a single bound and sprints along the rooftop. Behind, the trash bags crinkle as Sonic races up, and tiles creak as the hedgehog fights for balance. Scourge snorts and picks up speed.

The rooftop run is fraught with near-misses and almost-falls. This area of town has a mixture of buildings; some are modern and boxy, with flat tops, but there's a number of older structures with pointed tile roofs. Scourge skids down the sloping ridge of one of these, slips off the building, snags a flagpole on the way down and turns his fall into a launch point. He lands upright on the narrow ledge of a skyscraper and darts along the line of windows, flashing a mock salute at some goggle-eyed kid in its bedroom.

Sneakered feet hit the concrete behind him as Sonic pursues, grinning despite his ferocious eyes.

Scourge hooks a fast right as the ledge ends and drops down to the top level of the parking garage nestled against the 'scraper. Mostly he's planning on going back down to street level, but Sonic puts on a burst of speed and tackles him right there.

They roll head over heels across the concrete, colliding with a dusty pickup truck hard enough to dent in the side. Scourge throws himself out of the way and rolls onto his feet just as Sonic picks himself up. The blaring car alarm is the only sound as they stare each other down.

Sonic moves first. He doesn't bother curling up, just lunges fist first at Scourge's face. Scourge ducks the punch and goes in low for Sonic's solar plexus, narrowly dodging a knee to his face. Sonic slams his heel down on Scourge's foot and drives an elbow into his neck. Scourge stumbles back, falling into a roll to avoid Sonic's left hook, and comes up on his feet with room to spare.

There's another moment of staring and circling as they pant heavily and pretend they're not.

And then Sonic steps something that crunches and looks down.

Scourge lunges. Sonic sidesteps him easily and snatches it up - and wait, Chaosdammit that's his communicator-

"Is this a mic?" Sonic asks disbelievingly and then the pieces click.

He stares at Scourge blankly, and Scourge can practically see his train of thought - comms means accomplices, accomplices means there's a plan, a plan means Sonic was intentionally drawn out here away from the ceremony, and if Sonic's out here then -

Then -

Scourge swears and moves to tackle Sonic but the idiot's already gone. Instinctively, his hand goes to his ear - "Fiona, he's coming your way, I-" No, wait, Sonic's got the communicator and it's broken anyway, dammit. The plan's falling apart and it's entirely his fault.

Well. It hasn't fallen apart yet.

Scourge takes off, running full-tilt after Sonic. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, not that he appreciates it. Sonic's trail is a direct beeline back to the hall. It should be easy to follow, but for some reason Scourge can't catch up those last few feet.

"I thought you wanted to fight, you dingus!" Scourge snaps. "Make up your mind already, sheesh!"

"You tricked me," Sonic growls.

"Uh, yeah? I'm the bad guy. It's kinda what I do."

"What's your actual plan?"

"Thought you were gonna beat me up and find out?"

Sonic snarls and, impossibly, picks up speed. Scourge has to drop the conversation entirely to focus on just keeping up.

They hit the convention hall scarce minutes later. There's clearly a fight going on inside; explosions and the faint sound of screaming accompany the flood of people battering down the doors in their desperation to escape. The Destructix are clearly having fun... and more importantly, haven't escaped yet. What on Moebius are they doing?!

Sonic zips through the crowd, dodging panicking mobians with practiced ease. Scourge doesn't bother; he kicks one middle-aged cat into the heart of the rush and vaults over the resulting pileup without missing a step. "Babe! Hope you're wrapping it up in there!" he yells as they burst into the ceremony hall.

The Destructix are more than holding their own. The security has been almost entirely cleared out; fallen guards litter the area while none of their own are even scratched. Fiona, wielding a G.U.N. issue stun pistol, jerks up in surprise as Sonic skids into the room. "Scourge, you had one job!" she screeches.

"So did you!" Scourge rams into Sonic from behind, sending them both flying into a row of seating. Scourge comes out on top. "What happened to Ch- the target?" he asks, pinning Sonic down with an elbow to his throat.

"Escaped," Fiona says grimly. "We've already informed the Doc... and, uh, we have a new objective now."

Sonic makes a choked-off sound and Scourge leans down harder. Something shifts behind him but he ignores it. "Alright, what is it?"

Fiona hesitates.

And then cold metal claws clamp down around his shoulder and tear him off Sonic, lifting him bodily into the air. The hedgehog wheezes for breath on the ground, but Scourge isn't paying attention. He's not paying attention to anything anymore, because in front of him-

"What the hell are you doing here," Scourge breathes.

Artificial red eyes burn into his own. "Don't touch my son," says Jules, and the anger in his voice causes every limb in Scourge's body to lock up with instinctive fear.

Of course Jules is here, Charles is his brother, why wouldn't he attend the ceremony - hadn't the blasted hedgehog said as much during his speech? Scourge should've realized it then. This was a bad idea, they need to get out of here, why did Scourge even come here in the first place-

Something in Jules' mechanical expression thaws.

The clawhold on his shoulder eases as he's lowered to his feet, but Scourge's brain is still spinning in circles. He's gone completely unresponsive, some part of him knows, but he can't think.

"Get away from him!" Fiona yells and plants a high kick right in the center of Jules' chest. The robian goes flying, pursued by Simian, and Hawk swoops down behind them to tackle Sonic away. "Babe," Fiona says, kneeling down beside Scourge, feeling frantically at his shoulder. "Did he get you?"

The world shifts a little bit back into place. "No," Scourge mutters. "Fiona, I don't-"

"Save it." Fiona's eyes are full of worry as she grabs his wrist and hauls him to his feet. "I think you need to sit this one out, sweetie."

"What? No." Scourge grips her hand like a lifeline. "I can fight. I can still fight."

"Scourge... the new target is Jules."

Something in his chest catches. Scourge stares at her, and around them, the noise of the battle seems to fade. "...what? Why?"

Fiona grimaces. "We lost the inventor of roboticization. Next best thing is its last survivor."

"No. We're not doing that." Scourge has no idea what he's doing, only that they cannot hand his- hand Jules over to Finitevus. He catches both her hands in his own and squeezes them tight. "Call off the mission, we're going home."

Fiona stares at him. "What? Scourge, you can't be serious! After all the work we've put into this? And what about the beryl?"

"We already got the beryl from the first mission. We'll be careful and save it until we can restock. We've gotten this far without any beryl at all, we don't need it that badly!" Scourge hesitates. "...Fiona, please."

It's the last word that breaks her. She knows how bad he hates saying it, knows how much this means to him that he's saying it now. Her shoulders slump in defeat. "...fine. But you get to explain this to the Doc - and please, let's try to avoid burning that bridge again."

Scourge squeezes her hand one last time before letting go. "Thanks, Fi. And don't worry about the Doc; I'll take care of him."

"That's what I'm worried about," Fiona grumbles, but she's smiling. "Alright, team," she calls out, pulling out her warp ring. "Mission's off. We're going home."

"Wait, what?" Hawk asks and nearly gets clobbered by Sonic for his trouble. "Why?"

"Ask questions when we get home," Fiona says and throws the ring. As the portal whooshes open, Scourge turns to survey the troops. Lightning and Simian are slowly retreating back to the portal, fighting Jules every step of the way, while Hawk and Fly are trying without much success to fend off Sonic long enough to run.

Scourge spindashes into Sonic, knocking him off-balance. "Get to the portal, idiots!" To Sonic, he adds, "Sorry, but it looks like we're cutting this date short." If Chaos has even a drop of mercy in its unforgiving soul, Sonic will have been too thoroughly distracted by the fight to have overheard his exchange with Fiona.

And it looks like for once, his prayers are answered, because Sonic's grin, strained with exhaustion though it is, hints at nothing off. "I'm not letting you get away this time," he says and launches into another spindash. "I still have some questions for you to answer!"

"Then they'll have to wait for next time." Scourge ducks the attack and slams his heel into Sonic as he passes, boosting his momentum to slam into the opposite wall. "Alright, time to go!" he yells, scrambling for the portal. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the rest of the Destructix doing the same.

Fiona's already waiting at the portal, with one leg halfway through, and-

"-aaaaaAAAUGH, WHAT THE HELL," she screams and falls back, pinwheeling wildly.

"Fiona!" Scourge yells and then the world blurs briefly and he's at her side, hauling her to her feet. "Fi, what's-" and then he screams too, because Finitevus is literally right there, climbing through the ring like a monster in a horror movie.

The battle cuts off. A few feet away, a newly recovered Sonic skids to a stop, staring incredulously. The Destructix are sort of ranged out behind him, looking to Scourge and Fiona for the next move. And who knows where Jules is.

"Dude," Scourge says emphatically, putting a hand to his chest. "Don't do that."

"What are you doing," Finitevus hisses.

Scourge makes a show of looking around. "Uh, escaping? I mean, what does it look like?"

"I should have known better than expect you lot to pull through," Finitevus mutters, and hey, that's actually kind of offensive.

"Hey! Screw you, man!" Scourge yells, shaking his fist. "We're leaving 'cause we want to, not 'cause we're losing!" Fiona slaps a palm to her face.

"Oh? And what possible reason could you have to do that?" Finitevus asks, but he doesn't seem very interested in an answer, because his hands flare with dark energy a second later, and Scourge knows what that means.

"Scatter!" he yells and hits the ground with Fiona as a bolt of Chaos energy goes right over their heads. Fiona rolls out from under him as he leaps to his feet.

Sonic seems to have switched targets. Currently, he's hammering away at Finitevus' defenses, running his mouth the whole time. The ring portal is still open behind Finitevus, but they need to get the crazy echidna out of the way first.

Fiona, as usual, is two steps ahead. "You're going to need to team up with Sonic."

"What, seriously? Can't we just let Sonic take care of the Doc and ditch?"

She gives him a flat look. "I don't know how he did it, but Finitevus must have hijacked the ring's signal and keyed it to his lair. I need time to reset it before we can leave. Just, you know-" she waves a hand vaguely. "Move the fight away. Whale on Finitevus. Keep them both off my back long enough for me to work."

"Ugh. Fine." Scourge turns around on his heel. "Hey, loser!" he calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Five minute truce?"

Sonic uncurls in midair long enough to yell, "Make it two!"

Fiona had better work fast, because this isn't going to take long. "Destructix, watch Fiona's back," he orders and throws himself into the fight.

Finitevus was clearly anticipating something like this, because he moves smoothly into defending against the both of them without hesitation. And it's - frustrating. Whenever Scourge throws a punch, a ring portal swirls into being in just the right place to take his hit. If he tries a kick, the same thing. And Chaos forbid he spindashes, or he'll wind up on the opposite side of the room (or, more accurately, slamming into Sonic).

Between the ring portals and the constant misdirection, the two minute mark passes and they haven't landed a single hit. The guy isn't on their level, exactly, but he's unpredictable with enough tricks that he could probably take either of them on their own. Against both of them, he doesn't stand a chance - or he wouldn't if Sonic would get out of his way.

"Dude, we're supposed to be working together!" Sonic snaps.

Scourge flicks his ear (it's been ringing since Finitevus dropped a portal that sent a spindashing Sonic on a collision course with Scourge's face) and ducks beneath a Chaos-infused punch. "Not my fault you can't keep up."

He sidesteps a second punch and follows up with a roundhouse kick that comes inches from the Doc's face before another ring portal intercepts. Dammit.

Sonic, of course, chooses that moment to go for a homing attack, which takes him right into the portal as Finitevus dodges. From somewhere on the other side of the room, the moron makes a faint oomph sound as the portal spits him out.

Scourge rolls his eyes and sweeps his legs under Finitevus' ankles, forcing the echidna to stumble back. "You make a remarkably disloyal minion," Finitevus says and drops into a portal.

On a hunch, Scourge spins around and slams a haymaker into Finitevus' face when the echidna reappears behind him. "Calling me a minion was your first mistake, Doc," Scourge says. "I'm the king, baby."

Finitevus snarls and vanishes again. "I must wonder at the cause of this particular instance," his voice says. Scourge whirls around, fists up before him, but the scientist is nowhere to be seen. "You were, after all, so eager to serve at first. What changed your mind?"

"You really gotta learn the difference between serving and making a deal, bud," Scourge says. "This why your friends always leave you?"

Finitevus ignores him. "Nothing changed between then and now. Nothing... except the target." Something flickers in the corner of Scourge's eye and he starts to turn, but he's met with a blow to the jaw followed by one to the shin. Scourge crumples to his knee with a cry of pain and looks up to see Finitevus' Chaos-powered boot swing for his face-

And then someone's hand snags his wrist and they're moving.

The world blurs just a little as Sonic hauls him across the room at lightning speed to drag him behind an overturned table. Scourge clutches the lapels of his jacket and tries to force his racing heartbeat to settle. For a second, they just breathe.

"Okay, we need to coordinate," Sonic says belatedly.

"Don't tell me what to do," Scourge says, mostly on reflex.

Sonic rolls his eyes. "If you draw his fire, I'll go behind to take him offguard. Think you can do that?"

"What? No. You draw his fire and I'll sneak up behind him."

"Yeah, maybe I'd do that if I had any faith at all in your stealth. You aren't exactly subtle, bud."

Scourge thinks back to every mission that involved some level of sabotage/stealth/general sneakery and their inevitably disastrous ends and winces. Unfortunately, he has a point. "Fine, whatever. Don't mess this up, dweeb." A blast of chaos energy rocks the floor beneath their feet - time's up. Finitevus is here.

Scourge breaks for the left.

"Hey old man, having trouble keeping up?" He leaps into the air as Finitevus goes for a sweeping kick and curls into a spindash, aimed at the scientist's head. Predictably, he sails right into a ring portal and falls out several feet away. In midair, he uncurls and kicks off the ground to rebound towards Finietvus.

The Doc raises his hands coated in Chaos energy and actually catches the spindash. For a moment, they war against each other - dark energy to living buzzsaw - before Finitevus shoves back and they break apart.

Scourge hits the ground in a crouch and lunges again. This time, he feints an uppercut followed up with a knee strike to the gut. The echidna stumbles back, but recovers almost instantly. As Scourge goes in for another strike, Finitevus snags his collar and yanks him off-balance, slamming him into the dirt. Scourge tries to wriggle out of his grip, but the Doc pins him to the ground with a hand on his throat and a knee on his chest.

"I can't say I haven't been waiting for this," the mad scientist breathes, and raises a handful of swirling black energy.

Scourge scrabbles helplessly at his wrist and wonders, briefly, if this is it.

And then a blue ball of spikes rockets out of nowhere, smacking into the back of Finitevus' head so hard the floor creaks when he faceplants. Scourge kicks him off and rolls back onto his feet, smacking away Sonic's outstretched hand. The echidna staggers upright, but his shield is broken and Sonic and Scourge poised on either side of him. The echidna eyes them warily, rings at the ready, and for a second no one moves.

"Got it!" Fiona's voice breaks the spell.

Sonic's concentration slips. Scourge can see it; the way his posture straightens slightly, the way he half-turns to face her. Finitevus sees it too.

And then Finitevus' hands are up, radiating dark energy, and Scourge drops into a defensive stance 'cause the blue buffoon can get himself killed if he wants but Scourge is going down fighting- but Finitevus isn't looking at either of them.

He's looking behind them.

At Jules.

Jules, who has no Chaos abilities, can't break the sound barrier on a whim, can't dodge bullets point-blank.

Jules, who both is his father and isn't, who's a machine but still alive, who stood across from Scourge in a dark room and didn't flinch though Scourge held his life in his hands, who loves his wife and child and wouldn't hesitate to die for either of them.

Jules, who would walk a random stranger through a panic attack on the street but can't dodge a Chaos spear if it's pointed at his chest.

Time slows down to a crawl. Scourge doesn't think.

He just moves.

The last thing he sees, as pain erupts from his chest like lightning and the world is drowned out by the black of corrupted Chaos energy, is the bright red of Jules' horrified eyes.

There's a beeping noise somewhere near his ear. Fiona's phone, probably (even though it sounds nothing like her alarm). Scourge reaches up to shut it off and is stopped halfway by the clink of cold metal.

...huh?

He opens his eyes to dim electric light and a pounding headache. There's a hard surface beneath his back, thin sheets around him, and a metallic chill around his wrists, ankles, and throat.

Through the haze, something about the last one feels familiar.

Beside him, something rustles, and a soft voice says, "Awake, then?"

"Dad?" Scourge mumbles foggily. For a moment he's eight again, in the hospital after a near-drowning, and his dad took a whole day off from work to rush to his bedside and hold his hand. It was the first time he'd seen him in a week.

Then reality catches up and reminds him that no, his dad is dead and whatever's going on here is something to worry about. The fog is gone in an instant.

Scourge's eyes snap open and he throws himself as much he can to the far side of the bed from the figure standing there now. Jules is there - a little scratched and dinged up but very much alive.

There's a flicker of something like relief inside him before Scourge stuffs it down and crushes it very firmly. Chaos, Fiona was right. He let his stupid hangups about this robian get out of hand, and now look what's happened - the mission went south, Scourge is chained to a hospital bed, the rest of the Destructix are nowhere to be seen, and worst of all, he made a heroic sacrifice like he's Sonic or something.

Chaos, Scourge is never living this one down.

"It's good to see you're moving around already," Da- Jules says in that same too-soft tone. "Some of the doctors were convinced you wouldn't live another day. I suppose any son of mine, even from another dimension, is just too durned stubborn to go out like that..."

"Don't," Scourge rasps.

Jules blinks at him. "Pardon?"

"That." Scourge lets go of the bed's railing just long enough to gesture irritably. "I'm not your son. Don't call me that."

Instead of rearing back in offense or dropping the nice act altogether, Jules tilts his head slightly, as though in recognition. "Ah," he says after a moment. "So that was you."

Scourge freezes and tries to play it off. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That day in front of Chuck's diner," Jules says. "That was you. I wasn't sure, since you were still supposed to be in Zone Jail then."

"Chuck's diner? What?" Scourge forces a laugh. It comes out entirely fake and just a little unhinged.

"You had a panic attack," Jules continues, unperturbed. "I walked you through it. Honestly, at the time, I thought it was because of me."

It was because of you, Scourge wants to say. Instead, he asks, "Whaddya mean?"

Jules gestures vaguely to himself. "I'm a robian," he says. "Robotnik put Knothole through a lot when the roboticizor was still functioning. Plenty of people have had... adverse reactions to my body in the past. It's unfortunate but can't really be helped, except through time and patience."

...for some reason, that stings. Scourge pushes the thought away and snorts. "Sucks to be you. Don't see what that has to do with me."

"You did ask," Jules reminds him, which is fair. He supposes. They lapse into silence.

Scourge slumps against the bed, a little more relaxed with no attack evidently imminent, and holds up a hand to the light. The dangling cuff glints coldly. He can't reach the collar on his neck, but he suspects it shines the same way - like the inhibitors back at Zone Jail. "You guys already talked to Zonic, then?" he guesses.

He's not really expecting an answer, but Jules gives one anyway. "We did. He gave us that inhibitor collar you're wearing right now." Nailed it. "He wanted to take you back with him to Zone Jail right away, but with the condition you were in, we didn't want to risk moving you until you were stable."

Scourge flexes his fingers, watching the muscles move. He'd suspected already, given how drained he feels right now, but knowing that he's wearing the collar is... disheartening. That level of powerlessness is something he'd never wanted to feel again. "I'm stable now. So when will you be moving me?"

Jules hesitates. "Now that you're awake, we'll probably call Zonic to pick you up sometime tomorrow. It's nighttime right now."

"What? How long was I out?"

"Two days."

Two days, and he's still here? Either the Destructix got nabbed too (possible), are planning a rescue mission (unlikely), or ditched (most likely). That... also stings. A lot. He'd liked Fiona, and he was getting used to the rest of the idiots, too.

"What about my team?" he asks.

"Vanished. They tried to retrieve you but retreated when reinforcements arrived."

It doesn't mean much - he is, after all, their strongest fighter and tactically it makes sense to avoid losing him if possible - but it makes Scourge feel better to know they'd at least tried. He lets his hand fall back to the bed with a metallic jingle.

"I still don't understand," Jules says, and Chaos, why won't he shut up? Is this something inherent to Sonic's family? "Why did you save me?"

Scourge inspects the patterns of cracks on the ceiling. That one looks like Sleuth Dog's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he mumbles.

"You took an attack meant for me. That much concentrated Chaos energy would've killed me - it's likely the only reason you survived is because you're a very adept controller."

"Sounds like you already have an answer to me."

There's a brief pause. Scourge continues avoiding eye contact. "I do have an idea," Jules says softly. "But I'd like to hear a confirmation from your own mouth."

Scourge doesn't say anything.

What's he supposed to say - that every time he sees Jules some stupid, long-dead part of him longs for his approval? That Jules is dredging up memories better left buried? That when he saw his dad - any version of him - in danger, that his first instinct was to protect him, despite everything he'd done?

Ha. Yeah, right.

"Think what you want, old man." Scourge bares his teeth. "It doesn't mean anything. It was an accident."

Jules doesn't waver. "I think we both know that's not true."

Can't this guy take no for an answer? Scourge huffs and rolls over as much as he can so his back is toward Jules. "Leave," he says. It's what you're best at, after all.

"Sonic heard that you attacked the ceremony to kidnap Chuck."

Scourge has a sudden, sinking feeling he knows where this is going. "I don't care. Go away."

Jules marches on, implacable. "He said that halfway through, after Chuck escaped, Finitevus told you to switch targets. That the new target was me."

"Shut up!"

"And that when you heard I was in danger, you-"

"So I called it off, alright?" Scourge bolts upright. The handcuffs snap back against his wrists painfully and his ankles scream as the cuffs cut into his skin, but he's too furious and aching and raw to care. "Yeah, I called off the mission. Yeah, I took that stupid attack. It doesn't change anything! I'm still your enemy, I'm still going to kill Sonic, I'm still going to tear apart your world and everything you love! So what if I- if I..."

"Risked all that to save one broken-down, tactically unimportant robian?" Jules finishes quietly.

"Yes! No!" Scourge tries to bury his face in his hands and can't even do that, damn this tiny range of motion. "Will you leave me alone?" Metal glints in the corner of his eye as Jules reaches out a hand. Scourge growls deep in his throat until the hand is slowly drawn back.

Mercifully, the robian is silent while Scourge desperately tries to keep himself from falling apart. Chaos, what is wrong with him?

"What do you want from me," he mutters.

This time, it's Jules who looks away. "There's not much time before I have to call Zonic in," he says. "Before he left the first time, there was talk of... life in solitary confinement. Or execution."

Breathe. It's fine. Scourge has been in worse scrapes before. "I can see where the similarities between you and my dad come in," he says softly. Venomously. "He never hesitated to lock me away, either." Sure, it hadn't exactly been tossing him in a prison cell and throwing away the key, but the perpetual grounding to an empty mansion, the total abandonment of him to an endless stream of nannies... and then, of course, that fiasco right before he died.

Dads. So eager to foist their screwups on other people, wash their hands and move on.

"Doesn't any of this setup seem odd to you?" Jules asks abruptly.

Scourge blinks, thrown. "What? You hit your head somewhere, old man?"

"Think about it. You're a top-priority prisoner. You've broken out of Zone Jail. And yet your only security here is an inhibitor collar, some handcuffs, and a broken-down old robian."

...there's a trap here somewhere, Scourge knows it. "Yesss?" He eyes Jules warily. Is this some kinda reverse-psychology thing?

Jules laughs wearily. "You're not the only one with emotional ties he can't quite cut, son."

"Don't call me that," Scourge says reflexively before the weight of Jules' words catch up to him. "Wait, what? Are you saying-" and then he cuts off, because that's so ridiculous it shouldn't be said out loud.

"Yes," Jules confirms. "I volunteered for guard duty because I had to ask, first. To make sure for myself that something of my son is in there."

"I am not your son," Scourge snaps. Distantly, some part of him recognizes that he's being actively detrimental - that if he plays his cards right he could actually walk out of this free - but he's past that kind of rational behavior now. "You're chasing ghosts, old man! Stop looking for stuff that isn't gonna happen!"

"You're not my son," Jules agrees. "You're not my Sonic. But you're a Sonic, and somewhere... that potential for great good is inside you."

And isn't that exactly what Sonic had said on their last birthday - the day he'd finally ditched that lame Anti-Sonic moniker, had finally stepped out of Sonic's shadow into his own light - that all it'd take is a bit of decency, and Scourge would be just like him? The echo stills him.

"You're making a mistake," he says hoarsely. He's not going back to Zone Jail, he'll die before he goes back to that hellhole, but he needs Jules to understand this. "I'm not Sonic. I'm no hero. If you let me go, I'm just gonna go right back to doing what I did before. People will die because of you."

"No, they won't," Jules says, half-smiling. "I've done my research. The Destructix don't kill. You wreak havoc and destroy things, but... no bodies. I understand it's to avoid trouble with G.U.N.," he adds, holding up a hand to forestall Scourge's protests, "But you don't have a body count. That's important."

Shows what he knows - but Scourge can't bring himself to point out the obvious. "I still ruin lives," Scourge says instead. "There's other ways to kill people without holding a gun to their heads."

"I know. And that's where I'm being selfish." The half-smile turns into a full smile, but it's so sad and wracked with exhaustion and bitterness that Scourge has to look away. "I... I lost my son once. I can't help it... I can't watch a son of mine - from any universe - be destroyed while I can do anything to stop it. I'm not a good person, Scourge. I've lost too much to try. So I'm going to be selfish, just this once, and hope you don't make me regret it."

Scourge is silent. He's silent when Jules stands up and unlocks the cuffs, one by one. He's silent when Jules reaches up to his throat to unlock the inhibitor, and he's silent when it falls away and power rushes freely beneath his skin once more.

His boots are on the floor, suit jacket draped over a chair. He pulls on the shoes and digs through the pockets until he finds his sunglasses, but leaves the jacket behind.

"Scourge," Jules says quietly, as Scourge pushes the window open. He hesitates over the window sill, half inside and half out.

If Jules asks him to stay, he doesn't know what he'll do.

But he doesn't. In the end, Jules looks down and whispers, "If you ever need somewhere to rest, my home is always open. Till then... be safe, son."

The words catch in Scourge's throat. He nods, wordlessly, and drops out of the window to land lightly on his feet on the ground below. For a moment, he dallies beneath the window, waiting for-

For...

He doesn't know. Scourge shivers in the cool night air and starts running.

...thanks, Dad.

He finds the base a few hours later, jogging to the next town over and hopping a train the rest of the way. When he walks in, the base goes dead silent.

Fiona leaps up from the circle of Destructix - planning a rescue mission, he later finds out - and tackles him, hugging and pounding him in equal measure. She cries a little too, which he only discovers when she points out he's tearing up himself. The Destructix surround them, yelling over each other and clapping him on the back until Simian picks them all up in a group hug. It's at that point that Scourge declares he's done with all this mushy stuff and if they don't knock it off he won't bother coming back next time. Fiona announces that if there is a next time he won't have to worry about coming back because she'll kill him first, and Simian gives them all one last squeeze before turning them loose.

Scourge retrieves his leather jacket with a sense of great relief and they all end up watching another trashy samurai movie, which Lightning ruins again. Fiona holds him tight the whole time and doesn't chew him out like he deserves, for which Scourge is unendingly grateful.

He doesn't go back to the house. He pulls jobs with the Destructix, they beat up on Sonic and his lackeys, they have one run-in which Finitevus that they come off much worse for. And they watch crappy movies, eat ridiculous amounts of junk food, and get personally banned from every arcade and amusement park across the continent. He's... not gonna lie, it's actually pretty fun.

But in the back of his head, the house is always there. The robian bustling around the empty kitchen in a pink apron. The scent of pancakes frying. Till then... be safe, son.

It takes a long time - months of denial, of wondering and longing and furious self-restraint - but he caves eventually.

He shows up on a morning he knows Sonic and his mom won't be there. He doesn't knock on the door, or ring the bell. Mostly, he just hovers outside, unable to work up his nerve to do anything.

He's about to leave when the door swings open. Jules stands there, looking exactly the same as he did that night by the hospital bed, with eyes too soft for his wayward not-son. Scourge, half-frozen on the sidewalk, searches for something to say and comes up empty. They stare at each other silently.

Scourge shoves his hands in his pockets and forces back the lump in his throat. "I was in the area, so I dropped by," he mutters. "Don't think this means anything."

Jules looks at him for a long moment and Scourge forgets to breathe. Slowly, softly, his dad smiles. "Welcome home, son."

#sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #fiona fox #jules the hedgehog #destructix #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic #i cant look at it anymore take it

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knightofameris · 5 years ago

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uncharacteristic team-ups — avengers (stark!reader)

Setting: Timelines? What are timelines? I have no clue when this could be so have fun but also who cares lol (basically an AU) Gender: Neutral Contains: curse words, an in-depth description of death (like lots of it), blood, a bit of fighting alcohol mention, everything in here is platonic but relationship with peter parker could be read either way Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: What happens when a mission gone bad leads you to team up with some vigilantes who aren’t known to be good team players? Except, you have to team up with the so-called Defenders of New York as they’re the only way to get your dad back.

a/n: a self-indulgent piece,,,, lol. also uploading this despite it being done a long time ago since i haven’t posted in a hot minute.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, regarding the gender of reader, grammar, spelling, or with the story. c:

Enjoy! [repost from old account

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

❝ the most powerful people in New York and you were a part of it ❞

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

The abject horror one feels when coming across a dead body is one no one ever talks about. The stench, the sudden realization of how fragile life is. If said dead body is mutilated, violated, eyes left open to stare into the unlucky person to come upon it, it’s even worse.

But (Y/n) was left in a worse situation. The feeling of their dinner wanting to leave their stomach the same way it entered caused them to cover their mouth, trying to hold it back. The array of bodies strewn about in the warehouse caused them to shut their eyes and pinch their nose.

No one ever talked about how a body releases everything, and I mean everything, when they go onto the next life.

Now (Y/n) knows why.

“Holy shit,” Peter murmured, plugging his nose. “The smell, I didn’t realize the smell—”

Tony shushed him, his head turning back towards the two teenagers. He should have known that this small takedown of a few crimelords should have been left to the police. But when he saw his name on one of their weapons, he couldn’t help but want to investigate. Now he regrets it because even on missions, he’d ensure that (Y/n) and Peter would never see dead bodies. And now they were seeing more than they should.

Tony’s hand gripped (Y/n)’s shoulder, giving them a small squeeze then looking back over the railings onto the first floor where the bodies laid.

The lights on his armor dimmed and (Y/n) looked up at him with a tilt of their head.

“Something’s wrong,” a voice spoke out, a group of footsteps sounded throughout the warehouse. (Y/n)’s eyes widened and began to back up on the catwalk they were on, hiding from the voices.

“God, this is disgusting,” a woman spoke out.

“You’re telling me, Frank Castle, did this?” A man in a hoodie asked.

“Yes, but this group, they wouldn’t be his MO,” another man wearing a red armored suit responded. “Luke I’m going to need you to—wait.” His mouth parted, and he tilted his head. Unbeknownst to anyone else, his eyebrows furrowed as he continued listening into his surroundings.

“We’re not alone.” The man turned his head upwards.

“Daredevil, right?” Tony was already over the railings, hovering in the air above them. The HUD on (Y/n)’s domino mask they wore had instructions over it: ‘Do not show yourself until I say so. I know you’ll do it, but don’t do it.’ (Y/n) and Peter exchanged glances in which Peter only shrugged.

“Or should I say, Matt Murdock?” Tony pointed his finger at the man in the suit, his helmet promptly coming off. Matt tensed up, his jaw clenching. His fingers parted from the eskimo sticks he held then regripped it.

“Great, now we’re dealing with superheroes,” the woman sighed, walking away.

“Isn’t that Jessica Jones?” (Y/n) murmured towards Peter. Peter inched forward, peeking over the railings then looked back at (Y/n). He nodded his head. (Y/n) lets out a silent grunt of approval then slowly sat down, wanting to hear their dad’s interactions with them.

“I’m sorry,” Tony gestured towards her and his eyebrows furrowed. “Rosie the Riveter, from what I could tell, what you guys have done in the past few years could deem you as heroes.”

“Look, this isn’t something you could blast your way through, Stark.”

“Oh, so this is something you could, punch your way through, Mr. Luke Cage is it?”

“Okkaaayyy,” (Y/n) called out, jumping over the railings and ignoring the dead bodies below. “Dad, they’re on the same side as us, they might know more than us.” They landed with grace in front of the adults and then promptly jumped back up, tapping their mask that uncovered their face. “(Y/n) Stark, but you probably already knew that.”

Tony began protesting (Y/n) but they just ignored him after putting their hand out to shake the hands of the others with a smirk on their face. (Y/n) didn’t even notice Peter landing next to them until he did a two-finger salute.

“H-hi, Spider-Man, nice to meet you guys,” Peter stammered out. “I’m usually in Queens.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes then turned around to face Tony who’s helmet already came off. His face full of exasperation and the wrinkle lines could probably very well be from the stress from taking care of his kids.

“I swear to god,” Tony flicked the back of (Y/n)’s head lightly, “you’re both going to be the death of me.”

(Y/n) giggled, trying to make light of the situation before turning back to the others.

“We’re on a bit of a time crunch, so please, if you could just get out of our way.” Jessica leaned on one of her legs, her voice slightly desperate. (Y/n) arched a brow at her. Peter raised his hand in the air and everyone glanced over at him. “Just talk, kid.”

“You know, if you work with us you won’t have to deal with the illegality of being a vigilante,” Peter spoke up.

“So what, we’d be Avengers-in-training?” A man (Y/n) and Tony recognized as the heir of Rand Enterprises, Danny Rand. Tony had meant him once, with Pepper.

Luke scoffed, “No thanks, we’re not—”

“Heroes?” (Y/n) interrupted. “Don’t you guys already have a nickname?” (Y/n) glanced up at their dad who clicked his tongue and began nodding his head, gesturing to (Y/n) then back to them.

“Yeah, yeah, the Defenders, right?” Tony asked. “Rhetorical question but you guys need us,” he turned around, looking over the dead bodies then back up at the catwalk he was at minutes earlier, “just as much as we need—”

(Y/n) frowned and everyone exchanged glances wondering why Tony would just stop talking, he loved hearing himself talk.

He was even frozen in place, his hand raised to the side and his foot just hovering over the ground.

There’s a certain gut wrenching feeling you usually get before the bad thing happens, in movies, in real life. Usually you just look away, ignore it, and wait for the next scene. But in this situation, in this world that (Y/n) lives in, you gotta look. You gotta watch to find out what the next move is.

(Y/n)’s gaze followed their dad’s, wondering what Tony was looking at.

“Don’t look up!” Matt shouted, pushing both teenagers’ heads down. “Don’t look at her.” He held both of them there.

“Oh my,” an alluring voice called out. (Y/n) suddenly felt at peace and almost wanted to fight against Matt and look up to see who the voice belonged to. “I never would have thought I could catch one of the big ones.”

“If you can,” Matt murmured towards the two of them, “Change your masks to see in infrared.” He slowly let go. (Y/n)’s mask covered their eyes, and they blinked, suddenly seeing everything in infrared. They looked up and saw a woman who radiated no heat but her eyes, her eyes were burning hot.

Jessica and the others had on goggles with the name Rand on the side, their fists were held up, prepared to fight the moment they saw Tony’s helmet come back online.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called out, his voice wary.

The woman laughed, weaving her arm through Tony’s arm and hugging it tight. “I’m afraid Mr. Stark isn’t able to come to the phone right now.”

“What did you do to him!?” (Y/n) demanded, pulling out their bo staff. Jessica grabbed their arm and held them back.

“Not now, kid,” she said. (Y/n) tried shrugging her off but her grip just tightened. What they didn’t realize was another man walking out from above, a skull painted on his chest and two assault rifles in his hand.

“Alright, honey,” the woman wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck, “Let’s get out of here. And Frankie, be a dear and take them out for me?”

“Wait, dad!” (Y/n) called out, reaching their arm up towards him as he flew up and blasted a hole in the roof.

“Watch out!” (Y/n) was jolted out of their daze from Tony seemingly under the woman’s control when Luke grabbed them and set them behind him once the man, Frank Castle, began raining bullets down on them. Matt, Jessica, and Danny dove behind a car that was set in the warehouse.

Peter launched himself up onto the roof using his webs. Then pointed it towards Frank.

“That’s unfair, you can’t use guns on unarmed people!” His webs hooked onto the two guns and he yanked it back. Frank stumbled forward, grunting as he lost his balance. He wasn’t able to react fast enough when Peter launched two webs beside him only to catapult into him, knocking him out the moment his head slammed into the wall behind him.

(Y/n) gripped their bo staff, their knuckles white and waited before the shooting stopped. They watched as Peter jumped back down with a webbed-up Frank Castle in his arms. (Y/n) turned to face the other adults and their mask came off, their face red with fury behind their eyes.

“You better tell us what the deal with that woman was because she just kidnapped my dad, Tony-fucking-Stark and we’re helping whether you like it or not.”

***

“So you’re telling me,” (Y/n) rubbed her forehead, “that Adeline Trost, the woman who took my dad, can control people when she makes eye contact with them.”

“Yes, and that’s why we don’t want to call in the Avengers,” Matt replied. At this point, he was unmasked, relaxing in the confines of his apartment. (Y/n) glanced over at Peter, who still wore his mask, and then over at the others who sat spread out. Frank Castle was webbed to a chair, making him incapacitated in case he’s sitll under her control.

“Well, when one of us is compromised, we have to alert the others,” (Y/n) sighed, burying their face into their hands. They let out a frustrated groan and leaned back in the chair.

(Y/n) didn’t want this, they didn’t want to be the one making the call but they were an Avenger, and a higher ranking one than Peter was. At least, that’s what they both saw (Y/n) as.

Peter fiddled around with his hands, tapping his foot against the ground. He watched (Y/n) let out another frustrated groan and though they just seemed exasperated, he knew that they were worried about their dad. Naturally, he was too. But (Y/n) had probably lost him more times than the two of them can count combined.

“No,” a new voice spoke up, his voice gruff. “If she ends up controlling them, the whole world will be at risk.”

Chairs scratched against the floor as everyone stood up. Frank sat still though, as still as he could. He looked up, his face was bruised up and littered with cuts and scars. If he had powers, he’d be a force to be reckoned with; he still was.

“Are you still…” Danny’s arm was outreached towards him, cautious in case Frank could break out of the webs, despite it being extremely strong.

“Under that bitch’s control?” Frank asked, his head tilted. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not and Murdock over there can tell you I’m telling the truth.”

(Y/n) looked over at Matt, their eyes narrowed at the lawyer. Matt’s face was relaxed, most likely listening to Frank’s heart.

“He’s telling the truth, you can unweb him,” Matt assured. Jessica walked over behind him before Peter could make his way over and ripped open the webs. Frank shortly stood up, letting the webs fall to his feet. He groaned as he rubbed his neck and dusted the webs off of himself.

“Woah,” Peter murmured and looked over at (Y/n) while pointing towards her, “she’s strong.” Jessica rolled her eyes and walked over to the fridge and took out a beer.

“I’m taking this Murdock.” She raised the beer then took the cap off and began chugging. Matt didn’t respond, knowing he couldn’t deny her.

“So what’s the plan?” Luke crossed his arms, looking back and forth between (Y/n) and the others.

“Alert the Avengers and,” (Y/n) raised a hand up in the air before anyone could protest, “let them know that Tony’s compromised and to not trust him. I’ll let them know that I can handle it too.”

“And you’re sure they’d trust his kid and Spider-Kid?” Luke nodded towards Peter.

“Spider-Man, it’s Spider-Man,” Peter whined.

Jessica cocked a brow at him, “You’re a kid, Spider-Kid.” (Y/n) stifled a laugh, patting Peter on his back before taking out their phone.

“I’m sure,” said (Y/n) and walked away from the group to call Rhodey.

***

Rhodey walked up to Frank, who was significantly taller and more toned, despite Rhodey actively being War Machine and a Colonel.

Frank stared down at him, adjusting his stance and his fingers fiddled around against the palm of his head rhythmically.

“Look, Colonel,” Frank started, “with all due respect, this is one of the jobs that the Avengers can’t take up. Might as well be well below your paygrade.”

Rhodey scoffed with a smile, placing his hands on his hips, the whirring of the mechanics surrounding his legs filling the quiet room. Everyone watched with silent, observant eyes. You could literally cut the tension in the room with a butterknife. (Y/n) knew they were in deep shit when Frank glanced over at them from the corner of his eye.

“This is a job that’s already been taken up by the Avengers,” said Rhodey. “When one of our own is compromised, we’re involved. I could call in the authorities right now and have you arrested. All of you.” He pointed at the other four. “But I won’t, even if I should.”

Jessica groaned, walking towards a chair and falling into it. “I need a fucking drink and I blame you, Stark.” (Y/n) ran their hand through their hair nervously and walked over towards Peter, hoping to find comfort near him.

“Can we stop this?” Luke asked, desperation laced in his words. “The longer we take on finding a way to work together, the longer it takes to take down Adeline. Frank, you need to learn how to be a team player.”

(Y/n) draped an arm over their stomach, their other hand going up to the side of their face, taping on their mask to let it go over their face and watched Tony’s vitals that the two of them setup for each other. A way to make sure the other was safe in a situation like this.

They pursed their lips, tapping their fingers against their side, ignoring what the others were talking about and just watched Tony’s heartbeat across the screen.

That’s all (Y/n) wanted, for their dad to be back and safe and alive. They’ve lost him too many times, too many near death counts. This can’t be the one where they truly lose him.

***

The streets were nearly empty of civilians. Buildings were destroyed and, despite ‘the Defenders’ wanting to keep the Avengers out of it, the Avengers became a part of it. But with the Avengers becoming a part of it, the risk of them falling under Adeline’s control increased.

The plan was to bring Adeline out in the open, have the Avengers as secret weapons in case the plan went south if the Defenders (and Colleen, she didn’t want to be left out) got stuck in control and to have Wanda use her powers to invoke her worst fears and to read her mind.

But what they didn’t expect was Adeline being able to counter Wanda’s powers and she worked backwards, bringing Wanda down to her fears and then putting her under control. One by one, the Avengers who were there, Rhodey, Steve, Sam, and Natasha, fell straight into her control.

Leaving the misfit heroes (not that they’d ever call themselves that) with the two Avengers-in-training to take out Adeline and bring them back. Which brought the block they occupied in Manhattan to be destroyed.

(Y/n) slowly walked up to Tony, ignoring the sounds of protests behind her. The Defenders, miraculously, brought a few of the Avengers back to their side, aiding them in the fight against the others, especially Wanda. They all helped each other up, leaning on each other for support as they watched (Y/n) confront Tony.

His mask was off and his eyes were dull as he stared into (Y/n)’s eyes. His gauntlet was pointed straight at them, one repulsor blast and they’d be done for. But Tony was hesitating.

(Y/n) tapped the side of their mask allowing the nanotech to show their face; allowing themself to be vulnerable even in the case that Adeline appeared. But they didn’t care, they just needed to get their dad back.

“Dad, it’s me, it’s (Y/n).” They smiled but choked on a sob when they heard the whir of his repulsor. Until Tony cracked a smirk and he grunted, using his other hand to pull the one pointed at (Y/n)’s face back down.

Tony yelled, falling to the ground, his face scrunched up in determination. The ground hit (Y/n)’s knees, landing next to him and grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Hey kid,” he breathed out, placing his hand on her shoulder as he stood back up. The glimmer in Tony’s eyes coming back and (Y/n) knew he was back. His helmet covered his face and (Y/n)’s mask followed. “You in infrared? I don’t want you to fall und—”

(Y/n)’s arms wrapped around him, despite the bulky armor.

“How do you always get caught up in this shit, dad?” Tony hugged back, the mouth of his faceplate slightly tapping the top of their head as if it was a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d be me if I didn’t get caught up in this shit.” He pulled away, glancing back to the fight. “How’d you even pull me out?”

(Y/n) shrugged, “I just looked you in the eye. We got Frank out by knocking him out really hard too, and the others.”

“Sounds good, now how do we deal with the Adeline chick?”

“Already got her,” Jessica said. The two Starks turned to face the powered woman who held a woman with her eyes covered. Jessica shoved her down at their feet, her hands tied together. Both of the Starks’ masks came off, showing their face.

“Well, that was easy.”

“For you, maybe.” Luke spit out a mouthful of blood, walking up to them, limping. Others trailing behind.

Steve grabbed his helmet from the ground, holding it to his side. “You guys did good, you know. Not a lot of people could say they went toe-to-toe with the Avengers and survived. We could use more people with your abilities.”

“Yeah well,” Colleen sheathed her sword and held her side, leaning on Danny for support.

“We’re not heroes,” Frank finished for her.

“No matter how much you guys deny it,” said (Y/n), “you guys are heroes. You worked with us, saved us, helped me get my dad back and defeated the enemy. You’re my hero.”

“We should cap this conversation for another time.” Natasha gestured towards Adeline squirming on the ground and then towards civilians making their way to watch a large group of heroes interacting with each other.

“Sure, but I’m tossing it in the ocean because I’m not down to join a band,” Jessica began walking away, despite her wounds. “You know where to find me though, if you need me.”

They all watched as she walked off.

“She’s always like that, don’t worry,” Matt brought up with a slight smile.

“She acts cold, but she’s warm-hearted. A bit blunt at times,” Luke added.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes as the adults began to talk about trying to recruit the others to be Avengers. Peter inched his way over to them and (Y/n) looked up at him.

“This is pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

(Y/n) nodded their head, “It’s like a crazy crossover special episode. Pretty badass.”

a/n: skfhgkdsfg i had fun writing this even if it’s not the best but i hope you guys still enjoyed it nonetheless!

#tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #peter parker x reader #platonic!reader #steve rogers #neutral!reader #male!reader #jessica jones #matt murdock #luke cage #avengers #frank castle #a.writes

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youngbugandtonystank · 4 years ago

Note

Why marvel fans love Pepper but hate gwyneth? Someone on twitter said she was the most unrelatable celeb ever and in a magazine, people labeled her the most hated woman on earth. Did she do something problematic? Or she a Trump supporter?

You know, years ago I was kinda curious as to why everyone hated her so much. She's listed as Hollywood's most hated actress too. She's always on one of those lists.

Why Do So Many People Hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

Gwyneth Paltrow is perfectly aware of how obnoxious she can seem

Gwyneth Paltrow responds to that time a magazine named her The Most Hated Celebrity in the World

Why does everyone hate Gwyneth Paltrow?

Gwyneth Paltrow on Being the Most Hated Celebrity

And the list goes on.

Some people think she practices some dangerous spiritual teachings and she's giving people the wrong information. They also think she heavily promotes and sells questionable things that could be potentially dangerous. In some sense, this is true because medical professionals have been asked to check the products over. The majority of them say the products are not backed up by science and state that these items are actually dangerous. I think that she looks like a scammer in the eyes of other people because she sometimes falsely advertises her business and products.

Some others say her cosmetics are way overpriced and really bad for your skin. I heard a drama about some healing stickers, etc. As a spiritual person myself, I can't really judge that much until I see her Netflix show so I can't really agree or disagree in this matter.

About the other things. After doing some investigation, I found out the real reason. At first, I thought it was some quirky personality trait but then I saw most of her interviews, press conferences, and her business promos. She's not a bad person but she's definitely a little out of touch. I'm guessing because she grew up in a wealthy environment, she rules out some stuff when talking about sensitive topics. I take her as a "Paris Hilton, Kim K, and Mariah Carey" personality type, you know? Like, she puts up on a funny sophisticated diva-like personality but she's different in private. It’s funny because some people hate her but have no problems buying Kylie’s overpriced products either. I buy their products, mostly because I love skincare and makeup but you don’t see me hating on them.

I once saw a comment under one of her interviews saying: ‘and after watching this you think this woman is not married to Tony Stark?’ hahahahah. And gotta say, she's really funny lmaooo the other day I saw her in her youtube cooking show section (part of the Goop brand, I guess), she was doing holiday snacks. She started saying that anyone could do the ‘simple’ recipes at home and that they were practical or something like that. After saying that, you'd think she was about to do some Christmas cookies or some family recipe, instead, she put caviar on a chip and put the ‘snack’ on a fancy white plate lmaooooooooo I died and went to heaven. You can imagine the rest of the ‘holiday snacks’ that followed after that one. I'm not exactly rich as hell but let's just say I'm doing great with my finances thanks to my job (I thank God for that every day) so I'm usually around people like her, and this is why I can tell she's not a bad person, just out of touch. And what do I mean by that? Let me give you an example, after doing her ‘holiday snack lmao’ she started talking about how caviar is not necessarily expensive, she said that you don't exactly have to sell a limb to buy it and proceeded to say that she always serves the same thing at parties and that it's easy and practical to make. You get what I mean? For her, it's not a problem because she can afford it but for others, of course, it is. These kinds of comments come off as self-absorbed for other people.

Another one, let's just put the children's hospital example this time, any other person would bring toys, medical support, or coloring books, someone like Gwyneth would bring expensive silk pillows, salty crackers, or scented vanilla candles lmao. I'm not saying she's doing it on purpose, I think she's not aware she's doing something inaccessible for others because she's always in that mindset/environment. For her, it's not something harmful. Same with the avengers thing, you have Tom Holland saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I'm lucky to be here’ every five seconds when talking about his experience in the franchise, Robert saying he wouldn't be where he is without the amazing actors surrounding him; always making sure to give them an opportunity to shine, Elizabeth Olsen moved to tears when a fan tells her that Wanda is her daily inspiration, Don Cheadle talking about how the Avengers movies have been the experience of a lifetime and how fortunate he is to be part of something so big. Gwyneth, on the other side, forgets she was even in the movies, gives spoilers without a filter in a movie that is the result of 11 years of hard work about her and Tony's characters (this is how I found out Morgan was real btw like months before the movie even if I also suspected they were going to do this years ago), and forgets her co-stars names to the point they have to reintroduce themselves to her LMFAO I get that the marvel franchise is not her entire life and focus, but I think you get the point I'm trying to make. Or, she could be doing this on purpose to troll her haters.

She always does that. With everything. You just have to watch some of her interviews and you're going to be able to tell.

Someone on twitter said she was the most unrelatable celeb ever

Some people get mad when their fave turns out to be different in real life. Those people can't separate the fictional character from the actor/actress. Of course, she's not going to be like Pepper, I get that but some stans irrationally hate her for practically breathing. I understand that some of her opinions and actions seem a little materialistic and pretentious but she's not attacking anyone in particular. It's annoying? Sure, sometimes. Who wants to hear someone talk about their wealthy lifestyle when discussing sensitive or normal topics? No one. People love someone who they can relate to but you gotta understand Gwyneth is not doing it because she thinks she's better than you. That's just how her lifestyle is. Waaaay different than ours. The same applies to the other actors. You really think we're closer to having Zendaya's lifestyle only because we can relate to some of her jokes, because she wears baggy hipster clothes or because she uses less expensive skincare products for a ‘go to bed with me’ harper's bazaar video? (I love those videos btw lmao) No sweetheart, after doing an interview or those vids, they get escorted by their private security guards to the limo/expensive car waiting for them with a chauffeur ready to drive them to a photoshoot with vogue. Is that your typical Tuesday? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 Or that we're one and the same with Sebastian Stan because he eats burgers on Thursdays and watches Rick and Morty in pajamas? (no idea if this is true, just an example) No. Of course not. They're celebrities, they get paid for showing their faces to the public. A simple statement out of them can make people talk about them for days. A simple selfie can turn into a Twitter trend. They're human? Sure, we have to respect that 100% but their lifestyle is totally different and this is something we should be aware of too. So we can't really expect Gwyneth to act just like us. I'm sure most of us would act the same as her if we were born in gold and caviar.

I once defended her in a YouTube comment section and some dudebro got angry at me and called me an ‘obsessive pepper x tony’ fan. *stares at the camera like in the office* I don't even ship pepperony lmaooooo

And I don’t know if she’s a Trump supporter, I’m going to dig around to see if this is true.

So there you go, that's my opinion. And no, I don't care if you agree or not (this is not for you, op) it's an opinion, chill.

#gwyneth paltrow #pepper potts #marvel #sebastian stan #zendaya #goop #mcu #robert downey jr #tom holland

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zeltricstudio · 4 years ago

Text

'THE DINNER'

BRIGHT

MARCH 2013

Rebecca pulled up to the Well’s house and parked her car. Ever since her husband died in a car crash a few months back, Rebecca wasn’t the same. She lost her happy-go-lucky attitude and stopped being social, spending most of her days locked in her home and only leaving to go to work or buy groceries. Many people tried to talk to her, or console her but she would simply brush them off and ignore them. She stopped dressing in bright clothing such as dresses or skirts, instead wearing all black sweats and hoodies. But then she met Alex and Jill Well and suddenly she was her happy self again. Nobody knew why, but they didn’t question it as they were all happy she was ‘normal’ again. Rebecca, Jill and Alex quickly became fast friends and if you saw them at a first glance, you’d think they were friends for years. Like many other nights, Alex and Jill invited Rebecca to have dinner at their home and Rebecca agreed. Now was the night and Rebecca was ready.

Rebecca opened the door and stepped out. While she still wore all black, it was no longer sweats and dirty hoodies that hadn’t been washed in weeks. She was wearing a black dress, had her black hair tied up in a ponytail and had red lipstick and eyeliner applied. Rebecca locked her car door before beginning the small walk to their house. Rebecca brought a box of chocolate as a gift, the perfect gift for when you don’t know what to get someone. She walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell and the classic buzzer noise rang into the night. After a few seconds of waiting she heard footsteps approaching the door, before the door unlocked and opened.

“Hello!” Jill said as she embraced Rebecca in a tight hug

“Hello” Rebecca said, hugging Jill back tightly.

“You look absolutely stunning” Jill said, admiring Rebecca

“Thank you. I feel amazing” Rebecca replied

“Well come on in” Jill said and took a step back and Rebecca walked in. Jill locked the door as Rebecca continued walking down the small hallway before entering the small area that had the living room and kitchen together.

“Hello- oh my!” Alex said, standing behind the counter as he was washing some dishes

“Hello Alex” Rebecca said gleefully

“You know this is a casual dinner party, not a dinner with the queen” Alex joked

“Well I’m feeling great today, so I figured why not go all out?”

“I can see. Glad you feel great” Alex said

“Take a seat and we’ll get dinner ready in a few minutes” Jill said as she began walking over to help Alex

“Oh before I forget, here” Rebecca said as she handed the box of chocolate to Jill

“You shouldn’t have, thank you. These are my favorites” Jill said, taking the box as she went to Alex.

Rebecca walked over to the living room and sat down on the couch, before noticing a man sitting nearby.

“Oh hey, I’m Ben” the man said, extending his hand for a shake

“Hey, I’m Rebecca” she said as she shook his hand

“Oh sorry I forgot to mention a mate of mine would be joining, hope that’s alright” Alex said

“That’s fine, the more the merrier” Rebecca happily reassured him

“So uh, how’s it going” Ben said, trying to make conversation

“It’s good actually. Been in a bit of a rut so it’s nice to get out of the house”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Work has been kicking my ass. Need a nice night to unwind”

“Where do you work?”

“At Whole Foods, near the school. How about you?”

“In between jobs, but hopefully something to do with accounting”

“Cool, cool”

“So… got any hobbies?”

“Oh, you know. The usual stuff like bike riding, surfing all that stuff”

“Nice”

“This is painful to watch” Alex said quietly to Jill

“Shut up. Remember we were like that as well” Jill said angrily

“Yeah but still” Alex said

“Okay you guys, let’s eat!” Jill announced and everyone slowly made their way to the dinner table. Rebecca was glad dinner was ready as she wasn’t sure how to hold a conversation with Ben any longer.

Jill and Alex sat at one end of the table, with Ben next to Jill and Rebecca at the far end. Throughout the night, Ben and Rebecca got to more and more chatting and soon the two were talking almost nonstop. Alex and Jill were mostly silent but glad that Rebecca was talkative, this was probably the happiest that they have seen her.

“No way!” Rebecca said in astonishment

“That’s right, I picked the spider with my bare hands and gently guided it out” Ben said, feeling pleased with himself

“You make Death afraid of you” Rebecca jokingly said

“Oh trust me I was fucking petrified, but the things I do for love I guess” Ben said

“Your girlfriend is lucky to have you”

“She really is. How about you, got anyone special?” Ben asked as he took a sip but he suddenly noticed the shocked expression at Jill and Alex’s face.

“I did have a husband, Garry but died a few months ago”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“That’s alright, it’s not a deep dark secret I am trying to hide.”

The room went quiet for a moment as no one was sure what to say.

“Car accident. Died on the spot and the driver drove off. I know you didn’t ask but I can see you wanted to ask” Rebecca said, breaking the silence

“Sorry” Ben apologized for being too obvious

“Let’s talk about something else, something more lighthearted” Alex chimed in, wanting to change the topic

“Yes please” Jill agreed

“Oh, have you told Rebecca about the Halloween party?” Ben asked

“No, he has not. What is this?” Rebecca quizzed

“This was years ago, it is quite an adventure” Alex said, taking a deep gulp of his drink

“I hope so. A Halloween story better be good” Rebecca joked

“Oh it is” Jill reassured her

“Here it goes” Alex said, clearing his throat. “So, I think it was 2011? Halloween night, one of my mate’s is having a party and me and Been attend. We call it a Halloween party but secretly it is just an excuse to drink and get wasted. The night starts off normal, we have a few drinks and before I know it I am just smashed. I black out and when I come to, everyone is passed out, the neighbor’s kiddie pool is over the fence and my car is through the fence” Alex laughs as he finishes his story

“Damn, that sounds wild” Rebecca said as she chuckled

“And the best part is, Alex doesn’t remember any of it” Jill chimed in

“Really?” Rebecca asked

“Really really. That whole night is a blur to me” Alex said

“Same here, it was intense” Ben said

“Jill were you there?” Rebecca asked

“Oh no, I was busy working the night shift” Jill said

“I wish I had a story like that. Most of my stories are very tame” Jill replied, sounding a bit disappointed

“How about you? Got any crazy tales?” Ben asked

“Well, since you asked I do have one” Rebecca said, finishing up her drink

“Really? This is new to me” Alex said with a slight chuckle

“I didn’t tell you everything, gotta have a few secrets to keep you on your toes” Rebecca teased

“Let’s hear it” Jill said

“Okay, but you guys gotta pay attention to this one” Rebecca said and everyone sat upright and leaned in, ready to hear Rebecca’s story.

“I’m going to need you to stick with me through this one, it is quite long. You all ready?” Rebecca asked, this time her tone being incredibly happy and joyful.

“Yeah”, “Yes”, “Definitely” Alex, Jill and Ben all replied with.

“So this was a few months ago, before the accident. I had gotten home after a long shift at work. This was around 10 pm and my husband asks me if I want to go for a midnight drive, no where in particular just go out and drive. I am tired, I just want to curl up in my bed and watch ‘Attack of the Phones’ and gorge myself on food.”

“That sounds like a good Friday night” Ben jokingly said

“I know right? I wish I could do that all nights. Anyways he goes off to drive and I begin my after-work routine. I showed, get dressed, have dinner and watch my movie. After the movie ends, I notice he still hasn’t returned which is strange because he is never out for more than a hour or 2 at most. I call him and after a few rings, it goes to voicemail. Now I am a paranoid person, so I decided to get up and go look for him. You know, in case anything happened. Worst case scenario I got out of bed for nothing and he returns home safe and sound, right?” Rebecca asked, still keeping her happy tone and smile.

“Yeah” Ben agreed but Alex and Jill began to get concerned.

“So I begin driving our usual route that we normally would do. He’s not on it so I try a few different ones. Eventually I spot something in the distance, his car. I get closer and that’s when I notice, it is completely wrecked.”

The atmosphere in the room immediately changed. Ben was starting to get worried but Alex and Jill were now scared.

“Garry’s car is completely totaled, his body is crumpled through the windshield, with glass and metal imbedded into his body. I obviously call the ambulance who arrive and take him to the hospital. I prayed but to my horror he died an hour before I found him.” Rebecca says, now her eyes locked on Alex and Jill and still keeping her smile.

“What the fuck?” Ben said, getting worried at Rebecca’s tone

“They do a test and find out he isn’t drunk. So they can rule out it wasn’t drunk driving, but rather a hit and run. I of course am destroyed, my whole life is turned upside. Love of my life gone, all that sad stuff” Rebecca said in a sarcastic tone, much to the disturbance of Alex, Jill and Ben.

“The cops can’t find anything, no evidence of the attackers and no cameras in the area so they can’t do much and the case is put on hold while they deal with other “more serious” matters” Rebecca said, still making intense eye contact with Alex and Jill who are now beginning to sweat. Ben is noticing that they are looking scared.

“Rebecca what-“

“I’m not done yet, please let me finish” Rebecca cut Ben off, still locking eyes with Alex and Jill.

“I decided to take matters into my own hands, do a little investigating. I won’t bore you with the details but I get my results. Turns out, a male and a female decide to go for a few drinks at the club and make the wise decision of driving home, completely wasted. They think it is a good idea to get behind the wheel and drive home, completely out of it and not caring about the safety of others” Rebecca said, with her voice getting louder. Alex and Jill are now scared, realizing that their secret is out. Ben is slowly piecing it together.

“I don’t know the exact details, but I guess they must’ve turned a corner too fast and collided with Garry. They of fucking course were fine, a little ruffled but alright. Garry on the other hand, well you already know how he turned out. The lovely couple decides to drive off, not even attempting to help my husband, leaving me to find him hours later.”

“It was an accident” Alex screamed, standing up

“Alex, what did you do?!” Ben said, also standing up but now backing away from Alex

“We didn’t mean to!” Jill said, also standing up. Rebecca remained sitting down.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but you can’t change the fact that you still murdered him” Rebecca said

“We’re sorry” Jill said, now on the verge of tears

“Save your apology, I’m not here for that” Rebecca said, now standing up

“Then, why are you here?” Jill asked, now scared

“To get revenge” Rebecca said, now dropping her happy persona

“Babe get back” Alex said, pulling Jill behind him

“Rebecca, calm down” Ben said, trying to diffuse the situation.

“It’s too late for that. I’m sorry you have to be here for this, Ben” Rebecca said, still not taking her eyes off Alex

“Rebecca, leave now” Alex said, trying to not make it obvious he is scared

“Not until you pay for what you and Jill did”

“Look, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean for it to happen” Jill said

“I don’t care” Rebecca said, now her voice full of anger

“Rebecca I swear you better leave now or else I’m calling the cops” Alex threatened her

Rebecca simply took a few steps back, before lifting her head and rolling her eyes backwards, making her eyeballs appear completely white before they filled with blood, turning them red. Alex, Jill and Ben all took a few steps back, now concerned. Alex then began noticing that his body was emitting a red glow around him.

“What the fuck is happening?!” Alex asked, as he noticed he couldn’t feel his body anymore.

“Rebecca?” Jill asked, now confused. Alex began walking over to the table and picked up a kitchen knife

“Rebecca, what the fuck are you doing?!” Jill asked, her voice almost breaking.

Alex put his hand on the table, making a star as his other hand lifted the knife high in the air and drove it down, directly onto his hand.

“ARRRGH!” Alex screamed in pain, with the knife firmly lodged into his left hand, but not being able to move his body.

“Alex!” Jill screamed and ran over, trying to lift the knife away but his arm not budging. Ben remained scared stiff, not moving or reacting. The red aura from Alex was gone as he regained control of his body, but his hand was firmly pinned to the table. Then, Jill noticed the red aura began surrounding her as she lost control of her body.

“Rebecca?” Jill said, now terrified. Jill picked up her knife and, the same as Alex, put her hand on the table, before driving the knife onto her hand, pinning her to the table. Jill screamed in pain, much like Alex before the red aura was gone and she was left pinned to the table. Jill’s scream broke Ben out of his trance and he began to make a run for it, until he suddenly stopped still. To his horror, Ben noticed a red aura around him and was turning around, with no control of his body. He noticed Rebecca had her arm extended, with her fingers pointed at him.

“Don’t leave so soon, you haven’t had desert yet” Rebecca said, with a sadistic smile on her face as Ben began walking over to her.

“Rebecca, please-“ Ben stopped talking and he began talking muffled. To Ben’s horror, he began picking up his own knife, before turning to face Jill and Alex and then slit his own throat, standing still as blood began spraying all over Jill and Alex. Jill and Alex were speechless, terrified at what they had just witnessed.

“Such a shame he was here, I liked him” Rebecca said, feeling remorseful.

“Please, let us go” Alex said through tears and pain, as he was trying to lift the knife out, but was able to bring himself to do it.

“Oh, we’re not done yet” Rebecca said, before lifting both of her arms. Alex and Jill had red auras around them again as they lost all feeling in their body. They both pulled the knife out of their hands, but their screams were quickly silenced and all that came out was muffled screaming. Rebecca instructed them to pick up Ben’s body and carry it with them out of the house. Before leaving, Rebecca grabbed a bottle of wine.

Rebecca made Jill and Alex stuff Ben’s body in the trunk and made them both get in the front seat as she sat in the back and instructed Alex to begin driving. After 20 minutes, they arrived at a bridge overlooking train tracks.

“Thank you for the dinner, it was amazing. We should do it again sometime soon” Rebecca said as she got out of the car. Alex and Jill remained silent. As Rebecca stepped out, she handed Alex a bottle of wine and he began chugging it, getting a good half of the bottle before stopping and handing it to Jill, who then finished it off before handing it back to Rebecca. Alex reversed the car and lined it up with the railing, before slamming on the gas and crashing through the barrier, freefalling with the car before it slammed into the ground, the glass and metal impaling and crushing Jill and Alex. After a few moments, the red auras from both were gone. Rebecca could no longer feel their bodies, meaning they were dead. Rebecca began making the long walk back to the house to retrieve her car.

A few days later, Rebecca rocked up to a house in Wicket and knocked on the door. After a few seconds the door opened and there stood a man in a dark trench coat, with most of his features hidden.

“It’s done, thank you for helping me” Rebecca said as she began handing him an envelope of cash

“I got a better proposal. Save your cash, next time I need a favor you help me out and we’ll call it even” he said

“What kind of favor?” Rebecca asked

“The kind that requires your special talents” he said, with a slight chuckle

“Sure thing” Rebecca agreed

“Good. I’ll call you when I need you. Have a wonderful day”

“You too” she said and began walking back.

The man locked the door and retreated to his home. In his living room was a whiteboard that had a lot of photos of the night of the accident, including evidence of Jill and Alex hitting Garry’s car and driving off. He began packing it up, putting all the evidence into a folder and then putting that folder into a filing cabinet. He goes to his desk and pulls out a notebook, before turning to a new page and writing ‘FAVOR #23: The Puppeteer’.

#TheHorrorsofSunshine #THoS #HorrorStory #ZeltricStudios

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dyke-remy · 4 years ago

Text

Live And Let Die, part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

Description: Agent 008 and Agent 009, professional spies for the MI6 with liscense to kill. Partners in both work and love. After an agent goes missing the partners have to once more go out into the field. (It’s a James Bond AU)

You don’t need to know anything about James Bond to be able to read this fic, trust me

Note: If anyone tags this as r/mr/m I will hunt them for sport

Words: 4853

6 years ago

Remus looked out of the car window. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be here. This was the wrong place. The wrong time. Maybe he should make the car turn around.

"You still here bro?"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder making him jump in his seat. He looked over to the driver. To Roman.

His brother sent him a smile before looking back at the road "Seriously you good? You looked like you were going to mars"

"Just kinda zoning out" Remus replied.

"You took your meds right? I don't want you nearly getting us killed because you were too busy daydreaming about Beetlejuice again"

"He's the man of my dreams Ro-bro!!!.....and yes I have taken them"

"Re-Re I gotta get you a date once we get back. I can Not let Beetlejuice be your standard of men!" Roman playfully poked his elbow into his ribs "Hey that new Q assistant has been staring at us even since they read our files. I'm sure all it'll take is asking them out and they'll fall head over heels for you"

"They would probably only be interested 'cause of dad" Remus muttered out while crossing his arms "It's always like that. Either that or 'cause of mom"

"At least It's definitely not because of your horribly ugly monster you call a mustache" Roman got a bonk on the head for that.

"Whatever. You go and get yet anotha fling once we get home why dont you. One day you're either gonna get cannibalised or get syphilis. Or both!!!"

Roman let out a gasp "I am far too clean and princely to get syphilis you dirty heathen!!!" He smacked his brother with one arm while driving with the other.

Remus smacked him back "No-oh. Syphilis and gonorre and some weird blue stuff!!"

The smacking got more intense and the prince's gasps and shrieks of defence even louder and nasalier with every sex joke. Until he finally stood on the brakes. The car stopped so suddenly Remus had to hold himself back from flying out the windshield.

"We're here" He simply stated.

Remus let out an overly extra breathe of relief "Finally! Thought my skin was gonna rot off my bones before we got here!"

Roman leaned back and took out his usual weapons from the box sitting in the backseat while continuing to talk.

"Remember: this is a serious mission! Not just some ol' dragon we gotta arrest. Army of fire breathing dragon witches levels of serious. No unnecessary fighting and absolutely no inspecting dead bodies!!"

"You know I can't promise that" Remus replied while stuffing the biggest handgun he'd been able to get his hands (heh) on into the holster stuck onto the side of his waist.

"I know far too frick fracking well"

"PLEase just say fuck!"

"No. Fuck you!!"

They got out of the car. Their feet sank down into the sand the moment they stepped off the gravel road. For dozens of miles around them there was nothing but them, sand and a few even sandier hills.

And of course the statue. That goshdarn statue.

Enfuel, a company with ties to both energy and oil distrubution, had recently bought this random piece of land in the middle of the desert. A statue was placed in the middle of it a year or so later. It looked similar to one of the old egyptic statues and when they looked up information about it all sites said it had been around for hundreds of years. Of course MI6 had satellite pictures to show otherwise.

MI6 had been keeping check on Enfuel for a while. An anonymous worker had been selling them information for months. Even without the leaked information the vast buying of land and spikes of Enfuel employees dying in 'accidents' was enough to rise suspicion.

The agents made their way towards the statue. Guns ready in their hands. No one was around. It was a large one. Over 20 feet wide and at least 15 feet high.

Roman hunched down in the shade from the statue and took out a mechanical gadget he'd gotten from Q. It was a scanner. He placed it on the ground and activated it.

"And now we wait"

"Time to rant and or infodump?" Remus asked.

"Yes but not from you. You got to infodump the last time. It is my time to rant to kill time on a mission!"

He rolled his eyes "Yeah sure go ahead"

His brother instantly went on a long rant about the local theater production he'd landed a role in. It was the first time he'd ever acted. Aside from exercising and his special interest (disney) the theater was the first time he'd ever had a real hobby. His (now ex) boyfriend had been the one to take him to audition after introducing him to (and accidentally making him instantly hyperfixate on) musicals.

"And I just can't wait to-"

He stopped midsentence when the machine made a sound. He was still happy stimming as he checked it.

"Holy zeus" He gasped out.

He showed it to Remus. The scanner had created a blueprint of everything within a 10 feet radius. It clearly showed that there was something built under the ground. There was also an entrance built into the statue.

Remus went over and clicked on a specific point on the statue like the blueprint showed. A keypad appeared. They sent a photo of it to Q. Within minutes he'd somehow been able to come up with the correct code.

He put in the code and a hidden door nearly obscured between two pillars opened up. The brother sent each other excited smiles before entering.

There was a short staircase that led down into a corridor. The walls looked like something they'd find in a mourge and the dim lights shone a cold blue. Roman buttoned up the shirt he had on that was supposed to look like the uniform many Enfuel employees wore.

"Sure doesn't look ancient" Remus muttered.

It was practically a maze of corridors and rooms. Everywhere that cold blue light was the same. None of the rooms they passed seemed to have any important information in them. Having a secret facility wasn't enough for an investigation! It was just aesthetic as fuck!

They aimleesly stumbled around for at least half an hour as they got to the parts the blueprints hadn't showed. They probably walked in circles a few times too. Roman was about to suggest they call up Q when he saw guards, armed guards, out of the corner of his eyes.

He threw out his arm to stop Remus and dragged him back to hide behind a wall. He peeked out and saw how the 2 guards were staying outside a door.

"Bingo" He whispered. He turned to his twin "Wherever there are guards are the important things"

"The juicy secrets!" Remus agreed.

The brothers got out from their hidingspot at the same time. They tried to look casual while walking up to the guards. Right when one of the guards moved to stop them, to ask who they were, Roman took out his gun and shot them in the knee.

Remus elbowed the other guard right between his ribs before pulling his arm around the guard's neck. It didn't take long before he let the guard collapse onto the ground after choking him to unconsciousness.

The other guard feeble sat on the ground with their hands pressed to the wound on their knee. Roman held his gun to their head "Give us the key to the room"

They didn't even hesitate to throw the key over to Remus. They looked up at Roman with pleading eyes. With one swift kick they too laid on the ground knocked out.

The brothers pushed the guards to a good hiding spot in silence. The door opened reveleaing a quite small room but it was filled with computers, databases and of course at least 10 people working on those computers.

All it took was Roman holding up his gun to one of them to make the others freeze in fear. It was very clear that they were just doing their job so Remus tried to go as nice on them as possible when he knocked them out.

"Remind me to request instant sleeping pills from Q" He said after the last one laid still on the ground.

"Noted" Roman replied while barricading the door so no one could get in.

Remus glared at the computer with the biggest screen. He tried to read what was on it but only got a headache and some scattered words. Roman gently pushed him aside.

"It's probably better if I try to find what these guys are up to and you stand guard. Please try to not let me get shot"

"I'll do my worst! Maybe I'll even shoot you myself!" Remus joked.

He looked through the room while hearing Roman mumbling to Q about decoding and taking down firewalls. It didn't take long to realize there was actually a second door in the room. He wasn't sure where it lead but decided to barricade it as well.

"You're still free on Saturday right?" Roman suddenly asked while waiting for Q to hack into the database for him.

Remus rolled his eyes "Nah dude I suddenly got loads of friends and we're all gonna go raid a cemetery and create a zombie army. Supa busy that day sorry"

"Ha Ha" He let out druly "Well the new mission impossible movie is coming out so I kinda thought we could go see it. Y'know cinema caturday like we used to do"

"Oh yeah using our free time away from our spy work to watch a spy movie. Real smart decision Ro-bro"

"It can some other movie! I just wanted to do something" Roman slumped back against the desk so he was leaning on it "I know I've been kinda busy like whenever we're not on missions with the whole theater work-"

"Kinda?!" Remus let out a scratchy laugh "Bro you've been going to that theater like you'll turn to dust if you're not there all the time"

Roman plucked at the green bead bracelet on his wrist "Well it's exciting! I never really thought I could wokr with anything that didn't involve fighting or smugling. It's...nice..getting to do something else. I can't wait until it's time for the premiere and I'll actually get to hear the audience"

"Let's just hope no villain decides to try and take over the world during your perfomance nights" Remus joked. Roman's expression went from excitement to worry "Ro-bro I was kidding. I'm sure if anything happens I can just go with 0012 or something- or I mean like I'll come see you of course I just- It'll be chill!"

There came a silence. There always came a silence after talking about the theater thing. Spending an entire childhood learning about jewel smuggling, self defense and the innerworks of crime made any kind of work that didn't involve any of those shocking enough to warrant silence. Especially after it was Roman's idea to start working at the MI6 as soon as they moved away from their mom and the floating palace at 18.

He'd wanted to be a hero. Remus had just wanted to stay close with his brother.

"But yeah I guess I'm free on Saturday if you wanna go see that movie or whatever" Remus muttered while glancing over to his brother "More surprised that you're not busy honestly"

"Oh I was! Some friends from the theater heard I would get back from 'work' soon and wanted to hang out and I still got that guy who wants to go on a date with me as soon as possible and some guys from the Q branch asked me to test some gadgets for them. But I made sure to clear time in case you said yes" Roman replied with a smile.

"That's....That's....Ro-bro you're a sappy dork you know that right?"

"Of course! That's part of my everlasting and undying charm!"

The conversation was forcibly stopped as Q announced that the code was cracked. Roman flapped his hands in excitement to see the movie, Remus flapped back. They both turned back to what they were doing.

The duke to his surprise noticed a small crack in the wall right next to the door. He couldn't stop his curiosity from taking the better of him and looking through.

On the other side was a big room. There was a long dinner table in the middle with excessive amounts of expensive food on it. There were crystal candelabras hanging from the ceiling. The walls were white just like the floor but there were old paintings decorating the walls.

Most importantly there were 4 people in it. 3 men who looked to be at least 40. All of them were wearing suits but one of them was sitting in a chair by the luxurious table in a glistening dark purple suit. The other two were standing by the table with briefcases gripped in their shaking hands. Remus could see the sweat from nervousness dripping down their neck all the way from where he stood.

Last and least was the fourth person. A young boy, he was at the most 9 years old, sat on another chair by the table. He was holding the hand of the older man. His eyes were hidden by his hair and he had a large hoodie on.

"-So even though there has been someone selling important information about my company you two are 100% certaint that neither of you have destroyed my trust?" The man clad in purple asked.

The two men quickly shook their head. The purple clad man, who happened to be the leader of the Enfuel company, shone up into a wide grin. It was too wide. Too eerie. Not happy. Just sinister.

"How wonderful! I knew I could trust you both!" The leader took out a gun and shot one of the men in the leg.

He fell down on the ground and writhed in pain. The young boy let out a scream and flinched away. The other man bolted for the closest door which instantly made Remus take out a knife and get ready to defend Roman. But before he could get anywhere the leader had pressed a button on his chair which made all doors lock.

"I heard that the MI6 were on to us because of you fools running your mouths" The leader said while standing up. Remus nearly chuckled at how right he was.

The shot man simply cried while the other got down on his knees and begged "Please please I'll do anything. I have a family. I have 2 kids. I can- please don't kill me"

"How funny, I have a kid too" The leader held out his hand "Son come here"

The young boy quickly ran over and took his dad's hand. He was already crying. When the gun was reloaded he turned his head to look away. It resulted in the leader grabbing onto his son's head and dragging in it so he was forced to look at the helpless men, soon to be corpses. Remus could hear the boy whimper from pain.

"Do I-I h-have to see ev-every time?" He cried out.

"Until you learn to stop crying over some insect's death, Yes. These people are traitors. They're beneath us because they have hurt us. You have to see what we do to people who hurt us"

A bullet went off. One of the men collapsed dead on the floor. The other desperately crawled away until he hit the wall. The young boy's crying turned into sobs.

"You should be used to it by now" His dad said in a calm tone.

The leader forced the gun into his son's shaking hands. He held onto his hands so he couldn't let go. He moved his hands for him, reloaded the gun for him, held the gun to the living man's forehead for him. The young boy's entire body was shaking from fear. He closed his eyes. Pretended like the cold metal wasn't in his hands. Pretended like he wasn't one move of his finger away from taking a life.

"Open your eyes son" The leader commanded "You have to see. See the fear in his eyes. That is the look of a dead man. We could ask anything of him"

"I-I want him t-to live. P-Please dad w-we can send-d him to the b-bad room instead"

"The bad rooms are for those who are of use to us. This man has nothing for us"

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder. He turned around and pointed the knife at the person's neck. Thankfully it was just Roman.

"The files are all here" Ro informed while holding up an USB drive. He had on a strained expression "It's sick. Q told you they made it so Enfuel was the only company avaible for like an entire part of Latvia right?"

"I wasn't listening but probably yeah"

"They're planning to make all electricy and fuel unaviable for those cities for months. And they're going to make it look like an accident so they won't even have to take accountability. They're planning to try and completely cut them off from the rest of the world"

"People are gonna die" Remus concluded.

"Bet"

"Why the fuck would someone even do that?"

Roman shrugged "Said nothing about that. At least we can stop it if we know it will happen. All we have to do is get out of here and get it to M"

Remus was about to nod but then he heard muffled sounds from the other room. He closed his hands into fists. There was a cold lump stuck in his throat.

"There's a kid here. Like 8? 9 maybe? Being made to hold a gun" He whispered.

"Mom teached us how to use pistols at 12" Roman replied with a shrug.

"She made us shoot at targets" Their mom is a very powerful lady so they had to know how to defend themself since so many people wanted to hurt them to get to their mom "This is-"

A gunshot went off. Gutwrenching screaming followed. It sounded like it came from the boy. Soon sobbing took over.

"Don't cry like that. You weren't even the one pulling the trigger" His dad snarled out.

The brothers at looked each other. They both knew that the mission was hundreds of times more important than one kid but....with that one look they both knew they had to do something.

"Okay new mission" Remus said "Protect the kid"

They searched the room and found an entrance to the vents in the roof. They climbed in and crawled as quietly as possible until they could see down into the other room. The leader had gone back to sitting by the table, he was drinking some wine. The son was still sitting by one of the corpses. His sobs was racking his whole body as he held onto the dead body. Quiet beggings to wake up could be heard.

The brothers took out their guns in anticipation. Remus slammed his foot down into the vent panel and jumped down onto the ground. He jumped back up on his feet and held the gun to the leader's head.

Roman was just as quick with getting down. He went over to the kid and hunched down in front of him, half to comfort him and half to be a human shield.

"It's okay now kid. We won't hurt you. We'll get you out of here. I promise" He whispered to him while sending him a warm smile.

He was full on hyperventilating "No. No. Please. Get out. I don't- dad will- I don't want to have to see anyone else die- I don't want to hurt anyone- please- NoNoNoNo"

"Shhh. No one will be hurt. Just focus on my breathing okay. In and out. Deep breathes. You'll be safe soon" Roman assured. He kept one hand on the young boy's shoulder and the other hand on his gun.

Remus held the gun as still as possible against the leader's forehead. The older man didn't look away even for a second. His cold blue eyes stared at him until it felt like he was digging into him. The agent tried to glance around for a clear exit. At best he saw another entrance to the vents close to the wall on the side of the room.

"I've buried people like you before" The leader let out in a dry emotionless tone. "Even if you do get anyway it won't do much. All of the evidence will be gone except for a meek little plan I can easily manipulate away in court. You're really just delaying the inevitable"

"Not letting people die isn't doing nothing" Remus snarled back.

A smile crept up on his face "Letting people die does just a little"

He pressed down on a hidden panel on his chair. All Remus could see was that it was some sort of controller before hearing a muffled shout. He spun around in time to see Roman sitting with his arms around the kid. Blood was seeping out of his shoulder.

By the press of a button a panel on the wall had turned around and a mechanic gun had become visible, useable too via the panel. The gun head moved again, readjusting it's line of sight.

Logically Remus should have moved his gun back towards the leader's head. Logically he should have shot his brains out. Logically he shouldn't have made a single sound. Logically he shouldn't have shown any ounce of care or emotion (weakness), it'd been drilled into them during training after all.

But Remus wasn't thinking logically. His brother was hurt. His brother was in danger. He had to protect him.

A guttural sound of terror left his throat. It sounded like something close to his brother's name. He wasn't fast enough. There was nothing he could. He watched as the bullet went into Roman's chest.

Remus didn't reach him. There was a hit to the back of his head. The hit was hard enough to make it feel like his brain split apart. He was already unconscious as he fell down on the ground. He was just close enough so the blood from his brother reached him.

The moment Remus awakened again his heart immediately began to beat fast enough so he could hear it. He wanted to yell out for his brother before he'd even had time to open his eyes.

The fear calmed won just a bit when he did look up and saw Roman, thank god he saw Roman, laying next to him. He didn't calm down completely because his brother was visibly hurt. Hurt badly.

There were swelling on his cheeks from soon to be bruises and his right eye had closed completely from a black eye. Blood had dried around the wound on his shoulder and the one on his chest was still bleeding. Thankfully it hadn't hit his heart but it was still heavily bleeding. The kid's hoodie had been pressed against the wound. His left leg from the knee down had been mangled and turned the wrong way.

Remus had rope tied around his wrists and ankles. They hadn't even bothered to tie Roman's ankles. Even with all the injuries his twin tried to send him a weak smile.

"don't speak too loudly" He whispered out. His breathing was uneven and raspy.

Normally Remus would have screeched in defiance. Now he glanced around the room while making his every move as quiet as possible.

The leader and his son were still in the room. The leader was polishing a knife. There were multiple knives and other gratuitous tools laid out across the table. Oh god he'd only kept them alive to make them suffer until death as much as possible.

When he turned back to Roman there were tears in his brother's eyes. His smile was strained.

"I was going to resign"

Roman let out a sob as his smile disappeared. It only left an expression filled with pain.

"I-I never really wanted t-this! I just- I didn't know what else I would be. Re I was planning to make this my last mission. I don't know if I want to be an actor. But fuck at least I-I want to be an actor ten times more than I want to be an agent"

Remus tried to move closer. He wanted to reach out and hold his brother. Comfort him. Tell him half the things he said didn't make sense.

"You- What-" He let out a nervous chuckle "Ro-bro what are you talking about?"

At first there was no reply. Just a choked back sob. Roman moved closer and stared at the ropes around Remus' wrists. Anything was better than looking at his face. He moved his hands to try and untangle the ropes.

"You have to hug mom for me. And tell her I love her. And hug Lucy a-and Macey and Amita-" Roman closed his eyes, tried to force back another wave of tears "-And Everyone on the island. All of them. And the people at the theater. A-And everyone in Q branch a-and Oh god Q. Please hug Q- Logan. Hug Logan for me. Please. And Patton and M even though he will hate it. Please. I wish I'd known. I just want to be able to say goodbye at least. I just-"

"Shut up you dork. We're getting out of here. I'll just carry you. What's some old weak boned guy and some kid gonna do against us"

Roman glanced up at him, just for a moment, before going back to the ropes.

"Remus I-"

He coughed. His entire body shook and writhed in pain. He ignored it and continued with the ropes. Blood was coming down his lips. He was coughing up blood.

"Remus-"

Roman met his eyes this time. He didn't have to say anything more. They both knew it. Even if one of them didn't want to accept it. It'd taken at least an hour to drive here. He wasn't going to make it unless he got medical help within the next minutes. He wasn't going to- He wasn't-

Roman wasn't going to make it.

"You can't- I- I'm sure- I can-" Remus stuttered out.

"You need to take the information and get back to M alive" He pulled the ropes away from Remus' wrists "There's a vent right above us. The bitchass dragon witch is too busy with torture devices to look at us. If you go now you can-"

"You will-"

"Remus I'm already dead! The kid isn't being saved either! He's stuck here! We failed! The least you can do is try to stop more death!"

"But you will-"

"Please I need you to survive" Roman pressed the USB drive into his hands. His hands were shaking "I-I'm trying to stay strong to make this easier for you b-but-" He let out a shakey sob "I just want to hug mom again. I want us to-to- I- I need you to survive. I need you to stay alive. Please. If I know you survive I can attempt to die in peace. I can't- I can't-" It continued into incoherent sobbing.

They couldn't hug each other, the leader would realize they were awake if they did. All they could do was press their hands together. They held onto each other's hands so tightly it hurt. Neither wanted to let go.

"....I love you...I wish- I don't- I just want you to- I love you" Remus choked out through tears.

Somehow Roman mustered a smile "I love you too" He wiped a tear away from his twin's cheek "I'm sorry. I wish I could stay with you. Please go. Please survive"

Remus tightened his grip on his hand for one last second. He wished he could drag it out. Even Continuing to exists in this moment of misery sounded better than spending the rest of his life without him.

He forced his hands away and sat up. Heuntied the ropes around his ancles in one rushed pull. He heard a yell from behind him. He jumped up and grabbed onto the vent. A bullet went past him as he climbed in.

He continued to cry as he hurried away. He kept the USB drive in his mouth. It felt like a part of him had been ripped out. A big part. A part he needed to live.

(He wished he'd never noticed the crack in the wall. He wished he'd just left the kid to be abused. He was horrible. He just wanted his brother to be okay)

It should have been him who was left for dead. Roman had so many more people who would mourn him. He had had a future. Goals. Dreams. Relationships. Remus was replacable.

Remus pushed himself out of the vent. His lungs were burning. He was numb. There were so many emotions he'd overloaded. He couldn't even feel the cold against his skin. Only the tears against his cheeks.

He escaped the facility and ran. In the distance he could see the car. He wanted to die. He couldn't imagine a life without his brother. Roman was the one who was supposed to come back with the information to save people. Roman was the hero! It wasn't fair!

Remus wanted to stop and let the guards catch up to him. Wanted to let himself scream and sob and be killed. Wanted to hug his brother again even if the only way to hug him was if they were both dead.

Instead he forced himself survive but only because it'd been Roman's wish.

#not countdown #live and let die #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #ts roman #sanders sides #thomas sanders #creativitwins #roman sweetie i am so sorry a dumb bitch like me would do this to you

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