#i hope you guys take a liking to our slightly demented game!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Diego Hargreeves x Powered reader (Platonic Klaus x reader)

Summary: You and Klaus get very drunk in the Academy and have an absolute ball until Diego comes to take you home.

-Reader is from What a Time to be Alive universe

Masterlist

You’re with Klaus one night, he’s drunk as a skunk and high as a fucking kite all in one incredibly chaotic mixture. Diego’s off gallivanting around the city and you’re not in the mood for any late night crime fighting, so instead you’re chilling with Klaus in the Academy while Reginald is off on some business abroad, or at least that’s what Pogo told you. At the moment Klaus is talking to himself on the carpet as he stares wide eyed at a dream catcher on the far wall. You’re laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with random thoughts.

“Heyyy..uh...Y/N my favorite Vampire seductress. Hows ‘bout we tell each other a fun fact about ourselves.” He slurs drunkingly, his face a giant smile of bliss. You give him a hum of acknowledgment as you think for a second of what to say.

“Okay I’ll go first. I have a tattoo of a fish skeleton under my right boob.”

He bursts out laughing at the honest bluntness of your comment, “Cheers to our amazinggg tats my friend.” Quips Klaus as he takes another small swig of his liquor. You continue to stare up at the ceiling, your eyes following the dimly lit Christmas lights strung about the walls.

“Okay my turn. When I was 10, I challenged myself to see if I could steal one thing from everyone’s room in a week.”

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“Oh I was highly successful, until Pogo caught me sneaking around old Reggie’s office. Ya know now since I’ve thought about it...he probably saved my ass from some gory fate if Dad actually caught me.”

“Amazing.”

Klaus nods as he shifts himself around to face you, “So my dear, you got anything else that’s highly juicy drama? Come onnnn, you have to have had some wild nights with my bro for sure.” He says while wiggling his eyebrows, hoping for an answer. You roll yourself onto your stomach so as to better see him.

“None that are for your innocent ears, Klaus.”

“Oooohhh the scandal, you know what...I don’t wanna know. Oh hey Y/N have some of this shit it’s seriously sooo good.” Insists Klaus while raising up his almost empty bottle of whatever. You eye it curiously, it does smell appealing if you’re being honest, and there’s no one here to stop you.

“Yeah alright lets get fucked up, why not.” His face breaks out into a full Cheshire Cat smile as he eagerly hands you the bottle of alcohol. You grasp the glass bottle, flashing him a quick smirk before chugging the rest of it, much to Klaus’ surprised amusement.

“Yeahhh Y/N! We’re breakkin the ruulesss tonight.” He laughs while cheering you on. You finally set the bottle down as a do your best to hold in a watery burp, your face making a sour expression instead.

“Classy Y/N.”

“Thank you I’ll be here all night.”

Suddenly Klaus’ face shifts into a fake pout, as he sits on his carpet like a moody six year old, you smile at him as you tilt your head to the side.

“Whatcha thinking ‘bout Klaus.”

“We’re out of booze. This is not good.”

You can’t help yourself as a loud laugh bursts from your lips, the alcohols effects ever so slightly working their way into your bloodstream. He snaps his attention back to you, his face faining shock.

“This is a serious issue Y/N!”

“Exactly! We’re gonna have to go on a mission...to the downstairs bar...for..”

“For..?”

“For the good shit.”

“YES! You’re a genius, no wonder Diego keeps you around...you’re so smart Y/N..and he’s just so...stupid.” Drawls Klaus with an intoxicated giggle at the end.

You snort at the odd compliment of Klaus’ while getting up off of the bed, and setting the empty bottle onto the covers. You stand above Klaus as you reach your hand out for him to take, he gladly accepts your invitation for making more mischief as you easily pull him up, the both of you silently walking out the door and quietly tiptoeing down the vacant hallway. You’re in the lead as Klaus holds onto the bottom of your t-shirt in the darkness. He can’t see nearly as well as you can, so he smartly lets you handle your guys’ stealth mode adventure through the Academy’s eccentric hallways. You listen for any sounds of Pogo or Grace who may potentially cross paths with the two of you, and most likely ruin your fun.

The both of you ever-so-sneakily fumble up the stairs like giggly school girls doing something they shouldn’t be. Once you reach the top you sniff the air for any threats, nothing. Taking this as an obvious sign that everything’s all clear you make a break for the main living room, Klaus hot on your heels. Sprinting faster then you’ve ever seen him before, it’s honestly quit impressive.

You skid to an abrupt stop once you finally reach the back of the bar where all the most expensive and best tasting beverages are kept. Klaus quickly pushing past you to seek out his favorite bottle, you watch him grab one then two different kinds, insisting that they’re both equally as important and they shouldn’t be separated cause that would be a crime. You agree, looking through the vast collection as your skilled eyes finally lock onto your favorite drink. You pick it up eagerly, swiftly turning your body back around to face a visibly excited Klaus who’s practically shaking with adrenaline or maybe it’s whatever drugs he took, you’re not really sure.

“Y/N if you would do the honors.” He asks while handing you his bottle to open since you’re the stronger one here. You set your own bottle down onto the counter, taking his and twisting it with a satisfying pop sound as the cap releases. He practically yanks it out of your hands, giving you a peppy salute before taking a long swig. You leave him to it, opening up your own bottle and taking a hearty drink of your own. The two of you wipe your mouths as you both take a satisfied sigh of relief, enjoying how the alcohol is starting to slowly affect you.

“You know what we need to make this experience extra fantastic?”

“Blow my frickin mind.”

“Music!” Shouts Klaus as he races around the bar and bolts towards the stairs leading down to his room. With your bottle still in hand you hustle after him, practically sliding into his door when you make it to his room. He’s already ahead of the game as he fumbles around with his record player, putting a classic tune on that instantly has you jumping. The two of you practically scream sing the lyrics of the song currently blasting throughout the room and down the hallway. Both you jumping on his bed and dancing around the small area like bad little kids staying up past their bedtime.

You don’t remember how you got to the top floor of the Umbrella Academy but here you are. One fourth of a bottle full in your left hand and a red plastic lightsaber in your right. Klaus standing a couple feet away practically mirroring your own stance. He just looks a lot more fucked up then you are, as he drunkingly swings the saber around like a lunatic.

“Y/N I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND!”

“But you were the CHOSEN one!”

“Die rebel scum!” Yelps Klaus as he swings his weapon towards you, he looks like an old man as he’s basically moving in slow motion for dramatics. You give him his moment as you lean into the lightsaber, pretending to get sliced in the most ridiculously dramatic way possible.

“Ugh I am...defeated...blah.”

“HA get fucked loser!” Laughs Klaus who starts to randomly dance around you in a sort of weird victory dance type thing. You raise your own lightsaber up into the air as you shout a loud battlecry.

“SIKE! The evil cannot defeat me....I am INVINCIBLE!” Klaus’ eyes widen as you give him a devilish grin, he suddenly flips you off and screams before hauling ass down the hallway.

“Come get me bitches!!!”

Downing most of your bottle you race after him with your saber swinging wildly in front of you, he turns a corner and then down another in a fruitless attempt at losing you. You suddenly catch him into a corner, stalking slowly over to him like a tigress to her prey, his eyes going wide. But without warning he haphazardly chucks his lightsaber at you, successfully smacking you across the head with it, catching you very off guard and giving him just enough time to book it down the hallway and down the stairs. You quickly recover, downing the rest of your bottle as you trade it for the extra lightsaber. Cackling to yourself like a crazed witch as you continue your hunt for Klaus.

You can hear him running around the Academy so you take a shortcut down another hallway, leading you right in front of him. He stops, eyeing you suspiciously as he gets into a kung foo looking posture.

“I have two lightsabers you dumb-buss. And I’m gonna kick your buns for that little getaway stunt you just pulled. Bitch.”

“Get hit by a car.” Whisper yells Klaus before abruptly turning around and racing down the hallway once again.

As you race around another corner you suddenly smack into the back of Klaus, knocking yourself backwards and onto the floor with a breathy grunt. “Klaus what the he..” Your eyes go wide when they land on an incredibly confused Pogo who’s eyes the two of you suspiciously. You quickly gather yourself as you bolt to your feet, doing a terrible job at hiding the lightsabers behind you in the process.

“Now what is all this ruckus about you two?”

“Oh, what did you hear something suspicious? Me and Y/N/N here were just...uh...checking the halls for any possible intruders.” Rambles Klaus, hands casually on his slender hips as he stares at Pogo with the chillest face possible.

“Yeah, don’t worry Pogo. No thieves in this Academy.” You nervously shrug, giving him a forced smile, though you’re pretty sure you look a bit demented. Pogo looks between the two of you knowing full well that your dumbasses are drunk and causing all kinds of mischief around the large estate. This is definitely not the first time this has happened and probably not the last, he shakes his head as he blinks, “Well then...that’s good to know...I’ll just be in my room reading if you two need anything. Goodnight.”

“Night Pogo.”

“Save travels in dreamland.” Snickers Klaus as you smack the back of his head.

Pogo gives the both of you a kind tight lipped smile before nodding and turning around to walk into his room. You watch as he disappears within, the great oaken door shutting with a small thud. Klaus abruptly swivels to face you, a cheeky grin stuck to his scruffy face, “That went pretty well...all things considered.”

“Guess what.”

“What.”

“You’re a little bitch. And I have two lightsabers.” His eyes quickly widen in realization as he swats at your shoulder, laughing in delight as he practically gallops down the hallway.

“Stop running I might throw up!”

You sprint after him, Klaus leads you down more hallways and stairs until you catch him in the front room. Blocking him from escaping anywhere else into the Academy, unless he opened the front door and ran outside, but that’s highly unlikely considering it’s snowing out and he’s shoeless and without a shirt on except for a Hufflepuff scarf you bought him last year. Klaus fake growls at you while flailing his lanky arms around like pool noodles. You suddenly have the bright idea of jumping onto the wooden table, and without another thought you do just that.

It surprisingly holds you up, Klaus steps back as you swing your dual lightsabers around like a maniac, clearly enjoying yourself in this blissfully warm drunken state. Quickly thinking on the fly, or maybe its his ingrained hero training, Klaus grabs a spare umbrella hanging on the coat rack and swings it at you with a new theatrical passion.

“Don’t worry Y/N I’ll put you out of your misery!” Shouts Klaus as he swats your legs with the umbrella, you smack him on the arm as he yelps out in pain.

“I’ll put your grandma out of her misery!”

“I don’t even have a grandma you monster!”

“Neither do I!”

The front door swings open just as Klaus finishes his sentence and you loudly answering him back, as the both of you swing your weapons at each other once again. You and Klaus oblivious to whoever just walked inside, until the door shuts with a loud thud, causing the two of you to stop mid hit and look over to the individual standing by the front entrance, who’s looking a very hard mixture of concerned and not sure if he should ask. Your eyes instantly go wide as they land on Diego.

“She started it!” Points Klaus before smacking your legs with the umbrella and booking it down the hallway for about the hundredth time that night. You jump off the table, sprinting towards Klaus with a new found purpose, leaving a confused Diego in your wake. Klaus is fast but not fast enough as you slide past him and block his ass from seeking safety within his room. The two of you have an intense old western style stare down for a couple moments before he breaks the silence.

“I may be vurrryyy outs of it, but I think Diego is hurrr.” Slurs Klaus as he leans himself against the wall.

“Well he’s not allowed in our pillow fort then.”

“We don’t even have a pillow fort Y/N!”

“We gonna have one now! Let’s get inside!” You quickly whisper yell at him, before grabbing his hand and yanking him into his room, shutting the door right after. Forgetting to lock the door in the process. You and Klaus throw some chairs and blankets around, in a sad attempt at making a pillow fort. It looks like a goddamn pillow Godzilla came crashing through your plush city of Pillow Tokyo, but who cares at this point anyways. The two of you begin laughing like a pair of drunken sailors as Klaus hands you another one of his half filled bottles. You gladly accept with a lopsided smile while Klaus mumbles something to himself. A second later the door jiggles and opens a few inches before it gets stuck on a bunched up blanket.

“Y/N, Klaus what the hell are you two doing? And let me in.”

“What’s the password Diego?” Giggles you and Klaus as Diego let’s out a frustrated sigh.

“Uh...”

“Incorrect. You’ve got two more guesses babe.” You playfully snap at him.

“Luther sucks?”

“Errrgggg, wrong again brother.” Quips Klaus, taking the bottle out of your hand to down some himself.

“Y/N is the best?” Tries Diego cautiously, hoping this will be the password. You bolt up from the floor as you lose your footing and catch yourself with a quick smack of your hands into the doorframe. Diego holds in a laugh as he gives you an amused smile, still finding you absolutely adorable even when visibly out of it and quit possibly drunk off your ass.

“DD, hellooowww.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as you give him a sappy grin.

“Don’t let him in Y/N he didn’t guess the password. It’s Jesus...the passwords always Jesus.” Warns Klaus in the background. Diego raises his eyebrows at that as your face falls in disappointment.

“Dammit Klaus now he knows.” You turn round to hiss at him like an angry cat.

“Y/N I don’t really...uh..really feel good.” Mumbles Klaus as he leans himself back against a pile of pillows. You purse your lips into a tight frown, realizing in your own buzzed state that the fun is over and you’ll have to go home, but it’s cold outside. You look up at Diego as he stares back down at you, he’s not entirely sure if your about to cry or not, until your face abruptly lights up into a cheeky grin taking him off guard.

“Y/N. Don’t do it.” Is all he has time to say before you hastily slam the door in his face and turn around to get the high ground on Klaus’ bed. You’ve got an empty bottle in one hand as Diego shoves the door open eyeing you up like a wolf to his prey. You’d be more turned on by this if it wasn’t for the fact that you really don’t want to go home. He carefully walks in closer to you as Klaus watches in amusement, loudly cheering Diego on. You’re back presses against the back wall as you hold out your empty wine bottle in defense, “None of you bitches could handle me.”

“Y/N put the bottle down.”

“I’ve died of alcohol poisoning twice you can’t kill me!”

“I wish I could do that.” Adds Klaus with a laugh.

“That’s not something to be proud of.” Says Diego as his attention snaps back to you.

“I’ve done cocaine off of Brad Pitts ass cheeks.” You cackle as your face breaks out into another bright smile, Diego lets out an amused huff of air, really doing his best to keep a straight face at your intoxicated nonsense.

“Oh shit me too. Or maybe he was a stripper, ya know I don’t actually recall.”

“Jesus Christ you two.” Mutters Diego as he slowly gets closer to you, his legs now reaching the bed. He gives you a pleading look as he reaches his arm out for you to take.

“No TOUCHY. I have a boyfriend!” You shout back, as he quickly takes the opportunity to snatch your bottle out of your hand and toss it into the nearby destroyed pillow fort.

“Y/N I am your boyfriend. And we need to go home now. Please.” You give him a dirty look before rolling your eyes and walking into his open arms, not being able to resist from him any longer. He hugs you tight while gently setting your feet onto the carpeted floor.

“I’ll help you put your boots and coat on okay? Just sit on the bed please.” He sweetly asks, you oblige without so much as a pout. Letting him take care of you in the smallest of ways, once you’re finally all ready to go he takes your hands and pulls you up.

“See ya ‘round Klaus. Have fun, do crimes.” You wink while shooting him finger guns, he nods his head lifting up a lightsaber to salute you.

“May the forces of this broken umbrella be with you.” Replies Klaus, lifting up the umbrella to salute you again. Diego lets out an amused snort as he says goodbye to his brother and ushers you out the door. He holds your hand the whole time as he leads you throughout the Academy and all the way to the front door, where he opens it for you to walk through.

When you walk outside the air is calm and quiet, the world is cold and surrounded in a shimmering white blanket of fresh snow. A small silent parade of silver confetti falls lightly from the dark sky, landing on your flushed face as cool icy kisses touch your hot skin. It feels nice and has your head spinning as you wait on the sidewalk for Diego to finish locking the front gate. His steps are quiet in the snow as he links his arm with yours, startling you for a second before you relax back into his touch. The two of you walk peacefully through the snow covered sidewalk for about fifteen minutes before you decide to break the quiet.

“So hows’ err night ‘iego?” You slur while struggling to stay balanced, your head feels cloudy and the sparkly snow is messing with your perception due to you being drunk and all. He pulls you in closer while placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head. 

“I saved this old guy from getting robbed by some teenage punks, who clearly didn’t know what they were doing. It was too easy, but uh...that was about it. Pretty slow tonight actually.” You let out a satisfied hum in response.

“You’re like...so...hot.” You mumble while craning your neck to get a good view of his face. He looks down at you with an adoring smirk gracing his lips, his very very kissable lips. You can’t help yourself as you pull down on his jacket collar and crash your lips into his, its a sweet but brief embrace, as he pulls away first. You give him an annoyed pout while he smiles, shaking his head at you.

“We gotta make it home Y/N. I can already tell how bad your hangovers gonna be in the morning.”

You give him a what-the-fuck face, still pissed that he broke your kiss so soon and is now instructing you like a mother goose. You’re not having it one bit. In response you pull his hat down into his eyes and trip him into a snowbank, you watch in amusement as he disappears into the cold puffy whiteness. Only to come back into view with an angry grunt as he pulls himself to his feet, you’re absolutely losing your shit watching him struggle and get frustrated with you. By the time he’s removed the snow from his face, he stops his angry protests to watch you crying with laughter. His frustration and growing irritation slowly dissipating away as he sees how truly happy you are, it’s adorable to watch someone like you in such a rare drunkingly blissful state. He breaks out into a tired grin, thinking it best not to provoke you anymore as he abandons the idea of throwing a snowball at you. As this decision may not end very well for him.

“Come on you goofball lets get inside. Some of us can actually get frostbite.” Diego tells you while throwing a snow covered arm over your shoulder, your face breaks out into a crooked half smile as you lean into Diego’s warm side once again. Then without warning your stomach lurches with a nasty after taste of whatever you ate earlier touching your tongue. Instantly you break from his grasp, turning to the snowy street curb and abruptly puking onto the dazzling snow innocently minding its business below. Diego instantly rushes to hold your hair back as you loudly let it all out, your body feels like it’s on fire and your throat hurts as you continue to vomit a nasty mix of alcohol and chicken nuggets. Once done, you quickly wipe off your mouth of any lasting unwanted particles.

You spit in the snow, turning around to face a concerned Diego who looks at you worriedly with those big brown eyes of his. You give him a theatrical bow, before hanging your head down in exhaustion as you slowly shuffle past him.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

[tarithenurse]

The good Villain - 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader (eventually) Content for series: Murder, crime, violence, angst, lots of gore, sadness, trauma, innuendos, sexual themes (maybe even detailed - we’ll see), political undertones (not a lot), Avengers, Guardians, Captains, Asgardians (of sorts), loneliness, desperation, humour (attempts, at least), friends in unlikely places.  A/N: Based on the prompt “You’re the villain and you know that you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why”. Let’s just say that a loooot will happen, but I hope to keep it relatively short. ​

 1

…   Reader   …

The translation is delayed by a second, but long enough for the Terran to scrunch her eyebrows in concern. “On a scale from zero to ten, where ten is the worst imaginable…how bad is the pain?”

Right now, you can remember a lot of different injuries and neither they nor the current one are anywhere close to real agony. That kind of pain, the kind that takes over your body in a rush until there is nothing else, they are rarely physical in origin unlike the thumping ache in your arm.

“Three,” you answer, bending to study the odd angle of the limb, “can you heal it?”

She seems puzzled by the question even as she makes note on a chart before ripping off the paper and sends you on the way with it to something, she calls an “Ex Ray”. What is it now if not a ray? Deciding not to worry about that for now, you follow the line on the floor she has told you to follow.

…   Loki   …

The conference room is eerily silent as each Avenger studies the files Carol Danvers has sent. Now and then someone sighs, or Romanova whistles softly as a way to express that she (for once) is impressed – although not in a positive way. Everyone on the team has seen their share of horrors, created at the hands of criminals and maniacs alike. Very, very rarely have they gotten close to something of this level of cruelty.

“Don’t….don’t check out ‘ny o’the appendixes,” Stark croaks with a shudder.

Mortals, Loki rolls his eyes, always so weak. Scrolling rapidly through the data, he reaches the part they have been warned about. Images, perfectly sharp and with small descriptive texts and arrows to help the person studying the information in case it proves difficult to identify what is what. His stomach churns, bubbling threateningly until he can taste the sour tang in the back of his mouth. By the ancients.

“Carol thinks it…she…the killer’s here?” The normally brave Wilson appears ashen as he closes the device.

“Yeah, hopping from planet to planet…” Rogers pauses briefly before completing the sentence, “killing and burning children and anyone who gets in the way…”

Not even I committed such atrocities. It is of little comfort, of course, for the Asgardian to have found someone more hated than himself. Still, he cannot help but wonder what demented reasoning is causing the Betan to inflict such madness, although he is loathing to grant her evil ways the benefit of the doubt.

“Why kids and why those kids?”

There is no answer for Barnes’ question, though, so it is added to the list of information they need to obtain while hunting down the villainous female.

 …   Reader   …

Considering the primitive methods of healing (well, anything), it seems improbable to you that Terrans have managed to not just survive but thrive for as long as they have. The healers have done the best they could after you refused surgery. Now your arm has been set, fixed, and wrapped in in a clumsy cast that will prove an additional challenge in and of itself – however, you are already plotting how to improve the situation with a few upgrades of your own.

As you navigate the crowded streets of the city, you keep an eye out for the reason you are here: Leeches. Soul Leeches, to be exact. Once a respectable commander of the Rescue Forces of Sirius Beta, your first encounter with the invasive species had almost wiped out your entire crew because their manner of proliferating is…sneaky. Even now, the terror-fueled respect has your skin crawling as shadows turn into monsters dressed up as innocent charades.

And here? Oh, this is a playground for the Leeches. Adults and younglings mingling closely, all with empty eyes glued to little screens or their ears filled by sound-emitting devices. Hermits drifting in a sea of people. Not that you are overly sociable yourself, but unfortunately that type of numb behaviour makes it a lot harder to identify the victims, the Leeches, and those untouched.

First things first, though. You need a place to crash and reconsider your course of action. The planet holds other dangers, such as the non-automated vehicle. What other planets still use manual transportation devices? It’s ridiculous!

 …   Loki   …

Despite the black umbrella, Loki’s trouser-legs are drenched. The rain is carpet bombing the asphalt, bouncing back up with the dirt and grime of the busy city. Still, the only way the horrible weather affects the hustle and bustle of the citizens is merely by making them marginally grumpier, their own umbrellas becoming improvised weapons if someone moves too slowly through the downpour. No one pays attention to the God of Mischief and Chaos as he stands by the mouth of the alley.

Blind fools. As opposed to his brother who has come to adore the Midgardians, Loki rarely considers them anything but dimwitted bordering on useless. It is no wonder, then, that they are continuing through their life without paying attention to the danger lurker among them.

Since Danvers brought the case to the Avengers, newly including him, the Betan has been working quite efficiently. She has struck at random, already killing four children and most of their families. In one instance the infant brother had been spared – left outside the neighbour’s door as though the murderer suddenly had grown a conscience. Impossible. Sympathy and conscience is lost, worn away by the callous acts rather than the other way around. But what could explain why the baby was spared, then?

“Get outta ‘ere!”

The angry voice makes the slender man turn to find the origin, spotting a small grocer yelling at someone. Fist raised, a broom grabbed hard in the other hand, he appears to be more of a threat than his victim is willing to take on although instincts clash for an instant – wanting to escape attention while simultaneously unwilling to risk the wrath of the weather (a task that seems paradoxical with the sea-coloured hair).

Tilting the umbrella slightly, it is possible to observe the dash from one inadequate shelter to the other. She. Few males on this planet move as this person does especially when encumbered with a cast on one arm and a heavy laden grocer’s bag on the other. Just as the woman reaches the corner at the opposite end of the intersection, her stride falters as if controlled by an outside force and her body turns. As if in slow motion, inhumanely black eyes lock onto the small shape of a child who is following closely behind the parents and the mouth twitches to avoid contorting into a sneer…but the next second the woman slips around the corner while the oblivious family continues.

Coincidences do happen, just like accidents do. Sometimes. Thriving on chaos, however, means that Loki is intimately aware of how rare true randomness is.

The sleek phone presses softly against his ear, and he finds himself to be holding the breath until the dialing tone is broken.

“What’s up, reindeer games?”

“I believe I’ve seen our killer.”

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 6 - Live Game

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER SIX

LIVE GAME: A game with a lot of action, usually with unskilled players, especially maniacs.

Berwald turned to Tino with a silent plea to explain the situation. Party? Tino just mouthed an apology before Iceland hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Fin, let's get ready."

Tino sighed, resigned to his fate. "All right, you want to party. Where are we going?"

Denmark jumped from his chair, pointed at Tino, and started singing. "You! I wanna take you to a gay bar!"

Tino closed his eyes. "Oh, God."

"I wanna take you to a gay bar!"

"Please stop," Tino groaned, putting his hand to his head.

"I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar…"

"What's he on about?" Berwald's eyes narrowed in irritated confusion.

Faeroe looked up from the couch. "I believe he wishes to take you to an all-gentleman's drinking establishment."

"Do ya? A do ya have any money? I wanna spend all your money! At the gay bar, gay bar, gay bar!"

"YES I GET IT!" Tino shouted. "But Ice and I aren't old enough to actually get into a bar, gay or otherwise."

Iceland scoffed dismissively. "Den made us fake IDs months ago. Besides, once I'm done with you, you'll get in anywhere."

Tino edged apprehensively away from Iceland. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I swear," said Norway as he crossed the room, "If either of you say the word 'makeover' I will evict you this second on the grounds of being excessively homosexual."

Denmark grinned manically and directed his demented singing to Norway. "I've got something to put in y-AARGH!"

Norway flexed his fist as Denmark rubbed his arm. "Sweden. You don't need a fake ID, do you." It wasn't a question.

"'course not." Berwald didn't mention that he had not needed to show ID since he was fifteen.

All eyes turned to Berwald. Iceland, Tino, and Denmark leant forward, expectant. Berwald was just confused. "What?"

"All right." Norway narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. "How old are you, Sweden?"

"Tw'nty-three."

Denmark punched the air. "Yes! Under twenty-five, told you! Pay up."

Norway practically growled as he tossed a coin to Denmark. "You got lucky."

Iceland groaned and placed a coin in Denmark's outstretched palm. "Would've sworn thirty, at least."

Berwald frowned. Thirty? Tino grinned delightedly. "Ha! I told you guys he wasn't a middle-aged pervert… Uh, sorry, Berwald."

Berwald just shrugged. His housemates had been taking bets on his age. He wasn't really surprised.

"All right, break it up, move it along," Denmark barked, placing the coins in his pocket. "Sweden, go get changed, you're covered in dirt, it's disgusting. Seriously."

Berwald shook his head. In his idea of a good time, going out on the town with Denmark ranked somewhere between repeatedly smashing his head against the wall and being forced to watch those awful reality shows Greenland and Faeroe lived off. "Thanks, but… I'll give it a miss."

Denmark waved a hand and followed the others up the stairs. "Whatev, you'd cramp my style anyway. Oi Iceland, get back here, you are so not having the bathroom first, you take a fucking month!"

Berwald escaped into the kitchen, which was quickly becoming a sort of hideout for him. At least, it was a safe place to wait until everyone left and he could make his way to his bedroom unhindered. He spent twenty minutes dealing with the mess which only accumulated the minute he finished cleaning it, then decided to busy himself making coffee. He took out a mug, put the jug on the boil, opened the fridge to get the milk, then looked up when Tino walked into the kitchen.

Berwald dropped the milk carton.

"Iceland," Tino explained, his expression slightly bewildered.

"I, um…" Berwald's brain would not work. Tino was dressed… if 'dressed' was even the right word… in a tight purple shirt, Iceland's white boots, and quite possibly the smallest pair of shorts Berwald had ever seen. "I, um… I, um…" Berwald paused, breathed deeply, and focused really, really hard on getting the next sentence out correctly. "I… um." He barely noticed the milk pooling around his feet.

"Come on, Finland!"

Tino looked in the direction of Denmark's voice then back at Berwald pleadingly. "Please come with me!"

"I…" Berwald had absolutely no choice. "Okay."

It took Berwald five minutes to get ready. When he descended into the living room, Tino still looked helplessly lost, Norway stood tapping his foot, Iceland was fussing with Tino's hair, and Greenland and Faroe looked about as stunned as Berwald.

Greenland blinked incredulously up at Tino. "Who did this thing to you?"

Tino looked helplessly down at himself. "I know! I can't go out like this!"

Iceland rolled his eyes. He was dressed practically identical to Tino, though with a blue shirt, and a hell of a lot more eyeliner. "The hell you can't, you're our ticket into the hottest club in town."

"But I... but I look..."

"Fucking perfect, sweetie."

"Come on Ice, can't you do this?"

"I always do it. It's time to pass on my knowledge. Now remember what I told you to say?"

Tino took a deep breath. "Um... can my friends come in too?"

Iceland nodded. "Just like that, with that little tilt of the head. Now bite your lip that way you do. Beautiful."

Just as Berwald was trying to sort out his wildly oscillating and self-sabotaging emotions, he was thrown off guard by Denmark sauntering into the room, wearing a garish red suit and a little hat. Norway sneered at him. "You look like a pimp."

"Yeah, baby." Denmark placed an arm each around Norway and Iceland and grinned widely. "Sup, bitches." Norway stomped on his foot.

Denmark barely noticed. "Gentleman. And now we embark upon the age-old tradition of getting raging drunk in order to forget our problems. Shall we?"

.

The line of people waiting to enter the club stretched halfway down the street. Berwald and his housemates stood in a cluster off to the side, eyeing the security discreetly. "That one," said Iceland, pointing to a bouncer and pushing Tino towards the crowd. "Go, Fin."

Tino, looking slightly confused and a little terrified, pushed his way hesitantly through the crowd to the bouncers on the door. Berwald watched, the back of his neck boiling, as Tino spoke a few inaudible words. Not that he should worry, really; there was no way this was going to work.

But then Tino tilted his head. The bouncer nodded and Tino turned back to the group, smiling and beckoning them forward.

"All riiight!" Denmark cheered, pushing his way through the crowd to the door. "Move it, peasants. Nice one, Fin."

Berwald shot the bouncer a glare as he walked past. The man took a step backwards.

An hour later and Berwald could not remember the last time he had felt so uncomfortable. He was surrounded by a swarming, sweating, undulating mass of humanity, all at varying degrees of intoxication, all reminding Berwald why he absolutely hated nightclubs. He almost found himself looking around for a dirty, discreet back door somewhere - most of these places had games going on if you knew where to find them - but he quelled that notion the second he thought it. What would he even bet with?

Berwald glanced around for his housemates, who were having no problems making themselves at home in the blaring club. Norway had found his way to the bar and was currently knocking back his fourth straight shot of gin. Iceland had found a pole and an appreciative audience. Denmark had found the dance floor - and glowsticks. Only Tino seemed as much at a loss as Berwald, pushing through the massing sea of people around the bar. Almost everyone stared as he passed by, some even whistling, some getting so dangerously close that Berwald had to restrain himself from starting a few stupid, testosterone-laden barroom brawls.

Tino eventually made his way through the thronging mass and laughed up at Berwald. "Gosh, wow. Have you ever seen so many people pressed up like this? We had a dance at my school last year but only like thirty people turned up because everyone went and hung out at the empty lot to drink vodka and make out and look at cars. I would have gone, but I'm just not that interested in cars."

Berwald could not do this. He could not stand here while the most perfect person in the world stood right beside him and laughed like that and came out with those crazy, perfect things he always said. Berwald took a long sip of his beer and focused again on Denmark on the dance floor. Tino followed his gaze, a puzzled expression on his face. "What is he doing?"

"Think he's dancin'," Berwald replied, hoping Tino could hear him over the deafening electronics and thumping beat. He was not good at yelling. "Or, uh... tryin' to."

"He looks like he's having a fit."

"Thought he was," said Berwald. "Was gettin' ready to do CPR. Then he started wavin' the glowsticks so I thought he must be all right."

Tino giggled loudly. "That was funny."

"I was serious." This just made Tino burst into another fit of laughter. Berwald looked at him in confusion.

"Sorry," laughed Tino.

"Y'all right, Tino?" asked Berwald carefully. Tino was acting a little different - he certainly did not seem as nervous as usual.

"Of course! Norway gave me one of these!" Tino grinned, holding up an almost empty bottle of some brightly coloured hideous vodka concoction.

"Ah." Well, that explained it. "Ye should go easy on that."

"Why?"

"It's stronger than it tastes."

Tino waved a hand dismissively. "I'm Finnish, remember? I come from a long line of proud people who can hold their vodka and shoot Russians and sit in saunas for a really, really long time." Tino finished his drink, stumbled, and Berwald almost unconsciously reached out and took his arm. He led him through the crowd to a few couches centred around a low table; Berwald glared at the two men sitting there and they quickly left. Tino barely noticed, just falling heavily onto the couch. Iceland passed by on his way back from the bar and passed Tino a bright purple bottle.

"Ooh." Tino immediately started on the next sugary vodka mixture. Berwald closed his eyes, searched for inner strength, then sat down beside him.

Two drinks later and it was becoming quite clear that Tino was not the best drinker in the world. Berwald was only on his second beer, but used to much stronger. He watched with a mixture of amusement and complete, utter infatuation as Tino waved a bright blue bottle in the air in time with his words. He seemed to be making his way through every colour of the rainbow in vodka form. "And so then, get this, the teacher says that I was totally wrong in my entire interpretation and that there is no way that 'Romeo and Juliet' would ever work during a zombie apocalypse. So, d'you know what I said?"

"No."

Tino raised his drink. "I said, 'screw you!'"

"Really?"

Tino took a sip of vodka and shook his head. "No, not really, but I thought it. I actually said 'okay' and then I just, sort of, sat back down."

Berwald actually had to hold back a burst of laughter. "Well, at least ye thought it."

Tino leant forward with wide, bright, earnest eyes. "Don't you just wish sometimes that you could say what you're really thinking? I always worry that I'm going to upset someone, or make a fool of myself, or that it's going to come out wrong, which it usually does anyway because my brain just never seems to keep up with my mouth, you know what I mean?"

Berwald nodded. He wasn't actually sure he'd even heard Tino, too captivated by those violet eyes. "Sure."

Tino smiled softly. "Berwald, you're a really, really good listener."

"'kay."

"Do you think we're going to lose the house?"

Oh. That Berwald understood. How to answer… Berwald did the way he always did; the only way he really knew how. Honestly. "I don't know."

Tino flopped back against the couch despairingly. "Berwald, what will I do if we get kicked out? I won't have anywhere to go. I'll end up living on the street in a cardboard box. I don't want to live in a cardboard box, Berwald. How will I ever decorate it, nothing goes with that horrible brown colour. Oh my God, and I'll have to wear one of those beanie things with the bobbles on the side! Please don't let that happen to me, Berwald!"

Berwald did not think he could handle this. Tino was so adorable it was killing him. "I won't. Pr'mise I won't."

Tino gave a happy sigh and laid his head on Berwald's shoulder. Berwald took a very long gulp of beer. "That's so nice. You're so nice. What am I going to do with my life, Berwald?

Berwald froze. Oh, no. Drunk talk already. "I'm sure you'll think'f somethin'."

"I'm eighteen, I graduate in a month, and I have no idea what I want to do. Isn't that stupid?"

Berwald was all too aware of Tino's face so close to his. He could almost feel his breath. "No."

Tino waved his drink again as he spoke. "Eduard is going to be a computer whatsit… thing… guy. And Feliks and Toris are both already at college, and… and I just have no idea. I'm not the best at anything. I mean, I can play the piano, but I'm no musical genius. I'm in the soccer team, but I'm no athlete. I get good grades, but I'm never the top of the class. I'm just normal, boring, average."

Berwald scoffed quietly at that. Tino, average? He'd never heard anything so untrue in his entire life. But he did not know how to give compliments, or reassure people, so he simply asked, "Well… what's yer dream?"

Tino was silent for a moment. Berwald started to worry he had been inappropriate, but then Tino hummed thoughtfully. "My dream…"

"Yeah. If ye could have anythin', be anythin'."

"No, that's embarrassing!"

"I won't tell."

Tino lifted his head, looking up with narrow, wary eyes, and Berwald realised that he actually really, really wanted to know. "Promise?"

Berwald nodded. "Pr'mise."

"Well…" Tino seemed to think about answering for a moment. He bit his lip, took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush. "I just want a nice little house with a kid and a fluffy, white dog and a garden and the man of my dreams. I even want the white picket fence." Tino shrugged and looked into his hands. "Pathetic, huh."

Berwald's heart flipped almost painfully in his chest. He really could not handle this. "No. Not't all. Honest. And sweet."

Tino took another long sip of vodka, then pressed his finger to Berwald's lips. "But ssh, I'm not supposed to say that, or want that, because Eduard says that's, like, gender stereotypes and we shouldn't subscribe to those because that just sets our cause back fifty years but I don't even have a cause, I don't even really know what that means, but I think it means I'm supposed to be a lumberjack or something."

Berwald almost laughed again. "A lumb'rjack?"

"Yeah, you know. Tough, rugged. Eats pancakes, I believe. Red flannel is involved."

This time Berwald could not stop it. Tino was too cute, and too random, and Berwald laughed. He quickly broke off when Tino gasped and grabbed his arm. "Berwald!"

"Uh, what?"

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh!"

Berwald wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed. "Oh."

Tino smiled. "You should do that more often, you're not so scary when you laugh. That was probably a silly thing to say, though, about the lumberjack. I'm glad Denmark didn't hear me say that..."

"Hear you say what?" Berwald was almost knocked sideways as Denmark vaulted the back of the couch and sat heavily between them. "House rule eleven, Sweden."

Berwald had to force himself not to punch Denmark in the jaw. "We're not in th'house," he grunted through gritted teeth.

Denmark eyed him disdainfully. "They still count."

Berwald held Denmark's steely gaze easily. "Is that explicitly stated?"

"I'm sure I could amend the rules to state it." Denmark scornfully articulated every word.

Berwald sneered. "Ye'd have to get a majority vote, wouldn't ye?"

Denmark narrowed his eyes and leant forward until his nose was almost touching Berwald's. "Sometimes, Sweden, I really don't like you very much."

Berwald was about to respond that the feeling was pretty damn mutual when Tino suddenly gasped and bounced on the couch. The music blasted even louder. "Oh, oh! I LOVE this song! Someone dance with me!"

Tino jumped up excitedly and almost ran into Iceland walking back from the bar. Tino took the drinks from Ice, placed them on the small table, and dragged him insistently towards the dance floor.

The song sounded like a thousand Berwald had heard before. But the second Ice and Tino started dancing, the entire club stopped to watch. Berwald had to admit – it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Iceland danced like he was born to do it. He moved effortlessly with the music; arms rising and falling gracefully, hips swaying tightly, his entire body perfectly in tune with the thumping bass and the flowing melody. His eyes, dark and lidded, took in the entire room as he moved with the beat.

But Tino – well. To be fair, impartial, and completely honest – Tino was quite possibly the worst dancer Berwald had ever seen. He started with some strange sort of epileptic shuffle, then moved on to a quite terrifying mixture of line dancing and flamenco, and once the beat started to get going, he simply jumped and down. People were avoiding him on the dance floor. Berwald, however, could not tear his eyes away from the perfect Finn.

"Sweden, you're pretty clueless, aren't you."

Berwald blinked at the intrusion on his thoughts, then practically choked on the audacity of Denmark saying those words to anyone. "Me?"

"Yes, do you see another freakishly tall, clinically pissed off looking Scandinavian nation around here anywhere?"

Berwald was really starting to wonder. "You've got s'rious pr'blems, Denmark."

"And you've got a serious speech impediment, honestly, I don't know what you are saying! No, don't try and repeat it, you'll only hurt yourself. As I was saying, you're clueless. Do you not see how glaringly obvious it is that you are in love with Finland?"

Berwald felt rather ill. How did everyone seem to know this? He was supposed to be good at hiding his emotions, damn it! Why was this the only one he could not hide? He glanced up at Tino, now attempting some kind of Broadway-inspired break-dancing, and realised – he had never felt anything like this. So how could he know how to hide it? Berwald glared at Denmark, calling upon his most intimidating expression. "Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout."

"Sweden, I'll make it simple." Denmark suddenly looked more serious than Berwald had ever seen him. It was jarring. "I've already seen one of my friends hurt. I will not see it happen again. So I swear to you, if you ever do anything to hurt Fin - I will break your fucking teeth."

Berwald paused for a moment. Denmark was serious about this. Maybe, somewhere beneath that mad, bizarre exterior, there really were things that he cared about. Again, Berwald looked up at Tino dancing. He was laughing wildly, jumping like he was in a mosh pit, completely oblivious to Iceland's perfectly smooth technique beside him. His blond hair flew in his beautiful face, his violet eyes flashed brightly; he was a fresh breeze of green grass and brilliant sunshine in a dank, booze-smelling pit.

Berwald glared at Denmark evenly, and replied honestly. "If I ever did anythin' to hurt 'im – I'd let you break more than m'teeth."

Denmark looked taken aback. Just then, Norway fell into the chair opposite. "This place is bullshit. The bastard behind the bar tried to stop serving me."

Denmark leant back and smiled brightly. "What'd you say to that?"

"I looked him in the eye and strongly suggested he reconsider."

"And?"

Norway held up a bottle. "Free drink."

Denmark giggled. "That's my boy."

Berwald again fixed his attention on Tino and Iceland on the dance floor. His view, however, was suddenly obstructed by three young men. The young, bespectacled blond sneered down with folded arms. "Why hello, Denmark! I didn't think the asylum let you out after nightfall!"

It took Berwald only a second to recognise them. Eduard, who had spoken and now looked down disdainfully at Denmark; Feliks, who was paying more attention to his cell phone than anything; and Toris, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. Tino seemed to have noticed at the same time, as he suddenly charged over and shrieked before Denmark had a chance to respond. Berwald winced.

"Oi, Finland!" shouted Denmark, placing a hand to his ear. "I need both my eardrums, you know!"

Tino ignored Denmark and threw his arms around the small group. "My friends! Yay, my friends are here!"

"Hey, Tino," said Eduard. Berwald glared at the boy's arm around Tino's waist. "How did you get in here oh great look your terrifying new housemate is here too…"

Tino laughed and pushed Eduard's shoulder. "Eduard, this is Berwald. Don't be mean."

Eduard smiled very carefully, but it did not reach his eyes. "It's nice to meet you properly, Berwald."

Berwald gritted his teeth and tried to be polite. "Hi." Eduard looked at him as though expecting him to go on. Berwald had no idea what else he was supposed to say.

Thankfully Denmark broke the awkward pause. "Well, well, so Mother Bear has let the Russian cubs out to play!"

Toris clenched his fists and growled angrily. "I. Am. Lithuanian!"

"That's what I said. Russian."

Toris looked like he was going to explode. "I... you... I… I need to go away."

Denmark threw a leg onto the coffee table to prevent Toris' escape, but his eyes were fixed on Eduard. "Estonia! I've told you a hundred times, you can't join Scandinavia, we're full. Go hang out with your Baltic brothers where you belong."

Eduard shook his head in disbelief. "Denmark, I wouldn't live with you if you paid me a thousand bucks a week and worked as my personal slave."

Norway downed the remainder of his drink. "He's broke, and he works for me."

Eduard's lip twisted. "I swear you're just as…"

Denmark sighed loudly. "Estonia, stop begging, please, you're embarrassing yourself."

Eduard pressed his lips together, breathed deeply through his nose, and turned to Tino. "How do you live with him?"

"How d'ye live with Ivan?" No one spoke. It took Berwald a few moments to be sure he was the one who had.

"Yeah," said Denmark finally, realising. He leant forward on the couch and glared indignantly at the three young men. "Yeah! I'm far better than that creepy Russian, at least I'm only fucking one of my minions!"

Despite the thumping music, the atmosphere turned cold and deathly silent. "Excuse me?" Feliks finally looked up from his phone, his hand on his hip and his expression deadly. "But, like, what the shit is that supposed to mean?"

Denmark smirked. "Come off it, Poland. Everyone knows Russia keeps your sweet little asses from being deported, and does what he wants with them in return."

Feliks lost it. Eduard and Toris barely managed to restrain the wild-eyed Pole as he charged. "I'll kill you, Denmark!" Feliks screamed. "I'll totally scratch your fucking eyes out!"

"Try it, sweetheart." Norway stood smoothly and stepped between Feliks and Denmark. "Try it and I will, like, totally rip that pretty little ponytail out of your scalp."

Berwald felt his shoulders tense as he prepared for some sort of eye-scratching, hair-ripping showdown. The tension broke, however, when Tino stumbled over and threw his arm around Norway. "Hey, hey!" Everyone stared as Tino laughed and gestured wildly. "Why can't we all just get along? It's like that song, you know. You know, that song. Berwald, tell them the song."

Berwald tried to sink into the couch. "Um, I… don't know what…"

"Yeah, that one." Tino started to sing tunelessly. "Why can't we all… just get along…" He trailed off, stopped, then glared intently at Eduard. "I don't like you guys fighting. You shouldn't fight, because you're all my friends, and…"

Eduard narrowed his eyes. "Tino, how much have you had to drink?"

Before Tino managed to respond, Iceland walked over and fixed Toris with a deep, bitter glare. Toris took an unsteady step backwards, turned red, and quickly looked away. "This place is tired," said Iceland calmly. "Let's go."

Berwald did not need to be told twice. He grabbed Denmark by the arm, pulled him off the couch, then pushed between Norway, Tino and his friends, sweeping his two housemates towards the exit. Iceland followed of his own accord. Tino shouted back as he was herded towards the door. "I'll call you guys tomorrow! Hey, hey, Feliks bro, tag me on Facebook!"

.

Berwald had learnt, many years earlier, that when some people reached a certain level of intoxication, it was impossible to stop them seeking further chemical stimulation and social interaction. Berwald now realised, as he and his housemates walked down the loud, busy, neon-lit inner city street, that he was currently with four of those people.

"What is their problem? I mean, what is their problem? Do you know what I mean, though? What is their problem?"

"Their problem is you, Den, you stupid bastard."

"No, baby, no, I mean besides me, what is their problem? Ice, man, you got any idea?"

"Their problem is that Ivan has convinced them they're something important and precious and beautiful but what they don't know yet is that one day he is going to rip their hearts out before their eyes, laugh in their faces, and force them to watch as he devours their very souls from a silver platter before washing it down with a glass of their own bitter tears."

"Ooh! Karaoke!"

Berwald turned his stunned gaze from Iceland's rather horrifying monologue, followed Tino's jumpy, excited gesture, then barely had time to keep up as the bouncing Finn took off across the street. The others seemed more than happy to follow Tino into the dark doorway, passing under a brightly flashing sign that read that most evil of all Japanese words: Karaoke. Berwald let out a long, resigned sigh, but had no choice but to follow.

The 'karaoke' bar was nothing but a fairly small, dodgy looking pub, filled with middle aged men who all stopped, turned, and stared at the five new arrivals. The music broke off, the housemates paused, and someone whistled. Denmark raised his fist in a salute. "Rock on." He nudged Iceland. "Hey, Ice, go dance on the bar."

Norway grabbed Iceland by a belt loop when he started to hurry off. "No, Ice." Norway glanced at Berwald. "He has a little trouble with sarcasm when he's drunk."

"Who's being sarcastic?" asked Denmark. Berwald raised his eyes to the ceiling, put a hand to his forehead, and wondered again just what the hell he was doing here.

"Hello!" cried Tino, waving cheerfully at the room in general.

Of course. That's why. Berwald took Tino's arm, put on his intimidation face, and led him to the bar. The music started again - some boring sounding ballad - followed moments later by a bored looking man on stage mumbling into the microphone. The men clustered around the tall tables went back to their drinks. The bartender looked over the bar and eyed the newcomers suspiciously. "You boys lose your way?"

Norway slammed a fifty down on the counter. "Not paying you to talk, bar bitch. Five shots of your strongest."

Denmark leant over Norway's shoulder. "And five beers."

"And five beers," added Norway.

"And some peanuts."

The bartender raised one dark, bushy eyebrow. Norway leant further over the bar. "You heard the man. Peanuts."

The bartender rolled his eyes, spread five shot glasses on the table, and reached for a tall, green bottle. Berwald's eyebrows shot up – this was the last thing any of his housemates needed at this stage. "Maybe that's not th'best…" It was too late. The others reached for the shots and downed them. Denmark cheered, Iceland coughed, and Norway slammed the glass back down on the bar before glaring at the bartender.

"Beer."

"Peanuts!"

Tino stared into his shot glass. "What is this? It tastes like burning liquorice."

"Abs'nthe," said Berwald.

Tino's face brightened "Oh! Like the French poets drank! I've seen the old pictures, I'm supposed to start seeing fairies now, aren't I?"

Iceland snorted. "Been seeing 'em all night, Fin. Here." Iceland passed Tino a beer and Berwald wondered if it would incredibly inappropriate to take it off him. He decided it would be, but was relieved when Tino took one sip and made a face.

"Eurgh, that's horrible. Here, Berwald, you can have it. Hey Norway, Norge, buy me another of those purple ones." Norway did so, and Berwald gritted his teeth.

"Hey Sweden," grinned Denmark, leaning back against the bar. "Why haven't we seen you dance yet? All Swedish men can dance. Get up on the bar with Iceland."

Norway again had to grab Iceland by a belt loop. "Sarcasm, Ice."

Berwald raised an eyebrow. "Is that th'same as all Danish men are unwashed alc'holics?"

Denmark threw back his head and laughed. "And Swedes all talk like this -" Denmark waved his hands in the air. "'I em freekeeshly tall und hef-a noo sense-a ooff hoomuoor. Hurty flurty schnipp schnipp!'"

Berwald tried not to roll his eyes. It was only a matter of time before the Swedish Chef jokes. "Sure, 'kay, and Danes're obsessed with bicyclin' and pornography."

"Hey, hey." Denmark raised a finger, a stern expression on his face. "I have never ridden a bicycle in my life. And at least my furniture doesn't all come from IKEA."

"No, it all comes from th'side of th'road."

Iceland whistled. "Ooh, snap." He elbowed Norway. "Isn't this kind of hot?"

"More absinthe!" shouted Norway. "By God, more absinthe."

Berwald shook his head and turned away, only to find that Tino was nowhere to be seen. His stomach dropped to his feet. "Where's Tino?"

Iceland took a sip of beer and pointed. Berwald scanned the crowd before spotting Tino standing near the stage, looking over the karaoke song list and talking animatedly with three large, hairy men dressed in head to toe leather. One looked like Crocodile Dundee in bondage gear, one had a sheepskin collar on his jacket, and one had gravity-defying hair and was smoking something that looked suspiciously like a joint.

Denmark laughed raucously, noticing at the same time. "Well, if it isn't Goldilocks and the three bears!"

Berwald's eyes flashed and he rushed over. Tino looked up from the plastic song book and broke into a delighted smile.

"Berwald! This is Oz, Ned, and…" Tino turned to the smallest, blond man. "I'm sorry, your name was?"

"You can call me Kiwi, love."

"Isn't his accent awesome?" breathed Tino."He's from New Zealand. Oz is from Australia, and Ned is from Holland, and they're all helping me find a song to sing!"

"Berwald!" cried Oz cheerfully. "Your boyfriend's adorable!" Berwald glared, but Oz just laughed. "Settle down, sweetheart, this one's mine." Oz leant over and kissed Ned on the cheek. Ned just blew out a mouthful of smoke. Yep – definitely a joint. "So, mate, you gonna sing a duet with this adorable boyfriend of yours?"

Tino burst into laughter. "Oh, no, he's not my boyfriend, Oz!"

Oz looked Berwald up and down, his dark eyes perceptive beneath even darker brows, his lips twisted in a smirk beneath a moustache worthy of the Village People. "Why not? He's gorgeous. He's got that strong, silent, kills things with his bare hands look going for him."

Tino just giggled again. "Berwald doesn't kill things, Oz! Berwald's really nice. He's never hurt anyone, ever, have you Berwald?"

Berwald lowered his eyes. He was thankfully saved from having to answer that awkward question when a familiar Euro-pop tune blasted from the stage, followed by Tino gasping, jumping, and crying out, "Oh my GOD! I LOVE this song!" Then he disappeared. Berwald blinked and spun around frantically.

"Good luck, mate." Berwald turned back to see Oz, Ned and Kiwi grinning at him. Well, Oz and Kiwi, anyway – Ned just sort of scowled. Oz continued, "This is the bit where you, ya know, run after the bloke or something."

"You do make a very cute couple, love," said Kiwi, winking.

Ned blew out a mouthful of smoke and asked smoothly, "Have you ever considered leather, Berwald?"

Berwald paused for only a moment. "Not rec'ntly," he answered, before pushing into the crowd in search for one very drunk, very happy, very still-damn-perfect Finn. It was only seconds before that familiar, though slightly slurred voice blasted through the pub.

"I LOVE THIS SONG!"

Berwald looked up to see Tino standing on stage with his shining violet eyes, his messy golden hair, his brilliant smile, and his tiny, tiny shorts. The room cheered in response and Tino started singing... or rather, shouting... just in time for the chorus.

"Waterloo - I was defeated you won the war." Tino grinned into the microphone, apparently attempting to sing as loud as humanly possible. A few shouts rang out from the crowd. "Waterloo – promise to love you forever more!"

Berwald felt his mouth drop open and his limbs turn rigid with shock. "Oh, m'God…"

"Waterloo – couldn't escape if I wanted to." The crowd started to clap along. "Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you!" Tino sang almost as badly as he danced. He also looked euphoric as he shouted into the microphone, and drew the attention of every person in the room. "Whoa oh oh oh, Waterloo - Finally facing my Waterloo!"

Berwald tried to rush for the stage but was stopped by a familiar, iron grip on his shoulder. Norway waved his beer. "And now you understand the 'No ABBA' rule."

Tino raised a hand above his head and lurched into the next verse. "My, my! I tried to hold you back but you were stronger!"

Denmark appeared beside them, cheering loudly and moving in some sort of mad, animated dance. "Woo yeah! Work it baby!"

"Oh yeah! And now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight."

Iceland threw an arm over Norway's shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and hummed thoughtfully. "I am never lending him my boots again, they look way too good on him."

Tino swung his hips in time with the music. "And how could I ever refuse?"

Berwald shook his head, partly transfixed and partly horrified. "We have to stop him!"

"I feel like I win when I lose!"

Denmark grabbed Berwald by the arm as he tried again to charge for the stage. "Are you kidding me? This is gold! Ooh, wait, I gotta get this on film…" Denmark took his phone from his pocket and started filming.

"Waterloo - I was defeated you won the war." All Tino's insecurities seemed to have melted away as he stood on this silly little stage in this silly little bar, singing his heart out to a brilliantly cliché Swedish pop tune. "Waterloo - promise to love you forever more!"

The crowd was cheering now, everyone in the pub caught up as Tino sang wildly into the microphone, waving his hand in the air and attempting some strange kind of clothed striptease. Berwald was caught between cheering along and wanting to beat down every man in the place.

"Waterloo - couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you."

And finally Berwald stopped, thought clearly, and calmed down. Because Tino was adorable, and a little odd, and yes, he was drunk as hell, but he was also having the time of his life. Denmark raised his beer in the air, cheering; Iceland put his fingers to his mouth and whistled; and even Norway almost cracked a smile. Berwald just put his hand to his head and watched as Tino tried to sing, tried to dance, and succeeded in drawing the entire room to their feet.

"Whoa oh oh oh, Waterloo – finally facing my Waterloo!"

And when Tino's eyes met his, violet and wild and joyful, Berwald felt the next words he sang fire through his ears and make mad, perfect sense. "So how could I ever refuse? I feel like I win when I lose!"

Well, Berwald laughed inwardly. Wasn't that the truth.

"Waterloo – couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo – knowing my fate is to be with you!"

.

"Greenland! Faeroe! Man, you guys missed the most amazing night! Tell them, Berwald, tell them what an amazing night they missed. Oh, they're asleep. Night, Greenland! Night, Faeroe! No but Berwald, wouldn't you totally go and see ABBA if they reformed? You'd have to, you're, like, culturally obligated or something. Is it just me or is this staircase moving? It's like Hogwarts! I saw 'Mamma Mia' last year and it was fabulous and I'm not just saying that because you're Swedish and night, Den! Night, Norge! Don't stay up too late, hur hur. Ice, I swear, if you don't put that phone down and go to bed I will throw this traffic cone at you. How did I get this traffic cone? Oh look, Berwald, we're in my bedroom." Berwald let out a very deep breath, silently cursed Iceland for giving Tino that last shot of Jägermeister, then lowered Tino from his shoulder and set him on his feet.

"You're not scary at all, are you Berwald, not really… you're actually really nice." Tino smiled as he fell forward. Berwald caught him and set him back straight. "You're reeeally nice, Berwald."

Berwald waited until Tino was standing steadily, then reluctantly took his hands from Tino's shoulders. "'kay. Time fer bed."

Tino smiled again, softer this time, and tilted his head. "Do you think I'm nice?"

"Yes." Berwald really hoped he would not have to deal with more drunk talk. Tino's drunk talk was too endearingly senseless to take much more of.

"Oh, good. And you're cute too! Oops I wasn't supposed to say that out loud." Tino reached up and pressed his finger to Berwald's lips. "Ssh, don't tell anyone. You know, Berwald…" Tino pulled up straight and fixed Berwald with a focused glare. "I really, really like you."

"Oh," said Berwald. "Good."

"Do you…" Tino dropped his hand to Berwald's shoulder, lowered his gaze, and paused. "… like me?" Tino looked up slowly, entrancingly, with alluring eyes through long, dark lashes.

Berwald's throat turned dry and the room began to spin. He blinked a few times, his mind blank, his body frozen. He couldn't… he didn't… No, Berwald told himself firmly. Tino was drunk, and in no way actually interested in him. But Berwald still answered his question honestly. "Yes. V'ry much."

Tino giggled happily and started playing absently with Berwald's collar. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

Oh shit oh shit oh shit… Berwald could barely breathe. An inferno fired from the touch of Tino's hands, across Berwald's skin and into his veins, flooding his chest and his gut and spreading lower and… "Think yer sexy." Berwald summoned every ounce of strength in his possession, took Tino's warm, soft hands in his, and pushed them away. "Also think yer drunk." Tino did not take the hint. He flattened his hand on Berwald's chest and met his gaze earnestly.

"Berwald, that Australian in the bar, Oz, it's so funny, he thought you were my boyfriend, isn't that funny?"

Berwald again tried to push Tino gently away, fighting the treacherous desire flooding his veins. "H'larious."

"Berwald?"

"Yes?"

"I... I..." Tino's expression went blank and he turned white. "I think I'm going to throw up." Tino promptly bent at the waist and vomited on Berwald's shoes. Neither moved. After a few very long, very silent moments, Tino looked up slowly, his face distraught. "I think I need to go to bed," he whispered.

Berwald actually had to stop himself from laughing. No one but Tino could look so perfectly adorable at a moment like this. Berwald nodded and attempted to smile kindly – not an expression he was used to, and he wasn't sure he managed it. But when Tino looked at him with those wide, helpless violet eyes, Berwald's heart melted. And he'd really thought he couldn't fall any further. "Yes. I'll help you."

Berwald practically carried Tino to the bed, pulled off the ridiculous white boots, and drew the covers up to his chest. Tino was asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Berwald could not stop himself staring silently at Tino's sleeping face. His eyelashes dark against pale skin; his lips stained blue from coloured vodka.

And Berwald found himself wondering, for the first time, if Tino might ever feel something for him. But even as he thought it, Berwald knew it was impossible. Tino was pure and strange and beautiful; he wanted gardens and family and white picket fences. What did Berwald have? Crippling debt and a criminal history. He was not worthy of someone as good as Tino.

Berwald allowed himself to very briefly brush a lock of hair from Tino's warm forehead before turning and leaving the room. "G, night Tino."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

Tim Burton Crossover (Part 3)

(Part 3! If anyone needs to catch up on the action, here’s Part 1 and Part 2.)

(Warnings: Uh... razor?)

Zero let out a yowl of sorrow, while Jack waved his hand around in the space that Sally had just occupied, unable to fully fathom that she was no longer there.

“No, no, no!” he muttered desperately to himself.

He didn’t look up as his ear bones detected someone marching towards him, nor when that someone, who turned out to be Emily, stood right next to him.

“Listen, you!” she shouted, “I want some answers and I want them now! What is going on?”

Jack gazed up at her, “I don’t know, honestly! People just started appearing here… and disappearing.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

Jack had no good answer for that, so he looked away spitefully, angered by Emily’s accusations. Had she not just seen Sally being taken away? Did she really think he was the one responsible for all this madness, and in league with that vile ghoul?

And, just as he wondered this, the very same ghoul returned, as if summoned by his thoughts.

Everyone was instantly alert, leaping to their feet, clenching their fists, or, in Edward’s case, snipping his scissors threateningly.

“Where is Kim?” he said, his voice ominously quiet.

“You’d better tell us what you did with those people right now, or-”

Emily didn’t get to finish her threat, “Or else what? Y’all tried to beat me before, like one minute ago, and failed. It won’t be any different if ya try again. However,” Here a devious smile blossomed on his face, “I’m willing to play a little game with you guys, now that you know I’ve kidnapped your oh-so-precious people.”

When there came no response, the smile on the ghost’s face widened, “Well alrighty, then. Let’s get this show on the road!”

The green-haired ghoul lifted a hand up dramatically, and snapped his fingers, and suddenly everyone there felt themselves disassemble, as they were whisked away to another world.

And suddenly they all found themselves in a gloomy attic, and before them they saw a man bent over another man in a chair, a razor clenched in his hand. The sitting man’s face was lathered in shaving cream, and he was draped in a sheet, telling the companions this was a barber shop, and the man with the blade was a barber. The client in the chair was obviously unaware of the newcomers. The barber, however, noticed them, and straightened. There was surprise and confusion in his gaze, but above all they could see a dangerous glint in his eye, which seemed to say, “I’m in the middle of something; get out!” The travelers also noticed that this man had one streak of bright white in his otherwise pitch black hair.

“Whoops, wrong universe! Hang on a sec!”  The ghost snapped his fingers again, and they all disappeared. In the few moments before they arrived at the next destination, Jack thought of the strange man with the strange hair whom they had just seen. The razor he held had seemed offly close to his client’s throat…

Next, the odd assembly wound up in a lavish, well furnished room. The green-haired ghost looked around in dismay.

“Aw, c’mon, this ain’t right either! Why are there so many of you?” Here he turned to glare accusingly at Edward, the Hatter, and Ichabod. The three turned to look at each other, puzzled by the ghoul’s odd statement.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps was detected, and a vampire entered the room. It wasn’t immediately obvious that the person who had entered was a vampire, but Jack, who lived in Halloween Town which was populated by a few vampires, could easily tell. The vampire stared at them, wide-eyed, leaning back slightly. Oddly enough, the expression on this monster’s face reminded Jack of the alarmed look on Edward’s face when they had first met, as well as the fearful look on Ichabod’s face. Come to think of it, something in that face also seemed akin to that of the barber they had just seen. There was even a trace of the Mad Hatter.

Jack didn’t have time to ponder any further, for once more they were whisked away with a snap.

Why is everything in black and white? was Jack’s first thought, as, indeed, this universe was colorless. They were in a large, high-ceilinged building, and right in front of them was a giant squid. It was fake, though, and he realized that this was the set of a movie.

“Ah, c’mon!” The ghoul clicked his fingers again, and then they were in a colorful room, that looked unreal. There was bright green grass, and multi-colored trees and shrubbery, all bright and unnatural. Zero sniffed at the grass, and began to bark and lick at it curiously. The Mad Hatter stooped down, picked a handful of grass. Examining it closely, he sniffed it as Zero had done, and tentatively licked it.

“It’s candy.”

“Oh, finally!” The green-haired ghost said with an exaggerated sigh, “It took us long enough!”

He strode in front of them all, “This is where your journey begins… Bye!” and with that, he was gone.

“Oi!” Emily rushed to the place where the ghoul had just been, “You can’t just leave us!”

“You’re right!” The spectre popped up behind her suddenly, and she yelped in surprise, “I can’t just leave you. Not without a clue, that is. Oh, wait, how ‘bout a riddle? Here goes, then: Go in the screen, watch your head, over the bridge, to the land of the dead!” And with a final demented laugh, he disappeared yet again.

“I was already in the land of the dead.” Emily muttered crossly.

“Okay, “ Jack endeavored to take charge, “If we are to have any hope of rescuing those we care for, we must work together to solve this riddle.”

“We have lots of riddles where I come from!” exclaimed the Hatter.

“Wonderful!”

“I’m not very good at them, though.”

Jack was silent a moment, before letting out a sigh. “Then why did you mention that in the first place?”

“Because there are, but no one really solves any.”

“Unbelievable...” Emily turned away, shaking her head.

“Yes.” said the Hatter.

“If I may,” Ichabod interrupted, nervously eyeing the distraught bunch, “The riddle contains clues, yes? Clues that will lead to a location, possibly more than one. We simply need to discover where those locations are.”

“Easier said than done.” Emily muttered.

“Um, Who are they?”

It was then that they all recollected that Edward was among their ranks. They turned to him as he spoke up and followed where his scissor hand was pointed toward.

A man dressed in a maroon coat and black top hat was strolling leisurely along, obviously not noticing the trespassers. He appeared to be talking amiably to someone and, looking down, they saw he was conversing with a tiny person, so tiny in fact that the man’s knee was at eye level with the midget. The dwarf had dark green hair, and orange tinted skin. He was the first to catch sight of them. His eyes widened and he frantically gripped the man’s pant leg and tugged on it, pointing at them. The man looked up and jumped slightly in surprise.

“Oh!” he cried. The cry, oddly enough, did not possess much fear in it. In fact, it sounded slightly disgusted. The man frowned at them, eyeing them as if they were the grossest things he’d ever seen.

“How did they get in here?” The midget to whom he had addressed this question to shrugged.

The man held his cane up defensively and advanced.

“My factory can only be accessed by its employees. How did you get in here?”

“It’s a long story,” said Jack, “much of which you wouldn’t understand. Just know that we are not here of our own free will, and that we mean you no harm.”

The man tilted his head a tad as he examined them. Some alarm entered his eyes as Jack, a skeleton, spoke, but he seemed to retain his nerve.

“I like your hat.” The Hatter added, to win the stranger’s favor. Edward nodded emphatically.

“Oh, thank you.” said the the man, allowing the smallest of smiles to form on his features. Then, still smiling, he turned to address the tiny man behind him, and said nervously, “Call security.”

[edgeofmyniall]

Part Two

“Do ya have peanut butter?” Niall asks as the waitress shakingly hands us menus. She’s staring at the both of us, either in shock that we’re seated in her booth at her work or because the first thing out of Niall’s mouth is asking for peanut butter.

“I don’t know. It’s my second week so I’m not sure though. Can I get you anything to drink?” her voice squeaks over the radio playing today’s hits; she’s quite confused as to why Niall would ask her for peanut butter in a pancake house. This little hole in the wall restaurant almost looks like a time warp back to the nineties hit show “Saved by the Bell”. Bright red and blue booths with the tables lined in yellow sit perfectly in rows. Two columns of booths run along the walls with white tables running down the middle. Along the walls nearest the kitchen are two giant pink tile squares with the name of the diner in green neon writing. I gaze over the menu, and at the bottom written in fine print, reads, “If we can’t produce your favorite pancake, your meal is on us.”

“I’ll take an orange juice,” Niall’s voice sounds deep, like he has to overpower this timid teen. I look up to the blonde girl, her eyes frantic, and smile.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee and some water. If you don’t have peanut butter, it’s no big deal,” my voice seems to soothe her. She nods her head so frantically that her paper hat nearly falls off. She turns on her heels, marching to the kitchen; she’s on a mission to find me some peanut butter. Niall and I look at each other for a moment- a moment where our eyes lock. The crow’s feet around his eyes form as he toothily smiles before he lets out a laugh so deep it hits me in my heart, it nearly leaps out of my chest. I try to cover my mouth with my hand, I really do, but I miss somehow. My knuckles hit my cheeks as I turn to face the white divider that has a blue triangle pointing down the column of booths. The laugh grows as my mistake is seen by Niall. I roll my lips together trying to kill my laughter, but seeing Niall’s face turn to the color of a ripe tomato makes my efforts worthless. I let my laugh slip, and it’s not that I’m wanting to laugh at our waitress, but it’s obvious she’s a fan.

“She’s so nervous. Stop that Niall,” I swat my plastic covered menu at Niall’s arm. He runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to concentrate on his menu.

“Yeah, well, you went and hit yerself in the face for no fuckin’ reason,” Niall grins, his white teeth practically sparkle. “What an idiot.” I go back to looking at my menu, mindlessly letting time drag by. I know what I want; I always get it. Niall’s smile imprints on my brain, permanently etched in the Niall folder of my memories. My teeth graze over my bottom lip; I wonder what it feels like to have Niall’s lips on me, on my skin. For me to be the reason behind his smile. To have his hands touching me.

I suddenly lose my train of thought when our waitress comes back with our drinks. She has tot hold the tray with both hands she’s shaking so bad. She nearly spills Niall’s orange juice on him, but he grabs it before she can let go. He gives her a reassuring smile. As I am being handed my coffee, she opens her mouth.

“I just love y’all. I’m sorry I know it’s not professional or anything, but I love you guys. I grew up listening to One Direction,” when she looks at Niall, her eyes light up before she turns to me, “And-and I always aspired to be your mom. This is a dream come true.”

“Well thank you for everything,” Niall says smoothly, something he’s said a million times over. “Without you, we wouldn’t be here. So what’s good here?”

She goes on a ramble of the chef’s special and their rise to fame while I mentally withdraw myself. Hearing how young girl aspire to be my mom is something I’ve dealt with my entire life. I can’t count how many times I heard ‘you’re so lucky Ashley Diana is your mom.’ or ‘I can’t believe you’re Ashley Diana’s daughter!” My personal favorite is, ‘It’s a shame you quit modeling. Your mom must be devastated.’ As if using my mother’s name gets anyone brownie points with me. As if I can’t be my own person.The amount of looks I got when I was growing up because I became bigger cut me deep. I always felt like a disappointment to my mom, and some days I still feel like that.

“Ya okay, Townes?” Niall asks. The waitress is gone along with our menus. Did I even order my food? But suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. I smile hoping it will comfort him. I pray for a distraction, anything at this point. I don’t want to be here anymore.

“I’m fine.” I lie. My stomach churns, I feel a sour taste rising in my throat. I want to leave.

“What’s with the peanut butter anyways?” Niall asks, trying his best to change the subject. He’s stirring his orange juice slowly with his plastic straw. His brow is furrowed, lines of skin rolling together like when the last of the ocean waves meet the shore. His eyes show concern, but he can’t look me in my own eyes. Something I’ve always hated about growing up in the spotlight, even Niall who was thrown into it, is that we both have to act a certain way, think a certain way, be a certain way, and for me I’ve never fitted into the mold. I was never the girl who everyone wanted to be like. I was the black sheep of the family, of Hollywood.

“Makes ‘em sweeter,” I whisper numbily, barely audible. I pour sugar from the glass holder into my coffee and stir, watching the black liquid swirl around in the cup, like a whirlpool pulling in everything in its path, I want to drown. My mind is foggy as I watch the sugar dissipate. I want to sink in to the red and blue booth, become something in the background, anything other than standing out. In this moment, I want to blend in.

---

Niall turns the volume knob up on the radio, letting the soft rock song consume his car. We’ve been on the road for thirty minutes now, and we haven’t said a word. My legs are propped on the dash as I’m slightly slouched in the passenger seat. My head is turned towards the window watching the highway pass us. The trees and billboards eventually become a blur as Niall speeds through the fast lane. My body feels heavy like a rock. If someone could throw me, I’d sink to the bottom of the lake with no struggle. Niall thumbs the steering wheel to whatever song is playing. The mindless beating rings in my ears. It’s not annoying, but it’s on the verge of.

“Ya know,” I sigh, still looking out of the window. I’m breaking the silence from the restaurant that carried over to the car. “You never told me where we’re going.” I turn my head to look at Niall. He’s grinning to his ears. He’s hiding something, and I need to know what.

“Somewhere,” he’s sly. He won’t tell me where. Normally, red flags would pop up, but with Niall, somehow in some demented way, I feel safe. And it’s not like I haven’t tried to find out either. His GPS was already set when I climbed into the SUV this morning. I asked him multiple times in our duration of text messaging and all he would say was “Somewhere.”

“Niall, where on God’s green Earth are we going?” I sound annoyed, and partially because I am. I’m annoyed with the games and the secrets and people holding out on me. I’m sick of everyone’s shit.

Including my own.

Niall frowns. Obviously my annoyance disrupted his plan. “Lake Victoria.” His voice is cold. The opposite of what it was just a few moments ago.

“Lake...Victoria? As in Washington?” I repeat, only this time those exact words sound like a question instead of a statement. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ Niall, that’s a day or two away. And we’re driving there?” I huff as I slide further down in my seat.

I am going to die.

“Figured it would be a nice getaway for the both of us. Secluded from everyone including our phones, that way we can write, and maybe get to know each other better,” his words run through me like a nail being hammered into wood. He’s trying to help you, and you’re being a bitch about it.

“Guess it wasn’t a great idea as I thought,” he sounds disappointed in himself. Like he was trying to impress me, and I’m not giving it to him, when in fact I was quite impressed. No one really went to great lengths to impress me or to win me over besides my mother. But with my mom, I think she was trying to overcompensate for the times that those modeling agencies turned me down by kindly sugarcoating that I was too fat for them.

“No, it is.” I pause, scooting up in my seat. “I just- I don’t know, maybe I’m being dumb, but I’m not used to people being nice to me for no reason. There’s always a reason, Niall. Always.”

“You deserve to be treated nicely. No one should an ulterior motive. I mean, I get it. This business is a dog-eat-dog world, but you deserve to be treated like a human.” Niall’s voice soothes me. My body becomes soft, and feels like a feather flying through the air. I want to soar.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 14: gossamer truths

Monday, October 22nd, 1990

“I swear to Christ, Cora, I’ve given haircuts to sticky, sugar-hyped children who sit still better than you do…”

“Maybe if you bribed me with sugar, I’d be a more pleasant customer. What takes so fucking long anyway?”

My brother grabs a fistful of my hair and holds it up for me to see in the tiny bathroom mirror. “You can’t be serious, Cousin Itt. When was the last time you got a trim?”

“Uhm, counting that time I cut it myself in the lab because the ends fell into the Bunsen burner?”

“I’m gonna fucking faint,” Patch steadies himself dramatically on the sink, taking several deep breaths. At the sound of a knock on the door, he bolts out of the bathroom, and I hear the typical high-pitched yell he lets out whenever he sees Lucy. I pluck at the ends of my hair and decide he got it looking healthy enough that I can put an end to my torture, so I pull off the apron and go out after him.

Patch is in the kitchen, filling up the big Erlenmeyer flask to hold the armful of purple irises Lucy's cradling.

“We don’t deserve you,” I hug her as I take the flowers off her hands and pass them to Patch to trim. “What's the occasion?”

“Irises like that don't need an occasion,” she insists, “but if you need one, isn't the show enough? I just left some across the hall.”

“The guys are at the Off Ramp already, yeah?”

She nods, letting loose one of those huge smiles of hers that make her look otherworldly, almost glowing.

“I'm so excited,” Patch chimes in from the sink, “I get to see this man of yours in action! Is he good?”

“He’s amazing, you’re gonna love... Holy shit, Pat, did you actually manage to cut her hair?” Lucy rounds on me, trying to tug on the ends of my hair before I dodge her.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but I have to grin at my brother because he’s beaming with pride.

“You gotta admit, Cor, you were starting to look like… what’s the guy, you know, the whatchamacallit, from the thing…” Lucy snaps her fingers at us while she wrinkles up her nose in concentration.

“Thanks for narrowing it down…?”

“The monster, the one Bugs Bunny used to outsmart.... the big shaggy red one with the tennis shoes, what was his name?”

Patch chokes out through laughter, “yes, oh my god, the ginger fluffball in Converse… how have I never noticed that?”

“I resemble that remark!” I pout. “I’d forgotten all about that one… did he even have lines, let alone a name?”

“Something ironic… Tiny, or Dainty, or… GOSSAMER!” She and Patch high-five.

“We solved life’s most important question. Yay. Now we can all die happy,” I monotone.

“Not until we reenact the best part,” Patch grins maniacally, glancing at Lucy who returns the evil expression.

“You’re gonna blow me up with sticks of dynamite? Not likely. I’m the only one here who knows how to make a proper bomb…”

“No, dumbass, the makeover,” he cackles, adopting a Bugs Bunny lisp. “Myyy stars, where did you EVER get that awful hairdo??”

“I’d prefer the dynamite. Which, if I remember correctly, is how the makeover ended anyway.”

“Fuck YEAH, you’ll look like dynamite. Do you even have any makeup in the house?”

Lucy snorts. “Gossamer? You know her better than that. I’ll go downstairs and get my bag.”

She makes for the door as Patch’s smile grows increasingly menacing. Just as she disappears, he calls out, “CURLING IRON!”

“Got it!” her voice echoes down the hall.

My brother’s evil giggle drowns out my exasperated grumble. “Why in the hell are we bothering, Patch?”

“Hmm?” He bats his eyelashes innocently. The problem with siblings is you’re working from the same playbook. After all, you wrote the goddamn thing together.

“Why are we bothering to doll me up?” I flop on the couch with maximum drama. Two can play this game.

“Because it’s fun?”

“For whom? I’m pretty sure you got whatever gene I was supposed to get that makes any of this shit fun. For me, it just feels like I’m a sheep walking on its hind legs.”

“Oh, baa-haa,” he fake-cries in a sheepy bleat, gathering up my hair and evaluating his work. “Just let me have my simple joys, huh? Brush, brush, comb, comb… all girls who like to brush and comb should have a pet like this at home.”

There it is, his kill shot. Suddenly I’m 7, and he’s 3, and I’m teaching him to read in our old house. I had the smaller room between the two of us, but it had a big walk-in closet, and I’d stolen a bunch of pillows and one of Dad’s lava lamps to turn it into a reading nook. It was my safe place. Ours, when the arguing would get bad.

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, “just don’t make me look too ridiculous, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“You doubt me? Just wait until Alex sees you all scrubbed up.”

“Hmph.”

He starts gathering up his supplies, and I decide to maintain my objections via grudging silence, inspecting my fingernails, rather than explain to my kid brother why Alex’s opinions aren’t going to matter. If my relationship is dead, lipstick and a curling iron aren’t going to revive it.

I don’t know whether it is or not, I guess. I just know neither of us has been really invested in this thing for what feels like months. I can probably count on one hand the number of times we’ve slept together this year, for Christ’s sake, I can’t even remember when the last time was. Never a good sign. But the most troubling part is that it doesn’t even feel like a problem most of the time… it’s like we’re roommates. Okay, maybe more affectionate than your average roommates, but almost more out of habit than anything else, like we’re just playing house. And then there was that bullshit with the airport a few weeks ago… I should have just ended it then. Obviously we’re done here, and I should have just let him off the hook. Why didn’t I do it? I start picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering me for a few days, but of course, that just makes it worse.

I know precisely why I didn’t do it then. I’m responsible for Alex. For this whole life we have here. For him picking up and moving away from his whole life at home, and his was a lot happier than mine… what the hell kind of person am I if I don’t take this obligation seriously and try to stick it out through our problems?

And in his defense, it’s gotten better recently. Having Patch around, remembering how good Alex is with my family… it's almost been enough to make it feel like the old days. But it feels hollow somehow. Performative. Temporary. And when the shine wears off again, then what? Back to the same slow atrophy? Or do you just pull the plug?

Careful. Don’t ask a question you don’t want an answer to.

I’m saved from answering myself, if you can call it salvation, by Lucy bursting back through the door with armfuls of additional instruments of glamour and a deeply distressing amount of enthusiasm, which is mirrored if not amplified by Patch. They drag me into the bathroom, where I sit down on the toilet lid, pouting.

“Okay, let's get this over with, just don't make me look like some common trollop, yeah?”

“Only the fanciest of trollops. Got it. Here, moisturize.”

I do as I’m told while Patch heats up the curling iron and starts clipping up my hair, and Lucy rummages through her makeup bag.

“That’s a good little monster. Now, I'm not going to do any foundation, I don’t want to hide the freckles... let's just keep it simple… close?” She models closing her own eyes, and as I mimic her I can feel her brushing some sort of crap onto my eyelids. “And Pat, what's your deal, did you ever decide? Are you in Seattle permanently?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I hear my brother answer her idly as he begins to wind my hair around the iron. “Definitely not going back, though.”

“Good for you!”

“I was gonna call a buddy in Portland tomorrow, see what he says about hanging out there a while.”

“You know you can stay as long as you want, kiddo,” I interrupt as Lucy continues to jab at my eyes.

“Okay, open, Cora,” I hear her say, and she starts attacking me with a mascara wand.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “Just, I wanna do something different, you know? Start fresh somewhere. Fuck that place. I’ve got nothing there worth going back for.”

“Yeah, fuck that place!” I echo him.

“Absolutely,” Lucy nods. “Cora, for fuck’s sake, hold still or you're gonna look like a demented raccoon.”

“And to think, I tried to talk you out of this brilliant plan,” I groan.

“Relax, C, she's a pro, your eyeliner’s so sharp you can stab your enemies with it. See?”

He holds up a hand mirror to let me survey the damage. It's actually pretty subtle, which I'm thankful for: just a little emphasis around my eyes, winged out a tiny bit, ever so slightly Priscilla Presley style.

“Not bad,” I concede.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Lucy grins. “Here, do your lips.” She holds out a little stick of dark pink lip gloss, which seems too vivid in the tube but looks better on.

Lucy finishes up her own makeup, impeccably, while Patch works my hair into some reasonable-looking waves. Alex is just getting home as we’re packing up and deciding on dinner options before the show.

My boyfriend snorts in amusement when he sees me. “You let them kidnap you, huh?”

“It was an ambush.”

“You look mahvelous, dahling,” Patch fawns. “Lucy, my love, pizza for the beautiful people?”

Lucy grabs her bag and then Patch’s arm. “I know a place. Back in a few, lovebirds!”

The two of them flounce out the door, leaving Alex with that entertained smile still fixed in place.

“Well?” I wave a finger around my face. “Ridiculous, right?”

“No, you actually look incredible.” He gives an approving nod before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Incredible, like, 'you should do this more often’ incredible?” I hate that I actually sound hopeful.

“I don't know, babe, you look fine. Just don’t kiss me, okay, I don’t want your lipstick shit all over my face.”

So much for hopeful.

“Yeah. So, uh, you’re sure you don’t wanna come with us tonight?”

He glances at the clock before flopping down on the couch. “Ugh… didn't we just go to a show?”

“Well, yeah, but see, there are different bands, and they play all different songs, so the shows aren't interchangeable…”

“Ha, ha. I just don't feel like it. You guys go. You’ll have more fun without me anyway.” He glances at the clock again.  

“Right.”

I watch him turn on the TV and zone out, wondering what to make of the relief I’m feeling.

***

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Why did I think this would be a good idea? Playing a show after six fucking days? Well, in my defense, I guess I never technically thought it would be a good idea, I just went along with what Stone wanted because I wanted to be cooperative, and I was excited about the music. So if this whole thing’s a disaster, which it’s sure to be, then at least I know it’s not my fault, right?

Who am I kidding, of course it’ll be my fault, that soundcheck was terrible, I fucked up so many times. The guys sound great. Of course they do. They’ve all been playing together for months, and they’ve got nothing to worry about on their own home turf.

I tap a cigarette out of the pack and lean against the wall of the club, people-watching to calm my nerves. At least I’ve got some anonymity in Seattle, for the next half hour or so, anyway. Before everyone comes to know me as that piece of shit singer who ruined Jeff and Stone’s new band. No pressure, just possibly their last shot at success after everything they’ve been through, and I’m just out here falling apart on the sidewalk. They clearly picked the wrong guy.

I don’t get a lot of time to work on my brooding, though, because some familiar faces appear one by one in the tide of people moving past me on the sidewalk. First Patrick, with his shaggy pink hair bobbing head and shoulders above everyone else, and then Lucy, and then finally Cora, who doesn’t come up past anyone’s shoulder but is still obvious anywhere.

“Hey, Ed!” Lucy gives me a massive hug, beaming. “You all set for tonight?”

“Yeah, uh, should be great. Uhm, Jeff’s inside...”

“Break a leg, Edward!” Patrick calls as he follows Lucy inside, but Cora pauses on the sidewalk, regarding me with a little crease between her eyebrows. There’s no getting away from that look, I know that by now, but I also know she’s easy enough to talk to that I don’t particularly feel like trying to escape.

“You okay, bud?”

“Truthfully?”

“Yes please.”

“Not really, no.”

She purses her lips, nods, and leans against the wall next to me. I hold out the pack of cigarettes, and I don’t even have a fucking clue if she smokes, but she takes one so I light it for her and watch as she takes a long drag.

“Well, our island’s still an option, if you wanna bail,” she says thoughtfully. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The thought of the island makes me smile in spite of myself. “You’re bailing too? How come?”

“Uh uh, you first. What are you hiding from out here?”

“Certain annihilation.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, you’ll wanna stay a few rows back to avoid becoming a casualty as I go down in flames. This is gonna be a trainwreck.”

“Is not!” Her childlike indignation actually gets me to laugh through the gloom.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can you say something nice at my funeral?”

“Sure, bud… something really nice, something with imagery,” she chuckles. “You’ll be fine, you know that? The guys are so lucky they found you when they did.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

She frowns at me but doesn’t say anything.  

“I just… this whole crowd, this whole scene --” I wave my hands vaguely at the street “-- it’s theirs, and I’m so afraid I’m going to fuck it up for them. It’s got me scared shitless up there, and it never used to bother me before, but here… and the kind of thing they used to have… I’m just not that guy. In that soundcheck just now, it hit me, this feeling that at any moment, someone’s gonna figure it out.”

“Figure out what?”

“That I don’t belong here. Like someone’s going to point me out --” I scowl at her and stab my finger in her face “-- j’accuse!”

“Imposter syndrome,” she nods, unfazed.

“Syndrome? Is it actually a real thing?”

“It’s kind of my thing. But I’ll let you have it for tonight.”

“Gee, thanks?”

“No, I just know what you mean. Grad school’s a breeding ground for imposter syndrome. I always feel like I’m on borrowed time, and one stupid question at a seminar or one failed experiment is enough to expose me as a fraud and get me kicked out. Sound familiar?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, it’s bullshit.”

“Maybe for you, you’re actually a genius, or so Chris tells everyone.”

She shakes her head with a little smile. “Bless his heart. It doesn’t matter, though. Science, music, art, whatever. It’s human to feel this way. You’re in this… I don’t know, this rarefied air with all these other talented people, and it’s natural to think you’re shit by comparison. But everyone else is thinking the same thing about themselves all the time.”

“That’s pretty bleak. So what’s the solution, just taking comfort in our collective misery?”

“Better than sitting out here waiting for an anvil to fall on your head as a plan B.”

“No, in a weird way, that does help. I’m still gonna fuck it up, though.”

“Maybe.” This wide, slightly crazy grin spreads across her face, and suddenly she reminds me of someone or something, but I can’t figure out who or what… oh fuck it, it’s just nice to talk to someone who can relate.

“Thanks,” I laugh, giving her a small shove.

“You’ll be great, Eddie.”

“Thanks,” I say again. “So, no Alex tonight?”

Her smile fades and for a split second, she scrunches her mouth over to one side, just barely, fleetingly, not a smile, almost a wince. “No, he wasn’t feeling all that great, he decided to stay home and rest.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, I hope he’s feeling better.”

There it is again, that strange little scrunch. She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. And what about you? Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think. The island’s still there if we need it, right?”

She nods. “Although I’ve been lying to you this whole time.”

“Oh?”

“I'm really more of a forest person.”

“What? No water?? What the hell am I supposed to do in a forest?”

“Can I interest you in a glacial lake?”

“Well, Cora, it’s been real nice knowing ya…” I fake pushing off the wall to walk away but someone a lot stronger than Cora collars me.

“Smokey, you can't run him off now, he’s got a show to do!”

Cornell, who’s just materialized outside, drapes an arm over my shoulder and gives me an easy smile. “You ready?”

Before I can answer, she cuts in, “I was just trying to sell him on our mountain, Chris, but he's not having it.”

“What mountain?” I look between the two of them as they share a knowing grin.

“You like hiking, Eddie? We should go, I know this great place…” he steers me inside, talking calmly about this idyllic trail he and Cora know, and I allow myself to be led as I listen, hoping some of that peacefulness he’s describing can rub off on me just for tonight.

***

Chris gets poor Eddie deposited up on the stage with his bandmates, where he sheds his jacket and has a nervous-looking word with Jeff, while I track down my brother and Lucy, who are right up in front of the packed crowd. It’s kind of nice being tiny sometimes because no one gives a shit if you squish in front of them.

Just as I make it up front, Stone, Dave, and Jeff start playing this incredibly calm melody that I haven’t heard before, almost like a lullaby, and Eddie lets out a low, steady drone over the top of it. The crowd is still talking, Mike pulls a random Hendrix-y riff out of nowhere just for fun, and it’s like no one’s even sure whether the set’s started, but Eddie begins to add more and more words, and people start to pay closer attention to try and figure out what he’s singing. What a weird fucking way to open a show. And Eddie… poor guy. I wish I could go give him a hug. He’s wrapped himself up so tightly, and he looks so fragile and small that I’m almost afraid he’ll break if they do actually play something more up-tempo, like the vibrations from a harder bass drum kick will just shatter him.

Oh, dear dad…

All my misgivings blow away, and all I can think to do is take my little brother’s hand. He gives mine a squeeze back, but I can’t take my eyes off the stage as the song builds and builds, sending shivers somewhere down in my bones when Eddie’s voice starts to soar up over it all.

The guys start up the next song, and the crowd starts to wake up more after the sedate opener. Even Eddie loosens up a tiny bit, and I have to try not to laugh too hard when his hair overwhelms his hat and makes its escape. After that song comes the familiar sound of Alive, and the guys sound great, although Eddie’s having a hard time finding the groove, which is sort of funny on a song like this one with a groove a mile wide. He sounds really good, though. I need to remember to tell him that later. He sheds his flannel layer, and counterintuitively, it seems like the more layers he loses, the less diminutive he seems up there. Or maybe it’s just that he’s settling into the show more and more. Stone, on the other hand, looks like he’s having a great time. I don’t even try to stop myself from laughing when I notice him mouthing along to his own riffs. Christ, what a dork. I make a mental note to give him shit later for yet another choice scrunchy from the collection, but if I’m being honest with myself, I might actually like the way he looks with his hair back like that… it does something good for the angles of his face…

We edge over to the right just slightly to get away from a lunatic who’s slam dancing all by himself in the very front, which puts us a little closer to where Stone’s standing. As they launch into Even Flow, it occurs to me again just how much I like to watch him play. It’s sort of hypnotizing, the way he seems to wear the rhythm mostly up around his shoulders, and how it moves through the rest of his body from there in waves… and his comically huge hands… normally he reminds me of a puppy who hasn’t finished growing into his paws yet, but they don’t look comical when he plays, they just look… uhm...

...why is it a million degrees in here?

***

“Thank you guys very much for comin’ out,” I say to the crowd before we all head off the stage. Jesus, that actually felt pretty good. Little bit of a rocky start, maybe, but it seems like it came together toward the end! I wonder what Cora thought of it, I should go see if I can find her…

Ugh, knock it off, just because she was right up front doesn’t mean shit. I hate this, I do this every time I see her. I get all turned around. She’s not available, she’s not interested, I need to stop letting myself get so invested. Why is it so hard to figure out how to keep the right amount of distance? She certainly doesn’t struggle to keep me at arm’s length. If I could just figure out how to be her friend, just her friend, this would all be so much easier…

“Hey, Stoner,” her voice floats over my shoulder. It’s uncanny, did she know I was just thinking about her? Honestly, when am I not?

“Hey…” I turn around and give her what is probably a ridiculous face, given that she’s laughing at me.

“What’s your damage?”

“Sorry, sorry, just… since when do you do stuff like curl your hair?”

She scowls, which is always impossibly hot but tonight is even more so because she’s got lipstick on. Fantastic. So much for the friend thing getting easier.

“Patch did it, blame him,” she shakes her head in irritation, and the loose curls fall around her shoulders. It looks even softer than usual. It's taking all the willpower I have not to tangle my fingers in it. I'm done pulling pigtails, right?

“Well, the man does good work. You don't like it?”

“You do?”

She's watching me with wary brown eyes, and I'm probably giving her a similar stare back. It's a weird question coming from her. I was expecting some typical Cora tirade about how any of this glamour crap is impractical and sexist, but here she is asking me if I like her hair?

“Yeah, I mean… of course, you… you look really good… you always do,” I mumble, sensing that I’ve blundered onto thin ice, as usual. Shut up, idiot, she doesn't want her friend hitting on her. That's what got me frozen out in the first place. But I can't lie to her either. So all I can do is hope that I sound sufficiently nonchalant about how painfully fucking gorgeous she looks.

“Stoner, you're getting all diplomatic on me, I don't know what to think anymore.” Her scowl dissipates into a warm smile. “You guys sounded great tonight, you know.”

“Oh, while we're on the subject of diplomacy, huh? That segue was about as subtle as a flying brick.” I roll my eyes, but I’m thankful for the change of subject. And the big bearded guy who just shoved himself between us unceremoniously on his way backstage, creating some space after we’d drifted a little too close.

“A brick, a brick, my kingdom for a brick,” she mimes hitting me in the head with something heavy. “I mean it, I liked it. A lot of it's new, or, I guess it’s new to me.”

“Yeah, well, busy few days,” I mumble to the ground.

“I’ve been a little absentee, huh?” she says softly.

“It’s cool, you’ve had a lot on your plate,” I look back at her again, frowning. “How's your brother?”

“Pestiferous.” Another person elbows by us, so I take her by the arm and we edge our way over to lean against a wall with a little less traffic.

“Yeah, I hear brothers can be like that. How long's he staying?”

“I don't know, that's the thing. I just know I'm not sending him back there,” she says fiercely.  

“Hey, what’s the matter, did he get into some kind of trouble?”

“No, nothing specific…”

“Well, what then?” I know I’m probably pushing my luck, but I honestly want to know. And I don't think I’ve ever asked her before. She scowls again.

“...Patch doesn't exactly fit in back home…”

“... because he's gay…” I finish her sentence for her cautiously, and the frown deepens, making me worry I’ve overstepped. I thought it was common knowledge, but maybe not.

“No. I mean, yeah, that's part of it…,” whew, okay, I didn’t fuck it up that time. She continues, “maybe it’d be more fulfilling if it was just your typical tale of a homophobic redneck backwater, but it's actually a more enlightened part of the world than you’d ever believe, Stone.”

No Cletus jokes. No Cletus jokes. No. Bad. I nod for her to go on, chewing my tongue.

“I mean, it's no great secret that he is, everyone back home knows. And yeah maybe there are some people with shitty attitudes occasionally, but that kind of mentality doesn't exactly have a zip code, right?”

“No, that’s true. So then what's the issue?”

She sighs. “Stepdad. I mean, I fled home screaming too, didn't you ever wonder why?”

“Sure I have. Just… didn’t want to pry.”

“Well, if it helps you understand Patch any, my stepdad thinks I’m a total fuckup.”

“What??” Shrieking at your crush is generally undignified, I realize, but I couldn't care less right now. “Mad scientist genius?”

“Yep. Graduated magna cum laude, double major, on a full ride. And I’m a fuckup because 'there’s no money in dirt science, kiddo,’” she puts on a fake voice dripping with disdain. “So what does that make my kid brother who does hair for a living and barely finished high school on time and has the audacity to still live at home, five whole months after graduating? He even pays rent but they still call him a deadbeat and give him shit constantly for being a failure.”

“Who’s your stepdad to be so hard on you guys, Albert Einstein?”

“John Sullivan, regional bank manager in the district of Bumfuck Egypt. Paterfamilias.” She lays her accent on a little thicker. I try not to think about how hot it is.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So Patch is not going back,” she shrugs. “We’ve been talking about it, he wants a new start. I don't think he’s gonna want to stay around here, but he doesn’t have much of a plan yet, so… I don’t know, we’ll figure it out, I’m just glad he left.”

“He’s lucky he has you.”

“Too bad he’s not within earshot, he’d tell you he'd be luckier to have a cancerous mole.”

“I mean it. You're a good sister. A good person.” She grimaces.

“You're melting, Marshmallow, careful. Speaking of which, what's with that show opener? The mellow one?”

Oh, shit, that’s what I was afraid of. I told Eddie it was a terrible fucking idea, and that we should have come out with something stronger. “Yeah, I know, it’s a weird one,” I say, trying to keep the defensive edge out of my voice.

“No! Well, I mean, yeah, it is weird,” she fumbles, “but I liked it.”

“You did?”

“I like the weird ones, remember?” She offers me the smallest smile, but it’s enough to make my heart start pounding. Damn it, girl… yeah, I remember. Understatement of the year.

“Anyway, yeah, I liked it. I mean, I know this whole new thing is supposed to be harder-edged or whatever, I know you and Jeff wanted something a little darker, and that stuff all sounds fantastic too, but I have to say, I think you guys sound really good when you play slower songs as well. More range, or something, I don’t know. It’d be cool to hear you develop more stuff like that.”

I could listen to her talk about our music all night long. I can’t find any words to say back, although I’m aware that she’s looking at me and probably waiting for me to respond. All I’ve got is a lame little “Yeah?” that comes out much quieter and higher than it was supposed to.

“Yeah,” she grins, looking anywhere but right at me. “You know I have a thing for you playing an acoustic.”

I want to pause the whole universe right now. I know I’m just one small person, and there are wars, and elections, and natural disasters, and things that are so much more consequential than anything that will ever happen to me in my small life. But it can all go to hell. I just want those words in my ears forever.

“You have a thing for me?”

“Playing an acoustic,” she fires back in an exaggerated voice, but holy shit, she’s blushing! Like, a lot! She does, doesn't she?? She does want me, I wasn't imagining it, no fucking wonder she's been pushing me away, it makes perfect sense…

“Uh huh,” I say quietly. “Well, anytime…”

I watch her face for clues, but all I get is that persistent flush in her cheeks and her inability to look me in the eye all of a sudden. It's enough, though. It's there. Why are we dancing around this thing if we both feel it? Why can't we just say it directly, instead of playing songs and cracking jokes and taking anything but the straightest path between two points? Why don't I get to just kiss the hell out of her, smear that pretty lipstick, pin her against this wall, or better yet, let her pin me, and just work out once and for all that we’re fucking perfect for each other?

“STONE!”

I turn around and see Jeff about twenty feet down the hallway, looking at me impatiently.

“I’ve been yelling at you for ages, what the hell -- oh, hi Cora -- you gonna help us pack this shit up or not, man?”

I roll my eyes as I turn back to her, and she’s laughing but still not willing to look at me.

“I should let you go,” she says quietly, still blushing.

“Yeah… uhm, see you later?”

She finally hits me with her gaze and nods before turning around to disappear into the crowd without another word. Yeah, this turned out to be a pretty okay night.

***

When Patch and I get home, it’s well after midnight and the apartment’s dark. I say goodnight to my brother and get ready for bed as quietly as possible, sneaking into my own bedroom and crawling under the covers carefully so as not to wake Alex, but he rolls over anyway.

“You have fun?” his drowsy voice mutters.

“Mmhmm,” I inch a little closer. He sighs grudgingly and lets me climb into his arms. I can’t explain why I want to be so close to him tonight. I can’t even remember the last time we actually cuddled. But he lets one hand drag down to my lower back, where he begins trailing his fingertips in circular patterns, and for the first time in weeks, I feel it. That unmistakable hum, vibrating up and down all my nerves. Without a word, I slip into his lap and we fit our bodies together, finding a rhythm to match the urgency, wasting no time building toward our peak. I’m not very interested in kissing him tonight, though, for whatever reason… I focus my attention on his neck and jaw instead, until he hungrily pulls my mouth back to his. I shut my eyes tight and to my surprise, I see a different pair of eyes swimming before me, unbidden. Not Alex's icy pale blue ones but another pair, warm and olive green. That's all it takes. The shattering release sends me careening into nothingness, biting my lip hard to keep from crying the wrong name.

[wo-the-wolf]

A Bluff, A Lie, What's the Difference? Part II (FINALE)

Inspired by user The-Grape-Gatsby. The prompt was, human bluffing. What if humans were the only ones with a strong poker face? The short story follows three detectives aboard the Citadel (No not mass effect). Enjoy!

 ————————————————————————————————– 

 They moved as veterans on a battlefield that had long since gone cold. Quinn took point as Vec hunched low to follow close behind. They crossed the near dead silent road, avoiding the eyes of local gang members a few buildings down. Upon reaching the apartment, they made their first move. 

“I got the lock,” Vec whispered as he knelt by the door. 

“Make it quick,” Quinn grunted as she aimed her blaster up high, watching the windows like a hawk, swearing even the small ripple from the drapes made her nearly squeeze the trigger on instinct. 

Vec jammed one of his real claws into the holo-lock, and began tinkering with the mechanism. “Almost….. Got it…. Aaaand…..” A small click echoed near them, “We’re in.” Vec was proud of his work. 

“You’re mechanical arm is quicker.” Quinn smiled softly, muttering this to him as she moved past to enter. 

“Thought human ladies liked the longer experiences,” he obviously teased. 

“Don’t think I qualify as a ‘lady’ Mecha-Croc.” Quinn whispered as they made their way onto the stairs. 

 "Don’t know about that,“ Vec’s voice trailed off as his eyes wandered. 

"Eyes on the stairs, not my ass.” Quinn gestured up top. “Or you’ll be in two pieces again." 

Vec followed were she pointed as saw it, a crude but effective trap. A trip wire that blended in the dark despite the night vision from his cybernetic eye. "Oh,” he cleared his throat, looking to follow the wire as it lead to a primitive human weapon tied to the ceiling, a machete as they called it. 

 "Let’s move, third floor isn’t far,“ she exhumed confidence from her authoritative words, though within there was another war brewing. The anxiety was deathly, as every job took its toll. Working the beat as a detective on the Citadel led to some interesting encounters, as well as some less than desirable experiences. Serial killers, homicides, twisted and demented things some people could make of the underworld. Where no normal citizen would ever have to worry about seeing such things, they weighed heavy on Quinn’s mind. Though still, she would never let it show.  They ascended higher and higher until they they reached a battered door labeled as the number they had seen earlier on the report to label as a potential hideout. “On me,” Quinn ordered as she gestured to herself. She held up three fingers … Then two… Then one, then nodded. They burst through the door and gazed at the hideout of their fugitives. Decorated in a series of graffiti of anarchy like symbols and a gangly mass of wires and technology littering the area. Two plain beds, a barely used kitchen, and a living room tricked out to looked like some sort of planning area. Yet only a single humanoid hooded figure stood staring out of the window. “Hands in the air!” Quinn ordered, blaster raised and primed to kill if needed. She fired a warning shot near the culprit, but he barely moved.

“Listen to her pal, you don’t want this to go badly,” Vec added with similar authority.

“Detectives, I was wondering when you’d arrive.” The figure turned. That dreaded mask sent chills rippling through Quinn’s spine. A demon’s mouth smiling wide, painted to look like digital designs out of some old sci-fi movie. A visor made to look cobalt black, and the voice warped to sound like it did on all those threatening holo vids it sent. “Welcome to my home, I wish you would have called in advance, I would have tidied up.” 

“Get on your knees, Viceroy,” Quinn ordered, taking a step forward. “We will not hesitate to call in the sniper team if needed.” 

‘We have snipers?’ Vec thought to himself. Confusion washed over him for but a moment, but he ensured he kept his eyes firmly placed on the target. 

“Snipers?” The masked man perked up, taking a slightly defensive stance. He sounded unnerved.

“We know about your mole, they’ve been dealt with accordingly,” she primed the blaster. “Now don’t try me.” She threatened, though her expression was calm and collected. 

Viceroy looked up in what could be called shock, if anyone could see him. “Really? My mole failed?” He sighed, “Ah well, can’t find good help anywhere. Guess that’s strike one.” He shrugged. 

“Enough with the games, you have till the count of five to get on the floor before we call in the kill shot.” Quinn stated coldly.

“You’re bluffing.” Viceroy folded his arms, unimpressed. 

“I love a gambling man,” she scoffed with a dismissive gaze. “One,” she started. 

“Two,” Viceroy chuckled as he added the next number, “Strike two, that is.” He leaned against the window. “I’ll give them a good shot.” His voice sounded nervous.

“Three, you’re pushing your luck, you really want to die here?” She raised her brow, barely moving as the sound of more sirens came rumbling through. ‘Rookie must’ve called in the guys… I can use this,’ she thought as she seldom took her eyes off of Viceroy. “You hear that? That’s the sound of number 4 happening. Now get on your knees.” 

“And do you hear that extra sound?” He raised his hand to where his ear would be, and turned to look out the window.

“On your knees, Viceroy, now!” She moved up and, without hesitating, sucker punched the man before putting him in a choke hold. “You’re wanted for counts of murder, assault, grand theft, Robbery, terrorist threats, Money laundering, corruption, digital crimes against the Alliance, and weapons trafficking. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to-”

“Yes, yes, do please continue, I’m well aware of my rights. Though I prefer they be read in person.” The figure continued, sounding very much capable of speaking despite being choked. “Oh and that extra sound, Detective? Is the sound of strike three. A human can tell when we’re lying to each other.”

“What the,” Quinn raised her brow in confusion. 

Vec moved in slowly, ripped the hood and mask off. “Fuck,” He grumbled as Quinn let go. “It’s a Decoy,” he scratched at his scales and growled as the metallic face of a droid looked up at them. 

“Quite right. Banshee and I are very much gone from this place. You can add my species as definitely human now. You’ve all earned the right to narrow your suspects.” The droid gave a chuckle, at least it’s speaker did as the body moved in unison. “I’ll give you props, on your Rookie that might’ve worked, hell maybe on your precious partner… But I’ve dealt with my own kind and our tricks, Quinn,” the droid stated. It rose to its feet and looked out the window. “Which by the way … Strike three usually means you’re out. In this case, someone else loses tonight,” the droid looked back at them as an explosion suddenly rumbled outside. 

“What in the hell?!” Vec shouted as he gripped a nearby table for support. After the initial shock died down, Vec looked up, “Um … You miscalculate there buddy? Got a few bolts loose?” Vec gave a slightly raspy laugh. 

“I didn’t miss, Detective,” he stated coldly. The air grew colder around them all. Realization hit Quinn rather quickly as she rushed towards the window, then a few moments later it hit Vec like a wave. “Rookie!” He screamed. Vec followed and moved to the window with haste, panic rising over him.

Quinn remained silent, horrified but resolute as she watched burning car. “Don’t try again, Detective… I grow tired of our games, after all.” Viceroy spoke up through the droid. 

Quinn merely shot the droid, bearing no other response reasonable. “Let’s go,” she finally said after agonizing minutes of silence. They gave their report to the reinforcements, and stood in solitude as they watched the medics pull the charred remains of their Rookie from the car. 

“He’ll recover,” The Medic stated to them, “But it will take quite the amount of time.” The molluscan based life form informed them as it put away its data pad. 

“See to it he gets well, Doc,” Quinn nodded. Once she and Vec were alone, they lit cigarettes and watched the regular cops handle the scene clean up. Far enough away to where they wouldn’t be questioned any more. 

“Nice job staying cool, Quinn,” Vec nodded as he took an extra long sigh to truly try and relax. “The worst part is… He could of done it at any time… But he waited to show us… Fuck,” Vec scratched his head, showing his nervous tick. “Wish I could stay level headed all the time like you Qu-” He stopped as he looked at her. A stream of tears slowly falling down her stone cold face. “Quinn,” Vec slowly realized there was more to humans than he realized . Even she felt the pressure, but unlike his species, they hid their emotions. 

“I’m fine,” Quinn muttered as she bit down on her cigarette. “Just… Fine,” She swallowed the lump building up in her throat. 

Vec put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her in a way he thought would help. She accepted, as the years of stress and memories came hitting for a strike, but she did not break yet again. “I’m not done yet… We’re going to capture these bastards… And I’m going to break every bone in their body.”  ———————————————————————————————————–

HEY! YOU! YEAH! YEAH YOU! This was such a pleasure working on, and as we speak I’m already hard at work thinking through the next short story. Just a little piece of info, all my stories take place in the same universe, so expect cameos and paths crossing in the future. If you have a prompt you want me to work on, feel free to message me or tag me in it! I try to update nightly or every other night. As a Uni student it depends XD. Either way, hope you enjoyed! 

[aliensmoothie]

going back to bed was worth it

alright everyone bear with me, okay? This shit is wild

So, the relevant part of this dream starts with me and my friends coming home from the precious part of the dream (which im not telling cause it’s really ridiculous and completely irrelevant to this part of the dream).

We come home, and i spot something weird on the computer. It looked like a weird episode of Camp Camp. It was weird because it was super pixelated, and from the frame it was on, it looked like it had never been posted before. So i walk over to the computer. The frame was on Gwen’s face. i clicked the screen. It played for a small moment, allowing Gwen to say “I need to show you guys something”. As she goes to turn around, the video freezes again. i click around again (At this point my friends are behind me, watching) and it looks like i was able to drag around different pieces of Gwen’s face. Either i could drag an entire eye, or i could drag a single pixel. There wasn’t a lot in between. So me and my friends take turns dragging around her face, until we lose control of dragging stuff around. Her left eye was on the very edge of her face, her right eye was on her forehead, and pieces of her mouth was where her nose should’ve been. Not to mention various pixels were dragged out of place. It was still the shape of her face, though.

Then the screen zoomed out. It was still pixelated, like a side-scroller game. Which is what it was. There were three sprites on the left of the screen. They all resembled my friends and i. Even the relative heights were accurate. We’re all obviously confused, but not as confused as we were when we say a slouched over sprite of Gwen, sitting on the ground, next to a huge, gnarled root of a tree sticking out of the ground. i moved all of our sprites towards her, and moved them around a little more before stopping. One of my friends dragged the mouse over Gwen’s sprite, and it was highlighted in green. She clicks it, and the game goes black. 

Next thing we know, we’re no longer viewing this from the side, as we’re viewing a still pixelated version of David. But it’s from the back of him. He has his hands on his hips, and was staring off the edge of this cliff area we’re at. He had gotten over the root of the tree that the presumed-dead Gwen was lying by, so we were on a slightly higher up part of the cliff area. My other friend clicks the screen, and the game plays. David turns around to what i assume is our characters in the game. He smiles, looking around “Isn’t it beautiful, kids?”. Then, just like with Gwen, the game freezes, and we have control over the parts of David’s face. Only his face, though. Instead of doing what we did to Gwen, we waited. We didn’t touch David’s face, just to see what would happen. We even tried clicking around him to see if anything would happen. We realised the only way to progress through was by messing with the characters’ faces. So , we move it around until the game won’t let us. It zoomed out to the same side-scroller format, with a slouched over David, sitting next to the dirt wall that ended this little cliff area. One of my friends moves our sprites over, and we hear a little ringing noise as we get close to David. i clicked on him. Then, the game goes black once again. We expected for it to move onto another character. Maybe Max, or some other camper. But it didn’t. The game stayed pitch black for a while, and when we tried clicking, it flashed us an image. 

It was Anti.

Yeah. The ever-famous Antisepticeye. In some sort of demented Camp Camp video game. We all knew who he was, but we were still confused. He was pixelated, just as the rest of the game was. But he still didn’t seem like he was supposed to be there. He seemed more detailed. Like, Gwen and David and the rest of the game had less pixels in it to allow detail.

 Nonetheless, the game continued. It faded back to David, still sitting against that dirt wall, but he was terrified. His face was bloody and it still looked the same as how we had moved it. It looked like we had torn his face apart, taken the pieces, and glued them onto different parts of his face. Hesitantly, one of my friends clicks the screen. We all regretted his decision. David screamed “Why would you do this!?” and the game froze. We had control over his face again. 

Obviously, after realising what we were doing to these characters, we didn’t want to continue. After seeing Anti, after seeing David’s bloody, mangled face, we wanted to burn the computer. We wanted to close out of the game, and hope it was all just a joke, and we could go on with our lives. But we didn’t. Something inside us, or maybe something around us told us to keep going. So we did. We mangled David’s face further, moving pieces of his face onto his body, and his ear onto his forehead, until the game froze once again. It zoomed out to the side scroller view again. Instead of the bloody David sprite we expected, there was an Anti sprite. The glitch bitch was the same height as David, same slouched over position against the dirt wall. We couldn’t see his face. My friend scrolled over his sprite, and it was highlighted in green. It glitched a little, and she clicked it. 

The screen went white, but our sprites remained. i moved us forward, cautiously. i remember noticing our sprites’ blank expressions, as though they though- or rather knew that they did nothing wrong. Like they had this belief that nothing was awry. We moved forward, until we saw the same sprite of Anti. But, he was his normal height, and no longer slouched over. He was standing straight, his knife in his hand, but not pointed at us. Just hanging by his side.We all had the idea to screenshot this, and post it to tumblr, explaining the events. So, i screenshotted it, opened tumblr (which was conveniently already loaded), and just made a text post. But rather than getting the picture, i got a picture of an error message pasted onto my post. It was too small to read. i tried pasting the screenshot again, but got the same error message picture from before. 

Then tumblr screen went black, just as the game did. And a pop-up on the screen showed up. It explained that this was an anonymous searching website. It looked like a screen from Welcome to The Game. Instead of proceeding on that odd website, we closed it, and clicked back onto the game. One of my friends clicked on Anti, seeing if something would happen. Something did.

“ Ä̗̖̣͖͚̪̆ͯ͑r̲͕̣e̜͆ ̥̣̞̞̦̂̌̊͆͋́ỹ̨̩̥͓̮̦̲͌̌̔o͉̗͎̦̭̙̽͞ͅų̪̯͓́ ̐̃h͇͚̞̗̳̞͍ͥ̅ͥ̃ͪ͋a̺͑̒͂͘p̨͍ͥ̒̀̉̉ͨp̠̦͉̫̑ͦ̃y̤̱̠͈̥͙͚?ͮͭ͆̔̚”

It was in Anti’s voice, no doubt. 

I woke up.

[impracticaldemon]

The Valentine's Day Community Relationship and Bonding Soirée

Chapter 1:  The Set-Up

Fanfiction ~ Main Pairing: Jerza (but many others involved!) RATING:  Chapter 1~Teen+  💕  Chapter 2 ~ Mature (verrrrry sexy!)  😉 💋

Words ~ 7600 Total Chapters: 2  Total Words ~ 15,000  COMPLETE

CHAPTER 2 WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW!

Read on FF.net HERE

Summary:   None of the Fairy Tail guild members would think of Valentine's Day in the same way again... A night of frolic, dancing and minor (for Fairy Tail) explosions.  Also, canal boats.  Mirajane and Cana plot to ease Erza's surly attitude, roping Gray and Wendy into the action as well as stirring their spoons in several other pots.  The older members of Crime Sorcière are only too happy to help out, as they’re tired of Jellal’s moping. 

A fabulous collaboration between @nalufever​ and @impracticaldemon​ -- We hope you’ll enjoy this Valentine’s Day present to you! 💗💗💗  If we receive enough encouragement, we will definitely try this again, although we still haven’t quite recovered from our current state of giggles!  😂 😂 😂

Chapter 1:  Set-Up

[I] The Planning

Mira sat on top of the freshly polished bar and employed her brightest smile at Erza.  “The Master gave me the go-ahead for the Valentine’s Day Community Relationship and Bonding Soiree.”

“Valentine’s Day is an archaic idea.” The red haired swordswoman crossed her arms and frowned.  “The Master only wants to ogle more women.”

“Of course.”  Mira’s smile never lost any wattage.  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”  She cast her eyes over to a sullen Laxus and Freed dancing attendance.  “We could use some fresh meat here.  Don’t you get tired of the same guys?”  She giggled—Laxus could hear everything (dragon slayer senses doncha know) but she had a thick skin when it came to certain things; if he knew what was good for him and her and Freed—he’d ignore Mira’s small verbal faux pas.

“Ugh.”  Grimacing, Erza looked away and let her lips pinch together in a most unflattering expression.  “Not everyone is looking to sate their base desires at a moment’s notice.”

Cana took this opportunity to spin around on her bar stool.  “More’s the pity.”

“Yes, Cana knows what Valentine’s Day should be about,” agreed Mira.

It took all Erza had not to growl. Instead she grumbled:  “Why would any sane person take the advice of a demented match-maker or an inveterate lush?”

“Tch.”  Mira ignored the tone and content of Erza’s words.  “You really need something to take that wicked edge off.”

“I am fine.”

Cana drained her mug and shook her head; Mira looked at the red-head and giggled.  “The cards never lie, Erza.  You need some help.”

“I am fine.”  Repeating her words didn’t make her believe them any better either. The endless scuffling between Gray and Natsu, behind her, burned her last nerve.  Turning, Erza glared at the ice and fire mages.  “I will rip off your arms and beat you to death with them if you don’t stop right this instant!”

Natsu pulled his punch, turning his haymaker into a friendly arm around Gray’s neck.  For his part, Gray grimaced but allowed the contact.  

“We’re the best of pals over here!”

“The very best!”

Lucy sighed and joined Erza, Cana and Mira.  “Did I hear someone asking for help?”

Mira settled behind the bar once again and leaned forward.  “We were discussing the ‘Valentine’s Day Community Relationship and Bonding Soiree.’  It’s going to be the best gathering of eligible mages in all of Fiore!”

“I would love to bond with my teammate.” Lucy blushed as both Mira and Cana chuckled knowingly.  Erza looked slightly less murderous.  “Ah, I mean, a party sounds fun!”

“Then you can take first dibs on my list of what needs doing.”  Mira picked up a clipboard from under the bar and held it out to Lucy.  “The budget for decorations is kinda low, but the Master had to double our insurance from the last party.”

Lucy ran her finger over the list and considered her choices.  “I do have mad skills at making cardboard hearts and I’m sure Lyra would love to play some music at the party.”

Mira clapped her hands.  “That’s so great!”

Erza let out a sigh.  “Valentine’s day is dumb.”

“Let me know when you start making decorations, Mira.”  Lucy edged away from Erza who was tearing a napkin into confetti.  “Can I get you to deliver a pitcher of beer to Levy’s table?”

“Sure!”

Cana picked up the clipboard and scrawled a few new suggestions at the bottom.  Erza pulled it over and began reading Mira’s list.  Her expression got more dour by the second.  “Don’t you think red, white and pink balloons are overkill?  Cupids are just babies with weapons, doesn’t that send the wrong kind of message to children?  They’re going to think it’s okay to shoot people with arrows.”

Mira returned from her drink delivery and just leaned up behind the bar, watching Erza read and complain.  She noticed Cana flipping her cards between her hands into a more and more complicated pattern - never a good sign.

Erza grimaced.  “You want fancy ice sculptures from Gray?  What’s the point when he and Natsu will destroy them?  Why make Reedus paint a romantic mural for people to have their pictures taken in front of when Wakaba and Macao will photobomb each couple?”  Erza ran her finger down the list and stopped three quarters the way down the paper.  She snorted her disgust and then ranted some more. “You’re going to regret letting that restaurant cater.  Their food is adequate, but they have the most wretched cake.  Their pastry chef is some sort of back alley monster.”

“Well, then I’d take it as a personal favour if you’d choose a better place instead.”  Mira crossed her arms and smiled with vigour.  “Anything else you’d change?  Perhaps the games I’ve selected?”  Her smile sharpened further. “I’m of two minds over the dress code.  On the one hand, I love the idea of fancy costumes all relating to fictional lovers—and on the other, perhaps elegant black tie for the gentlemen and gowns for the ladies?”

Cana took a big draft of her drink and stared at Erza, waiting for the swordswoman’s reaction.  

“It doesn’t matter, and dressing up as romantic fictional couples is foolish.”  Erza scowled. “What do you expect single people to do? How can I match my outfit to Je—” She bit off her word and took a deep breath before continuing.  “Just specify formalwear.”

“Tch.”  Cana smirked and rummaged in her purse.  “I think I just heard my communications lacrima ring.”  She lifted it and read the caller ID.  “Mira, we need to take this.”

“Oh goody!”  Mira clapped her hands, pulled Cana over the bar and frogmarched her into the back, calling to Erza to keep her suggestions flowing for the party.

[II] -- Crime Sorcière

Jellal was never especially cheerful at the best of times, but the last few weeks had been worse than usual.  He really cared about Crime Sorcière, and tried to look after the members, but lately when he wasn’t focussed on guild business he’d taken to withdrawing entirely from the team to go sit on his own.  Meredy was still trying to cheer him up, but most of the others had hit their breaking point.

“It’s that damn red-head,” muttered Midnight, from his usual place toward the outer edge of the camp, seated on his square of silky carpet.  

Even though Midnight still spent a lot of time tuned-out, Jellal’s latest round of navel-gazing had gotten through even to the cruel-eyed illusion-wielder.  He was starting to contemplate dosing their leader with some really wild dreams… but he didn’t want to get his butt kicked, although it might almost be worth it just to see a crack in Jellal’s armour.

“Of course it is,” agreed Coba, looking amused.  “Look on the bright side, Macbeth, at least you don’t have to hear his thoughts—although he’s pretty good at keeping them mostly to himself, thank the gods. Seriously, though, half the time he’s thinking about what a saintly person she is, and the rest of the time he starts with her breasts and moves on from there, if you know what I mean.  You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but yeah.”

“Wish he’d get laid and get it over with,” grumbled Racer.  “Who does he think he’s kidding?”

“He thinks he’s kidding everyone,” Cobra answered with a smirk.  “Which takes some pretty wishful thinking around me an’ Macbeth.”

“Yeah.”  Midnight rolled his crimson eyes.  “I mean, I crushed him the first time we fought, and he still wanted to protect her, somehow.  I’ve seen his nightmares, right?”

“Well, it’s getting old, fast.”  Racer looked into his empty cup and got up for more coffee.

“The kid’s out trying to make him feel better, again,” noted Midnight.  Midnight didn’t really like a lot of people other than Cobra, but he had a bit of a soft spot for Meredy.

“We just need to get them together under the right circumstances,” said Cobra thoughtfully.  “You know, get him to work it out his system.” He paused, contemplating just how long it had been, assuming it had ever happened at all. ”Or least kinda take the edge off.”

“Does that mean fighting or sex or both?” asked Midnight with a snicker. “She’s freaky, I tell you.”

“That’s saying something, coming from you,” Racer snarked, glancing sideways at his colleague’s punk-goth styling and weird eyes.

“Whatever.”  Midnight stretched out lazily, leaning his head on one hand and giving Racer a look that made the other man twitch a little.  Macbeth wasn’t a good guy to push too much.  “I’m all for our fearless leader getting some, if it means he’ll stop with the pining for a while, but we’ll never get him to Fairy Tail.  What do you say, Erik—got any great ideas?”

“Maybe I do,” Cobra replied thoughtfully.  “I’ll look into it and let you know.  Anyhow, I’m going out for a walk to get away from you lot—and Jellal—for a while.  Try not to miss me too much.”

There was a pause, and then Midnight cracked.  Usually it was Racer.

“With every shot so far, mind-reader—but only ‘cause I’m not trying.”

Cobra stood up, smiling faintly at the old joke.  He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the other two before walking off into the night. He had a pretty good idea of who, at Fairy Tail, might be interested in a set-up.  Well, whatever happened it was going to be entertaining—that was something.

[III] - The Party

Ichiya strolled into the guild followed by the Trimens.  Several of the unattached women at the event stopped to stare and whisper amongst themselves. Eve made sure to smile and look at the pretty ladies from under his long lashes, Ren pretended to ignore the fuss being made, and Hibiki simply did his best to be pleasant.

“Excellent party Makarov,” Ichiya said to Fairy Tail’s master, “You’ve outdone yourself with the parfum of success.”

“This is Mira’s doing.”  Makarov’s smile was only slightly devious.  “I gave her some suggestions and she surprised me with this elegance.”

“I’m not surprised everything is fancy, what with the sublime invitations that were sent.”

“The what-now?”

Ichiya pulled an embossed invite from his breast pocket and enjoyed a heavy sniff of the vellum.  “Ahhh, a most dignified parfum, it has the piquancy of youth and the gravitas of age at the same time.”

Makarov nodded, his mouth zipped shut, hoping the leader of Blue Pegasus would not need an answer.  He was flummoxed as to what he could say that would stop the short, red-haired man from becoming even creepier.  It didn’t matter though; nothing much could dissuade Ichiya from his normal weirdness.

Thankfully, Mira flounced up and tapped him on the shoulder while smiling at Ichiya.  “I apologize; I must steal the Master for a few minutes.”

“Quite all right.”

Mira and Makarov forced smiles that didn’t reach their eyes and scuttled away.  Once out of earshot of Ichiya, Mira spoke softly to Makarov.  “We’re close to capacity but the guests I’ve been waiting for haven’t arrived yet.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“Well, perhaps.”  Mira giggled, “Remember to save me a dance later.”

“I’d be delighted,” said Makarov. “Let’s be sure Laxus gets a front row seat.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Lucy shook imaginary dust off her frock and let her gaze wander over the massive number of guests thronging the guild. Eve had waved and winked at her just a little earlier—it had taken several minutes for her heartbeat to return to normal. But it wasn’t just the fact that a cute guy had expressed interest in her—it was because Natsu had marched over to her and grabbed her hand, not letting go even after the blond member of the Trimens had slunk off.

Wendy found herself worrying about Erza. The redhead had been increasingly sour the whole week leading up to the party.  This morning she’d acted especially strange, even for a guild member whose weirdness was legendary.

Charle sipped from her teacup, pensive as she gazed at Wendy.  Making up her mind, she spoke.  “You look as if you’ve just bitten into a sour plum.”

“I do not!”  Wendy protested.  “I’m having a lovely time, even if there are so many people crowding our guild.  So many…  Oh Charle, I saw things I can’t un-see!”

The fastidious white Exceed grimaced. “I was hoping that Max, broom and Laki would be more discrete, but some people have no class.  Speaking of which…”

“Hi Charle!”  Happy bounced over to his crush and grinned like the buffoon he was. “Classy party, right?”

“It was.”  Charle gave Happy her coldest smile.  “Shouldn’t you be hanging out with Natsu?”

“Oh, he’s busy with Lucy.”  Happy waved to Wendy.  “He’s being very clingy.  It’s like Lucy’s weirdness is catching.”

Charle’s tone was frosty.  “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

Oblivious to the undertones, Happy said, “Well, Cana said that they just need to bone it out. Or maybe get the bone out?  But I don’t think Natsu heard her and anyway he didn’t bring Lucy any fish.”

Charle gave Happy a look of total disbelief. Happy admired the way her delicate jaw formed a perfect triangle when her mouth gaped like that. Fortunately, Wendy had just turned toward the door.

“Oh!  I see Romeo and Chelia!”  Wendy smiled at Happy, “Please excuse me and Charle - we’ll see you later, okay?”

Charle had her paws over her ears as she trotted off behind Wendy.  “...I’ll never get that image out of my mind!  I may be sick....”

Happy’s eyes widened, and he stood looking after them with hearts in his eyes and floating around his head, muttering ecstatically to himself.  “Charle thinks I’m slick and she can’t get me out of her mind!”

Elsewhere in the room, Evergreen sighed. Elfman was just only barely acceptable as an escort.  He had found (the spirits only knew where) a passable suit that strained to contain his super broad shoulders and paired it with the palest pink shirt that matched the corsage he’d given her for her wrist.  His tie was a dark blue, but Ever decided to forgive him that trespass—just this once—because it set off his eyes.

“Are you hungry?”  Elfman wanted to throttle himself as soon as he asked such an inane question.  If experience had taught him anything, it was that Evergreen would tell him everything he needed to know before he asked.  If he asked, then it was always the wrong question.  Maybe she’d keep it on the down low in front of outsiders.  Shit.  Her left eye was twitching—time for some grovelling or the after-party sex would end up being just him and his right hand like always.

“Do I look ill-fed?”  Ever crossed her arms under her ample bosom.  “Just because you eat every hour on the hour doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Elfman kept his chagrin under control and deflected as best he could.  “Mira said that she brought in the best of the best appetizers and I thought you’d be the judge of that.”  Now if Ever smiled, then it was crisis averted.  Elfman hunched smaller in front of his domineering girlfriend.  “I trust your opinion.”  Ah, that did it.

Ever preened.  “I suppose I could go and take a look at the spread.”

Elfman followed Evergreen as she sashayed to where most of the food was set up, on the main floor but near the entrance to the downstairs documents room.  He grinned—Ever was busy passing judgement over the food, her back to him so that he was for once not under her microscope, and he was free to enjoy how bangin’ her ass looked in her tight gown.  Ooh, plans for later!

Nearby, Gajeel tugged at his bow-tie. Levy had insisted on it; she’d insisted on rather a lot of things actually.  He adjusted the handkerchief in his suit pocket, marvelling again at how exactly it matched Levy’s hair band.  Dressing fancy wasn’t all bad he guessed, not when his better half wore a low-cut diamante gown.  The sparkles made him think of metal, which fed his appetite like nothing else could—and Levy knew how that would affect him.

“Let’s go find Lucy—and try your best to behave with Natsu.”

“Ghee hihi!  What’ll you give me if I do behave?”

Levy inhaled deeply.  It made Gajeel sweat and his heart clench.  Shrimp was petite but her assets were on mouth-watering display. That ass!  Those tits!  Tasty as fine carbonized steel.

“It’s not a question of what I’ll give you as much as what I’ll let you do.”  Levy pulled out a pot of lip gloss and applied a new coat before speaking further.  “Me.”

Things weren’t going quite as smoothly for some of the hall’s other potential lovers.  Somewhere between the bar and the front doors, Gray stood with his arms crossed and tried not to glare at Lyon who was smiling like a dolt at his wom-, his Ju-, his … friend.  (He was failing.)

“Juvia thinks this is the nicest soirée she’s ever been to.”

“You’re absolutely correct Juvia.” Lyon adjusted the ice rose pinned to his suit jacket, his fingers twitching with nerves.  “Because you’re here, it’s the most perfect party.”

“What does Gray-sama think?”  Juvia fluttered her thick fringe of lashes.  “Is Gray-sama enjoying himself?  Can Juvia get Gray-sama a drink?”

Lyon patted Juvia on her arm.  “Allow me to fetch us all drinks.  Ladies deserve special attention.  What would you like?”  He smiled at Juvia’s diffident answer and walked off as Gray tried to place his request.  Over his shoulder he glared at his rival.  “You’ll get what you’re given.”

“The party is starting to look up.” Gray shoved his hands in his pockets - it was either that or he might try to hold Juvia’s hand in order to stake his claim.  Dammit! Seeing Lyon all over Juvia like a cheap suit was messing with his head.

The worst of it was that he needed to keep at least one eye out on the arrivals. Mirajane had blown by him earlier muttering something about Erza and telling him to make sure that if Jellal showed, she wanted help getting them together.  Since Gray agreed that Erza was even more tightly wound than usual, he wanted to help—and if he could accidentally screw up any of Lyon’s plans at the same time, so much the better.  And what the hell kind of drink what that anyway?!  He wasn’t going to drink something bright pink with umbrellas!

[IV] - Smooth Operators, Part I

Jellal allowed his group to flank him as they walked from the hotel that he had booked for himself and those of the team who hadn’t been invited to stay elsewhere.  By design, it was a considerable distance from Fairy Hills—bad enough that he had to see Erza at a party, it would be worse to be too near her overnight.  

Meredy had skipped ahead of everyone, whether in a rush to hang out with other girls or just to get away from the same boring people he wasn’t sure. Erik was rushing for his own reasons, which were most likely purple-haired and gorgeous. When Racer sped up, he figured that the man just wanted to arrive ahead of Midnight, who never looked like he put in any effort, but was irritatingly good at winning anyway and generally showing people (Racer) up.  

Pretty soon, most of Crime Sorcière was rushing madly down the street, dodging pedestrians—mostly—and avoiding falling into the canal—again, mostly.  Jellal turned to Richard to make a comment about being the mature ones, but Richard had a wistful look on his face, and shortly afterward he was charging down the street behind his comrades just for the joy of participation.  It didn’t occur to Jellal until he heard a resounding bang and the sound of splintering wood that they would all get tangled up a short way from the Fairy Tail front doors and end up literally crashing the party.

Jellal picked his way through the debris, wincing at the damage to the lavish decorations, not to mention the doors.  And yet, he couldn’t help but admire the irony of Crime Sorcière, with its coterie of fancy powers, being the ones to create a disturbance at Fairy Tail, which was justifiably known for creating its own disturbances on a regular basis.  Jellal looked elegantly dressed as always, but it just seemed to highlight the caustic—and rather arrogant—antagonism of most of his colleagues.  Despite his dismay, however, he noticed two things:  first, Erik was having a quick chat with Mirajane, which he found odd; and second… Erza looked stunning in an evening gown that accented every perfect curve.

Even as he hastily dragged his eyes away from Erza, Mirajane came rushing over.  Jellal squelched a sigh and managed a polite smile.  Not that he didn’t like Mirajane, but she tended to take an… interest… in his personal affairs.

“Jellal!  You made it!  I was just beginning to worry!”  

She looked anything but worried, in Jellal’s opinion.  In fact, he thought her blue eyes had the particular gleam he’d come to dread.  She was perfectly dressed, of course, and would probably make the front of Sorcerer’s Weekly again, but he knew her too well to be taken in—especially when she wore such an innocent smile.

“Mirajane, thank you for inviting us. I’m very sorry about the, uh, door though, and--”

“I’m so glad you came—and the others too!  You absolutely have to dance…”  For an instant Mira’s eyes seemed to darken slightly.  “We spent absolutely forever deciding on just the right music.  Oh and the cake—as you can imagine!”

Well, she’d managed about half a dozen sentences, maybe, without bringing up Erza.  That wasn’t too bad.  Still, he was reasonably certain that this was just the beginning.  Sure enough, at just that moment, Mirajane turned abruptly with a low cry of annoyance, and when Jellal glanced up to see what had alarmed her, he found himself looking straight at Erza.

With incredible—and surely staged—timing, a path had opened across the hall between the star-crossed lovers, and Jellal was looking directly at Erza’s…

“Oh, wasn’t it a shame that she dropped her dessert tickets?!”  Mirajane was saying, with apparent sincerity.

Jellal frantically searched for a response that didn’t include a cascade of scarlet hair over bare shoulders and very nearly bare… arms… as Erza bent over to pick up her tickets.  Somehow, he’d managed to forget just how creamy her skin looked against the beautiful jewel tones that she loved to wear.  From there it was just a short skip of memory to how soft she was to hold—although maybe memory had become blurred with fantasy.  Jellal felt his cheeks begin to burn.

Apparently, Wendy had fumbled the dessert tickets at just the wrong moment, and then stumbled trying to pick them up. At least, Jellal assumed it was something like that, since Wendy was being helped up by Charle, as well as disentangled from whoever she had fallen into.  A little closer to Jellal, Gray seemed to be having a dispute with Lyon, which was causing other people to stand back in concern.

None of which really registered except in passing.  As Erza straightened, her eyes naturally went to Wendy, who was apologizing to everyone around her.  And from Wendy they went fleetingly to Gray, and then directly to Jellal.  Somehow, Mirajane was now standing beside the master of Crime Sorcière, instead of in front of him.

Jellal swallowed hard and crossed his arms, gripping his elbows tightly so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out. His dark eyes finally met Erza’s, and he almost recoiled a little.  The blazing look she gave him was mostly anger, but he knew her too well to miss the longing that went with it.  It was very, very difficult to turn away knowing that he could walk up to her right now and touch her soft skin and bury his head against her hair and, maybe, let his hands run over those wonderfully rounded hips.

He gave up trying to deal politely with Mirajane, muttered something about speaking with Makarov, and fled in the general direction of the bar, trying not to look as though his own personal demons were after him.  It was a less dignified retreat than he’d hoped for, and it didn’t help that the first person he bumped into was Cobra.

“So, tell me again why you’re not off somewhere getting cozy with those breasts?”  Erik’s eyes were bright with amusement.  Jellal felt his face getting redder, but he’d had lots of experience shoving the mind-reader out of his head when he really needed to.

Erik smirked at him.  “Yeah, that’s so not working right now, Jellal.  Your concentration’s shot and I don’t think anyone needs magic to know what’s on your mind.”

When Jellal glared at him, suddenly looking far more menacing than he had in a long time, the former member of the Oracion Seis threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Yeah, okay, you’re the boss, boss. But, uh, you might want to get a grip… on something, anyway.”

With that parting shot and an audible snicker, Erik sauntered off, leaving Jellal wishing for a moment that he hadn’t become one of the good guys.  Fortunately, staring after Erik allowed him to finally catch a glimpse of Makarov.  Completely unsettled by the directions his thoughts had taken since arriving at Fairy Tail, Jellal composed his face as well as possible and walked over to say hello.

Makarov sat on top of the polished bar conversing with his cronies.  Wakaba blew a massive smoke ring, giving the master a thumbs-up.  “Not too shabby.  Lots of good lookin’ chicks here for once.”

Macao gave his best friend a dubious look.  “For once? Best selection EVER.”

“Keep it down or Mira will make my life hell—and yours too.”  Makarov glanced left and right, worry evident on his face.  “She giveth and taketh away if you know what I mean.”

“Yup.”  Macao nodded and then grunted.  “I was married once.”

Wakaba rolled his eyes.  “Pfft.  Like you could ever land a woman as enticing as Mirajane.”

“I didn’t say anything about Mira, but I could if I tried.”  Macao glared at his buddies, but shrank back at little at Jellal’s stony-faced response to his bragging.

Makarov spat out a mouthful of beer and let out a long-suffering sigh before setting his mug down to make eye contact with Jellal.  

Macao mumbled: “Well, maybe.  Can’t a guy dream?”

“So Jellal, my boy, have you been enjoying the party?”  Makarov decided to move forward with the conversation.  Mirajane didn’t just have demon souls, she had the ears of a devil too—and too much reflection on her charms would lead to heads slamming together (whether it was her doling out the punishment or her brother crying both ‘men!’ and actual tears).  Changing topics was not a hard choice to make, really.

“Most assuredly.”  Jellal nodded stiffly.  “I’ve always been entertained by your guild members.  Natsu in particular.  How fares Lucy?”

“Lucy?”  Wakaba asked, “You’re asking about Natsu and need to know how Lucy is doing?”

Jellal furrowed his brows briefly. “Yes?”

“Natsu’s just fine.”  Makarov set down his drink and leaned closer, the better to talk to the leader of Crime Sorciere.  “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

“...”  Jellal gulped and looked askance at Makarov.  “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

Makarov laughed, loud and hearty. “Relax my boy!  This is a party, have a drink!”

Wakaba and Macao exchanged looks (which read like WhatDaFuQ?).

“I still don’t follow.”

“Jellal, you need to get over yourself and talk to the woman!”

“I do not see your reasoning.”

“Erza needs some of your attention.”

“Erza might want my attention, but she doesn’t need the attentions of any man.  She’s a force to be reckoned with, as strong as nature itself— “  Jellal broke off his soliloquy praising Erza as Bickslow sauntered up to him and forced a tankard into his hands.

Bickslow flipped up his ever-present visor, leered, winked and cackled.  “Time to party!  Drink up dude!”

The five spirit-dolls flew in a bobbling pattern around the Seith’s head and chanted, “Drink!  Drink!  Drink!”

Wakaba, Macao, Makarov and Jellal proceeded to consume.  

[V] - Smooth Operators, Part II

He was here.  She’d known that he would be, of course, since the party was an official event to encourage relationship building and collaboration between the guilds.  Jellal always did his duty.  Unfortunately, she’d forgotten how much she missed his physical presence.  It was one thing to admit that his ideals, his sense of justice and friendship, and his quick mind impressed and captivated her, and quite another for her body to suddenly betray her by longing to be held against his tall, lean form and caressed by his strong, capable hands.  She felt a shiver go through her, but she definitely wasn’t cold.

For just an instant, she had thought that he would finally throw caution and scruples aside and rush to her side. Her mind had painted a picture of him kissing her passionately, totally unable to resist her any longer.  Instead, he had turned away from Mira with an unconvincing smile and hurried toward the bar.  She loved the way his deep blue hair was always slightly untidy, even though the rest of him wasn’t.  She wasn’t aware that her fingers were tightening as though she could actually feel the soft, slightly springy strands.  

“Um, Erza?  Are you okay?”  Wendy was looking anxiously up at her.  

“Oh, Wendy.”  Erza smiled affectionately down at her young friend.  For no apparent reason she wondered if she and Jellal might have a child with hair as blue as Wendy’s.

Seeing that Erza was abstracted again, Wendy patted her gently on the arm and moved off to talk to Gray, who appeared to be drinking--was his drink actually pink?  It seemed so… unlikely.  Still, they needed to do a little more planning, apparently, if they were going to get their friends together for the evening.  Wendy couldn’t help but think that Erza and Jellal would look incredibly elegant and romantic dancing together.

Meanwhile, Erza was fully engaged with her fantasy world, one hand playing absently with the ends of her long red hair--she always left a few wavy strands to fall on either side of her face, even when her hair was up, as it was now.  In her mind’s eye, Jellal had finally told her that he loved her and couldn’t live without her.  

It was the night before their wedding and he’d come to see her, even though he wasn’t supposed to.  That’s what made it so wonderful, of course:  that desire for her had made him infringe on even such a minor custom.  He’d kissed her--she almost thought she could feel his tongue exploring her lips and then probing more heatedly into her mouth--and one hand had--involuntarily of course--moved from the small of her back to her breast.

It was just as well that neither Mirajane nor Cana were looking in her direction, because the dreamy look on her face was rapidly becoming something more intense.  Unfortunately for Erza, somebody else had noticed and even now was stretching out a delicate, well-manicured hand to say:

“Erza!  My honey!  Your parfum is—”

Hearing her name, Erza had turned, eyes shining and lips slightly parted to find… Ichiya of Blue Pegasus, his large face alight with ecstatic admiration.

Erza screamed.  It was embarrassing, but there it was.  The change from Jellal’s much-loved features and sensitive touch to the vision in front of her was drastic, to say the least.

“Agh!  Get away from me!”  Erza wasn’t afraid of much, but for some reason Ichiya’s fawning (not to say drooling) attentions always unnerved her.  Clutching her dessert tickets in one hand, and her skirt with the other, she rushed blindly away.

“But come back here my honey!  Your parfum it is wonderful!  So beautiful!  So sensual!”

Ichiya was following her through the crowd, his drink spilling a little as he trotted after Erza’s bare back and round, silk-covered derrière.  Oddly enough, although he was slightly hindered by the throng, people didn’t interfere on Erza’s behalf the way they usually did.  Or rather, a few people interfered, but not to prevent Ichiya from chasing Erza directly toward the bar, where Jellal had suddenly stood up, red-faced and eyes glowing with drunken fervour.

“I’ve got to find Erza!” he shouted, words only slightly slurred.  “She’s smart, an’ powerful, an’ nice to everyone, an’, an’ by the gods she has incredible breasts!”

There was a slightly muted cheer from Mirajane and Cana, who were watching their plans develop from behind the bar (with occasional forays for important activities like directing Ichiya in just the right direction).

“You go get those tits, blueberry!” Cana called to Jellal, downing half a beer.  “Just take ‘er away and don’t bring her back until—”  Mirajane put her hand over her friend’s mouth at that point, because she could see Wendy turning red about thirty feet away.

Meanwhile, it had finally dawned on Jellal that Erza was rushing toward him, her expression disgusted and her wonderful brown eyes wide with fear.  He wasn’t sure why his head felt so muzzy, but even so he perceived the cause of her distress immediately.  With surprising accuracy, given his condition, he aimed the tiniest charge of magic at Ichiya’s feet and swung his beloved Erza up into his arms.

“Woohoo! Go get’er big boy! Make that grumpy ass allllll yours!”  Cana had gotten away from Mirajane’s half-hearted grasp and was standing on the bar to get a better view of the action.  Fortunately, Wendy was halfway across the hall whispering to Gray, who looked first murderous and then grinned.  

“Don’t worry, Erza, I’ll deal with this ruffian!”  Jellal, all inhibitions flown and awash with chivalrous lust, glared at Ichiya and then kissed his beloved passionately on the mouth.  Erza, completely at a loss, just stared at him, too shocked to even return the embrace.

“I am NOT a ruffian, you uncultured, undersexed, over-complicated--”

Jellal missed the rest of Ichiya’s rant, as Mirajane was pushing him rather violently toward the front of the hall.

“I’ll look after it, Jellal, but you’d better get Erza out of here!  She shouldn’t have to be bothered by such attentions, right?  You should take her away from the guild for a while, right?”

“Uh, Mira?” said Erza weakly, at that point.

“Shut up!” Mirajane told her firmly, and for a wonder, the redhead obeyed.

From behind them, Jellal heard a roar of “MEEEENNNNN!” from Ichiya.  Torn between defending Erza’s honour and certain attractions of Mirajane’s suggestion, that cry propelled him toward the door.  He could easily crush them all, of course, but Erza might not like it and he had the distinct impression that there was a party going on.  It really wasn’t appropriate to get into a fight at a party.

He made his well-wishers hold their collective breaths when he suddenly stopped, frowning. It had occurred to him that at Fairy Tail, starting a fight might actually be the socially and morally appropriate course of action. Fortunately, Erza chose that moment to take a deep, bewildered breath, and the sight caused Jellal to lose track of what he’d been thinking. Wendy waved at him and opened the door, handing Erza a bright pink bag as Jellal trotted by.

“Your dessert, Erza!  I thought you might want it!  And some special chocolates that Mirajane said to give you!  Happy Valentine’s Day!”

She had to shout the last part down the street, as Jellal was picking up speed on the slight incline.  He looked as though he might rush straight into the canal by accident.

A very short distance away, Gray was having a hurried conversation with the gondolier of a festively-decked boat sitting at the edge of the canal.

“Yes, that’s right, I’m Lyon Vastia and I hired this gondola for my friends because they haven’t seen each other in a while, if you know what I mean.”

The gondolier wasn’t overly-concerned, but he’d been told to hold the boat for a white-haired ice mage with a blue coat, not a dark-haired guy with a white coat.

“Are you an ice mage?” he asked, trying to be fair about the whole thing.

“Oh yes,” answered Gray, smirking a little.  “I sure am.” He brought his fists together and murmured “Ice Make Floor!”

The street between Jellal and the canal suddenly sparkled with ice in the moonlight, and only battle-honed reflexes kept him on his feet as he skidded the rest of the way toward the water, tripped on the stone edge of the canal, and tipped gracelessly into the canal boat.

“They’re just a little, um, warmed up, okay buddy?” Gray said to the gondolier with a knowing wink.  “The guy’s a wizard from out-of-town, usually pretty easy-going, but don’t piss him off, right?  Oh, and uh—” Gray gave the gondolier the name of the inn Jellal had chosen to stay at, in an attempt to stay away from Erza.

There were sudden shouts from the direction of the guild hall, and Gray told the gondolier to get going.  Jellal had just sat up, rubbing his head, and Erza was tugging at the skirt of her evening gown.

“Gray!  What are you doing?!  That was--”

“Later, Erza!  Just, um, look after Jellal for us!  I think somebody spiked his drink and he’s, um, not safe on his own! Bye!”

Gray gave the gondola a surreptitious shove with some well placed ice, and it suddenly shot ahead into the main part of the canal.  Satisfied that he’d played his part as well as possible, Gray ran up the side of the street, avoiding the sheet of ice he’d created.  He met Lyon halfway up, looking angry, Juvia hurrying along behind him.

“What the hell did you do with my gondola, Gray?!  I had it reserved for Juvia and I.  It wasn’t easy to get a reservation tonight, let me tell you!”

“Is Gray-sama alright?” asked Juvia at the same time.  “Gray-sama is missing his coat!  Juvia will go find it!”

Gray looked down.  Damn, he must’ve gotten distracted while trying to convince the gondolier that he was Lyon.

“Will you LISTEN to me, Gray!  Are you looking for a fight?  You better get that gondola BACK!”

Gray retrieved his coat from Juvia with a smile of thanks, which made the elegantly-dressed water mage sigh in happiness. Gray-sama didn’t always notice when Juvia tried to help him.

“Not gonna happen, Lyon.  I suggest you get over it.  Also…  I don’t think Juvia was gonna go with you anyway.”

Just as Lyon was about to respond, both doors to the guild hall burst open, and Natsu came rushing out, followed by Happy and Lucy.

“What’s going on out here?” he demanded, looking around wildly.  “Ichiya and the Blue Pegasus gang are taking on Mirajane an’ Cana inside for some reason, but Cana told me to get lost and then I heard this guy shouting.  He giving you grief?”

“As if he could!” retorted Gray, insulted.

“Yeah, but y’know he beat ya before!” taunted Natsu, ignoring Lucy tugging on his arm.

“HEY!  I’m right here you know!” shouted Lyon, frustrated.  “And somebody just stole my gondola!”

This caught Natsu’s attention for a moment.

“You carry around a gondola?  What for?  I mean, you c’n just hire one if you need one, right?”

“I can go look for it!” Happy suggested, trying to be helpful.

Gray shoved both hands into his hair. This was getting out of hand.  And Juvia looked really… nice… standing there all dressed up like she was--as her team-mate he should make sure she got to enjoy the party and he didn’t think that brawling with Natsu or Lyon was going to help.

Just then, Wendy called out from the doorway:

“Happy!  Charle was looking for you!”

Happy immediately abandoned all thoughts of canal boats.

“Really?  Where is she?  Is she hungry?  Does she want some Valentine’s Day fish?”

Wendy blinked.  “Um… no.  But I think she’d like to eat her dessert with you!”  It had taken some convincing, but Charle had agreed to keep an eye on Happy.  Not that Charle was as indifferent as she pretended, in Wendy’s opinion.

“So, Juvia,” said Gray, tucking his hands into his pockets and trying to look casual.  Like, friendly casual.  

“Yes, Gray-sama?”

“How about we go in and um, we can get some dessert too?”

Juvia beamed and clapped her hands together.  Gray-sama wanted her to eat Valentine’s Day cake with her!  That was practically like getting engaged!

“Juvia would like to have dessert with Gray-sama!  And if Gray-sama wants, he can have some of Juvia’s cake as well!”

“Yeah, thanks Juvia.”  Gray sounded cool--he hoped--but his heart had given a tiny skip at the way Juvia had looked at him.  Without a backward glance at the canal, he escorted Juvia into the guild hall.

Bitter at the failure of his plan for a romantic, hour-long gondola ride with Juvia, Lyon glared at Gray’s back, but gave up the obviously unequal fight.  I mean, if the stupid canal boat had been there--and Gray had been fighting with Natsu--then he was sure that Juvia would have come with him.

“So, since Gray’s gone in, wanna go a round with me?”  Natsu asked hopefully.

“Oh grow up!” growled Lyon, totally disgusted with the evening.  “I’m going in to get a drink or several.”

“Huh.  Guess he really wanted that gondola,” Natsu commented.

“I’m sure he did,” answered Lucy, repressing a sigh.

“Well, you know what we should do, Luce?”

“What?”  Lucy waited for the suggestion with something like hope but no real expectations.

“I think we should get some of that cake too!  Erza chose it so I’m sure it’s awesome!”

She stood there and just looked at the friendly smile Natsu wore; open and childish like always.  Lucy knew her own smile was crumbling.  Maybe she did have expectations - and they had suffered another crushing defeat.  No keeping this one down, she sighed.

“Not in the mood for cake?”  Natsu tilted his head as if seeing Lucy at a new angle would serve to gauge her emotions better.  “Then let’s go have some drinks.”  He offered her his arm, puffing out his chest as she accepted, unaware that his grin had turned prideful and a smidge possessive.

Lucy leaned into Natsu’s welcome heat; escorting her like a gentleman—this was the stuff of dreams.  “I’d love to.”

[END of CHAPTER 1]

From the authors:  Stay tuned for some steamy hijinks tomorrow!

All notes, reviews, comments and reblogs (we LOVE notes and reblogs!) are very much appreciated!!  💕 💕 💕

[serpentjulian]

Sleepy Chats || Darian

Where: Sunnyside Trailer park

When: December 20, midday

Warnings: weed use, brief allusions to past rape

Word Count: 2,204

Julian in italics, @sshardassanderson in bold.

Julian hadn't been able to get the video of Adrien Smythe killing his daughter out of his mind since he'd seen it. The whole ordeal was giving him nightmares and it didn't help that the stress was also triggering nightmares of that night with Hooks, and the two events were rolling into one giant clusterfuck of horror that was really making Julian not want to sleep. So that was how he found himself packing up a few things in a rucksack and then heading over to Dare's tent. His trailer was probably warmer but he craved the presence of another person more than any material comfort. When he got to the tent, he hovered awkwardly for a moment outside it. Did you knock on tents? "Dare it's me?" He called out, eventually, instead of attempting to knock on the fabric.

Dare finished chatting with a few people around the campsite, making sure that everyone he could was situated and prepared to deal with another night of bitter cold. There were only so many things to go around so he tried to be as fair as possible for distribution. He headed back toward his tent and saw Julian awkwardly lingering around the outside of it and approached. “Over here. Sorry, I was checking on some guys. Come on.” He got down and headed inside the reasonably sized tent where he’d laid out a large sleeping bag for laying on and had a couple blankets to himself. He plopped down in a spot and gestured for the young serpent to join him. “Don’t be shy.”

Julian felt relief wash over him when Dare called over to him, and he followed the older male into the tent, taking care to stick close to him. He didn't want to accidentally disrupt any of his things, and the tent was small enough that it'd be easy for him to knock stuff over if he wasn't paying attention. He sat next to dare on his makeshift sleeping spot. "Is everyone alright?" He asked, referencing the people he'd been talking to earlier. "Thanks for letting me visit," he added, feeling a bit embarrassed that he was having nightmares bad enough that he needed to get out of his own trailer. At least he had one.

“Surprisingly, everyone’s doing pretty alright. Nice part about being in the Serpents, we’ve got connections everywhere and there were a lot of people ready to donate stuff to help. The important part is the families with kids are out of the cold.” Dare replied evenly. “Come sit. Tell me what’s been going on.”

Julian nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest. He was happy to know that the kids were being taken care of. He didn't like the idea of them being trapped outside...it reminded him too much of his own time in foster care. He bit his lip, glancing up at the Serpent leader before looking back down at his legs. "The....video. I just can't really forget it."

Dare nodded in understanding. “You shouldn’t have had to see something that fucking demented. And I’m sorry to say that it’ll just take some time for it to go away and get easier to deal with.” He gently mussed Julian’s hair. “Hey. So that Pokémon Go thing. Can you show me what the hell it is?”

Julian didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the video...that the violence of it had stirred up other unwanted memories....without bringing up what had happened with Hooks. So he took the bait and allowed Dare to change the subject. He squirmed away from the hand in his hair, grinning a bit, and then pulled out his phone, loading up the app. "It's really fun! It's not as complex as the console games but it's cool. You basically get to walk around and catch Pokemon in the real world."

Dare had hoped that changing the subject would allow Julian to relax a little more, and he seemed excited to show off his thing. He didn’t care for it, and definitely hadn’t given a flying fuck about Pokémon since he was a kid. But he still looked over at the app and took vague interest in what he was being shown. “Seems a bit silly but hey whatever makes you happy. And you know Jaybird, if something’s ever bothering you, that’s what we’re here for. We’re a family.” He rolled his shoulders, tucking an arm behind his head. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to hide anything. Even nightmares.”

Julian went into all the different menus, showing Dare what different things did, and then spun a Pokestop and caught a Meowth, before he put his phone back down again. "I just like the simple stuff. It's nice to put yourself in a different world for a bit. Where you can do whatever," he explained. He went a bit red at the rest of Dare's comments, not quite sure how to react. He wanted to believe it but Hooks had said — and he'd been a Serpent for long, he definitely knew. And Julian couldn't lose them. Not now. "Is it...okay...to not like some people in your family?"

Dare cocked his head slightly. It wasn’t exactly an unexpected question. Moreso...guarded. He sat up a little, hands to himself now, jaw clenched. “Well...yeah of course. You know how I feel about Bruce. And I have an older half-brother I can’t stand. Usually there’s a reason for it.” He made a circular gesture to try and regain the younger Serpent’s attention. “J. If something happened, you can tell me. I don’t take bullshit in our family. So if someone’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Dare seemed serious...and Julian knew he meant it, he had no issues cutting ties with his dad when the situation called for it, he'd seen that first hand. "But...what if you're not sure if your feelings for that person are going to make things worse or better? Like having some family members you don't like is better than having none at all?" Julian wanted to explain properly,  but every time he tried, the words seemed to get stuck in his throat and all he could see was Hooks.

Dare didn’t want Julian to feel pressured into talking about it, but also wanted to convey the seriousness with which he’d understand and undertake any problems the young serpent was having. “Are you worried if you came to me with an issue that we’d turn against you? Everything-“ He paused, collecting his thoughts. “We want to make sure things are managed fairly. The last thing the Serpents need is another set of psycho leaders. But whatever it is, J, it’s not gonna cost you your family. That’s what we’re here for. So if you feel unsafe, or scared, or frustrated with someone, we’ll work through it together. Even if it supposedly makes things worse.”

"You'd never be a psycho leader," Julian insisted, before a yawn overtook him. He couldn't help it. He was so tired but every time he slept he had the dreams. He thought for a second, rolling Dare's words around in his head. It wasn't that he didn't believe him. He did. But he also didn't want things to change. The other Serpents already thought that he was weak, a baby, someone who didn't deserve to be there. He couldn't give them one more reason why they should believe that. "I...I will. If...if I feel like it ever comes to that."

Dare didn’t believe him for a second, but pressuring Julian into saying what was on his mind would only stress him out more. “Alright.” He shrugged his shoulders like he was letting it go. Something to bring up to San and Ro to keep their eyes open for. “C’mon sleepy dork. Tell me about those damn whales and let’s see if we can get a good night’s sleep in you. Want an edible?” Dare held out a ziplock of brownies.

Julian yawned again, but smiled. "Did you know that a narwhal's horn is actually just a really long tooth?" He nodded at the suggestion, and made grabby hands at the bag, pulling one out and taking a huge bite. "He wanted to sleep so badly...he just hoped this would all help. "And the southern right whale has the largest testicles in the entire animal kingdom. One pair is about a tonne of weight. Isn't that crazy?"

Dare took a brownie out as well before he set the bag aside and gestured for Julian to take a seat beside him. “Wait, narwhals? I thought those were fake creatures? Like...a Pegasus or a unicorn.”

Julian shook his head as he settled against Dare's side. "They're real. You can find them in the north. They're pretty cool," he explained. "They're closely related to belugas and they only have two teeth, one of them being the tusk."

“I think you made that up,” Dare snorted and tucked his arm behind his head. “I think you want me going around thinking that narwhals are real and people are gonna totally laugh at me for it.”

Julian shook his head, taking another bite of his brownie and then fishing his phone out again. "No! I'll show you!" He got Google open and typed up 'narwhal' in images, before turning his phone to the older male. "See? Real."

“I mean they can fake images on the internet.” Dare laughed. “C’mon you’ve heard of photoshop. But I’ll believe you. Just a reminder that if I find out you’re lying, I get to shave your head.”

Julian covered his hair protectively, even though he knew for a fact that the animals were real. "Well the books were in the non-fiction part of the library, so ha," he said, finishing up the brownie and then yawning again.

“Maybe they just did that to trick you.” Dare made some space and gestured to the unzipped sleeping bag stretched across the floor. “Come on, sleepyhead. Come lay down.”

Julian shuffled over and curled up next to Dare. "You sound like a conspiracy theorist," he murmured. The buzz of the brownie was already starting to get to him. Maybe things wouldn't be so terrible if he closed his eyes this time. "Narwhals are real and cool."

“Uh huh and magical flying unicorns that shit gold are real and cool too.” Dare absentmindedly carded his fingers through Julian’s hair like he’d do when Blaine was a kid. “If you wanna really get crazy conspiracy theorist, I could challenge you to explain why you trust all your whale facts when they come from scientists you’ve never met. How do you know they haven’t made up stuff?”

Julian made a soft purring noise. If he wasn't so tired he probably would've been embarrassed but he was mostly just ready to pass out.  "Unicorns are not real but I kind of wish they were." He blinked his eyes back open, and fixed Dare with an incredulous look. "What incentive do scientists have to make up whale facts? Besides, if you can't believe science, what can you believe?"

“I dunno dude.” Dare laughed. “I’m just saying. You wanted conspiracy theory. Mull that one over in your sleepy little head for a bit.” He continued to run his hand through Julian’s hair. “Just try and relax a little bit. How are you gonna give us a hand if you’re so damn exhausted?”

Julian curled up into Dare's side, eyes fluttering shut again as he focused on the feeling of fingers in his hair and the soothing high of the brownie. "Don't laugh at me," he mumbled, feeling all sorts of petulant but too exhausted to move away. "Conspiracy theorists are stupid. Like why would people fake the Earth being round?" He yawned again. "I can help. I can do all sorts of things."

“Of course they’re stupid. But they’re around so everyone can laugh at his how stupid they are.” Dare’s fingers pulled lightly at a few hairs, then continued. “Yes you can. You’re the best damn lockpick I’ve got. And I’ll be putting you to work on a few things real soon. So I need you well rested.”

"I normally wouldn't want to laugh at someone but...if you're choosing to be ignorant, I kind of have to," he mumbled, feeling himself sink deeper into that nice place between being half awake and half asleep. "'m the best. Hands good. Fast. Gonna make you proud, D."

“You already do, Jaybird. You’re just as valuable as anyone else. If not a little more because you’re so damn sneaky.” Dare relaxed more easily down on the ground and wrapped an arm around Julian, holding him in close, running his fingers down his back. “Don’t forget how important you are.”

Julian felt warm inside at Dare's words. He just wanted to feel like he was appreciated, important, loved. "You're the best,D," he murmured, making a soft, pleased snuffle as he burrowed against the older male's side. He was so tired. "Thanks."

Dare could only nod as he watched the smaller boy start to fall asleep. He’d crash himself eventually but for now he was just happy to be of comfort to someone.

[failureoftheyear-blog]

I will go down with this ship: Chapter 11

Sasuke laid there. Naruto on top of him. His heart thumped and stopped all at the same time.

"G-Get off of me!" Sasuke screamed, kicking his leg up and running away with his face in his hands. He entered his newly adjusted room, now with everything he requested. He didn't take time to appreciate it as he sat on the bed, holding his knees to his chest.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and panicked. Some tears stung his eyes, burying his head in his knees. Just wanting to escape from the world. There was a commotion outside, but Sasuke only regarded it as white noise. No comfort came to him, his chest feeling tight and pained. Only hope entering as Sakura opened the door and quickly sat by his side.

"Sasuke" She voiced in concern, placing her hand on his shoulder. He flinched but soon relaxed.

"I…don't know what happened, it was as if some part of my mind and body screamed to run and hide" Sasuke responded, answering the unspoken question. Sasuke's vague answer gave Sakura everything she needed to know, she understood Sasuke's reflexes. "I didn't mean to hit him, I just felt afraid and…" Sasuke sighed.

"I know, I know, you did nothing wrong" Sakura reassured, baiting Sasuke out of his tight guard.

"I hope so...not like I care or anything, but…is he okay?" Sasuke enquired, knowing that his blow probably did more damage than intended. Though Sakura just waved it off.

"Don't worry, Naruto's been through a lot worse" Sakura replied, but Sasuke still felt as if he owed himself and her an explanation, even though he didn't understand it.

"I don't know what came over me, with my mother's description and his position, it just made me think about…" Sasuke trailed off, Sakura hushing him softly.

"Forget all that, it doesn't matter, let's talk about something else" Sakura suggested, Sasuke slowly shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Sasuke enquired, Sakura thought for a moment before speaking.

"How about something more fun?" She asked, Sasuke scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I've had enough 'fun' with that moronic fool" Sasuke remarked.

"Maybe so, but this is me we're talking about" Sakura replied, Sasuke couldn't argue with her logic, since she knew about his boundaries and such. Sasuke nodded and gestured for her to decide what they'll do.

"Hmm…oh! Remember the creator game we played? Imagining our perfect fiancées?" Sakura reminded, Sasuke smiled and nodded.

"Then we asked questions about them…" Sasuke reminisced, thinking of such a simpler time. "Like…is he sensitive or fearless?" Sasuke asked, Sakura giggled and thought about it.

"Um…sensitive, I want someone who cares about people as much as I do" Sakura answered, Sasuke nodded. "What about you?"

"Fearless, then I know that he can protect me" Sasuke replied, Sakura thought of a question of her own, snickering slightly.

"So how would your guy kiss?" She giggled, her child-like sense coming back to her. Sasuke blushed and shifted faintly. Sakura answered first when she saw his embarrassment, "I want it to be sweet, so it feels like the first time every time" Sakura swooned, Sasuke felt more comfortable and bit his lip.

"I suppose if I had a preference, I would want him to treat me nice and softly, since I wouldn't want some uncontrollable animal" Sasuke explained, Sakura nodded and smiled. Sasuke returned it, but it was an enigma that always puzzled Sasuke. With anyone else he would never indulge himself in these types of conversation, but Sakura had this effect on him. So that he felt comfortable enough to speak audaciously and vice-versa. "My turn, what's the most important physical trait?" Sasuke asked, any other time he would never enquire something so daring, but he was coaxed into it willingly.

"Oooh, good question…I think height, I want a really tall guy" Sakura nodded slowly before looking expectantly at Sasuke.

"When I think about it, I think it's the hair, I don't know why but there is just something about it…" Sasuke shrugged, Sakura giggled.

"Got a hair fetish there?" She teased, making Sasuke blush.

"I-I do not, I just…think hair is nice" Sasuke defended, Sakura laughed a little, making Sasuke pout, "Just ask the next question already!" He ordered embarrassed, Sakura calming down.

"Heh, sorry…what about voice? Because I want a nice, loving one" Sakura described.

"No…I want something more dominant, protective in a sense" Sasuke described. Sakura laughing, getting increasingly louder before Sasuke had to ask. "What's so funny?" He questioned, but her laughter only grew.

"Hahaha! Do you remember that tutor who spoke in the dullest voice ever?" Sakura laughed, Sasuke smirked and nodded, his own laughter being found.

"Oh yeah, Mr.Taki" Sasuke stated, Sakura shook her head.

"Even his name was boring! God, do you remember his stupid, useless facts?"

"Mm-hm, paper money is made from cotton and linen" Sasuke answered in the tutor's dull voice.

"The dot over the letter "i" is called a tittle" Sakura replied in the same tone.

"Slugs have four noses" Sasuke groaned, Sakura laughed, "Seriously, who cares?" Sasuke scoffed, Sakura nodded her head.

"I know I don't, none of that shit became useful to me" Sakura tittered, but it died out to Sasuke's shocked expression, "What?"

"You…cursed" Sasuke stated, Sakura blushed lightly in embarrassment.

"Oh, yes, well, I…I do that now" Sakura explained awkwardly, it was quite before Sakura spoke up again, "So, you've got your room all sorted" Sakura gestured, Sasuke looked around the room to see he was given everything he wanted.

"If I'm honest it's still atrocious" Sasuke complained.

"It's better than nothing" Sakura tried to say, but Sasuke's standards refused to drop.

"This wouldn't accommodate the size of my bathroom" Sasuke proclaimed, Sakura chuckled.

"C'mon, it's not so bad" Sakura replied, "I mean you got the-" Though a massive screech of war rattled the stability. With eyes wide they jumped off the bed and looked around in panic.

"What was that?!" Sasuke exclaimed, Sakura stood up, offering Sasuke a hand. As he stood up, the door was kicked open, they gasped as an unfamiliar pirate stood there with a menacing grin. Sasuke took a step back as the pirate charged down the stairs, but Sakura wasn't as timid. She fearlessly withdrew her sword, jabbing forward mercilessly, the silver metal slicing through the man. Sasuke trembled slightly at the sight of his friend killing, at the sight of the man collapsing. Sakura faced her dear friend without notice.

"Stay here" She commanded.

"But what about you?" Sasuke questioned, his heart racing as the commotion from outside turned into a hellish roar of death. Sakura nodded to him.

"I got to protect my crew and ship, it's my job" Sakura answered, turning and diving up the stairs. Sword ready and life on line. Sasuke took deep breathes as he tried to calm himself, reassuring his head that there was nothing to fear, but all reason crashed when another pirate appeared at the door. Sasuke's eyes widened when the panting devil began to chuckle in a demented manner.

"You know, the best thing about a battle is…" He trailed off, slowly stepping down the stairs. Each violent thud making Sasuke flinch, "No one can hear you scream…" He whispered out, licking his lips as he approached the terrified raven. Clear intentions in his soulless eyes. Sasuke shivered as he retracted away. The nearing man was suddenly pierced from the back, a full-fledged sword driving through him. The deviant coughed up his pained blood, collapsing when the sword released him. Sasuke looked to see who his saviour was.

"Naruto!" Sasuke exclaimed, Naruto gazed concerned at him.

"Are you hurt?" He questioned, Sasuke shook his head.

"No, I'm fine, what's happening?" Sasuke asked, Naruto sighed.

"This other pirate crew, the Lost Terrors, has it in for us, so they've attacked" Naruto explained. Sasuke gasped.

"Don't worry, love, they're not match for us" Naruto winked with a confident smirk, Sasuke was usually aggravated by such a thing, but in these times it offered security. Naruto came closer, "I'll protect you, don't worry" Naruto promised, pointing his loaded gun at the door, he pulled Sasuke close against his chest. Sasuke blushed shocking red, the sudden feeling of being encased by Naruto's warmth.

"W-What are you doing?!" Sasuke squeaked, his face getting hotter and hotter. Naruto failed to notice since his attention remained strictly on the door, his arm and gun in place.

"In case someone decides to come in guns blazing, I can shield you better" Naruto explained, Sasuke's face decided on a light pink, staring up at the focused man who held resilient in his eyes. Such a display of power made a strange thump arise from Sasuke's chest.

His breath hitched and stopped looking at the blonde man, though that just made his mind centre on how close they were. Sasuke was practically buried in Naruto's chest, causing Sasuke to take in the blonde captain's scent. Sasuke was surprised that he wasn't unpleasantly disgusted, Naruto was something that Sasuke had never experienced before. It could only be described as masculine; the earthy musk that scented him seemed natural and untouched. Hints of spices and warmth created something serene and comforting. Sasuke allowed his eyes to fall shut as he nestled slightly into the relaxing aroma. The harsh clamour from outside unheeded.

Time passed by effortlessly, and as the noise from out began to simmer down, Naruto lowered his gun, but his eyes were still trained on the door.

"They're gone" Naruto stated, Sasuke opening his eyes and looking up at him.

"They are?" Sasuke asked, Naruto nodded and tore his eyes from the door. He gave a glance of concern to the door before speaking.

"Stay here for a moment, okay?" Naruto spoke softly, his voice quiet and gentle. Sasuke nodded as Naruto gave him a kind smile before releasing him, Naruto travelled up the stairs, leaving Sasuke to the silence. As Sasuke looked around he held himself, the deafening silent stirring feelings of apprehension. Sasuke refused to acknowledge the bodies that lay lifeless on the floor, knowing nothing good would come of it. He kept up his discipline for the next twenty minutes, until Naruto showed up at the door and beckoning him. "It's clear" Naruto reassured, Sasuke followed him outside where half of the crew were cleaning the deck of a suspicious, red substance. "Ahhh, this this my fault" Naruto groaned.

"How so?" Sasuke enquired, Naruto sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

"Because I didn't spit into the ocean before we left Tsumi" Naruto admitted, Sasuke stared at him to make sure he had heard him correctly.

"Excuse me?" Sasuke asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, for good luck" Naruto shrugged, Sasuke scoffed when he realised what Naruto meant.

"Good luck? What absolute rubbish" Sasuke remarked, Naruto folded his arms with an arched eyebrow.

"Oh? And a big man in the sky is so reasonable?" Naruto argued back, Sasuke spluttered in a flustered matter.

"At least there is evidence and logic to that! What sense is there spitting in the sea?!" Sasuke exclaimed, Naruto looked unoffended and shrugged.

"None, but from past experience and other sailors, I know that it affects my fate and such" Naruto replied, Sasuke noted that he was relatively nonchalant about the whole ordeal, devoid of the passion of belief. "I mean, there's no harm in being cautious" Naruto added.

"Somehow, I fail to associate that with you" Sasuke retorted, but natural curiosity flourished. "Besides, what exactly do you believe in?" Sasuke questioned impolitely.

"Well, for one, I always spit in the ocean before setting sail, that's for good luck" Naruto started, then pointing to his gold earring, "This gives good luck" Naruto claimed, "Also, throwing coins into the sea before sailing" Naruto added.

"Why on earth would you waste money like that?" Sasuke ridiculed.

"Because I'm paying Poseidon to protect us on our voyage, you know, since this is his territory" Naruto explained, "You know it's going to be a safe journey when you see dolphins swimming next to the ship" Naruto furthered. Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"This is such idiocy" Sasuke insulted mockingly, though Naruto shook his head.

"I'll have you know that that horseshoe up on the mast has saved us countless times" Naruto proclaimed, Sasuke wouldn't consider his blasphemy, but he would his own curiosity.

"As ridiculous as this all is, I assume you believe in bad luck as well?" Sasuke pointed out, Naruto nodded.

"Mm-hm, pretty simple actually; don't kill seabirds because they carry they souls of other sailors, don't bring a priest on a ship because they reek of death, never name a ship for an engaged lass, the ship will get jealous and finally you don't whistle" Naruto listed. Sasuke raised an eyebrow at the last one.

"Whistling is bad luck?" Sasuke scoffed, Naruto nodded.

"Not unless you want a nasty storm" Naruto answered, Sasuke thought of how Naruto had practically tortured him with his teasing and smirked.

"Oh? So, it would be bad if I did something like…" Sasuke trailed off, before whistling. Naruto's eyes widened.

"Hey, hey, hey! Do you have a death wish?!" Naruto exclaimed, but Sasuke casually whistled anyway. Naruto saw the smug expression on his face and wiped it off as he stepped intimately close, "If you don't stop using those lips, I'll have to stop them myself" Naruto muttered huskily, Sasuke's eyes enlarged and took a step back, his face lightly pink.

"Dobe" He remarked, pouting slightly at how he had once again lost due to Naruto's shamelessness. Naruto smirked.

"If it makes you feel any better, it's very lucky to get a kiss from a pirate" Naruto flirted, Sasuke glared at him.

"Good thing I don't believe in luck" Sasuke remarked, shutting down Naruto's every teasing move. Naruto chuckled, he was looking at the raven before a smirk came onto his face.

"C'mon" Naruto ordered casually before walking away.

"Why would I go anywhere with you?" Sasuke responded, even though he did in fact follow Naruto. Naruto stood at the mast, looking up and judged something that Sasuke couldn't comprehend. "What are you looking at?" Sasuke questioned. Naruto looked at him and smiled.

"I wanna show you something" He answered with a gleam of trouble, Sasuke saw something oddly soothing about the mischief in Naruto's eyes, but was drawn out of his strange trance as Naruto grabbed a rope with one hand and slipped the other around Sasuke.

"W-What are you doing?!" Sasuke stuttered, his face peppered by a blush, Naruto merely smirked at him.

"Now that would ruin the surprise, love" Naruto answered, Sasuke gasped lightly when he was pulled close to Naruto. Naruto then proceeded to climb up the rope, Sasuke would be lying if he denied the impressive ability of Naruto's strength and control.

Sasuke disregarded such thoughts, he refused to think of such inappropriate compliments. However, his thoughts once again travelled to the deep recesses of his mind, the strong inhalant dominating Sasuke's mind. He closed his eyes in embarrassment when he caught himself relishing in Naruto's scent. Strong dislike overwhelmed him, causing him to give a sudden kick to Naruto. Naruto-who was halfway up-gave Sasuke a strange look, Sasuke's lowered head hid his flustered expression. Naruto could only roll his eyes and climb them higher. Naruto carried them into the crow's nest.

"Well, we're here, what did you want me to waste my time on?" Sasuke asked in a bored tone, Naruto gestured his head towards the sight in front of them. Sasuke looked forward to see Naruto indicating the horizon. Sasuke gasped lightly. The sun was beginning to set, the golden fire of the sky intertwined with the spitting red. Each colour melding and harmonising together, flickers of white and auburn shone and settled into the nestle of the sky. Sasuke stood stunned at such beauty, never witnessing such a remarkable sight. "Striking, isn't it, love?" Naruto stated, Sasuke nodded.

"I…I've never actually witnessed a sunset before" Sasuke admitted, still staring.

"I assumed so" Naruto responded, "That's why I took you up here, because you can't get a better sight then from the bed of the sea" Naruto spoke softly, the warm breeze passing through. The serene quietness settling in, soothing over the day's sores. "Sometimes you just need to slow down and take in the common uniqueness of the world" Naruto professed, almost hinting at an unspoken message, "Because there is only so much time" Naruto added, before smiling softly, "Hn, that's why I love to sail" Naruto said, "Because there is so much out there, so much to explore, to discover, it's just waiting to be found, for its stories to be told, to be made, so it only seems fair to the soul to make the most of it…" Naruto trailed off, Sasuke now watching Naruto observe the humming sun, "Before time catches up…" He muttered. Sasuke remained silent in an attempt to truly understand Naruto's words, but the chill gust of wind made him think otherwise.

"Um, Naruto…" Sasuke voiced, taking Naruto out of his daydream. Naruto seemed to understand and nodded.

"Right, sorry, love, went on a tangent there" He chuckled sheepishly, he took Sasuke back down silently and released him, "Well, that's another thing off the childhood list" Naruto pointed out, Sasuke nodded with the nagging thought at the back of his head, about what had happened in the crow's nest and why it made him feel so bizarre. Sasuke's thoughts were distracted as the lazy pirate approached them.

"Captain, I was researching through some old pirate myth scrolls and came across this" Shikamaru reported, handing said scroll to Naruto. Naruto took the dusty scroll and opened it up, his eyes gazed over it and slowly smirked.

"Karin! Set the course!" Naruto exclaimed, giving a nod to Shikamaru, "Thanks Shika, I knew I could count on you" He complimented, strolling over to Karin who remained at the helm. Sasuke stood there and sighed lightly. Thinking that this entire situation seemed so…

"Troublesome" Shikamaru remarked, Sasuke couldn't approve more.

"Agreed"

Agreed.