#i should call around and ask if any of the local computer repair places work on ps4s

[proserpine-in-phases]

Drove allt he way to mankato to go to Joanne's but it was closed 😔 (staffing issues. Shoulda hired me when I applied 2 years ago amirite) so disheartened I didnt even fuck around at the mall like I was thinking of doing, and so I didnt see the gamestop amd remember I was going to get a ps5 one of these weekends

[softboywriting]

Fight For You | Part 1

Summary: Your whole adult life you’ve dated mixed martial arts fighters, it comes naturally with working and living in and around the fighting circuits. After a fallout with your now ex-boyfriend you find a new place to start a new life where you find someone who is willing to fight for you as much as you are for him. Will you be able to build something beautiful or will your past come back to haunt you? [fighting] [asshole ex]

Word Count: 13k

Authors Note:  None of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics on any platform.

|Masterlist In Bio|

Moving to a new town in a new state is a fresh start for you. After a rough year dealing with an asshole boyfriend, leaving said boyfriend and losing your job, you have to find a new place in life. The world is a clean slate for you and Red Lake is where you’re ready to put down some roots and start over. Your best friend Jodi and her wife live there and they’re the closest thing to a real family you have left so choosing Red Lake was a no brainer.

"So, how's the apartment?" Jodi asks as she unlocks the back door of the gym where she works. Her wife Harlow is the owner and a former female MMA fighter. "It's not too shitty I hope."

"Oh I didn't get the apartment. I got the house on Garden Plaza. The one Harlow said her friend was renting out."

"Oh yeah! Fuck, I totally forgot." Jodi holds the door open for you and you wander into the back storage room. It's full of old mats and various pieces of equipment in need of repair. "When does the truck arrive with your stuff?"

"This week. The drivers said tomorrow but I'm not counting on it."

Jodi pushes open the door to the main hallway to the gym floor and nearly smacks into someone. "Holy shit!" She leans on the door and you step forward to see who she hit or just got scared by.

"Are you okay?" A voice says from beyond the door and a head pops out. "Sorry Jodi."

"God! Why are you here so early!" Jodi asks, ushering you out into the hall. She closes the door and you see a guy in a fitted black shirt and a pair of grey sweats standing behind the door. He's oddly familiar.

"Harlow asked me to come in and...wipe down the mats." The guy stares at you and you stare back. You know him. Those chocolate curls, soft eyes, and sharp jawline are unmistakably familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.

Jodi waves her hand in front of his face. "Shawn? Earth to Shawnie boy!"

Shawn Pierce. Shit, yeah it's coming back to you. Tate trained with him about a year ago when he was trying to get into the western region MMA championship circuit. You were never properly introduced but you did talk a few times. Tate didn't bring you by the gym a lot, he claimed you distracted him.

"You're Tate Greyson's girlfriend right?"

"Ex." Jodi snorts and you shove her shoulder. Shawn raises his eyebrows.

"I was, yes. We're not together anymore." You chuckle and shake your head. "Not that we were ever that together in the first place."

Shawn narrows his eyes at you and you shift uncomfortably. "Did he hit you?"

"What?" Your eyes go wide.

"The bruise on your collarbone."

Jodi leans in and pulls your shirt aside a little bit. "Oh shit, what happened?"

Suddenly you remember the bruise in question. You had fallen off the step ladder in your apartment back home while taking down your plant hangers. "I fell while packing up my apartment." You pull your shirt back to show Jodi more of the yellowing bruise. "I swear Tate never hit me. It's been months since I've seen him."

"Oh thank God." Jodi sighs and pulls out her keys. "I'd kill him myself if he touched you."

Shawn steps back and rubs his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

You lean against the wall as Jodi walks up the stairs to her office door. "No, it's fine. Tate is a bit of a loose cannon, but he never hit me."

"Yeah, he was a tough one." Shawn folds his arms, stretching the tee across his chest and you can't help but stare. He shakes his head. "He never did like to listen, always just wanted to swing hard and fast, no finesse."

"Should have seen him in bed. Same tactic."

Shawn's eyes widen and you realize you didn't really need to tell him that. You flush and he just laughs. "Man he must have pissed you off if you're out here dragging him like this."

"Yeah he did." You roll your eyes at the thought of Tate. Everything he did pissed you off. Silence falls between the two of you and you push off the wall. "I'll see you around?"

"I'm here just about every day." He puts his hand out for you awkwardly and you take it, giving an oddly formal shake. "Are you going to be here a lot?"

"Dunno. I got a job at Dixie's down the street but I work nights. So I might come around a bit."

Shawn drops your hand and runs his hand over his hair. "A waitress?"

"Bartender." You smirk and he grins. "You can stop by, I make a good gin and tonic. I'm allowed discounts for family and friends."

"I'm a friend then, eh?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll be a friend." You look him over and bite your lip. "Maybe more."

Shawn grins and you can't miss the pink that spreads across his cheeks. "You're bold. I like that." He steps back and turns to go out to the main floor. "I should get back to those mats now."

"Mmmhmm." You wave him off. "See ya."

Jodi clicks her tongue and you steps out of her office. "You are so predictable." She says from the top of the stairs.

You jog up to meet her and give her a look. "What? Because I think he's hot?"

"No, because he's a fighter." Jodi rolls her eyes and sinks into her chair as you follow her into the large room. "You only date fighters."

"Says the woman who married one!"

"Hey, I don't count. Harlow is the only fighter I ever dated and I didn't even know she was a fighter when we started going out."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. So I got a type. Whoopty do."

"At least Shawn's a good one."

"You saying I have poor taste?"

Jodi picks up a few large envelopes and stares at you over them. "You're joking right? Tate? Remember that hot garbage of a few months ago?"

"Yeah but Chase before him wasn't garbage."

"Chase was a two month fling while you worked the circuit with me. Was he ever anything?"

You flop down onto the couch under the window that overlooks the gym. "I guess not. So what, Shawn's a fighter and I like fighters. Maybe he'll be a keeper."

"Ex fighter."

"Hmm?"

"Shawn's an ex fighter." Jodi types aways at her computer and you wait for her to continue. "He doesn't fight anymore. What?"

"He doesn't? Why? He looked healthy."

"Personal choice. Harlow has been trying to book him on the circuit for years. He keeps in shape and trains other fighters for Harlow but he's not getting in that ring for anything. It's a shame, he was a two time champion."

You look out the window to where Shawn is running along the mats on the far side of the gym with a towel. You wonder what made him stop competing. A guy like him could take out anyone his weight. No doubt. You'd seen him spare with Tate once when he trained with him. Shawn has the skill, what would drive him to waste it?

_____________________

Dixie's is a hole in the wall kind of place. Definitely a local spot and everyone in town goes there. It's a bar and restaurant that serves your classic American staples, burgers, fries, steak and sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but the food is good and homemade. The day time crowd at Dixie's is mostly families, regular customers on their lunch breaks or afternoon meetups, occasionally a truck driver or two since it's on the edge of the town. The night time crowd at Dixie's is much different, very adult orientated. They didn't let kids in after eight since that's when most of the drunks and party goers start showing up. Most people know to avoid Dixie's for a late dinner lest you be caught up in a fight or have to listen to some guy babble on about the good ole days for four hours.

You work the night shift at the bar. You don't mind, you tended places much worse. Hell, you lived in Vegas for a year after graduation and that's where you learned to bartend. When you're raised in hell, the rest of the world doesn't seem so bad.

"Hey! You made it!" Carrie says from the door to the kitchen. "I was worried you wouldn't come back after last week."

"What? Greg? Please, I've dealt with a lot worse then having a drink thrown at me and being called a raging bitch." You place your purse under the counter behind the bar in a little safe. Carrie didn't fuck around when it came to safety and personal belongings in her bar.

"Oh thank God. Greg is an asshole but if you made it through the night with him I think you'll be alright."

"I worked in Vegas, Carrie." You grab your apron off the wall beside her. "I've seen shit. Greg, ain't shit."

Carrie looks incredibly relieved. "I've had four bartenders walk out because of him."

"Yeah, well, they weren't me." You wave to one of the waitresses, Sammy, coming in for her shift. The two of you hit it off really well last week so you're excited to work with her tonight."Besides, I'd like to stick around."

Carrie pushes open the kitchen door and you follow her in. "Oh yeah? Find a love interest?"

"I don't think I'd call him that yet. But I'm definitely interested." You grab a few plates off the warming table to help Carrie serve them. "We've met before."

"Oh wow, coincidence huh? You just moved here right?"

"Yeah. It's so weird, but he's a fighter who trained with my ex boyfriend a year ago. I guess I'm bound to meet people from the same circuit."

Carrie chuckles and leads the way with her arms full of plates. "You like those fighters huh? We got a lot of those type around here."

"I do." You fall silent as you help Carrie serve the large group of middle aged people at the front of the seating area. As soon as you're done Carrie walks with you to the bar.

"Anyway, those fighters are always coming in here. I don't mind the business of course, they eat a lot. But some of them also drink alot and bar fights between fighters is a nightmare."

"Don't worry, I can handle them." You wipe out some glasses on the drying station and Carrie starts going through the liquor stock to see what she needs to bring out of the back for the night. "I swear, I'm sticking around."

Carrie pauses and looks over at you. "You seem pretty set on it."

"Yeah, I am. Things are good here. I have my own place, I'm near my best friend, there's a hot fighter who I wanna get to know. It's good. A fresh start."

"I'm happy for you dear." Her hand comes down on your shoulder and you look over at her. She's smiling, her big round glasses sitting too low on her nose. She blows a stray curl out of her face and pats your shoulder a few times. "You're a good kid."

"I try to be." You chuckle. "Anyway, looks like it's kicking off early tonight." You point at a group of guys who have just walked in, some fighters by the looks of them. Out of circuit fighters, the kind who drink too much and let their bodies get weakened by alcohol. You scoff to yourself. Frat boys with too many muscles and big dreams but no dedication. A bunch of Tate Greysons'. It's gonna be a long night.

___________________

"Pierce! Focus!" Harlow yells from the office doorway at the top of the stairs. Shawn is standing in the ring with his client for the day but he keeps looking over at you where you're talking to Jodi near the bathrooms.

You look over and bite your lip, knowing you got him in trouble. "Anyways, as I was saying," you turn back to Jodi and she's grinning. "What?"

"Harlow is gonna kick his ass if he doesn't stop gawking at you." She looks up at her wife through the window and she's pacing the office, watching Shawn like a hawk. "You're quite a distraction."

"I don't mean to be. I'm just standing here for fucks sake." You gesture to your jeans and plain tee shirt. "I'm not even dressed up!"

Jodi laughs. "Shawn's just soft, he's got your attention and he doesn't want to lose it. I don't know the last time he had a girlfriend."

"Really?" You look back. "A guy like him has been single for-" Shawn gets clocked in the head. "Oh shit."

Jodi sighs. "Moron."

You jog over to the ring and hold onto the cage, staring at Shawn on the ground. "Are you okay?!"

"Dude, you went down like a sack of bricks." The other fighter says, kneeling on one knee beside Shawn. "Dude?"

"Is he knocked out?" You ask, walking along the ring to climb the stairs at the open entryway. "Shawn?"

"I haven't been hit that hard in years." Shawn groans, eyes closed. "Good left hook, Connor."

"Thanks, but for real are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shawn sits up and holds his head. "Y'know no matter how many fights you're in, and how much training you do, getting hit hurts worse when you're not expecting it."

"Getting hit hurts in general." You laugh and help him up on his feet. "And you would have expected it if you weren't staring at me."  

Connor snickers.

"I was not staring." Shawn stretches his arms and shakes off the hit.

"Yeah? Why'd you get hit then?"

"We're sparing."

"Uh huh." You look to Connor. "Did he seem distracted?"

"Very."

"Mmm thought so." You turn and walk out of the cage with a glance back with a small smile.

Shawn calls out to you as you cross the gym floor. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Stop staring at me and actually talk to me is what it means!" You laugh and meet up with Jodi outside the office. "God he's ridiculous."

"He hasn't asked you out yet?"

"No! It's been a week since we met. He just stares at me when I'm here and occasionally says no more than four words to me." You glance over and Shawn and Connor have changed positions so Shawn is with his back to you. "I think he's shy."

"Shawn? Nah. He's sweet, always has been. I think he's just cautious because he knows you just got out of a relationship, and one with a former trainee of his too. I'd be cautious."

"Well light a fire under his ass for me will you?"

Jodi gives you a thumbs up. "I'll get right on that boss. Matchmaker Jodi Price is on the case!"

"Oh shut up. Just talk to him?"

"I will." Jodi grabs her keys from Harlow as she steps out of the office. "We'll be back later honey."

"I'll pick up dinner." Harlow looks out at Connor and Shawn. "If I'm late it's because I've got two man-children to deal with."

"Easy on him. He's got feelings for our girl here."

Harlow rolls her eyes. "I don't pay him to have feelings."

"You're such a hardass, Harlow." You laugh and she smirks. "I promise I'll try not to stop in too much when he's training Connor."

"Yeah yeah." Harlow waves you off. "Get out of here, go have fun."

"Picking up furniture at Ikea isn't fun." Jodi says in annoyance.

"Mmhmm. Sure its not. Bye bye." Harlow walks toward the window to the gym floor and you wave goodbye.

"Come on." You put your arm around Jodi's shoulders. "Let's go build some skeptical furniture and relive the good ole days."

Jodi laughs. "Yeah, the good ole days of duct taped chair legs and book balanced tables. God I hope these Ikea things will be better than our crap back then."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

_____________________

Building furniture is a nightmare. You and Jodi spend an hour putting together a dresser that you end up abandoning in favor of Chinese take out and a rerun of Chopped you hadn't seen before while sitting on the boxes for your nightstand and kitchen cart. You still have both of those items plus your bed frame to build. You'll get to it eventually.

Eventually leads to three days later and you still have the boxes propped against the wall of your living room where you and Jodi abandoned them after dinner. Every day you walk past them and think, maybe that day, but then you keep going. It's not until today, Friday, your day off, that you might actually get them built.

"Hey, what're you doing tonight?" Shawn asks as he steps down out of the cage. You've been watching him spar with one of the other trainers for an hour now after stopping by to help Jodi read over some paperwork for the gyms lease.

"Me?"

He grins. "Yeah, you."

"Building furniture for my house."

He chuckles and sinks into the chair next to you, observing two fighters now sparing on the mats nearby. "Sounds like a wild time."

"Oh it will be. I'll probably decide to get drunk halfway through and just say fuck it again." You laugh to yourself. "Drunk lonely furniture building on a Friday night. I've reached my peak at age twenty four."

"Need some help?" Shawn looks over and you raise your eyebrows. He is really making a move. Finally.

"You sure you don't have some floors to clean or something?" You ask, referencing the last time he tried to get out of your attempt to instigate a date. He is a weird one, definitely interested but hesitant for some reason. You get what Jodi said, about him being cautious because of your past with Tate but it's been almost five months. You're ready to move the fuck on. You gotta make it clear to this man you're ready.

Shawn smiles and looks away. "Okay, fair enough. Just call me out why don't you?"

"Yeah? You realize you've been dragging this out?"

"Yeah yeah. So can I come over?"

You grin and cross your arms. "I guess. What do you drink?"

"Tequila?" He says with a smirk as he starts unwrapping his hands.

"I'm not buying tequila. I don't know about you but tequila fucks me up and I will make some bad decisions."

"Me too, maybe we should go for it then."

"Absolutely not." You reach over and grab Shawn's hand as he picks at a piece of the fabric that's tucked too tightly under another. "How about we just start with some hard lemonade or something?"

Shawn smiles and closes his big hand over yours. "It's a date then?"

"Is it a date?"

"Could be."

"Let's just call it hanging out for now." You place the coiled up wad of wrapping fabric in Shawn's hand. "Now, I'm going to get lunch at Dixie's. You want something?"

"Nah, I brought lunch." Shawn looks over at the sitting area where Harlow has set up a refrigerator, a stand with a microwave and a few little tables with chairs. "Leftover chicken and rice."

You stand and Shawn stands with you. He flexes his hand a few times to work out the stiffness of it being bound too tight in the wrapping. You head for the office stairs to see if the ladies want lunch too. "I'll let you know when I'm heading home so you can follow me."

"Works for me."

"Oh, and don't wrap your hand so tight next time." You point at his hand. "You should know better."

Shawn grins sheepishly. "Maybe someone else should wrap it for me?"

"Maybe." You smile and he just grins.

_____________________

"Hey Jodi have you seen- oh." Shawn leans against the door as he looks between you and Jodi on the couch in the office. It's almost seven and you had completely lost track of time.

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

Jodi holds her half wrapped hand up to show Shawn. "Teaching her to wrap."

Shawn smirks. "Your ex never taught you?"

"Tate didn't like having me around too much when he was fighting. He said I distracted him. So I didn't get to wrap his hands but once or twice."

"What a dick. Well I'm done cleaning up for the day, are you ready to go?"

Jodi raises her eyebrows. "Y'all have a date? And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not a date." You roll your eyes. "He's just going to help me with the furniture."

"So he's gonna be at your house with you alone?"

"Yes." You stand and Jodi unwinds her hand. "Now don't say another word missy." Jodi just snickers and you grab your purse. "Let's go Shawn."

An hour into furniture building and you're sure you're going to combust. Shawn is so big and thick, and close. He's in a pair of tight black jeans and a black tank top, having forgone his shirt almost as soon as you started working. He is just...he's too much. You thought Tate was big, you thought Tate was ripped and he was but not like Shawn. The way Shawn is built and the way he moves so fluidly is just...it's enough to stop your heart.

"Hey, hello?" He waves his hand in your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah?"

Shawn chuckles and leans back on his forearms. "What'd I say?"

"Hello?"

"Nope. I asked you if you wanted to get dinner."

"Oh." You push your hair back out of your face and look up at the clock over your kitchen table. "It's almost eight. Shit."

"So? Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah in the evening, but I didn't mean to keep you this late."

"It's not late?" Shawn laughs. "It's no big deal. I'm off tomorrow. I'll order something and we'll keep putting together this bed frame, sleeping on a mattress on the floor is bad for your back."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you don't just want to stay late to get me on this bed after we put it together?"

Shawn sits up, leans forward onto his hands and knees, face close to yours as he pushes himself up off the floor. "Oh I'll be much more upfront when I wanna do that." He pulls out his phone and you flush hot. "What sounds good? Pizza? Wings? Chinese?"

"Don't you need to eat healthy?"

"I do." He smiles over at you. "It's alright to indulge now and then."

"Oh."

"None of this is going away because I eat some pizza now and then." He gestures up and down himself. "I know that sounds incredibly pretentious but I worked hard for this strength. I'm having pizza." He puts the phone up to his ear and walks around the room aimlessly as it rings.

"Tate never wanted to get dinner. He said it'd ruin his diet." You stand and look around at the scattered pieces of the bed frame and your stomach rumbles loudly.

"Yeah because he was an idiot." Shawn says softly before answering the phone and placing an order for a medium taco pizza.

You raise your eyebrows and he grins. How did he happen to know your favorite pizza? There was no way he could have known or guessed. Taco pizza was not an every day order.

"Thank you bye." He pockets his phone. "Anyway Tate was obsessed with his eating habits. I remember sitting him down and explaining that he actually needs to eat real food and not protein shakes and supplements for every meal. He didn't ever listen though."

"Yeah he was an idiot, okay, but how did you know I like taco pizza?"

"Wild guess."

"Uh uh. Who told you?"

Shawn holds his hands up. "Honest to God, you want the truth?"

"Yeah. Who was it?"

"No one. Seriously, it was a wild guess. I like taco pizza and I noticed you have little taco magnets on the fridge and a taco pillow on your couch so I figured maybe you like them too. Seriously, it was a shot in the dark."

You stare at him slack jawed. He had been in your house for an hour and he noticed your taco magnets? That was...just so...weird? What else did he notice? You look around your room suddenly very self conscious of everything you have sitting on the dresser and nightstand. "I...I don't know what to say about that."

"About what?"

"About how observant you are."

"Oh. Should I not be?"

"N-no, I mean, it's fine? I've just never had someone pay attention to my stuff I guess."

Shawn chuckles and gets down on his knees to start taking the rest of the bed frame pieces from the box. You definitely don't miss how his ass is perfectly accentuated by the dip of his jeans. "Well, I like your place, it's interesting and cozy. Sorry if that's weird, I don't mean it to be."

"It's fine." You get down next to him, eyes still on his butt and he hands you a bag of screws. "It's just different. You're different." He leans forward to grab a bar from the frame and the way his back curves makes you want to grab his ass so bad. It's perfectly round and you just want to feel it so badly.

He glances over with a smile as he sits back on his knees. "Is that good?"

"W-what?" You feel a flush on your cheeks. Was he talking about your staring? Was he good? Because yes, a thousand times yes he was.

"Is it good that I'm different?"

"Oh! Yeah, very good." You smile and look down with a chuckle as you dump the bag of screws into a little Tupperware bowl he hands you that you've been using for small parts so nothing gets lost. "I like different."

"Me too." He grins and you meet his eyes. "Let's get this bed together so we can relax when the pizza gets here."

"Sounds like a plan."

_____________________

"Busy night?"

You look up from the back of the bar and see Shawn sitting a few seats down from you. He's smiling, hair pushed back looking like a damn angel in his white tee. The bar has been crowded for two hours now, a huge bachelor party of some sort taking up most of the space in the building. You and Sammy have been working double time to get food and drinks out as quick as possible. Big parties of guys meant big tips, keep them happy, keep that tip growing.

"Yeah." You glance over to the loud crowd nearby. "Bachelor party."

"I see. Must be fun?"

"For me or them?"

"Both?"

You chuckle and walk down to stand in front of him. "Is it fun making drinks? Yes. Is it fun watching a bunch of twenty some year olds get hammered while getting hit on by every one of them? Not so much."

Shawn waves off a drink offer as you gesture to the bar behind you. "I just came by to see how you were doing. You haven't been by the gym in a few days."

"Oh, you noticed." You lean back and smile. "I've been working doubles. Carrie has had a cold and I didn't want her to push herself. I'm a lot younger, I can't handle a few days of work."

Shawn cracks open a peanut from the bucket on the counter for customers. "You're a sweetheart." He grins and pops the peanut in his mouth. "Glad you're alright though."

"Did you think I was avoiding you?"

"Nah. Well, a little?" He chuckles and hangs his head. "Honestly I thought I fucked up the night we put together your bed."

You step forward and fold your arms on the counter in front of him. "I'd tell you if you fucked up. Trust me, you haven't done anything to put me off."

"Good. What do you say to lunch Wednesday?"

"I'd say I hope you like Dixie's pulled pork special because that's where I'll be."

"You work dayshift again?" He shakes his head.

"Yep. My last double."

"Okay, alright. I'll stop by?"

"I'd love it."

Shawn looks over at the party of guys getting loud again. "I'm gonna head out before that gets too wild. Stay safe honey."

"Bye Shawn." You roll your eyes at his ridiculous pet name and he waves as he heads out.

____________________

"How's Connor doing?" You ask as you watch the young fighter spar with one of the other guys while Shawn is taking a break in the office.  

"The kid is insane. He's fast, strong, smart too. He reminds me of myself when I was nineteen."

You look over and Shawn is tossing a stress ball up at the ceiling casually. "Connor is nineteen?"

"Yeah." He looks over with a grin. "Why? Thought he was cute?"

"Shawn! God, no. I'm just surprised Harlow took on a guy that young."

"I was too. I remember when Connor walked into this gym. He was a short little sixteen year old with no intention of doing anything but bulking up a bit."

"He didn't wanna be a fighter?"

"Nope." Shawn chuckles. "He came to take some HIIT classes and some CrossFit bullshit Harlow had let a trainer do for a few months. I think once he saw me and Mike in the ring he caught the bug."

You watch as Connor takes down his opponent, pinning him to the mat. Shawn's right, he is fast and strong for his size. His practice opponent is easily twenty pounds heavier than him and he is taking him down like it's nothing. "You think he's gonna make it to championship finals?"

"He going to make it to nationals if I have any say in it. He has what it takes, he's got the heart and soul of a fighter. You don't see that everyday. I've trained a lot of guys in the last few years and they just don't have what Connor has."

"Has any of your trainees made it to the championship circuit?"

"No. Not yet." Shawn looks over and you chuckle. "What? You think I'm not good at training?"

"Not that. I'm just laughing because your last trainee was Tate right?"

"Yeah."

"He definitely didn't have what it takes."

"He didn't. He couldn't listen, just wanted to do what he thought was right. You'd think when a two time western champion and two time national finalist takes the time to train you, you might try and give a fuck." Shawn sits up and squeezes the shit out of his stress ball. "Tate honest to God pissed me off like no other."

You raise your eyebrows and giggle. How funny it was that the two of you shared the same distaste for Tate. "He was something."

"No. He's nothing and he's never going to be until he gets his head out of his ass."

"Harsh."

"You think so? I'm sure you've thought the same thing."

You smirk. "I've definitely thought worse."

"And I'm harsh?"

"I haven't said it out loud." You scoff and lean back in Jodi's chair. "But someone should."

Shawn stands and walks over to the desk. He leans forward and smirks. "I'd tell that sorry piece of shit every single thing you wish you could say to him. I'd hand deliver it to him right in his smug fuckin jaw."

"Easy tiger." You run your hand up his arm, fingers curling against bicep and he drops his head. "No need for the violence. Fighting is an art not a brawl."

"You-"

"I'm using your own words against you?" You smirk and stand up, checking a message on your phone from Sammy about stopping by for tips from last night.

Shawn straightens up with a grin and shakes his head. "You remember me telling Tate that?"

"It's the first thing I ever heard you say to him."

"Tate is a dumbass for losing a woman like you, y'know?"

"Yeah." You walk around and past Shawn toward the door. "But if he wasn't, I wouldn't have ever found a man worth fighting for."

_____________________

Wednesday afternoon is a shit show. For some reason there are a couple day drinkers in at the bar and they won't stop bugging Sammy. She's covering a shift for one of the other waitresses, Megan, since it's her birthday and she's seriously regretting it. Day shift is supposed to be easy. The worst part being an occasional kid throwing food around. Poor girl.

"I just can't do it," Sammy hisses as she stands beside you at the end of the bar at the wash station. "That guy over there has been harassing me non stop. I've tried everything to get him to fuck off."

You take a look over at the end of the bar and you know exactly which guy it is. He's in his thirties, probably an insurance broker or real estate agent by the looks of his tailored suit and gray temples. He looks older than he should. There's a glass of whiskey in his hand that you served him about ten minutes ago. He's the one you were about to cut off and send packing anyways.

"Want me to make him leave?"

"Do you have a bouncer?" Sammy glances over your shoulder. "Because I don't think he's going to leave so easily."

"Well, how about we make him realize you're not into him?"

"By doing what?"

You smirk and set down your dirty glasses into the sink. "I can stage kiss you. I used to do it all the time with my friends back in Vegas." You look down at the guy. He'd definitely fall for it, he was too drunk to see straight. "We'll make a show of it."

"I don't know." Sammy twists her hands in her apron. "Maybe he'll just leave?"

"Sammy. He's not gonna leave if he thinks he has even an inkling of a chance." You pull Sammy down the bar closer to where the creep is sitting. "It's up to you. He's watching us right now."

"Okay, okay." She shakes her hands out and puts her hand on your shoulder, going up to your neck. You can see her glance over at the guy. "It's working he's watching intently."

"Good." You cup her cheek and bring your other hand up to here jaw and cover her mouth with the side or your palm as you pretend to kiss her. "Is he looking?"

"Mmhyeah."

You pull back and give Sammy a hug before going down the bar to the creep. "Do you need a refill on that?" You ask, pointing to his nearly empty glass. You weren't really going to give him a refill, he'd had more than enough.

"No." He grumbles and stands up. "I'm going home." He passes you his credit card and you settle his tab. "Thanks."

Sammy beams from her spot by the liquor shelves. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Almost every time." You walk over and hand her the ones the creep had left as a tip under his cup. "For you dear."

"Thanks." Sammy pockets the bills and smiles. "I wish I had you years ago."

"Well I'm here now." You ruffle her hair and she ducks away. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Keep an eye out for Shawn? He is supposed to be coming in for lunch."

"Ohhh." Sammy smirks. "You got a little crush on the big boy?"

"Obviously." You toss your bar rag over your shoulder and head for a lady who's just walked up at the end of the bar. "How couldn't I?"

"He's a good one!" Sammy laughs and heads off to check on her tables while you get back to bartending.

_____________________

Shawn never showed up for lunch. You can't say you weren't a little disappointed since you had made plans, but you understand that he may have gotten busy at the gym. Things happen. It isn't a big deal.

You stop by the gym the next day to help Jodi with registration for the fall championship circuit for the western region. She had to have all of the fighters from Harlow's registered and ready to go by Monday. It is a ton of paperwork and you know what to do, so you volunteer to help out before work.

"Can you go get Jack for me? I need to talk to him about getting me a copy of his physical."

"Yep." You push away from her desk and head out the door. The locker rooms are to the right of the main floor of the gym and you head there first.

"Dude, I saw her kissing Sammy."

You freeze and listen to the conversation you've walked up on. It's clearly Shawn.

"So? What's the big deal?" It's Connor.

"I thought she was into me. We've been flirting and stuff and then I walk into Dixie's for lunch and she's kissing the waitress! I thought she was into guys!"

Connor laughs and sighs. "I dunno dude."

"I can be into both." You say, stepping into view and getting a good look at Shawn in nothing but a towel. He's dripping wet and it's so hard to focus on the conversation at hand, you have to look away. "Maybe if you wanted to know what was going on, you should ask me?"

Connor's eyes go wide and he looks between the two of you before ducking his head and squeezing around Shawn to make himself scarce.

"I know you can like whoever you want...I just thought..."

"Shawn." You walk over to him and lay your hand on his chest. He's warm and damp and oh Lord when he shifts you can feel the muscle flex. "Relax. I pretended to kiss Sammy so a guy at the bar would stop harassing her."

"Oh."

"Is that why you didn't show up for lunch?"

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I walked in and saw that kiss and I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry, I should have asked you."

"It's fine. I probably would have been really confused too." You look him over and he smirks. "I swear I'm still very much into you."

"Yeah? Enough to go on a real date?"

"Mmm I think it's time we did. Any plans?"

Shawn grins. "I have a few. How's this Saturday night sound?"

"I'm off. What time?"

"Six? I'll pick you up. Wear something comfortable and not too fancy."

You raise your eyebrows and he just keeps smiling. "Alright. I'll see you then. In the meantime, have you seen Jack? We need a copy of his latest physical for the registration."

"He's probably out on the floor. If you didn't see him, check the backroom because he might be resting on the spare mats."

"In the storage area?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "He likes to meditate and listen to his audio books back there to relax."

"Oh. Well thanks." You pat Shawn's chest and he traps your hand under his, curling his fingers around yours. "Yes?"

He bites his lip and shakes his head before releasing your hand. "Nothing. Go on."

"See you in a bit."

_____________________

"Do you still do photography?" Harlow asks you Friday day while you, her and Jodi sit in their living room while going over travel plans for the out of state fights in this year's competition.

"A little bit. I don't do anything professionally anymore."

"But you have your camera?"

"Yeah of course and my lenses. Why?"

Harlow grins. "If I hire you, will you do the photography for the website? I need pictures of all the guys for the brackets this year."

"Sure I can do that. I think I have a my backdrop stuff still as well."

"You'll probably get to photograph Shawn too." Jodi pipes up from where she's typing away at the laptop. "You could take a few just for yourself."

"Jodi!"

"What?"

Harlow groans and shoves her wife's shoulder. "I'm hiring her for a professional shoot, quit teasing her."

"Yeah yeah."

"What time do you want me to stop by? I'm free this weekend and next Thursday all day. Otherwise I work after six."

"Stop by whenever you want. I'm sure it'll take a few days to get all the fighters done and we have a few weeks before fights start. We'll start with Connor when you do get set up. He's my headliner. I'm banking on him hard so I want his photos to be really good."

"Yes ma'am."

_____________________

"So you're doing photos for Harlow?"

You look over at Shawn from the passenger side of his truck. He'd picked you up at a little after six and still wouldn't tell you where you're going. He did make you change into an old pair of jeans instead of the black skinnies you had on and promised you wouldn't regret it. You're almost convinced he's taking you mudding outside of town because you've been driving for twenty minutes and you're still not sure where the hell you are.

"Yeah, I'm doing photos for her? Why?"

"No reason, I was curious."

"You want me to take pictures of you too?"

"I'm not a fighter in the circuit."

"So?"

Shawn looks over and raises his eyebrows. "So why would you take pictures of me?"

"Because you're gorgeous." You look out the window away from him, heart racing at your admission. "I'd die to photograph you in action. You're a rarity, perfect from every angle. It'd be a treat."

"I had no idea you were so into photography. That's awesome." He bumps your leg and you look over. "I'd love to see what kind of photos you take at matches."

"I've taken some good ones. But like I said, I really want to photograph you."

He chuckles. "Sorry sweetheart. I'm retired." He turns the truck down a dirt road toward a big sign that says Pierce Ranch.

"You have a farm?"

"No, my uncle does."

"Why are we going to your uncle's farm?"

"Because I'm taking you horseback riding."

"What? You're serious?"

Shawn turns the truck into a long driveway in front of a big sprawling house. "Dead serious. My uncle is out of town for a few days and he said we could come out and spend some time out here."

You sit stunned in silence. Horseback riding as a first date. Who thought of that? It's so off the wall and incredibly romantic.

"Should we go back?"

You snap out of your thoughts and look over at Shawn as he kills the engine in front of a set of garages. He looks worried. "No, why?"

"You're really quiet. If you don't want to do this we can just go to dinner or something. I know it's kind of different and-"

"I want to go horseback riding."

"Oh." He smiles big and you can see the relief on his face. "Okay good. I'm really looking forward to having you meet my favorite horse."

You put your hand on the door to get out. "I can't wait."

An hour later and you're set up on a horse named Butters, his favorite, and you're strolling along side Shawn on a well worn path around some trees behind the barns. You were nervous at first, needing Shawn's help to stay on the horse but eventually you got the hang of it.

"So, you must really like horses then?" You giggle, looking over at Shawn during a lull in conversation.

"Yeah. I used to spend every summer here with my Uncle Carlos. I still come out here pretty often when I need to relax and get away from it all."

"Ahh, I can see why. It's nice." You bite your lip and glance over. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" He chuckles. "Usually that's how dates go."

"Why don't you fight anymore?"

Shawn is quiet. You know it's a sore subject, seeing as no one really wanted to get too in depth when they talked about Shawn's past. You're curious though. A man like him with his skills and experience could still be in the ring.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, I-I knew you'd ask eventually." He sighs and guides the horses to a clearing in the trees. He slides off and hitches his horse and then yours to a tree before helping you down.

"Seriously, you seem uncomfortable to talk about it. We don't have to."

Shawn stuffs his hands into his pockets as the two of you head for a bunch of rocks. There's a stream nearby and you can hear the water trickling along the rocks you're walking toward. This place is incredibly serene and you feel bad for bringing up such a tense subject when the date has been going so well.

"So, three years ago I won my second championship." Shawn drops down onto a large flat boulder. "But, the fight was so intense I almost killed my opponent. Now I know, fights get rough and tension runs high in the ring when there's a lot of money and a title at stake. It wasn't about that though. I kicked my opponent so hard he dropped, he just went down, lights out. It wasn't until after everything was said and done I found out he had serious brain trauma from the fight, particularly from my kick."

You sit down next to Shawn and grab his hand. He rubs his thumbs over your fingers gently before continuing.

"I found out he had a newborn baby. I accidentally almost killed this man and took him away from his child because of a sport. I had to stop after that. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Oh Shawn." You squeeze his hand and he looks at you. "You didn't kill him though. He's fine, he's alive and with his child. It is part of the risks you take as fighters."

"I know. I just couldn't deal with that sort of thing happening again. I've made my peace with it and with fighting."

"I understand." You scoot a little closer and he runs his free hand over his hair. "You're a great trainer. Maybe being a fighter isn't for you anymore, but your skills aren't wasted this way. Do you want to fight?"

"To be completely honest, yes. I want to fight every single day, I itch to compete and I think that's why I push Connor so hard. I'm living vicariously."

"Maybe you could do some small time stuff? Not such high stakes?"

"I can't." He shakes his head. "When I'm in the ring I don't stop, I fight hard until I'm out or I win. It's all or nothing."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But anyways, I'm happy training." He smiles, soft and small but genuine nonetheless. "I'm proud to be training a fighter like Connor."

"Good. That's what matters." You bite your lip and giggle to yourself. "I much rather see you like this then all beat up anyway."

"Oh yeah? Not into the black eye and busted lip look?"

"Not on you." You reach out and tenderly turn his face to you. "You're too gorgeous to see damaged."

"I'm gorgeous?" Shawn smirks and runs his hand over your hair. "I think you're mistaken. You're the gorgeous one here." He cradles your face in his hand and just stares at you lovingly.

"No, definitely not." There's a moment where you're both staring at each other's lips and you both know that you want to make a move but it's too soon. Or is it?

Shawn's hand slides away from your face and he stands, offering to help you up. "Let's go back. I've got stuff to make dinner."

"You're making me dinner?"

He hauls you up against him. "Mmhmm. You can help if you'd like." He holds you steady by your hips. "How does spaghetti and meatballs sound?"

"Really good."

"Good." He puts his arm around your shoulders and starts walking back to the horses. "Because when we both have garlic breath the rest of the night won't matter."

You laugh and he just beams at you. "You're something else." You run your hand over his back and he leans his head on yours. "I like it, I like you."

"I like you too."

_____________________

Wednesday night comes around again quicker than ever and Dixie's is crawling with people. All the fighters from Harlow's have showed up to celebrate the announcement of the western circuit championship bracket. Shawn shows up a little after nine and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He smiles back and makes your heart beat faster. Things have been going incredibly well with him since the date at the ranch. You're falling hard and fast and you don't really want to stop.

"Hey darling," Shawn says over the loudness as he leans against an empty spot at the bar. "How's it going?"

"Packed! Harlow brought all the guys and their friends and families in! It's crazy."

"Good for business though."

"Very. Carrie is moving faster than I've ever seen her go. We've had to pull Dave from the kitchen twice to help me catch up with drinks. We're gonna need to restock." You laugh and point back at the bar. "My tips are racking up fast too."

Shawn looks you over in your required black tee and apron. It's nothing special, but you know it looks good on you and so does he. "You deserve every dollar you get tonight. You're working hard."

"I am. Can I get you something?"

"Just a diet coke is fine. I'm taking it easy in case anyone needs a ride home tonight."

You turn around and fill a glass from the soda guns attached to the counter. "Enjoy yourself, you got most of these guys to this competition after all."

Shawn raises his drink to that and smiles. "I'm going to go hang out with Connor and Jack. I'll check in later?"

"I'll be here."

Two hours later and you are pushing through the kitchen doors to find Carrie. There's a guy who's harassing you and he's way more wasted then he should be, you've only served him three drinks and they weren't that strong. You suspect he may be taking something along with his drinks and Carrie won't have that sort of activity in her establishment.

"We've got a problem." You state angrily, gripping the doorway to the walk in cooler. "It's that asshole who's been trying to get my number since he sat down."

"Yeah?" Carrie turns to look at you as she hauls out a box of burger patties for the cooks. "Is he tweaked out?"

"I think so. He just grabbed my chest when I leaned over to hand some drinks to a guy beside him."

Carrie is livid, her eyes look like she could kill a man with her bare hands and possible has before. "Oh he's gone, I'm gonna-"

A loud crash from beyond the kitchen stuns you both and not a second later Dave, the line prep cook, throws open the door to the backroom and says there's a fight in the front area. Carrie drops the box of burgers in the cooler and closes the door as she hightails it to the front with you on her heels.

The scene before you is not pretty and immediately you think that it's one of the fighters involved. You're right. It's a fighter. But not a current one. It's Shawn and he is standing in front of the bar squared up with the drunk grabby handed guy. There is an overturned table and chairs and you think Shawn's already knocked the asshole down once, or he stumbled into the table and fell.

"Shawn!" You try to yell over the crowd but it's way too loud.

Carrie pushes past you and shoves her tiny frame through the crowd. You decide to go around to get behind the bar and as soon as you do you see a mess of shattered glass and ice on the floor.

"Shawn!" You shout, hands cupped around your mouth. "Shawn stop!"

He isn't listening or he can't hear you. Either way he's swinging at the drunk guy again in defense and before anything can get worse, the cops show up. You watch as the crowd separates and drunk grabby hands gets cuffed while Shawn tries to talk to the cops. It's no use and you watch them walk Shawn out of the bar as well.

You lean on the counter with your back to the door as the two guys get escorted out. Great. You can't help but feel like this is your fault. Shawn must have seen the move grabby hands pulled and approached him. You run your hand over your hair and look to Carrie as she steps behind the bar.

"God damn fighters. This is such a mess!"

"Yeah it is." You chuckle dryly to yourself. "It sure is."

______________________

You didn't think you'd ever be waiting in the lobby of a police station at three in the morning but here you are. Harlow was going to come with, in fact she was going to go alone and bail Shawn out but Jodi was absolutely trashed and you know she needed to take care of her over Shawn, so you said you would go. Besides, you wanted to talk with him one on one about the fight and why it happened.

You hear Shawn before you see him. He's coming down the hall behind the check in desk. "What do you mean my girlfriend came and-"

"Hey," you wave and he walks over to you quickly and hugs you tight.

"Thank God you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. What would have happened to me?"

Shawn pulls you back and holds your face. "I couldn't find you after that guy put his hands on you. I was worried you left Dixie's or he did something."

"Shawn, he was wasted. What was he going to do to me? He could hardly stand."

"I don't know. I approached him after I saw what happened and he was talking all this shit like what he wanted to do to you. God it was disgusting, and then I didn't see you around and I panicked."

You cup his face and he has a bruise blossoming on his left jaw. "So your instinct was to fight him?"

"He came at me. I was just going to get some of the guys to help me escort him out but he started swinging as soon as I said he needed to go."

"Well it's done and over with now." You turn and head for the doors. "I'll take you to get your truck at the bar."

The ride to Dixie's is quiet. The dark streets are empty, illuminated only by the soft yellow street lights that have been there for far longer than they should be. Seriously the light is so dim it hardly lights up the road. You turn down the street you live on to take a shortcut to Dixie's and as you pass your house you glance at it instinctively.

You slam on the breaks just past your driveway. "What the fuck?" You put the car in park and squint at your darkened front door, or lack thereof. The door is open, gone by the looks of it.

"Don't get out of the car." Shawn warns, flipping the lock button. "Someone could still be in there. Call the cops and back up out of sight."

You fumble with your phone and put it up to your ear. You report the break in and your street name. As soon as you're done you reverse down the street until you're a few houses away.

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your shoulder. "Do you know anyone who might have done this?"

"No. I have no idea. I don't even have anything worth stealing!" You lean your head on the steering wheel. "I don't understand. Could this night get any worse?"

"Don't say that." Shawn rubs up and down your back. "It's not the end of the world. We'll find out what's going on."

"What if I had gone home from Dixie's? What if I didn't come pick you up?" You look at the darkened house. "What if I was there?"

"You weren't. That's what matters. Look," he points to a police car coming down the street. "Here comes the cops."

"Will you go in with me?"

"Of course. You think I'm gonna just stay in the car?" Shawn grabs your hand and kisses it gently. "Come on, let's go talk to the cops."

An hour later and you've filed a full report with Officer Jones. There was nothing stolen as far as you can see. The house is fine, completely in order except for your room. Your dresser had been torn through and your closet emptied out, bed sheets and blankets torn apart too. You have absolutely no idea what someone was looking for and Officer Jones kept asking if you were completely sure you didn't know who could have done this.

It's nearly five in the morning and you are exhausted. The sun is coming up and the sky outside is getting brighter by the minute. You need to sleep and you don't feel safe in your house with the door broken and your bedroom torn apart.

"Grab some clothes, I'm gonna take you to my place." Shawn says, walking around your mess of a bedroom. "We'll take care of the broken door frame and stuff later."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Come on. I know we're both exhausted so I'll drive and we'll pick up my truck tomorrow. We need to rest, it's been a long night."

You grab a tote bag from your closet and throw a few shirts and jeans in it with some underwear. "I could stay with Jodi."

"I really would feel better if you stayed with me." Shawn takes the bag from you as you grab a pair of shoes and socks by the dresser. "Are you okay with it?"

"Of course Shawn." You join him by the door and lay your hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. We'll go to your place. If you want to take that stuff to the car I'm going to grab my camera gear. I told Harlow I'd start doing photos tomo- today." You sigh. "Well, I'll try and get everything set up after we get a few hours of sleep."

"I'm sure she'll understand." He rubs your back and you lean your head on his shoulder. You're absolutely at your limit, body ready to collapse on the next available soft surface. "I'll be in the car. Don't take too long."

"I won't."

_____________________

When you wake up you have no idea what time it is. Shawn's room is bright and you look around for some hint that he is there. He had insisted you take his bed and he'd sleep on the couch. His bed smells so good, like fresh laundry and his cologne. Warm and spicy, it is absolutely perfect. You reach for your phone on the nightstand and see it's just after noon. There are three missed texts.

Harlow: are you coming by to do the shoot today?

Shawn: I'll be at the gym, take it easy and help yourself to the fridge.

Harlow: nvm please rest I talked to Shawn

You close your eyes and flop back onto the pillows. You promised Harlow you'd be by to take some photos, at least some of the ones for the gym website. You turn over and curl up with Shawn's spare pillow, pressing your face into while opening Shawn's text to reply.

You: is Harlow mad I didn't make it?

Shawn: no. I explained the situation and she's more worried about you than anything

You: tell her I can still make it in to set up at least

Shawn: okay. If u are coming by bring me an extra shirt? I forgot to bring one for post workout.

You: okay no prob.

You glance over at his dresser and then back to the window opposite you that over looks the tree line behind his house. It looks like a nice day, it'd be a shame to waste it but you aren't feeling like going out. You just want to stay curled up in his bed forever. Yesterday was so draining with everything that happened and you don't know how much you can handle without snapping at someone. Rest had definitely helped but you still feel uneasy about the break in. It just seemed so targeted like Officer Jones said, but you can't imagine what someone would want from you.

Eventually you get up and make your way down stairs to the kitchen. Shawn's place is beautiful, it truly is. It's very much like a modern cabin and you're not surprised since it's just outside of town in the woods. He's got a few neighbors but it's not like a usual neighborhood setting.

You grab a protein bar from what you assume was once a fruit basket. It looks good enough and you grab your purse from the living room, stuffing one of Shawn's tees into it before you head out. You pause, looking down at the white shirt hanging out of your purse. You go back into the bedroom and take a blue shirt from Shawn's dresser before stripping off your top and pulling the white tee on over your head. It's a little big but it fits well enough and you smile to yourself in his mirror. You grab your purse and head for the front door.

The drive into town is quiet, a little long, but it's nice. It's one long road that winds around the woods in a circle and then turns out on to Main St that you take all the way into town. It's basically a cul-de-sac but in the woods. The whole time you wonder if you should stop by the house and check on it, or if you should call Officer Jones and see if they have anything to go off of. You're really banking on one of your neighbor's having a security camera or something that spotted the intruder. Though your street is so dark at night it's hard to see anything anywhere.

You turn into the lot behind Harlow's and park beside Jodi's Jeep. You unload your backdrops and stands, carrying everything in the back door. You're met with Connor whos grabbing some tape for a mat from the storage room and he offers to help.

"Look who I found," Connor announces as you walk out onto the gym floor with all your stuff in hand.

Shawn walks over from boxing with a stand up bag. "Hey darling," he takes your camera bag and stand case. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes." You smile softly. "Your bed is very comfortable."

"I'm glad." He rests his hand on your lower back. "Is this my shirt?"

"Maybe."

He grins and kisses your cheek. "It's all yours now. Looks good on you anyway. Any word from Officer Jones?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll call tonight or tomorrow."

"You can stay at my place as long as you need to."

You stand up on your toes a bit and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Alright love birds break it up." Jodi says loudly, clapping at the two of you. "Before you start getting set up I wanna talk to you about what happened, I need to know who I'm going to skin alive."

"We don't know anything yet Jodi." Shawn says with an eye roll. "I told you that."

Jodi snorts. "I'm still going to kick someone's ass."

"I promise I'll let you know who to hunt when we hear back from the police." You say softly and Shawn gives you another kiss on the head before heading back over to the cage with Connor. Jodi puts her arm around you and the two of you head to the backroom that isn't full of old equipment to set up your camera.

_____________________

Photos go well, you manage to get all the guys done in a few hours. You'll go home later and look them over to decide if you need to reshoot anything. But for now you are finished and starting to pack up.

"Hey, you forgot one."

You turn and look at Shawn standing in the doorway to the backroom where you're set up. "I did?"  

"Yeah. Me." He grins and steps in, closing the door behind him. "I thought you couldn't wait to get photos of me."

"Well, I figured I could get them any time."

"Oh? You think I'll pose for you whenever you like?"

You smirk. "You might, but I want to take candids of you."

Shawn wraps his arms around you and you lean back into his chest. "Candids huh?" He noses against your ear, hand going over your stomach. "Like private candids of me in my bed, laid out on the sheets holding my-"

"Shawn!"

He chuckles deeply and you can feel your body get warm, heat pooling between your legs. "Is that not what you want?"

You turn around in his hold and run a hand over his hair. "I want so much more from you then a couple of photos."

"Yeah? Tell me what you want."

"Oh you know...all the good stuff."

"The good stuff?" He walks you back against the backdrop and you bring his head down, foreheads rolling together. "This kind of good stuff?" He asks lowly before he kisses you softly.

"I know why you came in here." You whisper between kisses, hands going up and down his back. "You're jealous."

He lets out a growl as he kisses along your jaw. "You think I'm jealous of my fighters?"

"Your fighters hmm?"

"Mmm. I'm partnered with Harlow." He pulls back to look down at you. "I own the gym with her. I thought you knew?"

"No, I had no idea. She seems so bossy and it's called Harlow's so..."

Shawn plays with the ends of your hair, twisting his finger around bits of it. "She already had the place, I just bought in with championship winnings to keep it open. She runs the business side with Jodi and I run the gym floor as you can tell."

"Wow. So Connor and the other guys in the circuit this season is a huge deal for you."

"Yeah. A win from one of them could mean we expand Harlow's, new equipment, more fighters. With four guys going this year we have a good chance, and with Connor, we have the odds in our favor, I think."

You grin and shake your head. "Our first kiss and here we are talking business. Y'know if you were anyone else I'd have left by now."

"But I'm not anyone else." He leans in and bumps his nose to yours. "I'm special huh?"

"Oh you're special alright."

Shawn gives you one more kiss before he laughs and pulls back. "Let me make it up to you. I told Connor I'd go to dinner with him at Dixie's to talk about his first fight and what to expect. We can go a little early and have some time to ourselves first. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a date."

"Oh it's not necessarily a date, but it could be."

You smile and he just holds your hips looking down at you. "Come on, enough staring like weirdos. I'm hungry."

____________________

Dixie's is packed when you arrive but you manage to get a table near the bar that's a small two seater. You see Carrie running around like a mad woman and two of the day time waitresses are running around behind her. The place is popular this time of year with fighters and their crews moving into town and nearby during the first part of the western circuit. That's what Carrie told you anyway during her briefing on what to expect and how she deals with the increased number of fights during this time of year.  

"Is that Connor?" Shawn asks, pointing to a table behind you. "What's he doing here so- oh I see."

You turn and look over at where Shawn is pointing to a corner table where Connor is and leaning on the table in her work clothes is Sammy. You smirk, it's about time they talked. Sammy has been eyeing Connor for weeks but she's hesitant because he's a fighter and she knows what the lifestyle entails.

“They’re kids, leave 'em be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sammy is a good girl. I’m not worried about it.”

“She is. She also knows what it’s like to live with fighters. She told me her brother was a fighter.” You shake your head. “I think she said he went north to try for the canadian championship but he didn't win and ended up settling down up there”

“I knew her brother Devin, we fought a few times.” Shawn smiles over his drink. “The guy was really good, he gave me a run for my money.”

“Oh yeah? Did he train at Harlow’s?”

“No, no it was way before then. When I was nineteen he was twenty one, we went a few rounds in my first championship entry. I didn’t win that year, I got too cocky and big headed. He was a tough dude though, if Sammy is anything like him she’ll keep Connor in his place.”

You chuckle. “Sammy is very shy, I’m not sure she’s like her brother at all.”

“The shy ones are the ones you gotta watch out for.” Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes.

"Anyways, you said I could stay at your place again?"

"Mmhmm." Shawn smiles and chews on his straw. "I definitely don't mind."

"Good. I'm nervous about going home until we find out more from the police. It's feels like such a personal attack since they went through just my bedroom and didn't even take anything." You shake your head and lean you chin on your hand on the table. "They didn't even take jewelry. Someone wanted something from me."

"Maybe they thought it was someone else who lived there?"

"I don't know. I hope there is video footage from one of the neighbors that shows us something."

"They're gonna check with the neighbors for you?"

"Yeah, Officer Jones called while I was photographing Gauge. He said they're gonna canvas the area, ask for surveillance from anyone nearby and see if they can't get a suspect or even a car or something."

Shawn leans back and crosses his arms. "Y'know I was actually thinking, do you think it could be Tate? I didn't want to say something about him to the cops but is there something you have of his?"

You raise your eyebrows. You hadn't thought of Tate being a suspect. Hell, you were two states away from him now and it's been months since the break up. "I don't think I have anything. I gave him everything back, all his clothes and anything he ever bought me. I left it all in a box in our apartment."

"It was just a thought."

"No, it's a good one. He is crazy enough to do something like that." You roll your eyes and flag down Carrie to pay for your drinks. "Maybe I can call him, or I could try his sister Maggie."

"I'd try Maggie if you have a good relationship with her. If it was him he probably won't want to talk to you."

Carrie stops by the table and hands you your bill. "Have you seen Sammy?"

"She's over there with..." You look around for her and Connor but neither are at the table in the corner anymore. "Well she was here. Is she working tonight?"

"Yeah. Her shift starts in five minutes." Carrie takes your cash and you wave her off for change. "You say you seen her?"

Shawn chuckles. "She was with Connor."

"The fighter?"

"Yeah, my champ." Shawn stands and gives you a look and you nod, letting him know you don't mind if he goes looking for the two of them. "I think I know where they are."

Carrie raises her eyebrows. "Well if you find her, tell her to get her ass to work."

"Yes ma'am." Shawn smiles. "See you at the house." He squeezes your shoulder and heads for the front door.

A minute later Sammy comes walking in very flushed and you can't help but smile to yourself. She's got a flower tucked into her hair and you think her and Connor must have been sitting out on the patio since the flower is definitely from the pots out there.  

____________________

You get to Shawn's place a little after eight. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's there. The sun is starting to go down and you are tired from working on photos and stress from the break in. Your brain is absolutely taxed. All you want is some dinner and a soft bed. You turn the handle to the door and walk into music blasting from the kitchen. It's some eighties hair band and you chuckle to yourself as you walk across the living room to find Shawn around the corner shadow boxing at the stove shirtless.

"What's for dinner?" You laughs and he looks back around with a grin. "Smells good!"

Shawn turns and shuts off the music on his phone. "It's chili. I figured it's pretty easy to throw together since I got home just a few minutes ago."

"Why not order something?"

"Eh, I like homemade." He stirs the pot around. "I haven't had it in a while, I thought it'd be nice."

You walk around the island and take a look into the pot. It's not chili. Well, it is, but it's not what you were expecting. "What kind of chili is this?"

"Chili Verde. My dad's recipe. Wanna taste?" He spoons some out to cool in a little bowl on the counter.  "I promise it's good."

You smile. "I'm sure it's very good. What's in it?"

"Pork, onions, green chilies. I cheated and used a bottle of premade chili verde salsa for a starter since I don't have time to stew tomatillos and green chilies for hours." He spoons some up for you and you take a bite. "Good yeah?"

"Hot." You cover your mouth. "It's kinda spicy but I like it. It's good."

Shawn beams and scoops out two bowls to cool. "I'll finish getting dinner ready, go change and relax."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for making me dinner."

"Of course." He kisses your nose and your heart skips. "Go on."

Post dinner you're sitting on the couch with Shawn watching some ghost hunter show. He's got his arm around your shoulders and you're tucked into his side snugly. It's comfortable, being with Shawn feels incredibly natural. He's warm and safe.

"What're you doing next Sunday?" Shawn asks as he tucks his feet against yours where your legs are outstretched on the ottoman. "I was thinking if you're available we could go out."

"I work the late shift but I can see if one of the guys can cover for me."

"I don't want you to miss work. We can go another day."

"No, I want to go. It'll be a nice escape from the stress around here." You run your hand down his forearm and slide your hand into his. "Are we going to go horseback riding again?"

Shawn squeezes your hand. "Nope. I have another idea."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling." He grins at you and you narrow your eyes at him. "I can surprise you again can't I? It's more fun that way."

"I'd like to see what tops horseback riding."

"I have a few ideas. Don't worry." He glances at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "I should go to bed, I have a seven o'clock session with Jack tomorrow." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Do you mind if I take the bed?"

"Nope. I don't mind sharing."

"Sharing? You're ready for that?"

You push off of him and stand up, putting your hand out to him. "I'm ready for anything with you."

He takes your hand and stands, pulling you against him. "Anything huh?" He runs a hand over your hair. "Falling a little fast aren't we?"

"I don't mind." You wrap your arms around his middle. "We work well together. I've never felt this comfortable and free around someone before."

He hums. "It feels natural. I completely understand."

You scratch at his back gently and he smiles down at you. "Let's go to bed. You need to be up early."

"Mmm I could always reschedule if we wanted to stay up late." He runs his hand down your back and over your butt. "I'm sure Jack won't mind."

You shake your head and laugh. "No, you're not cancelling work because of me. We can sleep together any time."

"Well don't make it sound like we're an old married couple, jeez."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly. "Maybe it's good practice for the future."

"Wh- oh." He grins. "First kiss and you're planning our future all in one day? Damn."

"Oh shut up." You pull away and head to his bedroom. "Come on, chop chop. The bed awaits."

_____________________

You wake up in the middle of the night and you're freezing. It doesn't even feel like there is a heater on in the house. You roll towards Shawn and slide your arm around his middle, spooning him from behind. He shifts. A soft grunt followed by a mumble of incoherent sleep laden words. He's like a furnace, body radiating into yours.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm." You press a kiss to his hair. "All good now."

"I missed this." He places his hand over yours on his chest. His heart beats in time with yours, a cadence of comfort in the night. "I missed being held."

"It's been a while?" 

"A long while. I didn't like to date when I fought. I only wanted to focus on my work." He chuffs. "I'd deprive myself to be the best. Stupid huh?" 

"No. You thought it'd help. It must have, you did win." You flex your fingers against his skin, blunt nails scratching him lightly. "Do you like being the little spoon?" 

"Love it. There's something about having someone smaller than you curled up and wrapped around you that I just love. I do like being the big spoon too, but I really enjoy being held sometimes." 

"I'll hold you any time." You give him a squeeze and he tangles his legs with yours. "You're like a big teddy bear."

He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep to the sound of his soft breathing and the beating of his heart under your fingertips. 

-------------------------

End Part 1

-----------------------

Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be out sometime in the future as I have to write the ending still, but it’ll be another 13k at least. Thank you all again.  - A

[sylvanfreckles]

Chemistry

This is entirely and forever the fault of @angelfishofthelord and their “The Genre You Struggle With” challenge.

And thus, I present, a schmoopy, silly, rom-com style epoch of the first meeting of Sam and Sam’s Blurry Wife (from the finale). 

Summary: A coffee shop, a sprig of mistletoe, and a barista who just might be Santa’s little helper...looks like Gabrielle and Sam are learning a little more about Chemistry.

* * *

“Good morning, Professor!”

Gabrielle D'Angelo raised a hand in greeting at Nico, the morning barista at Renegade Coffee. She had to duck a little bit to avoid the excessive use of tinsel around the door, but once inside the warm coffee shop she could almost forgive the sheer ton of glitter and sparkle and twinkle around her.

Almost.

“You certainly went all out,” she commented as Nico set a tall, steaming cup of her usual morning order on the counter. “It's barely December and this place looks like a Hallmark exploded in here.”

“Well, you know,” Nico shrugged. “Gloria went a little nuts. She downsized to an apartment this summer, so we get all the decorations that won't fit in her new place.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabrielle nodded. She couldn't help but notice the row of nutcrackers on top of the display case. They were all in different little service uniforms—like a postman, milkman, garbage collector, teacher. She pointed at them, eyebrows raised. “No barista?”

“Some people have no taste,” Nico replied with a haughty sniff before breaking out in a dimpled smile. “What else can I get you, Professor?”

Gabrielle leaned down to study the pastries in the case. She liked that Nico always called her Professor, even though she wasn't teaching this year. It sounded better than “textbook revisionist”, which was her actual profession. “Cheese danish?”

“Coming up. I'll bring it out to you when it's warm.”

She raised her coffee cup in toast and left a ten-dollar bill on the counter. That would cover the coffee, pastry, first refill, and her tip...for now. If she couldn't get through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases she was going to need more than this. Not even Nico's secret whiskey flask could get her through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases.

Gabrielle made her way to her favorite booth in the corner and began unloading her rolling laptop case. Well...it wasn't actually a case. More of a plastic milk crate on a portable luggage dolly, with her laptop tucked in to one side. From the crate she unpacked three older chemistry textbooks, a half-dozen manuscripts held together by alligator clips, and a Hello Kitty pencil case that contained the pens and highlighters she'd need (shut up, it was lucky).

“Cheese danish for milady?” Nico offered, as soon as Gabrielle had unloaded and booted up her laptop. She accepted the little plate and absently took a bite from the warm danish, ignoring the fork Nico had placed at her side, and stared at the glowing logo as the computer slowly roused itself.

Her laptop was old, still a relic from her graduate days. She always meant to buy a new one when her tax refund hit every year, but something else came up. Car repairs, a friend's wedding, sewage line backing up into her bathroom...there was never enough money. If she could make the deadline on the textbook revisions, though, she should have enough for a new laptop and a new muffler. No more cable ties and duct tape!

As Gabrielle waited, computer slowly idling its way awake, she caught herself staring at the door, wondering if Hippy Man would appear today.

Hippy Man was...well, she really was supposed to be above these things. But with that hair and the little bit of stubble...hey, a girl could still dream, even if that girl had two doctorates and a Very Important Opportunity. Plus, he was probably taken. Or an asshole. Or both!

Hippy Man didn't come in as often as Gabrielle did, unless he was here the three days a week she let herself sleep past 6am. He didn't have a regular order, Nico and the others didn't know him by name, and he never stayed longer than the time he took to drink his tea of the day.

(She knew he favored Chai because he ordered it at least twice a week, and Nico put a cut little accent on when he called out a Chai latte...that was why she knew it, she wasn't snooping.)

The bell over the door jingled (and jingled...and jingled...looks like Gloria replaced the little shop bell with an entire harness of sleigh bells), and in walked Hippy Man. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

He was in the blue flannel today, which was Gabrielle's favorite. The brown one washed out his complexion, and the yellow one was just a no. Between the flannel and the beanie he looked like some kind of beatnik poet, though the muscles in his forearms and the callouses on his hands spoke more to manual labor.

(She wasn't snooping! She was just...bored.)

“Chai latte today, sir?” Nico asked. Ah, good! Hippy Man was coming in regularly enough to start being recognized.

Hippy Man started back, staring from the board to Nico for a moment. Gabrielle wanted to roll her eyes...maybe this wasn't a small town, but it was a small coffee shop. Come to Renegade Coffee enough times and Nico would learn something about you. It happened. Just go with it.

“Yeah, uh, sounds great,” Hippy Man nodded. “Do you have any of those vegan blueberry muffins?”

“Saved one for you!” Nico replied cheerily. God, he was the best. Gabrielle ducked her head, pretending like she wasn't snooping. (Okay, so she was snooping a little bit.) Obviously Nico had noticed that Hippy Man only drank tea and ate the vegan muffins (ew). Nico had probably figured out the guy's entire backstory based on his morning orders.

The bright tones of the Windows theme alerted Gabrielle to the fact that her laptop had finally booted up. Gabrielle shook herself, crammed the last of her danish in her mouth, and started on the arduous process to getting her dinosaur of a machine to log on to the Renegade Coffee WiFi.

Hippy Guy always waited at the counter for his order, which just added to the weird. Most patrons took a seat, relaxed a little, but not this guy. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, bowed forward a little as though to hide his ridiculous height.

(Really, instead of Hippy Man maybe she should have called him The Moose.)

“Here you go, dude,” Nico announced, setting Hippy Man's beverage and muffin on the counter. “Enjoy!”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. You too.”

Gabrielle bit back a snort, covering it up with a sip from her coffee (Renegade's own Double Dark Dark blend, guaranteed the strongest coffee in the tri-county area. Hey, the taxonomy of noble gases wasn't a laughing matter). At least Hippy Man was as human as the rest of them.

She rested an elbow on the table and leaned her chin in her hand to watch Hippy Man blunder through an embarrassed apology/explanation for what he'd just said—even though Nico had heard “you too” so many times he didn't even react anymore—while she waiting for the little spinny thing to connect her to the internet. Dr. Adair had probably sent three more emails, each one trying to decide between “the order to which we assign these elements” and “to which order we assign these elements”.

In the corner of her eye she saw her screen go white and leaned back to look at it.

No connection.

Gabrielle frowned and tapped the WiFi icon again.

More spinning. She took a minute to straighten the manuscripts—Dr. Russel's additions to the chapters on heavy metals were probably the best she'd seen yet, especially considering Dr. Russel had her own proofreader and hadn't demanded to revise her entry dozens of times, like Dr. Adair.

The screen flashed white again. No connection.

“Hey, Nico?” Gabrielle called. She noticed Hippy Guy frowning at his phone, but ignored him for the moment (which was difficult). “Is the WiFi down?”

Nico poked his head out of the back, towel draped over his shoulder. “Sorry, Professor. It was acting up last night...guess it's still out there. Gloria said she'd call it in when she gets here.”

Gabrielle sunk down in her chair, biting her lip and staring blankly at her computer. She could always pull up the emails on her phone, she supposed. The textbook itself was in a shared online file so she wouldn't be able to work on that until the WiFi was fixed...but she could go through the manuscripts and make notes by hand. With a heavy sigh she slapped her laptop shut and tugged the first stack of paper over.

Oh shit. Hippy Man was watching her.

Gabrielle bent forward over the table, letting her dark hair fall forward like a curtain to cut him off from view. Sure, he was cute and all, but she didn't really want to get into this with him now.

Hippy Man was standing up.

Don't come over, don't come over, don't come over....

Hippy Man was walking over.

Dammit.

“Hi, I'm Sam,” Hippy Man said, holding his hand out.

Gabrielle blew out a sigh and accepted the gesture. “Gabrielle.”

Apparently that was enough for Hippy Man—Sam—and he pulled out the chair opposite. “So, you're a professor?”

“I'm not teaching at the moment,” Gabrielle hedged. Sam was looking at the books on her table, actually touching one of the old textbooks to turn it so he could see the spine. His eyebrows shot up.

Oh god. Here it comes. She could see the headline now...Local Himbo Knows More About Chemistry Than Distinguished Textbook Revisionist.

“You teach chemistry?” Sam asked.

“I'm...working on the textbook,” Gabrielle said. She braced herself for it. Every time she met a guy—at least the tall, ruggedly handsome, flannel-wearing, beatnik-poet-looking ones—they were always intimidated by her work. Or they broke it down to something less (no, it wasn't the same as his mom putting together the family newsletter...yes, she did have a degree in chemistry...no, that didn't mean she could break bad or whatever, and no, she didn't know how to make meth!).

“That's incredible!” Sam said. He actually had the textbook open, caressing the table of contents. “I think I used this edition my sophomore year—is this the one you're revising?”

Gabrielle stared at him. “Well...we're about three versions ahead, but we're going back to that edition for the section on Amphoterism, Peterson really didn't do it justice even if he did have tenure at the time.”

Sam's eyebrows had shot up even higher, almost into his beanie. Gabrielle had to laugh at herself. “Sorry, shop talk.”

“It's okay,” Sam gently closed the textbook and placed it back on the stack reverently. “I see you in here a lot, you just always seem so busy. I didn't want to disturb you.”

Gabrielle shrugged. She had a lot of work to do. Coming out to Renegade Coffee to do it just felt better than working at home, with nothing but her beta fish to distract her. “And how about you, chai-tea-and-vegan-muffin-man? What do you do when you're not telling Nico to enjoy his meal?”

Sam blushed and stared down at the cup in his hands. God, he was cute, up this close. He even had dimples. “It's just a reflex,” he said defensively. She giggled—actually giggled, like an idiot in a rom-com. Instead of making Sam blush even harder, he peered up at her through his bangs and unleashed a devastating smile.

“So?” Gabrielle insisted. “What do you do?”

“This and that,” Sam shrugged. “Mostly pest removal.”

“Yeah?” she took a sip of her coffee. It was almost cold now...this was the point she usually drank the rest of it in one long shot, but she decided to savor it this time. Nico had snuck in a pump of peppermint flavor, and while she would normally beat him with edition three of A Modern Approach to Chemistry she was willing to forgive him this time. It was almost Christmas. “So, like, mice and roaches and stuff?”

Sam gave a halfhearted shrug. “More...specialized.”

Gabrielle felt her own eyebrows rise. “Specialized pest removal? What, like...coyotes in the crawlspace?”

He held up a hand, forefinger and thumb about a centimeter apart. “Almost. It's...complicated. I'm kind of doing it on the side, taking some time off to deal with...personal stuff.”

Shit, Gabrielle could understand that. When her widowed father had gotten remarried she'd taken almost a year to work with a pharmaceutical company in Canada. She loved her new step-father, sure, but it was hard to see anyone else in her mother's place.

Nico stopped by the table, a fresh coffee in one hand and a hot tea in the other. “On the house,” he explained. “Gloria will be in in about twenty minutes, she said she already called the internet guys.”

“Thanks, Nico,” Gabrielle smiled. She threw back the rest of her coffee in one long pull and set the empty cup to one side before tugging the new, hot cup close.

Nico was staring at her. Well, he was staring from her to Sam and back again.

“What?” Gabrielle demanded.

He pointedly looked up.

For the first time, Gabrielle noticed there was mistletoe hanging from the light fixture above her head.

“Nico!” Gabrielle moaned.

“Oh, sorry, I didn't...see that,” Sam protested. He tried to scoot his chair back but Nico had stuck a foot behind it.

“Either you kiss her or I kiss you, big fella,” Nico said, winking.

Face burning with embarrassment, Gabrielle looked over in time to see Sam give a helpless shrug. He shuffled sideways into the booth next to her and gently caught her chin with one hand.

“Merry Christmas, Gabrielle,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

Her stomach did a little flip, which had nothing to do with the coffee she'd just down, and she found herself unconsciously leaning toward him when he pulled back.

Gabrielle blinked, staring up at the man who was now sitting beside her. “What was that?”

Nico snatched up her empty cups and gave her a wink. “That, my dear Professor, was Chemistry.”

* * *

The challenge:

-Must not deviate into your usual preferred genre of writing (I normally write hurt/comfort, action, and suspense, so this was romance/rom-com)

-Must be written in third-person (done!)

-For added difficulty, add an essential original character (pick between Gabrielle as the OFC version of Sam’s Blurry Wife or Nico the barista as Santa’s little helper)

-Use less than ten tags (not including character/relationship tags) (is “chemistry words” a tag? I looked them up)

-For extra added difficulty write for a ship you hate (Sam/SBW is one I hate if SBW isn’t Eileen...but I named her Gabrielle because I also hate Sabriel)

[angelicspaceprince]

Dewey x Crafter Reader Headcanons

Ive fallen down a rabbit hole of crafting and I can't get up. Help me. I write hcs to help save my soul

I'll also edit when I have computer access so then there is a read more button or whatever they're called, I can't find it on mobile

Wrote directly onto the tumblr app so if there are any mistakes that's why. No betas, we die by our spelling and grammar mistakes here

You were a crafter before you met Dewey, having taken up most crafts by the time you were 17

Sewing, needlepoint, embroidery, cross stitch, knitting, crocheting

You'd experimented with them all and even though each one had its merits, you definitely had your favourites

Then life happened. You had to start working, unable to attend college, and soon you had no time to craft. If you were awake, you were working

Mostly low paying jobs to cover rent, bills etc, taking on as many shifts as possible

It was actually during one of your shifts you met Dewey

You started working at a local music shop, mostly serving and organising CDs when a very excited Dewey rocked up, wanting to find the newest release for one of his favourite bands

You got to talking and realised that you had similar music tastes and, even though you really wanted to get to know him more, you had to remain professional. You were still on the clock

Luckily for you, however, you were invited to go see a group of local bands performing to celebrate your friend's birthday

You recognized Dewey the moment he stepped on stage and was in awe at his musical skill

You figured it'd be weird to go up to him and start talking because a) if he didn't recognize you then having a stranger come up to you and say that you remembered him from work would be odd and b) if he DID recognize you from work that'd be even odder

You didn't want to give off stalker vibes, so you stayed at the bar, content just to leave it

Dewey, however, saw you in the crowd and had a different plan in mind

Still riding the adrenaline high from being on stage, he walked straight up to you

"I don't know if you remember me, bu-"

"I remember you."

"Oh."

You both blushed heavily as you shift in your seat. "Drink?" You offered. "I....I liked talking to you earlier, I'd like to talk some more."

Dewey positively beamed at that, sitting down next to you as you effectively start ignoring your friend's birthday party celebrations in favour of talking to the man in front of you

The rest, as they say, was history

You ended up dating pretty quickly after you first met, moving in with each other after only dating for 6 months

It was an accident, you had your power cut off (again) and it was the middle of winter. Dewey offered you a warm place to stay temporarily and after 4 weeks of looking for a new apartment, he just said "you're already living here, just move in with me."

It made things easier, now there were two people contributing to bills

Rent was never paid in full, but something was always sent in

Patty wasn't impressed by that but Ned wasn't as fussed, just happy to have something coming in

It helped that he really liked you and felt that you were a good fit for Dewey

Even though things still remained tough, you were happy just to have a roof over your head and someone who loved you

When Dewey started working for Horace Green, things became easier

Bills were paid with his paycheck, yours became groceries and fuel money

Even then, for the first time in a long time, you had spare cash

Most went into savings but being able to afford your own Netflix account? Felt amazing

Despite having a bit of extra money, some habits were hard to break.

You rarely bought clothing from anywhere but thrift stores and Walmart, Dewey prefering Walmart but essentially doing the same thing

Unfortunately, that meant the clothing you had bought wasn't always the best of quaility, especially when Dewey was the one wearing it

Just the nature of his jumpy, clutzy, accident prone and slightly messy self meant you were constantly buying him new shirts and mending his sweater vests

To be honest, it was getting old

You'd also been missing crafting for a while so. Two birds, one stone

The next time you were in Walmart alone, you grabbed yarn and knitting needles and on the few days a week you were home alone, slowly you started to knit him some new sweater vests, using an old one that was beyond repair as the template to make sure each one fit

The first one was just a plain, fadded red to get yourself back into practice before slowly beginning to add simple designs similar to the few he owned now

Then a couple of weird themed ones, a couple of his favourite bands, one with music notes in the design, one that was birthday themed, one with mini guitars, whatever amused you and you thought would amuse him, you knitted onto the sweater

Each vest took three weeks to make. By the time his birthday came around, you had made him ten new vests, having kept it a secret the entire time

You were super nervous when he opened up his present, but the giant smile on his face was worth it, excited with the concert tickets you managed to get for the two of you (in the pit, of course) and with each new sweater, he got more and more excited

"These are amazing babe! Where did you get them?" He asked as he got up to try his favourite (the one with a replica of his Gibson knitted around the bottom) on

You go quiet. "I....uh.....I made them."

He looked over at you like you just admitted you had found a cure for cancer

You'd neglected to tell him of your crafting past, it never came up so you never said

Now, however, he was keen to see you craft

He never even dared to try it out for himself, but enjoyed watching you knit or crochet without looking at your work, watching TV or chatting to Dewey as you just continued to work

Every year, he got at least two sweaters from you, and you made sure to knit a sensible one and a silly one

What amazed you was the fact that Dewey seemed to have fewer accidents

He took extra special care of all of the stuff you make him, never spilling so much as a drop of coffee on them and tried his best not to get them snagged on the one sharp part of the doorway into his office

One day he came home, nearly in tears

You were folding up laundry but you dropped everything and came rushing over, thinking the absolute worst but instead he simply pushed something into your hands and said "I'm so sorry"

Turns out, he took off his vest when he came in to play a song with the kindergartners, something he now does daily as part of his role as music teacher

He didn't notice one of the kids grabbing it and wandering off with it

It was covered in paint, one of the Gibsons were cut out and the yarn was beginning to unravel, despite clear attempts to keep it from doing so

It was ruined

You hush Dewey as you pull him close and reassure him it's ok, you can make him another one

It took a while to settle him, he treasured everything you made him and he allowed one to get ruined

But once you assured him it was fine and you knew it was an accident, you ended up spooning in the couch as you mentally start planning the new sweater

A month passed when he found a wrapped up parcel on his desk

He was running late, didn't have time to grab a coffee and accidentally grabbed his vest with a massive hole in the back rather than one of your handcrafted ones

Still, he made it to the classroom before any students arrived, so he quickly opened it up and a huge smile plastered its way onto his face

A new sweater vest that was near identicle to his ruined one, a bit cleaner and better designed than the old one

You'd also made him a pair of socks, something you'd been experimenting with, with the AC/DC logos on the side

He found the note at the bottom 'Hope you have a good day. I love you. Y/N. P.S. These are not allowed near the kindergartners ❤'

He quickly changed into the sweater, feeling so much better than he did 5 minutes ago

The socks became his lucky socks and he'd wear them to his gigs, stating that it was like you were up there with him

He shushed you when you pointed out that it meant he was technically stepping on you, telling you "you know what I mean" before giving you a kiss

He'd give you requests for scarves, beanies, the lot. Socks were for bed or performances only, apparently, but everything else was worn whenever

You even made beanies and scarves for members of the band who wanted them, each having the School of Rock logo on it plus the kid's name

Dewey loves wearing and telling everyone about the stuff you make because he thinks it's absolutely incredible you're able to create something like this

And he treasures everything you make him

Most importantly, he's there to listen when you rant that the yarn isn't working like it should, or just about crafting problems in general, and be an ear as you problem solve an issue and is there to celebrate the victories when it finally works

Gets really good at yarn shopping too, picks up the brands you prefer and learns to read the packaging labels

Just

He loves the fact you can create something just like he can

[imagine-loki]

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

+

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

+

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach? 

AUTHOR’S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin’s company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki’s plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Fandral smiled brightly with a loud laugh and in a desperate time to prove him wrong, Loki looked at his schedule with a smart remark on his tongue. Loki’s smile disappeared quickly. Damn. He did have the same class as Fandral.

Fandral smiled that bright smile and then winked to the side and Loki heard the high pitched giggles of flirting women, “Shall we walk together when classes start next week? Perhaps I could get you a date this year?”

With an eye roll and voice laced with sarcasm Loki replied, “yes because I want help from you." 

Sif held her hand out to Loki for his schedule. Thor insisted earlier she could mark where everyone would be this semester for easy communication. So, unwillingly Loki handed it to her knowing he was sentencing himself to public outings instead of the comfort of his room with books. He pondered if he should get out of those outings or try to get out of his room. Perhaps he would meet someone, or a few people, to hang out with instead of his brother during meal times.

Thor clapped Loki’s back, "this is going to be the time of our lives. College is full of possibilities. Last year was such a great time for the five of us! There were plenty of people I met! Last year all you did in your free time was study. Lighten up Brother, and develop friendships.”

Siff spoke up after scribbling on schedules, “Or he could get the best grades, and the honors scholarship for extra money.” Sif gave Thor a raised eyebrow after he chuckled, then she shrugged going back to scribbling. She muttered, “graduate top class and make more money than you. Support himself and whoever stumbles into his life.”

Valstagg’s boisterous laughter caught everyone’s attention until his eyes darted in the direction of a food truck. He mumbled, “That would be quite the stumble for Loki to notice.”

Hogun’s lip twitches a smidge as he looked at the schedules with Siff and marking them. Loki’s schedule was back and he looked it over. He had the 8am class with Thor and knew the idiot would miss too much class from the way Thor groaned over a class first thing on a Monday. Loki had the damn extracurricular art class that Fandral was also in.

Loki was excited for art class because he practiced occasionally by drawing what he imagined a scene looked like from his leisure readings. Although Loki was terrible at drawing realistic details, nothing stopped him from trying. This class filled a block in his major which further helped him decide to pursue some knowledge for his little hobby. No one would ever see such things due to drawing being a secret… well, for now anyway. Fandral was likely to tell everyone of his poor skills once their shared classroom of a three hour long session two times a week.

Fandral inquired, “so…Sif are we going to come to your dorm room for lunch?”

Sif smirked, “the invitation goes to everyone but you.”

“How cruel to keep me away from the sight of your beautiful dorm mate.”

Loki turned as he claimed he would see them later. Loki strolled to the dinning hall. It was a typical day; annoying brother and his friends, people all around him talking animatedly with others, some more intimately touching with the hold of hands or lips locked together. Loki tore his gaze from those people and observed where he was, and why he was there and NOT for some romantic adventure.

The buildings seemingly new due to constant cleaning and repairs. The pathways that seemed to be expanding due to hurried people walking beside the sidewalk trying not to be late. His night owl of a brother for example was always in a rush and did not go with the pace of everyone else. Otherwise, the grass was perfectly manicured. There were areas for decorative flowers, bushes, as well as well placed trees. 

Individuals gathered under trees seeking some comfort in the cooler shade. Loki glanced upwards to the sky that was currently cloudy. Then the sun shone thus pouring warmth onto him and momentarily blinding him. 

Loki was sure he somehow ran into something but with a curse word flying out of someone’s mouth realization struck instantly this was not an object. Loki instinctively held his hands out to catch the person. Short hair in blended layers caught the sunlight in wonderful variations of browns. The hair seemed to flow slowly as Loki hastily pulled the person closer to prevent a fall. Warm leather in his hands that helped with the grasp. Once stabilized Loki glanced down and noticed the petite and plus size girl in his grasp. 

Her eyes were shielded by huge sunglasses, her full cheeks framed by hair placed perfectly, except for a few strands dancing near her lips. A full lower lip pressed to her thin upper one as she pushed out of his grasp.

The trance seemed to end as Loki watched the girl pick up her phone. The glistening pieces around the device let Loki know instantly the screen was shattered. The woman ran her fingers through her hair and Loki was convinced that must be how her hair was supposed to be due to it looking better than before. Her eyebrows angled as she tapped on the phone and it seemed to be working.

Loki had money to replace her phone, even get his which was the newest model of over a thousand dollars. His parents had money due to his father, Odin, owning a software corporation that was supposed to be handed down to either Thor or Loki. Of course depending on who learned the most in college from their business majors. Loki actually had plenty of money he earned himself due to taking a position to work in his father’s business, a branch closest to the campus in an attempt to learn more. To inherit the corporation was the goal and was the reason he spent too much time in his room, practicing programming for his second major in computer science.

Loki quickly replied as soon as it registered, “I am sorry. I didn’t-”

The woman’s face turned to his with lightning speed and her lips parted with a harsh tone, “if you say you didn’t see me because I am short I will bring you down to my level with a punch to your gut.”

Loki blinked and finally noticed how short the woman was. He estimated a little over a foot smaller than himself due to him being able to rest his arm on her head easily, if he were to even attempt it. However with the fiery look he was getting, Loki stammered, “I can get you a new phone. Any phone you want.”

The woman was already tapping on her phone quickly as if sending a text. A few strands of her hair danced in her face but she seemed to ignore it. Loki however, needed to push back a single hair back in place to maintain his professional and clean appearance. Loki was not sure if she was ignoring him or not and he absentmindedly cleared his throat.

The dark haired woman placed her phone in a pocket, ran her other hand through her hair that parted in a different way..that was visually satisfactory as well. Her leather jacket protesting with sounds of attempts to stretch as she crossed her arms. Her eyebrows rose above her glasses and her bottom lip pressed to the thinner one. She seems to be annoyed, arguably she had every reason to have that right. She said nothing, nor did she make any attempt to even try to speak.

Loki wasn’t sure if this little ball of fire even heard a word he said. He spoke again as he took a small writing tablet from his inner coat pocket, “here is my information, we could meet later and you can pick out any phone you wish. There is a business not far from here that I work at-”

A casual, but with irritation mixed, voice spoke, “Not interested. I have the insurance on this one to have it replaced.”

Loki glanced up but did not see her. He turned and she was already walking away, quickly. Loki took long strides to her as he handed the woman the paper with his name, number, and location information to meet. The woman took the paper and seemed to be looking at it with a tilt of her head towards the paper but Loki already seen her eyelashes high up due to her obviously looking at the path she was on. The woman did nothing to stop her quick pace that Loki’s long legs easily kept up with.

As she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the recycling bin she spoke, “Thanks for the offer but I will pass.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed, “pardon?”

The small woman stopped as she replaced the sunglasses to her head. “Can you see now that I don’t want your help?”

Big eyes that were sharp and harsh with angled eyebrows. Eyelashes so thick they seemed to cast their own shadows among her face. Bright green eyes with flecks of dark brown and an inner iris of honey gold that stemmed into the outer green.

“You just cost me a ton of work to replace a dumbass phone. Nice work by the way to try to get me to call you. Clever plan, but it’s not something I fall for.”

“If you would let me help-”

The woman interrupted him, again with a scoff. 

All Loki wanted to do was help her. Atleast to replace what he had broken. Everyone else would jump at the latest phone with the best camera and larger screen. Top notch software that had lighting quick responses. A phone that stored everything for Loki; His contacts, everything in his calendar, personal alarms for daily routines, apps that helped with maintaining his body physique, and importantly he had access to the school web pages for homework-In conclusion, Loki’s phone was his life.

Loki tries again for a chance to talk quickly.

She waved her hands, palms to him and waved them with her head down, “Uh huh. Nope. Go try to woo someone else with your good looks of, ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’” Her eyes met his as her hands gestured to him and her eyes skimmed over him briefly with the burning rage behind them. “There are a ton of people out there to fall for someone to take care of them with your fancy handwriting that obviously comes from a prestigious schooling. As well as your expensive clothes.”

Loki’s mouth parted and then shut firmly. “You make accusations based on nothing but a few things. Maybe you should try not to judge a book by its cover.”

She rose an eyebrow, “how? Over dinner while playing some Q and A?”

Loki rose his eyebrows in shock and his mouth parted slightly. Loki did not miss a chance though, “If it could even things out. Perhaps.”

She scoffed and put her glasses back in place over her eyes, “I would pay for myself anyway.”

Loki gesture between them before she would turn, “You think that would make this even?”

“How about you just read my lips and understand you don’t owe me anything.” Her eyebrows rose over the glasses with a forced smile, “we good now?”

Loki stared at the woman in disbelief. “If you insist everything is ok but-”

The woman replied with a curt nod and side smile, “Everything is great. Try to have a good day.”

Loki looked elsewhere not believing he was going to let her leave, “I wish you well and give many apologies.”

The woman turned when her phone went off, “I have to go. Bye.” She did not look back but greeted the person on the other line with a happy melodic, “hel~lo! Sorry I am late. I bumped into someone.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at the odd change but paid no attention to it as he went to the dining hall for food. Loki was going to enjoy some of his remaining free time with a large serving of sweets before returning to his room in solitude before Thor, Fandral, and Hogun returned to their combined space. Loki thanked the school for having the set up of separate bedrooms, however cursed the common small kitchen and livingroom that he had to walk through to use one of the bathrooms.

They would always try to get him to join in their “fun” of watching each other play a fighting game while they drank energy drinks. Hogun would go to bed at a reasonable time but the other two would stay up talking loudly about the damn game until they went out to a bar.

Sometimes Loki would join in a few games of cards just to take some of their money. It got to the point where everyone agreed to use just change instead of dollar bills.

Loki smirked as he remembered to take the vase full of coins to the change machine, “Idiots…”

Loki ate alone and no one bothered him either. He did watch as others around him talking cheerfully. A friend might be nice to spend some time with once in a while. However, Loki’s phone buzzing in his pocket with his schedule alarm to start practicing programming made him remember he was not there for companionship. He was at college to get an education.

Loki picked up after himself and walked swiftly to his dormitory, swiped his ID card to get through doors and finally his pin password for his shared space with the others. Loki stomach sunk when the lights were still off and no one was there. He noted the feeling as odd while he walked in a daze to his room. He shut his bedroom door off to the rest of the world and readied himself for an hour of programming.

Loki programmed for about an hour and a half to figure out something new he stumbled onto. Loki needed a shower. Something about programming made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and needing to feel fresh again. Loki’s cursed phone rang for the third time since he was getting ready to relax with a book. The most annoying sound he had on his phone was Thor’s ringtone. Loki purposely hit the end button to hang up and force the call to his mailbox. Grabbing a book and sitting in his comfortable desk chair Loki’s daily peace began.

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 41

AO3 link here

Although it doesn’t exactly happen often, Tony isn’t taken totally by surprise when his uncle Steve calls and says that he’ll be in the city next week and would like to have lunch. Steve makes it up to New York every few months to visit Rose or Bucky and Layla, to spend time with Maria. Sometimes he comes through on his way to visit Her Honor and family in Boston or on the way home again. He and Tony are more likely to see each other at bigger group occasions like holidays and celebrations (or funerals, though Tony puts that out of his mind; his mom still lives on her own, takes elegant care of herself, and is spry and sharp as hell despite being past her eightieth birthday) but Steve’s always been a family man, committed to keeping in touch with everyone. Tony and Pepper just received a hand-illustrated card from him on their anniversary a couple weeks back, and the one he sent Jude, decorated with multicolored trumpeting elephants, still has nightstand pride of place even though most of the actual birthday presents have been relegated back to the toy chest.

He tells Steve this as they sit down to lunch together in the cafe on the ground floor of the Stark Industries building, and it actually brings out a smile. Ruby and Trent from VR are passing by the table and double take seeing it, both automatically smiling back. It’s on the tip of Tony’s tongue to say something about how ol’ Steve’s still got it, but that’s a particular sort of smart remark that belongs to a time before Peggy passed.

(Although it’s been several years now, no one has even suggested that Steve look for some companionship or try one of those senior dating sites. The man talks about filling his days with gardening and book club and volunteering, regularly spending time with Emma and Nate and whichever of the grandkids and great-grandkids live locally, but he doesn’t or maybe can’t hide the crater left without his wife by his side. When Tony pictures Steve in the Maryland house these days, he has to stop because he somehow always imagines a single plate at the kitchen table and a tick-tick-ticking in the background: the hallway grandfather clock that he can’t remember ever actually paying attention to, overwhelmed as it always has been by conversation during family gatherings hosted there. The whole thing makes him sad as hell.)

As they start in on their first course, a butternut squash bisque - yes, there’s a first course; this place is damn classy - Steve asks about Tony’s kids, and he’s only too happy to whip out his phone and show off pictures (and then video, but who’s keeping score?) first of Jude all dressed up as a chef in the When We Grow Up-themed kindergarten end of year play, then of AJ’s science fair display, zooming in on all the aspects including the bright blue second place ribbon. He even shows off Morgan’s latest choice for their two-person book club, which he has in ebook and audio. The whole time, Steve watches him with a strange sort of expression, clearly taking in the information, asking questions, smiling at Tony’s stories, but with some odd barrier up.

“It’s Wednesday,” Tony mentions as they take the first bites from their slices of cake. “If you can stick around until 3:30, I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

He’s continued the tradition from his youth, bringing his own kids into the office at least once a week starting even before they could walk. Those are some of his best childhood memories, sitting on lab stools with his father and brainstorming ways to make interesting explosions, his feet dangling two feet above the floor, having his dad look over at him in meetings and say, “So, what do you think, Tony?” Walking home, lunch bag swinging, his small hand clasped in a larger one to help him safely across the streets, waving to Jarvis as they went upstairs to build block towers together. Sometimes he’d do his homework when there was paperwork to take care of, and it was always a laugh to ask for help with history or French (“Call me when you’re learning about Newton or Tesla,” Dad used to protest. “And don’t even tell your mother that you asked me about anything in French.”) He hopes that he’s passing on the same type of memories.

“I think we should see how today goes,” says Steve. He smiles again and Tony wants to squint at it, hold it beneath the microscope, it’s such a complicated looking thing: that pure, good-hearted happiness, but with pain and nostalgia and something that might be doubt quirking at the edges. Not entirely unusual for him over the last few years, but Tony’s starting to suspect that Uncle Steve has more secrets than just the Captain America thing and that he might be about to find one out.

The Captain America thing: even though it’s put to bed now, if Tony thinks about it, he can still feel the...not even irritation, but hurt, from when he’d found out.

It had been Pepper who started it, after they’d dated for a bit, when he’d suggested starting to bring her to family things. She’d met his parents, the Barnses, Steve and Peggy and their kids, at various functions or at the office over the years, but when it had been time to introduce her as his girlfriend, she’d wanted to prepare. She’d asked questions and gathered information, profiled everyone, and the more she’d delved, the fewer answers he’d realized he had. He remembered that Peggy and Steve got together five years or so after the war, but had also grown up hearing their stories - and Bucky’s, and his dad’s - from working together during the war. He could trace Howard and Peggy between the SSR and forming SHIELD, but Steve and Bucky were completely off the map.

Finally, on the Fourth of July, after he’d had a couple of drinks and watched Peggy kiss Steve’s cheek and hand him a cupcake with a single candle, the way she did each Independence Day Tony had been with them for no reason he could fathom, he’d just asked. His mother had placed a hand on his arm, and Peggy said, “Ah.” But he’d watched Steve, took in the way he’d leaned forward and clasped his hands together before he said, “Listen, Tony.”

When the words were finally in the charcoal-scented air around them, he wasn’t exactly surprised by them, they added up, but he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t been told. It had grown even worse when he’d cornered Drea asking about it and she’d said that her father had sat them down and told them all decades before, while Tony was still in high school, and that Tony hadn’t been a part of that. As if everyone had just decided that they didn’t need to tell him. As if there had been the whole family, knowing this, and then him, alone.

Steve claimed responsibility, apologized right. He always did: “I handled it badly. I should have told you earlier, personally. I know it made you feel excluded.” And Tony had forgiven him, had even forgiven the rest of the Carters after talking more with Drea and then the others. After he’d heard how hurt she’d been, too, finding out that her father with whom she’d shared so much had this part of his life about which she knew nothing, as if she’d barely known him; how she’d burrowed in with the information, trying to puzzle through it, come to grips with the way it changed and didn’t change her whole past. They told him the story of how Rose shattered her wine glass in the middle of the restaurant when Steve had first said it and that every time she spoke to her parents for the next month, she’d interrogate them and wind up yelling. All these years later, Emma still seemed to let the fact of it slide out of her mind. Her life is picket fences and politics, and it is as if she doesn't want it to sink in, this other and simultaneous identity of her father.

(Tony’s actually seen Nate bring it up casually - “Oh, is that the time when you and the Commandos were in France?” or asking about growing up with a host of chronic conditions - but there are plenty of reasons why Nate Carter and Tony are different and that’s just one.)

Even though the splinter of the secret has been removed, healed over, there’s still an odd reminder of it, a feeling of trepidation, as he and Steve take the elevator up. He almost stops at Pepper’s floor to say hello, push off a little longer whatever might be coming, but he knows that she has a meeting, and he’ll have to handle whatever it is anyway.

The lights flip on as they walk in, and Tony absently says, “Thanks, TESLA,” as he gestures Steve over to one of the work benches. He does have an actual desk and the old computer parts he has spread out aren’t repair priorities, aren’t really anything more than something to play around with, but he has the feeling he’s going to want to do something with his hands while they get down to business.

“So,” Tony says as Steve brings over a chair, “what’s going on?”

Steve sits before he speaks. He touches the cool top of the table with the tips of his fingers. He says, very carefully, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Ten minutes later, Tony has pushed the broken computer away and rested his hands flat on the table. “Time travel,” he says flatly. “You need help with time travel.”

“The time travel I have worked out,” Steve says, infuriatingly calm. “Or, it was worked out for me. It’s the reality hopping part in particular that I thought I’d ask you about. And I might need you to dip into the old lab storage for some Pym particles.”

“Pym—” Tony starts disbelievingly, then shakes his head, adding, “And of course you want to go to Greenland,” like the teacher’s pet giving a reminder about the homework assignment.

Steve actually glances down before he forces his gaze back up. “I don’t have to go - I have the coordinates, and the land is yours - but I’d like to...It feels wrong to just send someone without any ceremony.”

“Course it does,” Tony mutters, almost laughing. It doesn’t even occur to him that Steve’s not telling the truth - Steve’s not a liar, and nowhere close to senile - but the whole thing is ridiculous. He picks up an old Starkbook and a screwdriver again, cracking open the back in rapid twists. “You’re telling me that you’re actually a version of a Steve Rogers from another reality who traveled back in time seventy years ago, that the original Steve Rogers is still frozen in an iceberg while you lived an entire life, fiddled around with the timeline, and now you need to pop back over to where you came from for what? A quick chat? Sunday dinner?”

“To say goodbye.” Steve doesn’t say it as an admonishment. His words are quiet, almost internal. “I have people there who meant a lot to me, who mean a lot to me, and even if I’ve run into versions of them here, accidentally or on purpose, it’s not the same. They deserve to know what happened.” He doesn’t even meet Tony’s eye. Tony somehow feels chastised anyway. He swallows.

“Who knows about this?” he asks, a little more softly this time.

“Bucky knows some of what might have happened.” Tony almost starts to demand what exactly the some of it might be, but then Steve adds, “Your father knew that I’d come back. I’m not sure whether he told your mother.”

Tony twists the screwdriver hard enough that he almost strips the screw. “Seventy years ago, you showed up and told my dad you’d come from another time, but what, you didn’t trust him enough to tell him more than that?” His voice drops, fierce and low, as the next screw is released too quickly and with too much force, pinging off the table and getting lost beneath. “As if the two of you were perfect, as if you could be objective about everything, take care of it all. Saint Steve and Blessed Peggy. It must have been you and her, you would have told her everything so she could have worked it from the inside—”

Steve barks, “Tony,” suddenly on his feet, and it occurs to Tony that Steve might actually be able to beat him up, despite being...God, he can’t even track how old at this point, but certainly old enough for it to be embarrassing.

“Don’t talk about Peggy like that.” Steve’s voice is softer now but bitten to the quick. “I know I’ve just put a lot on you, and you can yell at me all you want for being arrogant or dishonest, whatever you’d like, but just...Not about her, alright?”

Aunt Peg would have given him that quiet, cold, imperious look if she were with them now. Tony pushes back on his heels thinking of it. And if his dad were here...he’d probably say that he trusted Steve and Peggy and didn’t trust himself enough to know these things. There had never been any sign that Howard Stark had been unfaithful in his marriage, and Tony hopes that his mother would have left if there had been, but Tony remembers the unconscious, appreciative way his father’s eyes would follow a pretty woman across the room at a party, his head turning quickly there and back again in the street, a habit he couldn’t seem to break, like his cigars and his whiskey, all those late nights, those flares of temper. If you couldn’t avoid those little weaknesses, you couldn’t let yourself be in charge of knowing the future, much less changing it.

“Wait,” says Tony, something catching up with him, snagging in his throat. “Wait. Why wouldn’t you have warned him about the heart attack? If you knew, if you’d already been changing stuff, why didn’t you tell him to go to a doctor, get imaging, just eat better, shit.”

“There are things,” says Steve, “that even I don’t know. I didn’t know that he would die that way, Tony, I swear. The first...In the other timeline, he died earlier, and differently.” He slides his hands into his pockets, and the quiet strength of him is obvious as he meets Tony’s eyes instead of glancing away. “But I did tell him to eat better anyway.”

Steve had been a statue at the funeral, Tony remembers that. He’d thought that it was because of the suddenness, Howard grappling to host that year’s Thanksgiving dinner one minute and gone the next, or because the guys from the war had started to pass recently and it hurt to see your old friends going, the ones who had been there for so long, who held your youth, shared your memories. Later, he’d even wondered if Steve had held himself so still and silent because Tony was trembling and needed someone to lean on; Steve had certainly let him do that, no matter what else was going on. But now he peers differently at the memory of the tight clutch of Steve and Peggy’s hands, the way Steve had said, “I’m so sorry, Tony,” at the graveside, not only condolence but apology - he sees the guilt in it now, the burden.

Tony hooks a chair with his foot and drops into it. “Okay,” he says, scrubbing both palms over his face. “Okay. Tell me what you can.”

And as Steve begins to speak, he starts to understand not only how deep this one man’s collapse might have been but how deep the world’s too. War and the lightly done destruction of the planet, Bucky taken and tortured, Hydra - Hydra, which was from history textbooks, which was a sidebar in history textbooks - beneath everything, and then...

“Half the universe,” he says, turning over the words in his mouth. A minute ago he didn’t even know for sure that there was more than their little corner to consider (and he definitely has a few more questions for Steve about aliens). Now he tries to picture individual blades of grass on other planets, all the disappeared foxes and ferns and pets and coral, animals he doesn’t know and can’t describe. The people, even if he might not recognize them as such right away. The parents and children.

For just a second he imagines Pepper and their kids, the idea of one or two or three or all of them disappearing, but has to cut off even the conjured thought; the shrapnel gasp of it is too much and he rubs his knuckles over his chest to try to erase the horror of it. He tries to think through just the logistics of it all: what if he’d gone and after three years or four Pep had married someone else? Who was she really married to and who was she expected to divorce? What if someone adopted your kids? Jesus, the therapists would have full schedules if nothing else, because even if it was reversed, it had happened. Somewhere out there, all that had happened.

He shakes his head, twitchy. “Even with what you came back knowing, how could you be sure that the strings you were pulling on were the right ones, the ones that would help things?”

Steve gives a single-beat laugh. “I’ve spent nearly twice your lifetime wondering.” He shifts his body and the light - not the bright lab fixtures but that high, brilliant sun coming through the windows, a reminder that it is still only midafternoon - edges onto his face just so, revealing the sharp cut of time landscaping his cheeks and forehead, running beside his eyes, tied tightly around his mouth.

“Peggy and I talked about it all forever. I think we did what we could, did well enough even if it sometimes didn’t seem like it. But I also think that there’s probably a world out there where we did it all better.”

“Then there’s probably a world out there where you did it worse,” Tony offers, and somehow it makes Steve smile.

“From what I’ve seen, I’d bet that there’s a version for every decision you can imagine. One where I didn’t go back, or one where I went back and only told Peggy where to look in the ice but didn’t stay. One where I never went into the ice at all. One where I died as a kid, or from the serum, or in the war, or during the crash. A whole bunch, probably, where Dr. Erskine decided to give Peggy the serum instead.” His voice grows quiet; he seems to hold the words close. “One where she wore blue to our wedding instead of white, and one where she wore red. One where she became president, and one where she decided she’d finished with meetings and went back to being an agent. One where we decided not to have any kids, and one where she was able to carry them, and one where we adopted some other kids who some other me loves just as much as I do mine.”

They sit in silence for a moment, then: “Have you told them about this?” Tony asks. “Will you?”

A sigh, and Tony remembers with a strange, electric chill that this man - Uncle Steve, Grant Carter, Captain America, Steve Rogers - this man will one day die, lifetime strung against lifetime finally at an end.

“Your life,” Steve says, “turned out in many ways the same. Here or there: smart and wealthy, philanthropist, father. I can’t say for certain that it would be the same for my kids. And I know that they’re strong people, and I hope that I’ve helped them find solid foundations, but I don’t know that I can torture them with the idea of what might have been, of what might be, somewhere out there.”

Tony thinks suddenly of standing with Rose at some family thing, probably three or four years back. He’d asked if she ever considered what might have been if she’d been made a judge. Fairly insensitive, he realized now - it had been pretty soon after they’d found out that Drea had been on the shortlist to replace Justice Ginsburg - but Rose had just cackled gleefully. He remembers turning his head at the sound: her mother was already dying - truly dying, not only the sort that starts the day someone is born - and it had been a while since he’d heard one of the Carters laugh freely like that. Her eyes had a delighted razor’s edge to them, and he’d sort of understood how opposing counsel must feel when Rose Carter showed up for a meeting.

“They’d have to have stopped caring about judges keeping any claim to objectivity,” she had said. “But think of how I’d run my courtroom, all those acidic opinions I could write!” She’d cackled again. “Imagine that sort of alternate universe.”

One part of Tony, a part that sounds quite a lot like Steve himself, considers rigorous honesty, the lies by kind omission that can poison things just as easily as those meant maliciously. But another part, the side of him that sneaks dollar bills beneath the pillow for each lost tooth, that smooths sweaty, rumpled hair and says, “I’m here, don’t worry, I’ll always be here” during storms or after nightmares, the part that hesitated before placing Morgan, not yet two weeks old, into Steve’s arms, even as he felt that he might remember being held securely there himself, the part of him that’s a parent...that part understands.

She’ll turn seventy in a couple of years, Rose Carter. What purpose will it serve to tell her this, to have her wonder not only about worlds where she might have been a judge, but those where she never became a lawyer, never found her career or her family, where she might have been raised by people with different ideas about how to handle an incandescently angry child or a young woman who had no interest in romance, worlds where she was never taken in at all? What need is there to tell her, to tell all the Carters, if it meant turning those thoughts from something coming across the brain for a second, easily brushed aside, to true possibilities, if not for them than for some other version out there?

Finding out that their father had once upon a time gone by another name, that he had been more than the average soldier during the war, those things might require some adjustment, but this life, their life together, their memories, remained largely the same. This could turn the entire universe to quicksand.

Tony clears his throat. “I’m guessing whatever—” He waves a hand. “Your supersuit, or your time machine, the TARDIS...it’s not with you here?”

“No,” says Steve. “I didn’t want it to get misplaced on the train.”

As if it’s just another piece of luggage and he didn’t want to set them up for some sort of hijinks. “Okay, well, I’m coming down to meet with the NSF in a couple of weeks. I’ll swing by to take a look then.”

“Thank you. That sound goo—”

Steve is cut off by TESLA’s voice, bright and warm and synthetic. “Reminder: it is 3:20. Please cease working and prepare to greet the children.”

“I can go before they get here,” Steve offers, standing.

“What, you’re gonna scale the side of the building, old man?” The words arrive without Tony thinking about them. Even as he has a sense of unreality, trying to let himself have both the life he did two hours ago and this new concept of everything, he shrugs into the familiarly smart remark like an old coat that turns out to still fit.

Tony stands too, comes closer, places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I told you, the kids’ll love to see you.”

“Alright,” and even though it sounds a little shaky and sad, Steve’s smile looks real.

As TESLA reports that the kids are in the elevator on the way up, accompanied by their babysitter, Pepper’s niece Callie, Tony thinks to ask, “How did you know that I’d help you?”

Steve’s smile turns deeper, somehow more amused and more sad at once. “You helped me then, over there,” he says. “And you’d punched me quite a bit more than you have here.”

“Wait,” says Tony, turning toward him. “What?” But the doors open just then, Jude and AJ racing each other in, shrieking in endlessly delighted purposelessness, Mo coming more sedately after them, eyes big and observant behind those new glasses, and Tony just opens his arms to them all.

More chapters here

[skepticalcatfrog]

Among The Stars Chapter 5

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Logan Watts is a famous scientist, known by almost everyone in the galaxy. His most famous invention is his friend and assistant, a healthcare android named Patton. When they are called to another planet for a meeting with the local ruler, they're expecting a completely normal trip. Little did they know, this trip would send them into a daring adventure to protect their galaxy and stop a war. Teamed up with unlikely friends, including a runaway gladiator and an infamous crime trio, Logan and Patton have to figure out how to make peace and save their universe (and beyond) from being destroyed.

Pairings: (Eventual) Logicality, Prinxiety, and Demus

Word count: 3,379

Author's Notes: As I said in the notes on the first chapter of my other fic, I will still be continuing this one. So as promised, here's the next chapter!

Dalton and Remus sat outside of Logan's lab on opposite sides of the door. Remus was just waiting, but Dalton was eavesdropping, his ear pressed to the door as he listened to the conversation going on inside the room. Logan and Virgil had been in there for a while, presumably working on repairs. But Dalton didn't trust this guy just yet. He wanted to make sure Virgil was okay.

"Dalton, he'll be fine. Better than he was before, even." Remus assured him.

"Shh." Dalton snapped at him, bringing his index finger to his lips. "I need to be ready to step in if things go wrong."

Remus rolled his eyes. Dalton could be so stubborn. Once he was doing something, there was nothing that could stop him from doing it. Sometimes it worked in his favor, and sometimes it didn't.

Dalton could barely hear anything. He could tell when different people were talking, but that was about it. He kept on listening though, just in case. He was entirely prepared to punch that scientist right in his stupid pretentious face if it came to that. He was also prepared to do it even if it didn't come to that. He didn't like that guy.

~~~

Virgil was sitting on a metal table in the middle of Logan's lab. It was all clean and orderly, unlike his usual surroundings. Based on everything he'd heard about doctor's offices, this seemed like the closest he'd ever get to being in one. It wasn't very comfortable, plus all of the circuitry on his arm was currently completely exposed. And he was totally conscious too, since most androids couldn't feel pain. Logan was muttering to himself as he worked on altering the wiring. Patton wasn't there, because he didn't want to watch. He said that it would've been like a human watching a surgeon operating on another human.

"This is almost done, and once I finish I'd like you to try to move your arm." Logan requested. He knew Virgil couldn't respond, but he just wanted to make sure he knew what to do. "That way I can see if this method of repair works. Your circuitry isn't particularly new, as you may have noticed, so many of my more traditional approaches to this issue wouldn't have worked." He went quiet for a couple minutes. "Alright. Can you please lift your arm?"

Logan closed the panel of metal on Virgil's arm, taking a step back. The android shakily lifted up his arm. It was the first time he'd moved in years, so he was pretty out of practice. The machinery made a loud buzzing sound as it moved. Virgil's eyes widened at the noise. Hopefully that wouldn't stick around.

"Okay, good. We'll come back to that later now that we know it works, for now let's get to work on some slightly smaller jobs." Logan wrote down a couple of notes on a piece of paper. "Try to speak, please."

Virgil did try to speak, and it went exactly as it always did. He heard the familiar creaking and rattling of his broken voice box, and Logan took another note.

"I think I know what's wrong." He discarded the paper on to a nearby desk. "A piece of your voice box must have come loose. Luckily, we won't need to replace it entirely. I am going to need to shut you down for this part, because it will be a much more complicated process. I might also fix a few other things after I finish this."

The world dropped into blackness quickly once Virgil was shut down. He'd never really experienced that before. His thoughts came to a halt, the world went away, and everything went quiet. It was like being in a locked room with no windows while wearing noise cancelling headphones. Either that, or it was like being temporarily dead. It didn't feel like any time had passed at all before he regained consciousness. He was still sitting on the same table, in the same room, but something was definitely different. Logan immediately got back to talking.

"I think we've made some new developments on your condition. I fixed the issues with your voice box, which we'll be testing in a moment. Other than that, you should be able to move your head now as well." He told him. Virgil's curiosity kicked in and he turned his head to the left and right, then looked up and down. He really could move his head again. Logan handed him the paper he'd been taking notes on before. "Please read the first few sentences aloud."

"Tests on android #229187922 ("Virgil") have proven successful." Virgil spoke, saying each word slowly. He gasped. He was talking. "He appears to have been made over twenty years ago, however the exact date is unknown. A piece of his voice box has been knocked loose, maybe from faulty construction and/or a fall."

"Good." Logan took the paper back. "How do you feel?"

"Different, that's for sure. Definitely good different, though." Virgil smiled. He had forgotten what his own voice sounded like.

"Perfect, that's exactly how you should be feeling." Logan nodded. "Would you like to talk with Remus and Dalton?"

"Yes." Virgil nodded. He might not be able to walk yet, but the progress Logan had made on his repairs already would be enough for them.

Logan walked over to the door and opened it, which prompted Dalton to fall to the floor at his feet. He'd been listening to them, Logan knew for sure. Not only was he a criminal, but he was a distrustful one as well. Logan kept his composure, ignoring the small bit of frustration growing inside him.

"You may come in. Virgil wants to speak with you." Logan told them, turning around and walking back to the table.

"Okay, great. Thanks for helping me up by the way. Jerk." Dalton muttered the last part so no one could hear it. He got up and dusted himself off, speed-walking to the table. Remus followed him. His tone softened a little when he reached Virgil. "Hey, bud. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great." Virgil said, offering a small smile. 

All Dalton could do was stare. After years of stealing and trespassing to get things to help Virgil, breaking almost every law there was, today was the day. He pulled Virgil into a hug, just holding on to him for a minute. And for the first time, the android could hug him back. Just that simple action made Dalton burst into tears. Remus put a supportive hand on his back.

"You're getting better." Dalton pulled back and laughed weakly, wiping the tears from his face.

"Slowly but surely." Virgil nodded. Logan stood off to the side, knowing that he should just let them have their moment.

"And that's what your voice sounds like, huh? Different from how I heard it in my head, but not bad." Remus decided.

"Glad you think so, because there's no changing it without a lot more work." Virgil laughed.

"No, no, I like it. It suits you." Remus smiled.

"Agreed." Dalton nodded. "So what else is done?"

"I can move my arms and my head, but I can't walk yet." Virgil told them. "Hopefully soon, though."

"Yes, if I've calculated it correctly, the repairs should be finished by the end of the day." Logan stepped back in. "I will be able to fix all of your physical malfunctions. However, the glitch in your coding may be permanent. I can't access your programming from my computer, because there's an identification password protecting it."

"Oh… well that's okay, I guess." Virgil was clearly disappointed, but he tried to hide it. "I've lived with it for this long, so it's not a big deal."

"You're sure there's no way to fix it?" Dalton raised his eyebrow.

"Have you tried hacking the computer to get past the password? Or maybe giving it a virus on purpose?" Remus asked as if Logan would really take that as an actual suggestion.

"No, I haven't, and I don't plan to." Logan shot him a look similar to one a class clown would get from a strict teacher. "Now I'm afraid that's all the time I can give you. I need to get back to work. You can still wait outside if you'd like, but you can't be here anymore."

"Fine. But call us back in when you're done." Dalton did the universal sign for 'I'm watching you' at Logan, then walked out of the room with Remus following close behind. He heard the door close behind them, and suddenly felt very nervous once again. He knew that feeling wouldn't go away until all of the repairs were finished, so he just had to wait it out.

~~~

Meanwhile, since Patton didn't want to be in the lab, he'd decided to get to know Roman a little better. They were walking around the hallways in the lower level of the ship, asking each other questions back and forth.

"How long have you lived on this ship?" Roman asked.

"I would say about… seven years? The first thing I remember is Logan's home planet, Isethena. It's entirely man-made, built by humans a few centuries ago. We lived there for three years, then moved to a smaller ship and lived there for four years." Patton explained, trying to recall every place he'd ever lived from memory. "When Logan started to get more famous, we started to get more money. When we could afford this ship, we got it, and have been living here since then."

"Wow. I honestly wasn't expecting you to go into that much detail, but I'm impressed." Roman looked around, but the entire hallway looked exactly the same.

"I'm an android, I have great memory." Patton laughed. "What about you? What's your story?"

"It's a long one, that's for sure." Roman was about to go deeper into the web of lies he'd created for himself and he knew it. But to be honest, he didn't really care anymore. Even if it wasn't true, this was who he wanted to be, so why shouldn't he let other people believe it was real? "For basically my whole life, I lived on Xialea VI. It was all beautiful, with a kingdom covering most of the planet. Whatever wasn't kingdom was forest, with beautiful trees and plants growing everywhere. Basically it was the exact opposite of Xialea VII. I grew up preparing to take on the crown, which I never got to do. I spent pretty much all day either studying in the library or training in the arena. My parents loved me. I'm an only child, so I got all the attention. They were always so proud and supportive of everything I did, and they were always there for me when I needed them. Everyone in the kingdom was happy, and no one ever wanted to leave. But then one day, a couple of months ago, I was sent to the city on Xialea VII to have a conference with the president. Apparently they thought I was an intruder, so they chased me away. I had no choice but to steal a ship and get away, or else I would've been killed."

"You could've just asked, you know!" Patton pointed out. "Logan probably would've helped you, even if I wasn't there with him. He's a good person."

"I know, I don't doubt that, I just wasn't in the mood to take risks." Roman shook his head. Then he decided that he wanted to test something. "Speaking of taking risks, do you want to hear a fun story from a few years ago?"

"Sure. I'm always in the mood for a good story." Patton smiled.

"Well, it all started when a ship crash-landed just outside my kingdom. The person inside wasn't too badly hurt, but he definitely had a few bruises. We asked him who he was, and he told us he was a prince from another planet. We let him stay with us for a little while, and gave him a way to get back home. But, it turned out that he was lying all along! He was actually a gladiator, and had run away from his home planet. He told us he was just sick of that place, and he couldn't go back. After all, he was technically a criminal, and he definitely would've been punished upon his return." Roman was relieved. Patton seemed very interested in the story, and he didn't seem to realize that Roman was telling a story about himself.

"So what did you do?" The android asked, his eyes widening.

"Well, we let him stay." Roman shrugged. "He was a good person trying to get out of a bad situation, and we couldn't blame him for that even though he'd lied to us."

"That was a good choice." Patton decided. "I think I would've let him stay too. It would just be mean to make him leave."

"I agree, trust me." Roman nodded. It was working. Patton was on his side, even if he didn't know it yet.

~~~

It took hours until Virgil's repairs were finally finished. The whole time, Dalton was waiting outside the door of the lab like a nervous parent. At one point he was just pacing back and forth until he got tired. Remus was starting to get worried. Sure, Dalton always wanted Virgil to be safe, but he'd never been this concerned. The second Logan opened the door, Dalton was interrogating him.

"How is he? Tell us what you know, scientist!" If looks could kill, Dalton's scowl would have Logan dead on the ground in an instant.

"He is doing well." Logan managed to keep his cool. "I managed to fix his legs, so he will be able to walk. I also gave him a defense mechanism. Be aware of that, because he doesn't have full control over it yet. Otherwise, he should be fully awake and recovered."

"You should've led with that!" Dalton pushed past Logan to get into the lab. Remus followed him. The first thing they saw was Virgil. And he was standing up.

"Would you look at that…" Remus muttered.

"Hey guys!" Virgil waved, revealing a dark circle in the palm of his hand. "Hold on, watch this."

He aimed his hand at what looked like a makeshift target. A sound that was sort of like a vacuum cleaner rang out, then a beam of purple light shot from his hand. The target disintegrated. He turned back to Dalton and Remus.

"Holy shit." Dalton stared at the place where the target used to be. He glanced at Logan. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"He needs a mode of self defense. Based on the way he was built, he wasn't meant to be a fighter. But in your line of work, if that is how you would describe it, he will likely be getting into many dangerous situations." Logan explained. "With all due respect, he wouldn't last five minutes in a battle."

"Yeah, that's why he doesn't go on missions with us." Dalton said as if it was obvious. "We protect him by keeping him at home. Plus, do you have any idea how easy it would be for him to hurt himself with a weapon like that?"

"Actually, the chances of me hurting myself with this are only 15%." Virgil piped up. Dalton held up his hand.

"Not now, Virgil." He scowled, still focused on Logan. "I want you to make it less dangerous. Like, put a safety setting on it or something."

Logan shook his head. "I'm not sure I'll be able to-" 

Suddenly, the entire ship shook. Virgil looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the movement. Logan froze. He didn't know what to do. Dalton immediately went into a fighting stance. Remus ran to the window, tapping on it rapidly when he saw what was outside. Whatever it was, he was absolutely mesmerized by it. "You guys, you've got to come see this!"

Dalton was the first to the window. Logan and Virgil joined him soon after. Outside, there were two gigantic ships, which appeared to be shooting at each other. Neither of them were particularly accurate in their shots, so a stray projectile must've been the source of the shaking. Without warning, one of them exploded, flooding the lab with orange light. Roman and Patton burst through the door to the lab. Roman's heavy breathing made it clear that they'd been running.

"Does anyone know what just happened?" Patton asked.

"There were some ships outside fighting each other, and one of them just blew up!" Remus explained, making a gesture with his hands that was meant to represent the explosion.

"They appeared to be built for war." Logan's brow furrowed in thought, his eyes still intently focused on the remaining ship. "Patton? Do you think that maybe the president of Xialea VII wasn't kidding about starting a war?"

"Starting a war?! He never said anything about a war." Roman's eyes widened in shock as he looked at the remains of the exploded ship. Then he realized that everyone was staring at him. He tried to think of something else to say. "In the time that I was there, that is. It was very brief, I wouldn't trust anything I say."

"Okay…" Dalton raised his eyebrow. That hint of suspicion didn't do anything to help Roman's nerves. "But why would he want to start a war anyway?"

"It could be lots of things." Virgil shrugged. "For resources, for land, to settle an argument. All we know for sure is that it definitely won't end well."

"Wait, you can talk now?" Roman fixed his confused gaze on Virgil.

"Clearly, but that's not what we're talking about right now." Remus answered for him. "How fast can this ship go? Maybe we could get out of this galaxy before it gets so messed up that it self-destructs."

"We can't just leave! What about all the innocent people?" Patton was quick to shoot down that idea.

"Well it's not like we can fight." Remus pointed out. "There are only six of us, so I think packing our bags and leaving is our best bet. Unless anyone else has a better idea."

"What if… what if we did fight?" Roman suggested. The rest of them fell silent. If he didn't have everyone's attention before, he sure did now.

"And how exactly do you suggest we do that?" Logan raised his eyebrows. "We don't necessarily have a government to collaborate with."

"Hey, what about your kingdom?" Patton suggested. Roman tensed up.

"No, that won't work. They're peaceful, they wouldn't want to engage in a battle like this." He was impressed with his ability to think of such a quick lie. "Logan, do you have a map I could look at?"

"Of course." Logan tapped at what looked like a smart watch on his wrist. Within seconds, a three dimensional model of the galaxy appeared in the air.

"If that's where we are now… and that's Xialea VII…" Roman muttered to himself as he examined the map. He pointed to a very small planet near the edge of the map. "Aha! That planet, since it's so far away from everyone else, shouldn't be involved in anything yet. Let's get a closer look at it."

As if activated by his voice, the map zoomed in on the planet. Columns of information appeared beside it. Unlike Xialea VII, this planet was covered entirely in buildings. Despite its size, it had a lot of people living on it. But what they were really focused on was the fact that it had a king.

"Its name is Illathea." Logan read from the list of information. "They seem to be neutral as of right now, so perhaps we'll be able to get to them before they make a final decision about which side they're on."

Reading further down on the list, they were met with the amount of time it would take to get there. 21 days, 4 hours, 12 minutes, 40 seconds. They were all speechless.

Finally, Remus decided that someone needed to break the silence. "So, when are we leaving?"

Taglist: @idkwhyimhere0o0 @icequeenoriginal @mostpeopleannoyne @007ardra @logan-is-my-spirit-animal @multifandomnightmare

[marcos744655]

Six Business Technologies Which Don’t Work

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[prorevenge]

Bully Landlord gets it in the end.

My first husband was a not very nice man. For 6 years I was belittled and basically a baby-factory for him. He was a fantastic father, but a horrible husband. After he finally got his 'heirs' I was then treated even worse until I finally 'woke up' and decided to leave his ass.

This revenge story is NOT about him. I just had to set the scene.

I moved out from the house, taking just my clothes, the car (4K value, no more) and the computer. I had nothing, stayed at a GF for a couple weeks before I was able to line up a crappy town-house with roommates. I had nothing, and my bed was a cat-pee-smelling free couch I was able to score. I wound up having 3-4 jobs with one of them being full-time and once a week I would not even be able to sleep between jobs.

Now, fast forward one year. My divorce was finalized and I had fulfilled my year's lease for the townhouse. By this time I was able to furnish the home and my bedroom and my kids' room when they would be with me for visitation.

The Scum-Bag Landlord (will just call him SBL) was a nice-ish landlord during the time of my tenancy and I was a good tenant, never being late with my rent. Although I had roommates, I was the sole name on the lease.

SBL would show up often, with some guise that he had to work on something like plumbing tests or whatever excuse he could come up with just so he could be all creepy and hang around trying to converse with me with mild sexual undertones that made me quite uneasy at times.

FINALLY the lease was fulfilled and I was now onto a month-to-month contract to which at that time I was ready to move out of this crappy townhouse, and found a great house in the mountains nearby and I was simply thrilled now that I got my feet on the ground and can afford a bit better than slum-living.

My Lease stated that I had to give one month's notice in order to move out. Unfortunately I was able to get the house I was to move into for the next month... only 3 weeks away.

I sent an email to SBL stating that I intend on moving out at the end of this month (in 3 weeks) and he can try to find another tenant. but I did state that IF he didn't find a tenant, I would still fulfill my legal obligation and pay next month's rent.

Within one week (2 weeks before I was move out) he emailed back and stated that was very generous of my offer but he was able to find a new tenant for the beginning of next month and I would be off the hook. He even tipped his hand by stating that he already collected a deposit from them.

Now, something happened within a couple days after that which was no fault of my own, nor my roommate's. The townhouse came with it's own appliances (fridge, oven etc) including a clothes washer and dryer on the main level. My roommate had put a load of laundry in and went to the living room to have a nap. He awoke to find that the washer had malfunctioned with the sensory switch which never stopped the water fill stage... and there was an inch of water in the kitchen and living room!!! He splashed through the water to turn off the washer and called me to come and help deal with this.

I was just getting off of work and I whipped home to assess the damage.

it. was. bad. There was standing water on top of the living room carpet and a good inch of water in the whole kitchen. I called SBL and told him the issue. By the time SBL showed up, I had already got most of the standing water out with the help of my roommate and friends that showed up with shop-vacs.

SBL didn't seem too upset, which was surprising for me and had an appliance repair man had come to look at the washer. The repairman even said "yep, here's the culprit" and showed how the dial would stick on the fill stage and wouldn't click over to the agitate stage. after replacing the dial and lubricating the whole deal, he left.

The next week was chaos as I was busy trying to pack and SBL had insurance guys in assessing and workers taking out the carpet and cutting 2 feet worth of the lower drywall of the whole main level.

The day of the move, though I was still supposed to be there for a couple more days, SBL had let himself in as movers were moving out my stuff with a camera going around taking pictures of everything. I honestly thought that it was for his insurance claims etc. I actually felt bad for SBL (I'm too nice) and told him that I would not ask for any of my deposit back, and he responded in front of the loading crew and my roommate "Thank you, that's very generous of you". We parted ways and I thought that was that.

I was wrong.

Two weeks into my new home location did SBL showed up on my doorstep with a summons to appear in arbitration because he was SUEING ME! WHAT???? on what grounds??? He stated it's all in this paperwork and handed me a manila envelope with 18 pages of everything he was charging me with. All including photos (now I know why he was going around taking pics). Nickle and diming me on everything from a bent Venetian blind (that was like that when I had moved in) and some scuffs on walls, etc etc. but then he ALSO wanted me to pay his insurance deductible and that following month's rent!!! He claimed that the tenants that he had lined up backed out at the last minute (claiming that they didn't think the place wouldn't be ready in time with the new drywall and paint and so on), so he still wanted me to pay that month's rent.

REALLY??

Fuck. This. Shit. I knew I was more than generous of giving him my whole deposit and then for him to come back and sue me for thousands?? He was not only claiming the damages caused by the flood, but improvements he needed to do that should never be or have been my responsibility in the first place. EVEN CRACKS in the living room wall that was from the building settling.... HOW SHOULD I BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT??? Even new lighting, faucets etc... All mainly on the accusation that I was negligent. I wasn't going to have that. I know is was a slummy townhouse complex and most of his tenants were just welfare cases, and maybe he could get away with this with others, but not me. No Way! I had just got out of a marriage that made me feel insignificant and had horrible self-esteem, but now I had my dignity and felt strong for the first time in a long time. No way was I going to let any more SHIT happen to me without my doing something about it.

I had 10 days before the date of my arbitration meeting.

I immediately got to work, first getting a signed deposition from the very repairman that had showed that day stating that the appliance was quite in need of maintenance work and the last time he had done ANY maintenance for him was almost 5 years before. From thoroughly reviewing my rental contract, and local laws, SBL is obligated to have all appliances maintained/services EVERY YEAR.

I had also talked to some of the other tenants and had heard that this wasn't the first time SBL had sued tenants after the fact. I hunted them down and got sworn statements from them also. Unfortunately for them, they didn't know what to do and mostly didn't show up at arbitration hence SBL winning by default. NO WAY I WAS NOT GOING TO LET HIM DO THIS TO ME.

I then drew up a rebuttal to each and every claim he had, including photos from the year+ that I had lived there,, printed out all my email correspondence and even convinced my ex roommate and one of the movers that heard my interaction with SBL about him stating how "generous" it was of me letting him keep my whole deposit (which was a significant amount) to come.

DAY OF ARBITRATION... I dressed up in my power-suit and with my ex-roommate and worker in tow, showed up at the meeting. Now, in Canada, arbitration is not held in a court room per se, but it still held AT the courthouse in a conference room with a judge. We had one hour with this judge. Since SBL was the plaintiff, he got to go first with his case. He spent over 40 minutes going over everything and I sat quietly until he finished.

Once he finished, I then hauled out the rebuttal in multiple copies, handed to the judge, to SBL and anyone else that wished to have one and I quickly went over each point. SBL was irate, and interrupted almost every second sentence I spoke. I would pause the moment he would start talking and say sweetly "I was quiet and polite during your time to present your case, I hope you grant me the same respect". SBL started to get red in the face, ESPECIALLY when I got to the deposition of the Maintenance worker for the appliance. I included with that the tenancy/landlord act sections pertaining to appliance maintenance and stated that this was the only record of maintenance that had occurred, and unless he can come up with more recent records from perhaps another company, it was over 5 years since anything had been looked at.

With my defense, I had also then countered that I would like my deposit back, and my day's pay from work since I had to take that day off to go to this meeting.

The judge then made his statement, and I will always remember this for the rest of my life. He stated that first, he was very impressed of my presentation and that I obviously have a good handle on things and can tell that my nature is of kindness and respect especially with photos of how I had the town house furnished and clean and pride in whatever home I would live in.

Bottom line.... Not only did I win my case, I wound up having SBL owing my over 80% of my deposit back, including interest. SBL's face was PRICELESS. The judge then proceeded to tell SBL that they will be reviewing again all his previous filings, and if there was enough evidence of harassment, he would be reported to the board of landlords and tenants. I don't really know if anything came out of that.

Now.... I walked away that day feeling on top of the world. Completely justified and he got a taste of his own medicine.

BUT... it didn't stop there. OH NO. Knowing that this guy has a history of suing tenants... I printed up my final results (and judge's signature) and gave a copy to each and every tenant in that complex. I wanted to warn everyone his practices and to keep notes, photos etc so that he couldn't do that to them.

But I didn't stop there... He still now owed ME money (he he) and I asked repeatedly for the payment. he never responded. He had until a certain day to pay me back my deposit, and on that day I had gone to his house (I looked up his residence under public records as he is a landlord and had to file under a certain address) and knocked on the door. He didn't answer, though I knew he was home. I rang the bell a few more times, and knocked loudly. he then turned his house alarm on, which at first startled me, but quickly turned to humor seeing how much of a pussy this bully turned out to be.

I then yelled out loud enough that I am not going anywhere. He yelled out, "get off my property or I will call the police!!!"

OK... no problem. I got off the property, but camped out on the front sidewalk. I had a fold-up chair, a cooler with water and sodas, a few sandwiches and all my paperwork with me. I was set to stay there forever. I then would tell anyone that would walk by (already there were some people there from the house alarm fiasco) about how I was a tenant and wrongfully sued me and that I have a claim against him and he now owes ME money. I let anyone look at the paperwork just to back up my claim.

The police DID SHOW UP! they first went to talk to SBL and he was claiming that I was harassing him, slandering him and wouldn't leave his property. I was on public property (sidewalk) and it isn't slander if it's true, of which I had all my court-signed paperwork to back me up. I wasn't disturbing the peace, I was simply and quietly seated outside his home and just talking to neighbors about his actions.

He was out YELLING that I need to leave, and I quietly stated that I would be happy to leave once I am paid that he was legally obligated to do by that date. I was not going to leave before I got money in my hand, and I was more than willing to stay there and tell anyone that would listen to me why I was camped out. The police stated I wasn't doing anything wrong, that it's public property, I wasn't disturbing the peace and it isn't slander if it's true.

Finally after an hour of SBL yelling on his front lawn at the policemen (and at me, of course) did his wife come out with money. She handed the money to the police, of which in turn handed the money to me, and signed off documenting final payment was complete. I sweetly smiled, thanked the police deeply, and went home.

I have no idea what ever happened to SBL, and if he is still pulling shit like this on others, but I hope that I helped put the fear of god in him that he just can't screw with people because eventually it will come and bite him in the ass.

Sometimes, nice guys (or girls) finish last, but with patience ... they finish with a WIN!

(source) story by (/u/Elena_La_Loca)

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

+

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

+

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach? 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin's company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki's plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Fandral smiled brightly with a loud laugh and in a desperate time to prove him wrong, Loki looked at his schedule with a smart remark on his tongue. Loki's smile disappeared quickly. Damn. He did have the same class as Fandral.

Fandral smiled that bright smile and then winked to the side and Loki heard the high pitched giggles of flirting women, "Shall we walk together when classes start next week? Perhaps I could get you a date this year?"

With an eye roll and voice laced with sarcasm Loki replied, "yes because I want help from you." 

Sif held her hand out to Loki for his schedule. Thor insisted earlier she could mark where everyone would be this semester for easy communication. So, unwillingly Loki handed it to her knowing he was sentencing himself to public outings instead of the comfort of his room with books. He pondered if he should get out of those outings or try to get out of his room. Perhaps he would meet someone, or a few people, to hang out with instead of his brother during meal times.

Thor clapped Loki's back, "this is going to be the time of our lives. College is full of possibilities. Last year was such a great time for the five of us! There were plenty of people I met! Last year all you did in your free time was study. Lighten up Brother, and develop friendships."

Siff spoke up after scribbling on schedules, "Or he could get the best grades, and the honors scholarship for extra money." Sif gave Thor a raised eyebrow after he chuckled, then she shrugged going back to scribbling. She muttered, "graduate top class and make more money than you. Support himself and whoever stumbles into his life."

Valstagg's boisterous laughter caught everyone's attention until his eyes darted in the direction of a food truck. He mumbled, "That would be quite the stumble for Loki to notice."

Hogun's lip twitches a smidge as he looked at the schedules with Siff and marking them. Loki's schedule was back and he looked it over. He had the 8am class with Thor and knew the idiot would miss too much class from the way Thor groaned over a class first thing on a Monday. Loki had the damn extracurricular art class that Fandral was also in.

Loki was excited for art class because he practiced occasionally by drawing what he imagined a scene looked like from his leisure readings. Although Loki was terrible at drawing realistic details, nothing stopped him from trying. This class filled a block in his major which further helped him decide to pursue some knowledge for his little hobby. No one would ever see such things due to drawing being a secret… well, for now anyway. Fandral was likely to tell everyone of his poor skills once their shared classroom of a three hour long session two times a week.

Fandral inquired, "so...Sif are we going to come to your dorm room for lunch?"

Sif smirked, "the invitation goes to everyone but you."

"How cruel to keep me away from the sight of your beautiful dorm mate."

Loki turned as he claimed he would see them later. Loki strolled to the dinning hall. It was a typical day; annoying brother and his friends, people all around him talking animatedly with others, some more intimately touching with the hold of hands or lips locked together. Loki tore his gaze from those people and observed where he was, and why he was there and NOT for some romantic adventure.

The buildings seemingly new due to constant cleaning and repairs. The pathways that seemed to be expanding due to hurried people walking beside the sidewalk trying not to be late. His night owl of a brother for example was always in a rush and did not go with the pace of everyone else. Otherwise, the grass was perfectly manicured. There were areas for decorative flowers, bushes, as well as well placed trees. 

Individuals gathered under trees seeking some comfort in the cooler shade. Loki glanced upwards to the sky that was currently cloudy. Then the sun shone thus pouring warmth onto him and momentarily blinding him. 

Loki was sure he somehow ran into something but with a curse word flying out of someone's mouth realization struck instantly this was not an object. Loki instinctively held his hands out to catch the person. Short hair in blended layers caught the sunlight in wonderful variations of browns. The hair seemed to flow slowly as Loki hastily pulled the person closer to prevent a fall. Warm leather in his hands that helped with the grasp. Once stabilized Loki glanced down and noticed the petite and plus size girl in his grasp. 

Her eyes were shielded by huge sunglasses, her full cheeks framed by hair placed perfectly, except for a few strands dancing near her lips. A full lower lip pressed to her thin upper one as she pushed out of his grasp.

The trance seemed to end as Loki watched the girl pick up her phone. The glistening pieces around the device let Loki know instantly the screen was shattered. The woman ran her fingers through her hair and Loki was convinced that must be how her hair was supposed to be due to it looking better than before. Her eyebrows angled as she tapped on the phone and it seemed to be working.

Loki had money to replace her phone, even get his which was the newest model of over a thousand dollars. His parents had money due to his father, Odin, owning a software corporation that was supposed to be handed down to either Thor or Loki. Of course depending on who learned the most in college from their business majors. Loki actually had plenty of money he earned himself due to taking a position to work in his father's business, a branch closest to the campus in an attempt to learn more. To inherit the corporation was the goal and was the reason he spent too much time in his room, practicing programming for his second major in computer science.

Loki quickly replied as soon as it registered, "I am sorry. I didn't-"

The woman's face turned to his with lightning speed and her lips parted with a harsh tone, "if you say you didn't see me because I am short I will bring you down to my level with a punch to your gut."

Loki blinked and finally noticed how short the woman was. He estimated a little over a foot smaller than himself due to him being able to rest his arm on her head easily, if he were to even attempt it. However with the fiery look he was getting, Loki stammered, "I can get you a new phone. Any phone you want."

The woman was already tapping on her phone quickly as if sending a text. A few strands of her hair danced in her face but she seemed to ignore it. Loki however, needed to push back a single hair back in place to maintain his professional and clean appearance. Loki was not sure if she was ignoring him or not and he absentmindedly cleared his throat.

The dark haired woman placed her phone in a pocket, ran her other hand through her hair that parted in a different way..that was visually satisfactory as well. Her leather jacket protesting with sounds of attempts to stretch as she crossed her arms. Her eyebrows rose above her glasses and her bottom lip pressed to the thinner one. She seems to be annoyed, arguably she had every reason to have that right. She said nothing, nor did she make any attempt to even try to speak.

Loki wasn't sure if this little ball of fire even heard a word he said. He spoke again as he took a small writing tablet from his inner coat pocket, "here is my information, we could meet later and you can pick out any phone you wish. There is a business not far from here that I work at-"

A casual, but with irritation mixed, voice spoke, "Not interested. I have the insurance on this one to have it replaced."

Loki glanced up but did not see her. He turned and she was already walking away, quickly. Loki took long strides to her as he handed the woman the paper with his name, number, and location information to meet. The woman took the paper and seemed to be looking at it with a tilt of her head towards the paper but Loki already seen her eyelashes high up due to her obviously looking at the path she was on. The woman did nothing to stop her quick pace that Loki's long legs easily kept up with.

As she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the recycling bin she spoke, "Thanks for the offer but I will pass."

Loki's eyebrows furrowed, "pardon?"

The small woman stopped as she replaced the sunglasses to her head. "Can you see now that I don't want your help?"

Big eyes that were sharp and harsh with angled eyebrows. Eyelashes so thick they seemed to cast their own shadows among her face. Bright green eyes with flecks of dark brown and an inner iris of honey gold that stemmed into the outer green.

"You just cost me a ton of work to replace a dumbass phone. Nice work by the way to try to get me to call you. Clever plan, but it's not something I fall for."

"If you would let me help-"

The woman interrupted him, again with a scoff. 

All Loki wanted to do was help her. Atleast to replace what he had broken. Everyone else would jump at the latest phone with the best camera and larger screen. Top notch software that had lighting quick responses. A phone that stored everything for Loki; His contacts, everything in his calendar, personal alarms for daily routines, apps that helped with maintaining his body physique, and importantly he had access to the school web pages for homework-In conclusion, Loki's phone was his life.

Loki tries again for a chance to talk quickly.

She waved her hands, palms to him and waved them with her head down, "Uh huh. Nope. Go try to woo someone else with your good looks of, 'tall, dark, and handsome.'" Her eyes met his as her hands gestured to him and her eyes skimmed over him briefly with the burning rage behind them. "There are a ton of people out there to fall for someone to take care of them with your fancy handwriting that obviously comes from a prestigious schooling. As well as your expensive clothes."

Loki's mouth parted and then shut firmly. "You make accusations based on nothing but a few things. Maybe you should try not to judge a book by its cover."

She rose an eyebrow, "how? Over dinner while playing some Q and A?"

Loki rose his eyebrows in shock and his mouth parted slightly. Loki did not miss a chance though, "If it could even things out. Perhaps."

She scoffed and put her glasses back in place over her eyes, "I would pay for myself anyway."

Loki gesture between them before she would turn, "You think that would make this even?"

"How about you just read my lips and understand you don't owe me anything." Her eyebrows rose over the glasses with a forced smile, "we good now?"

Loki stared at the woman in disbelief. "If you insist everything is ok but-"

The woman replied with a curt nod and side smile, "Everything is great. Try to have a good day."

Loki looked elsewhere not believing he was going to let her leave, "I wish you well and give many apologies."

The woman turned when her phone went off, "I have to go. Bye." She did not look back but greeted the person on the other line with a happy melodic, "hel~lo! Sorry I am late. I bumped into someone."

Loki raised an eyebrow at the odd change but paid no attention to it as he went to the dining hall for food. Loki was going to enjoy some of his remaining free time with a large serving of sweets before returning to his room in solitude before Thor, Fandral, and Hogun returned to their combined space. Loki thanked the school for having the set up of separate bedrooms, however cursed the common small kitchen and livingroom that he had to walk through to use one of the bathrooms.

They would always try to get him to join in their "fun" of watching each other play a fighting game while they drank energy drinks. Hogun would go to bed at a reasonable time but the other two would stay up talking loudly about the damn game until they went out to a bar.

Sometimes Loki would join in a few games of cards just to take some of their money. It got to the point where everyone agreed to use just change instead of dollar bills.

Loki smirked as he remembered to take the vase full of coins to the change machine, "Idiots…"

Loki ate alone and no one bothered him either. He did watch as others around him talking cheerfully. A friend might be nice to spend some time with once in a while. However, Loki's phone buzzing in his pocket with his schedule alarm to start practicing programming made him remember he was not there for companionship. He was at college to get an education.

Loki picked up after himself and walked swiftly to his dormitory, swiped his ID card to get through doors and finally his pin password for his shared space with the others. Loki stomach sunk when the lights were still off and no one was there. He noted the feeling as odd while he walked in a daze to his room. He shut his bedroom door off to the rest of the world and readied himself for an hour of programming.

Loki programmed for about an hour and a half to figure out something new he stumbled onto. Loki needed a shower. Something about programming made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and needing to feel fresh again. Loki's cursed phone rang for the third time since he was getting ready to relax with a book. The most annoying sound he had on his phone was Thor's ringtone. Loki purposely hit the end button to hang up and force the call to his mailbox. Grabbing a book and sitting in his comfortable desk chair Loki's daily peace began.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 84

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 83. Chapter 85.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

A/N: Well, that’s the end of one notebook. On to the next one.

——————

Now that we’re actually in the colony of Dreshdae, it’s clear that the government power structure here is “Sith Sith Sith Sith and Czerka.” Most places with Czerka shops are “Czerka Czerka Czerka and whoever else.” Everything is Czerka. Your damn underwear is Czerka. But here Czerka is more of an afterthought.

There are a bunch of Sith students wandering around, and a bunch of hopefuls. It’s easy to tell them apart - the students, like Shaardan and Lashowe, all wear a gold-plated medallion around their necks. And all the hopefuls stare at it, conniving to figure out how to get their hands on one. “Carth, you see anyone here who looks like Dustil?” I ask him.

He scans the faces. “No,” he says, “but he’s been gone for so long, he’s grown up. What if I don’t recognize him?”

I look at him. “Trust me,” I say, “You’ll recognize him. Maybe not with your eyes, but with your heart, your soul. He’s your son, you’ll always know him.”

He stops and looks at me, actually looks at me. “Okay, Bastila,” he teases, “What, did you eat a Jedi tome for breakfast this morning?”

Jolee chuckles. “You wear the robe for long enough, the wisdom just diffuses in,” he says.

Ooh. “Hey, you know what, I just had an idea,” I say, “Cover me.” I pull off the Jedi robe, leaving me in an average tunic, and I hand the robe bundle to Jolee. “If the Sith manage the computer system, then they should keep a census, right? Keep track of everyone on the planet.” I pull out my tools and go over to a panel on the wall. “Let me see if I can pull it up, it’ll just look like I’m making repairs.”

“What if you get caught?” Carth asks.

“You let me worry about that.”

The display on the computer screen is just generic Sith. A hospitality-tourism service. I hand Carth my tool pack and grab my panel tool. “I think I remember - I met a Sith droid tech once on one of my scouting jobs and we swapped tricks. Don’t worry, I didn’t sleep with him or anything -” I say, because Carth starts to object a bit, I can see his mouth hanging open, “- we just talked shop. And he told me that all Sith systems have a programmer override code built in, for troubleshooting. It’s a universal code.”

“Did he tell you what it was?”

“Sure did, but I had to get him drunk first.” Alpha, alpha, double-bar, beta, sigma, little red star - the only way he could remember it was that rhyme. With the code in, the screen goes dark, and I open up a panel to get into the circuits. “Like taking candy from a gizka.”

“You there!” Sith trooper coming over to us.

“Just relax,” I whisper to Carth and Jolee, “I’ve got this.”

“What are you doing? Show me your work orders.”

“I don’t have any. Master Edoch here,” I say, indicating Jolee, “he just flagged me down in the hall. I’m fixing his computer access. He said all his readings were coming up in Rodian.”

“I’m not familiar with a Master Edoch,” the trooper says.

“He’s a guest of the Academy, I guess,” I say, “I don’t know, I’m just here to fix things.”

For some reason he doesn’t think to talk to Jolee. Maybe Jolee used the Force on him, I don’t know. “Come to think of it, I don’t recognize you, either.”

“No, I’m new around here,” I say, “I was serving in the fleet, but they transferred me.”

“Is that so?” he says skeptically, “I’ll have to verify that with my commander.”

“Go ahead,” I say, turning around and putting my tool back, “I’m sure your commander would love to be bothered about a simple tech just trying to fix something for a Sith master. Yeah, that’ll definitely reflect well on you.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, girl,” the trooper says. But he pauses. “I’m going to let you off with a warning this time. Next time be sure to get proper work orders before you start working.” 

“I’ll do that.” And he just leaves. 

Carth releases the biggest sigh of relief I’ve ever heard. “I can’t believe that worked,” he says, “I thought we were going to get arrested.”

“The key is just enough confidence to make the other guy doubt himself.”

Now that I’m not being bothered by a Sith trooper anymore, getting into the Academy records is relatively easy. I don’t have complete and total access - like I can’t read files from Master Uthar’s personal database, he’s the head of the Academy - but I can get into basic stuff like the library catalog, employment records, and a school roster. The student list is long, and almost everyone has at least one symbol next to it. Some of the symbols are listed on a key - new initiate, second year, honor roll, stuff like that - but others aren’t, and I can only assume that’s information for Master Uthar and the other instructors. So it doesn’t matter to me. I search for the name Dustil Onasi. There’s only one. “There he is,” I say to Carth, and he looks at the screen, “He’s in his third year, high Force sensitivity marks, fair combat marks. Looks like he’s well-liked.”

“He’s in the Academy, then?” he says, “We have to get in there.”

“Carth, calm down,” I say softly, “Look, let me get the system back to rights, we’ll go into the cantina and we can talk about it. I don’t want to attract anymore attention, else we might get asked a question I can’t lie my way out of.” He takes a couple breaths and nods, and I set the system back to normal. Roll up my tools, take my robe back from Jolee, and we go into the cantina.

Pfft. “The Drunk Side,” what a great name.

Carth sits down at a corner table, facing the door. If Dustil walks in, I guess he doesn’t want to miss him. “Carth,” I say to him, sitting opposite him, “I want to find Dustil as much as you do, but our primary concern is the Star Map.”

“I know, I know,” he says with a sigh, “It’s just -- you can’t blame a guy for being preoccupied.”

“Never said I did.”

“You and Bastila were getting dreams about where they are, right?” he asks, “What do you know about this one?”

I shrug. “They’re never exactly clear,” I say, “This one felt… underground, sort of? But not in a natural cave, the walls were too smooth… And it was cold. And it… smelled. Musty.” I shake my head a bit - my focus started to drift a little. “Bastila thinks it’s in some kind of tomb.”

Carth looks off into the middle distance, tapping his fingers on the table. Then, “I’ve got an idea.” He stands up.

“What are you thinking?”

“You talk to droids,” he says, “Well, I talk to pilots.” And he just walks over to a couple of older guys. They start talking, he smiles, they each say a couple short words and numbers and suddenly they act like old friends. Then Carth looks over at me. “Rena, come on over,” he says. So I go, what the hell. He introduces me to the two, one is older and one is younger. “This is Kell and Owen,” he says, “They’re pilots.”

“Freighter pilots,” Owen, the older one, corrects, “Nothing like the Ebon Hawk.”

“Yeah,” Kell, the younger one, nods, “I’d love to fly something with a bit of thrust for once.”

“Wow, first the dockmaster, now you guys,” I say, “Does everyone know about the Hawk here?”

“In a small colony like this, everyone knows everyone's business,” Owen says.

“It's better than thinking too much about all the Sith lurking about, here,” Kell scoffs a bit, “The Hawk's been in and out of here for ages. An out-of-the-way starport is a good place for, uh, privateers… Not saying you are one.”

No, but Davik apparently was. “Did the Sith call you in?” Owen asks, “They’ve got a lot of stuff going out. Work’s been pretty steady since the Sith started their excavations up on the surface.”

“In case you're forgetting, partner,” Kell says to Owen, “they don't exactly want us talking about their business.”

“Ah, who cares about them?” Owen says, obviously not giving a damn, “I've seen some of those things they're digging up in those ruins in the valley. Pretty creepy, if you ask me.”

Ruins? The Star Map on Dantooine was in ruins. “What exactly are they digging up?” Carth’s grinning a bit - his grin is so sexy. Focus, Rena.

“Weird artifacts,” Owen says, “Looks like alien stuff. Maybe aliens lived on Korriban a long time ago, who knows?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kell says, “I was talking to one of those Sith and he said there are tombs there dating back to when the Sith were here in ancient times.”

“There were Sith here in ancient times?” Owen repeats, then he scoffs. “Sounds like he was feeding you a line. Korriban's only been settled for a short time.”

“So says you,” Kell retorts, “He said that the planet was settled by the Sith a long time ago, and then they all left or something. Those tombs are really important to them.”

Tombs. That’s what Bastila thought. I look back at Carth, still grinning. Oh, you smart, sexy man, I could kiss you. “Tombs, hey?” Owen says, “That makes the stuff they send us even creepier. Wish I didn't have to haul it around.”

“How would one get to these excavations, exactly?” I ask.

“It's in a valley on the surface,” Kell says, “beyond some mountains to the east. No land route - that's why they have us fly in.”

“Shows what you know,” Owen says, “The academy has a route through the mountain -  that's how all their students get to the excavation site.”

“Well, regardless,” Kell says to him and me, “the Sith don't let anybody near that valley.” He scoffs. “Even when we land, they watch us like a Drayberian hawk and want us gone quickly.”

Carth leans over my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “Sounds like we’ve both got reasons to get into the Academy.” He thanks the pilots, and we go.

I wonder where Jolee went. Oh, wait, there he is, he was buying supplies from the Czerka office, watching Czerka staff taking the stuff back to the Hawk. He looks at us as we walk over to him. “You can never have enough spare parts and medpacs, right?” he asks rhetorically, “I also got sold some local ale and actual food. After twenty years of living off the land, synthesized food tastes like tach droppings.” He shudders in disgust, then asks, “So, what have you two been up to?”

“Oh, just learning where the Star Map is,” I say casually, “Roughly.”

He looks at me skeptically. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“No, and neither do I,” I say with a sigh, “but it’s what we have to do. We have to find a way into the Sith Academy.”

[switchmoviefes]

Easy Renovations for Your Home

The secret is to prepare the task out in advance, work with the ideal people, allot the proper quantity of time, and plan for delays. Attempt not to make the completion date correspond with your birthday or anniversary.

Do not impose an amount of time on yourself or your professional that will create tension. At the same time, get a clear understanding of the length of time the task will most likely take, and when it will begin. If it is a 3 month task and the work will not start until November, your home will not be ready for a New Year's celebration, unless you are celebrating Chinese New Year. This is a remarkably common problem - how much time the homeowner believes a task will take and that real work time needed.

There are no professional fairies who can stop in overnight and have the job done by the morning. Have your professional provide a possible time span with the quote.

Have a clear concept of what you desire before your specialist comes over. You do not need to sketch out the modifications, but you should have the ability to inform him or her what modifications you want to see. Many excellent professionals will have done so numerous renos that they will right away know what needs to be done, the approximate expense and time-frame. When a professional tells you that 'the little bathroom' will cost about $3,000, do not believe that your task will secretly only cost about $20, possibly a little less and then be surprised and puzzled when your costs can be found in at $3,000. You 'd be surprised how many people have ideas like that. Attempt not to fall into this trap, or to believe that any modifications you make as soon as the job has started will not impact the price or the amount of time of a project. Constantly get written quotes for any work you are having done, that way you will both be clear about the expectations for the task.

If you are stuck attempting to determine how to improve a location in your house, think about hiring a designer. Keep in mind that they can work within your budget, however if your budget plan is tight, it is probably much better to invest the assessment fee on new drapes or a toilet. If choice making is a problem area for you, and you can relinquish control, then a designer might be the clear solution. Search the very same way you would for a specialist up until you find someone you are comfortable with, somebody who will listen to what you desire. Remember, it is your home, so do what is right for you. If you say, "Definitely no red" and the designer says you require all red if you are going to be 'cutting edge', then choose another designer - one who is more interested in accommodating your requirements.

Is there a quick fix?

Sometimes there is a quick repair. If you are not handling structural modifications or a complete transformation, then think about a coat of paint, new floor covering, new baseboards, and/or new window treatments. There are lots of things that you can do yourself, now. You might wish to up-date your bathroom or kitchen with brand-new floor covering. There is a new glueless laminate 'wood' floor covering that you can deal with on your own if you are so inclined. A great toss rug can change the look of a room and add brand-new life to an old carpet. Installation of brand-new carpet should be professionally done unless it is a little area and you are skilled at that.

Often a basic change like updating your hardware can make a huge distinction in the total appearance of a room. You might have the ability to paint your kitchen cabinetry if you do not wish to replace it. If you are changing the cabinets, Have a look at your regional hardware stores selection. You can look for cost, accessibility, installation charges, and for some concepts in general that you like. They will provide you with a computer system printout of what your completed cooking area will look like if you arrange to meet a kitchen designer and draw one out together.

If you have an old brick fireplace that you do not care for any longer, or desire to provide it a fresh appearance, consider painting it. This is not a crime. Painted brick can look great!

You can likewise put a marble tile (slate works well, too) around the fireplace. Utilize the appropriate tile adhesive (ask at the store) and select a great grout.

While you are looking at the fireplace mantels, look for the 'fireplace over mantels'. You can have mirror customized cut to fit in the center and make your home look amazing, darling!

Changing the lighting can develop a whole brand-new appearance in your house. Changing the light switches and change plates can make a substantial distinction, too.

Doors have a big effect on how a home looks. You can get the glass with many different looks if privacy is a concern. If your budget plan will allow, consider altering all the doors to the brand-new white colonial design - that looks great in simply about every house.

Changing your front door can offer the house a genuine boost and probably include a bit of security, too, considering that many of the new doors are made of steel. If you are trying to make the task as easy as possible, consider using rosettes for the corners, then all the cuts will be straight ones.

Changing out the garage doors in an older home to update the exterior appearance of your home is a fantastic idea. Altering out the garage doors can create an amazing brand-new appearance for your house.

Did you understand that you can paint your home appliances? It works, too. You can employ a painting service to do this if you are fretted about the outcome. If you are getting brand-new cooking area cabinets, you can buy matching covers for the devices. Ask at the cabinet place for details to see if that is practical in your kitchen. Often your best option is just to bite the bullet and buy new appliances. My preferred new home appliance is the upright freezer. I am putting one in the brand-new house. It appears like a refrigerator-- some the same height and nearly the exact same size, and some a little much shorter. You can organize to have the door open from the left, if you have the refrigerator and upright freezer side by side, so access is even much easier. Anyhow, it saves 'losing' all those items at the bottom of a routine freezer that you cannot remember and discover a couple of years later. Likewise, there are some really cool brand-new small appliances that will add more efficiency to your kitchen area. There is a roasting oven that simply plugs in and sits on your countertop - fantastic for huge supper events when you might utilize another oven.

If you have a little area with a closet (front entry, bedroom), think about altering the routine doors to mirrored doors. That opens a room and provides more light, quickly.

You can make them out of crown molding if you like the wooden look, or you can develop them out of plywood, cover with cotton batting, then material to fit your room, and staple them at the back. The relatively new wrought iron drape rods with all the cool accessories are really appealing, too. Tie-backs can make a real distinction, too, so have a wee appearance at them.

Furnishings plays a key function in the look of your home. There are some gorgeous slip covers readily available, if you do not wish to change your additional comfy things! You might attempt your hand at reupholstering your furnishings. It is not as hard as it looks, but it does take time and skill, however if you are a prepared individual and strategy it thoroughly, it ought to work out all. Get a staple weapon to make the job a little much easier.

Perhaps you are in the market for a new headboard? You can make your own out of a great door, with an even pattern, some great crown molding, and some legs. You can acquire these at any lumber store. Turn it on its' side to create the appearance you seek.

If you 'd like a softer headboard, attempt covering a sheet of plywood with a reasonable little padding, then cover with material and staple. If it is huge enough, you may be able to just sit it behind the head of the bed, or you can connect it to the frame.

Let go of your old concepts about painting wooden furnishings - it can really bring it into today. If you are painting a hutch, remember to paint the interior to keep it looking light. Including additional lighting is easy with the new 'stick on lights' readily available at routine retail outlets. Smear Vaseline on the windows of the system before you paint it to make tidy up faster and much easier.

You can replace the hardware, too, or paint that. If you want to be adventurous, you might tile the top of your cabinets and end tables with a good marble or ceramic tile.

New bedding can alter the feel of a bedroom. Attempt including a duvet cover over an old comforter for a various look. You can get coordinating pillowcases, too, that will really finish the look.

If your restroom needs an up-date, a coat of paint might suffice. Many individuals have successfully painted their tile. Ask your seller what type of paint and complete you will require for this. The bathtub can be painted, too - there is a service that specializes in this, so check your local documents. Tub surrounds are not a bad concept if there is no water damage on the walls. Tiling is constantly a great choice. If you are doing it yourself, and you must take apart the existing walls, keep in mind to use water resistant drywall prior to you finish the wall surface. Changing the countertop, sink, toilet, tub, or components will really enhance the appearance of the restroom. Call a professional before you get in too deep, though.

Shelving can make a remarkable difference in the feel of you home if area is a problem. Check your closets to see if there is a space at the really leading where a shelf could be included. That is usually squandered space, and you could keep your 'opposite season' clothing up there. Can you build shelves into your pantry to make more space for canned products? Stackable baskets and boxes are useful for storing all the extra little things that trigger mess around your house. There are lots of shelving 'sets' on the marketplace, now. They are typically less costly than purchasing all the products to develop your own racks, so check these out.

A basic method to alter the look and feel of your home is to reorganize the furnishings. Sounds painfully simple, but it can breathe brand-new life into a room.

Significant Restorations

Normally, major remodeling would encompass remodeling a portion of your home or the whole thing. The crucial things to remember is not to get in unfathomable. An extremely typical problem is taking on more than you can chew, normally right after watching your preferred restoration program on television! It constantly takes way longer to do a remodeling than what is accomplished with the magic of TV. For one, they have all sort of professional help, and keep in mind how the cam carefully prevents any close-up shots of the ended up work. If you race through a job, you will have lots and lots of time afterward to look at all the errors. Take your time, prepare it out carefully, and do one area at a time. Sounds obvious, however it is remarkably easy to begin ripping out all the stuff you do not like, then realize later that it takes forever to really repair any given location. Much better to choose what needs to be done, write out a list, then focus on. If you have the walls and the floors on the very same list, do the walls first - it will be less difficult when the paint splashes!

If it is a substantial improvement task, consider how you will cope with all the mess. Do you have an alternate place where you can live throughout the restorations? How about a little area of your house that you can keep as a sanctuary? Give this some severe thought before you start. It can be unexpected how challenging life can be during a reno job. If you happen to have a house trailer, this is most likely a good time to 'camp out', if only for a little break from the turmoil.

[barpurplewrites]

How did you two get together?

This is part one, I promise.

Enjoy and please bug the heck out of me to write the rest of it, I need the kick in the writing organs right now.

-x-x-x-

Belle's bland face lasted until the letting agent had left. The moment the front door closed she broke into a wide grin. As she turned around and saw the vast array of sex toys littered with casual abandon around her apartment, the grin turned to giggles.

It had been a ridiculous plan, petty in the extreme, but it had been worth it just for the look on the letting agent's face. And if it stopped them wanting to photograph her entire apartment every inspection then all the better.

As she started to gather up the dildos and butt plugs she wondered who the hell the landlord was, and how uptight they had to be to insist on such frequent updates on the condition of their rental properties. She wouldn't have minded if the photos were just of any problem areas, but when they covered everything, including all of her possessions, (and at one point the undies she'd forgotten she had on an airer), she got annoyed. It was an invasion of her privacy and she wasn't going to accept it.

Her polite complaints to the letting agent had been ignored twice and then got her a passive aggressive letter that boiled down to 'if you don't like it, move out'. In had taken her a month to come up with this plan. Thank god Ruby worked at Promises Promises and was willing to lend her some display models of the wilder side of adult toys. There was no way Belle would have spent fifty dollars on a nine inch purple dildo with suction cup base, or thirty bucks on a pleasure-for-him butt plug, no matter how annoyed she was with ridiculous policies.

Once everything was boxed up, she sent a text to Ruby to say thank you again and let her know she could pick the box up tomorrow. Ruby had laughed herself silly about Belle's plan, after she'd kicked herself for not thinking of it herself. They rented from the same letting agent after all, according to Ruby everyone in town did.

“It'll have more impact coming from you, Belle, the man'd expect me to have this stuff at home.”

If word got around about this then her sweet and innocent librarian image would be in tatters. Which really wasn't a problem because Belle thought of herself more as an eclectic guide on the journey of discovery kinda of librarian anyway. Her phone bleeped with a text from Ruby asking her if there was anything she fancied keeping from the 'haul of horny', which had Belle laughing as she headed for the shower.

“Maybe one day soon, Rubes.”

She had to get ready for her standing chess date with Gold. Today might be the day that their flirting moved up a gear. Then again Gold seemed happy to take things slow. Very slow. On second thought perhaps she should ask Ruby about that nice looking rabbit. Nothing wrong with Gold wanting slow, but a girl had needs.

-o0o-

Gold grumbled as he read the sender of the email's that had just made his computer ping. Every quarter he told himself he was going to switch the agency that handled his properties, and every quarter he ended up forgetting to actually do anything about it until the inspection emails arrived again. Idiot. Now he had to look through images that showed more of his tenants' lives than he really wanted to see. He'd complained, loudly several dozen times. All the agents needed to do was inform him of damage or potential repairs, but they just parroted 'our policy is..' at him, and even more annoyingly, 'our contract states...'. Like he'd never written a real contract. If he wanted to he could tangle them up in legal knots the like of which would make Gordian wince.

“I miss Dove.”

He'd started using the agency three years ago because of the accident that had broken his knackered ankle. The impact from the fall had twisted the plates and pins that had been in place since he'd first broken the damn thing and the surgery to fix that mess, and the resulting infection, and the recouperation had laid him up for months. Dove had offered to return to assist him, but Gold wasn't going to let the man walk away from the job of his dreams to collect rents in Storybrooke, Maine. So, letting agency made sense.

And, in fairness, he'd gotten to like not chasing rents, and arranging for repairs. Add to that the townsfolk had sort of forgotten that he was their landlord now they had to deal with the agency. Sure he'd never be the town's most beloved citizen, but these days he was treated with a mild indifference rather than abject terror. He even had his suspicions that the dire warnings of the Beast of Storybrooke had been dropped from the town's welcome wagon.

He glanced at the clock and decided he had time to skim through the important emails before he needed to get ready for Belle and their chess date. He could call it a date in his head. There was nothing romantic about their twice weekly get togethers; chess on Tuesdays and films and take out on Fridays. Just friends spending time together, as much as he might dream of it being romantic, it wasn't, and it had been so long since he'd had a friend he wasn't going to fuck this up by letting his soppy-love-sick heart make Belle uncomfortable.

Belle was one of the reasons he'd figured that the locals were no longer warning every newcomer away from him. She'd arrived in town a year and a half ago and three months later they had become friends. If Dove had still been in town he might have admitted to him that he'd fallen head over heels with Belle about seventy one hours after she'd first beaten his arse at chess. To be fair Dove probably had worked that out already, Gold did exchange regular emails with him, and Belle was frequently mentioned.

He gave his head a shake and focused on the task at hand. Emails from annoying letting agents, who he was going to fire and replace for real this time.

“Deep breath. And here we go.”

He opened his email client and swore. The agency had felt the need to flag one email and title it, all in capitals, as urgent.

“Bet it's the guttering at Granny's.”

Gold clicked on the attached image.

“What the...”

That was not Granny's. That was Belle's flat, that was Belle's chair and that was gold butt plug.

“Oh fuck...”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Operating Room

Inverted Character Intros 3/7: Schneep

People who asked me to tag them: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit​ @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus​

I’m a horrible judge of what upsets people. I think this is alright, but if it crosses a line, please let me know so I can tag it or something

“You sure this is the place?” the man asked. “Looks a little...sketchy.”

The building sat on the fringes of town. It wasn’t really run-down, actually it was in better repair than most of its surroundings. But there was no sign or any sort of label. The room through the large front window was dark, and with the sun barely setting you couldn’t see anything inside.

“Well, not like we have a choice.” The woman shrugged as best as she could while still supporting her companion. “Unless you want the hospital wondering why you got shot three times. They’re obligated to call the police with any gunshot wounds, you know.”

The man winced. His wounds throbbed with new pain: one in the leg, one in the abdomen, one in the hip. The leg has been a through-and-through, but he still had bullets lodged in his torso. “Good point,” he mumbled, leaning on the woman even more. “Let’s go.”

The door opened, and a buzzing sound let everyone inside know someone had just entered. The woman flipped a light switch near the door, revealing what looked like an impromptu waiting room. A bunch of upholstered chairs leaned against the walls, and small end tables next to them held some old out-of-date magazines. The walls were undecorated, off-white plaster only broken up by a single gray door. A long desk with a computer monitor and a swivel chair seemed to serve as reception, but nobody was there.

“Maybe it’s closed,” the man suggested hopefully.

“Places like this don’t close,” the woman said stubbornly. “Now stop worrying. This guy may be a little weird, but he’s very good.”

“I appreciate that you think so.” The door opened, and a man stepped out. “And you are right, of course. I am great doctor.”

“Ah, so you’re the guy,” the man mumbled. “Well I—” he stumbled a bit. The woman had to help him stay on his feet.

The doctor hummed thoughtfully, eyes scanning up and down. “The gun wounds, yes? I am assuming there are bullets still inside you want me to remove?”

“Exactly,” the woman confirmed. “Two of them. We hear you do good work and can, ah, keep quiet.”

“Of course, of course.” The doctor waved a dismissive hand. “I will expect payment for this.”

“I don’t carry cash—”

“I can wait a week or so. Now, if you could please wait here while I take your friend to be fixed up...”

“But I—”

“I do not care. I cannot have distractions while on such an important operation.”

The woman opened her mouth to keep protesting, but the man looked at her and shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re in kind of a rush, since I don’t want to bleed out and all. And I’ll remind you that this was your idea.” The woman scowled, but let him shift his weight from her to the doctor. She sat on a chair and watched as her companion and the doctor went into the other room. The door swung shut with a strange finality.

“If you will lay down on the table, please,” the doctor said, pushing the man toward said table. “I am going to prepare anesthetic.”

The man eyed it. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Ha! If you are worried about the straps, my friend, that is because I am not always able to have painkillers. We will not need them today, and I am not going to give you or your friend reason to not pay me.” The man stood stubbornly, despite his unsteady swaying, and the doctor rolled his eyes. “You can just sit, if that makes you feel better.”

Cautiously, the man did so, and looked around the room. It looked like the operating rooms you see on TV, just a bit more thrown-together. There were trays full of wicked-looking medical equipment, and giant lamps provided bright white spotlights. A couple rickety metal tables around the room held various devices and instruments, and two metal doors led deeper into the building.

The doctor busied himself at one of the tables, partially hidden in the shadows. “So, why is it that you come to me with three bullet holes inside you?”

“Why d’you care?” the man said suspiciously.

“I make it a point to know these things about my patients. Maybe your girlfriend out there could tell me if you won’t.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Sister, then?”

“Nah, I’m an only child. Don’t have much family left, and they probably wouldn’t care enough to drag me here if they knew I was shot.”

“I see, I see.” The doctor pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, then glanced back over to the man. “You do not have to tell me the big picture. I am smart enough to figure things out. But I must know the details, like the type of gun.”

“I dunno, handgun? It was too dark in the room to make it out.” The man felt a sudden surge of anger. “It was going so well, too. That bitch-ass red hood wannabe didn’t see us coming. We probably could’ve done it, had his friend not shown up at the last minute. Just a few bang, bang, bangs and we had to run...They’re probably following us, actually, so you should make this quick if you don’t want a shootout in the middle of your little emergency room here.”

“...I see.” The doctor picked up a syringe. In this lighting, it looked so dramatic that the man half-expected the doctor to squirt out a bit of the fluid inside, like you see in movies. But that would’ve been a waste of whatever was inside. “This is the anesthetic. Now if you will stick out your arm, we could get underway.”

The man realized he’d leaned back unconsciously. He shook himself mentally. His friend thought this was a good place, and she was usually right. A backdoor operation like this would probably be kind of creepy. So, despite his instincts, he rolled up his sleeve and let the doctor shove a needle in his arm.

“It will take a few moments to kick in,” the doctor explained. “Now, if you don’t mind, that is enough time for me to make a very important phone call. I have been meaning to do so all day. I will see you in a little while.” And with that, he turned and pushed though a door into another room.

What a strange man. Well, he had an accent, so maybe it was a culture thing. The man could do nothing but sit and wait for the anesthesia to kick in.

He’d never been on painkillers before, at least not that he could remember. Was the room supposed to be tilting? Were his thoughts supposed to be spinning? He tried to lift his hand to his head, but his movements were beginning to slow...maybe he just...needed to lie down...but he didn’t want that...why was that again?...remembering took a longer time than it normally did...when he blinked the lights began to blur...

There was a pap! sound. In his slow mind, it took him too long to recognize it as a gunshot. A couple more followed. They were disturbingly close...didn’t he just say something about being followed?...He was hit with a sense of urgency all of a sudden. He tried to stand up but ended up almost falling over instead. He hadn’t lost that much blood, had he?

“Ah, seems they were closer than I thought.” The doctor came back into the room, the lower half of his face hidden by a blue surgical mask. He walked over to the operating table.

“Wha...what’s goin...?” the man slurred. Things were starting to swirl in front of his eyes.

“Well, you are very unlucky, my friend.” The doctor pushed the man down onto the table. Vaguely, the man was aware of something being strapped across his chest. “Had you been anyone else, I would have done the operation you wanted and sent you on your way, provided you did eventually pay. But the man you went after happens to be a friend of mine, and I just got his permission to do my actual work.”

The man turned his head. “My...she...”

“She’s probably already dead. You should not worry about her right now. Well, you should not worry about yourself either. I am very good at my job.”

“What...did you do...to me?”

The doctor pulled down his mask, smiling at the man. “Is not anesthetic. You may not be entirely conscious, but is not painkiller, because it will not kill the pain. You may not enjoy this.” He pulled the mask back in place.

The next morning, two men met in the local park. One of them wore a red hoodie, the other one wore a blue sweater and glasses. They sat in silence on a bench, each one nursing a coffee. After a while, Jackie asked, “Did you kill him?”

Dr. Schneeplestein made a so-so gesture with his hand. “Eventually. Actually, I should go check soon.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Have I ever told you that you’re really fucked up?”

Schneep smiled. “Many times.” And he didn’t care.

Oh boy, it’s time to take all the evil doctor tropes I know and smash them together into my third favorite Septic! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I watched Schneep’s original power hour, specifically that one part at 4:50, while writing this and I thought, yeah, this is where I’m going to take it. Honestly, ze good doctah never really seemed like he had it all there to me, so why not push that angle?

Inverted!Schneep takes his operations very seriously, even if those operations aren’t exactly legal...or moral. His main source of income is his little clinic, where he does actually treat patients who, for whatever reason, can’t go to the hospital. But then he has his little hobby. I’m going to let your imagination fill in most of the details, but I will say that he has a sort of fascination with taking things apart and putting them back together. He’s *very* unstable, but he’s also *very* smart, so he knows how to avoid drawing attention to himself. Surprisingly enough, he’s the most sociable of the Inverted!boys, or at least he is within their little circle. And he is actually a doctor oratleasthewenttomedicalschool, so if any of the others get injured while doing their thing, they have someone they can turn to without things getting complicated.