#in celebration of ao3 being back up after the outage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p-artsypants · 4 years ago

Text

Longest Night (40) Homecoming

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend Kris, who found this story on his own and then told me he was reading it, which completely freaked my bean.

Re-reading this story, I remembered thinking about having Tom and Sabine be stress bakers. It was more of a comedy point. But now knowing there are flour outages because of so many people stress baking during quarantine, I think it’s very in character.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Oh look at that! Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, Adrien.” Dr. Boucher praised. “I love bloody skin grafts.”

Adrien was on his stomach, but propped up with pillows to keep the weight off of his chest. The bandages on his back were coming off permanently today.

And they would be going home.

Well, to the Agreste mansion at least.

Until things calmed down more, and the new security system was installed at the bakery.

“No sign of infection, no blackening of any skin. This is just what I hoped to see.”

“It still looks awful,” said Gabriel, mercilessly.

“Well, of course it does. And the stitches make it look even worse. But take a look at this!” The doctor pressed a finger against the skin graft for a moment and then pulled away. There was a white spot where he pressed, before it turned pink again. “You see? He’s got a nice blood flow. That means my biggest worries with him are mostly over.”

He took off more bandages lower down, revealing his buttocks and thighs. “However, the graft came from the groin area. The donor site is looking good too, but the skin is still raw and tender. Walking will be painful for a few weeks still.” Carefully, he rolled Adrien’s thigh to reveal the yellowish gauze on the inside of his legs. It just looked like a really bad rug burn underneath.

“Sitting might also be unpleasant, given the stretching to the stitches from your lower back to your calves. If you are able to prop up your legs, that should help.”

Adrien grunted in confirmation.

“Loose underwear and pants. The more breathable the better. You may shower, but nothing is to be submerged in water. If the xeroform gauze gets wet, blot it dry gently, and use a hair dryer at the lowest setting. You might have to do that a few times a day. As the skin heals, the xeroform will pull off. Just trim it off with scissors. It should be about another two weeks before it pulls all the way off. Your arm stays in the sling for two more weeks, but you can use it as need be. Just be careful. Continue to clean your ears with saline until all of the piercings are healed, then you can take out the earrings. Take all medicine as prescribed, when designated. I’ve included all this information in your care packet.”

“Thank you,” said Gabriel.

The doctor smiled and turned to the other side of the room. “And how is Marinette feeling today?”

“She’s a little sleepy today,” provided Tom.

Marinette laid on her side, away from Adrien. She didn’t acknowledge the doctor.

“Not excited about getting to go home in time for Christmas, sweetheart?”

“I’m ecstatic.” She said dully.

“I can tell,” Dr. Boucher chuckled. “Did you hear what I told Adrien?”

“Hmm-mm.”

“Showers are fine, but don’t submerge any wounds. Mr. Agreste said that your shower has been fitted with a bench so won’t risk standing in water.”

“Cool.”

“Take all medicine as prescribed and when designated.”

“Got it.”

“Would you please look me in the eye and say that again?”

Marinette turned to face him, and said calmly. “Yes Dr. Boucher, I will take my medicine exactly as prescribed and at the right times.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled. “I’m not trying to patronize you, I just wanted you to remember.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, if anything happens after you leave, you trip and fall, some other symptom pops up, etc. call me, and I’ll come right over. No need to tough things out. We want a nice, smooth recovery.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Alright! Let’s get you dressed and checked out!”

—

Tom, Gabriel, and the Gorilla accompanied them down to the lobby. Sabine has stayed back at the mansion, preparing for their return. Marinette and Adrien were both put in wheelchairs, as they were both still too weak to make the trip.

As soon as they got off the elevator, applause began as staff and patients alike lined the hall and cheered them on.

Marinette sunk farther into her chair. “Why are they all here?” She asked her father.

“Because they love you, and they’re happy to see that you’re alright.”

“How could they love me?”

“Darling, you’re Ladybug.”

“That doesn’t make up for what happened. Just one unforgivable deed can ruin the public’s opinion of a person. Why would I get any special treatment?”

Tom sighed. “You’ll understand eventually.”

Eventually, they ended up at check out. Marinette paid little attention to what was being said. They talked billing and insurance, future appointments for suture removal and check ups. Boring stuff.

Adrien was by her side, about a foot away, and he rested his arm out, palm up for her to take.

She pretended not to see it.

Then soon enough, they were moving again, the Gorilla hurrying on ahead to pull up the car.

“Adrien should sit in the front,” said Marinette. “So he has more leg room.”

Adrien whined in protest, but Gabriel ignored him. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Before they even went outside, however, they could already hear the crowd waiting for them.

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “The media has been patrolling the entrance, but it looks like someone found out today was discharge day.”

“Don’t these people have anything better to do? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve for crying out loud.” Grumbled Tom.

Marinette pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, and pulled the cords taut. Adrien noticed, and mimicked the action. The police stood nearby, ready to keep back the crowds.

The cold December air burst over them in a flurry, blowing right through them, as the voices shouted and cried out for attention. Mostly demanding and questioning, but some with anger.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Will you ever get back to superhero work?”

“Is it true that you’re both married officially?”

“Will you be passing on the Miraculous?!”

“Adrien, over here!”

“Murderers!”

“Have you heard anything from Hawkmoth?”

“Are you in league with Hawkmoth now?”

“Monsters!”

Marinette kept her head down as her father helped her into the car. She was placed in the middle seat, as Gabriel sat on her left. The Gorilla helped Adrien into the front, and placed the wheelchairs in the trunk.

Like the red sea, the reporters parted from the front of the car, but didn’t relent in their questions.

“How bad are your injuries?”

“Where are the other Miraculous users?”

“How could you betray us!?”

“What are you going to do with the money from the concert?”

The moment everyone was buckled and settled, the Gorilla peeled out of the drive and sped away to the mansion.

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“Must be a slow news day everywhere else.”

Tom pulled Marinette against him. “It’s okay, Marinette. It won’t take long before this all calms down.”

“Yeah, like in a few decades.” She muttered.

The ride was mostly silent, as Tom tried to introduce small talk. But between two people that didn’t talk, and two people not willing to talk, it was more awkward than not.

Soon they reached the mansion, and even more media awaited them.

Marinette covered her ears to ignore it.

The Gorilla pulled right up to the steps, the gate locking the unwanted guests out.

“I want to walk up the steps on my own.” Marinette demanded.

“Alright, I’ll be right there to catch you,” said her father, helping her out.

The Gorilla lifted Adrien out of his seat, and carried him up the stairs.

Each step hurt, despite having shoes and socks on. She leaned on the rail, while her father’s hand steadied her back. It was slow, but she was doing it on her own.

The doors to the mansion opened, and immediately they were warmed. Not just by the heat, but by the lights, the glitter, and bright colors.

Now it felt like Christmas. Garland strung across the banisters, little hints of Christmas scattered over end tables and furniture, and a tree, bare and surrounded by boxes of decorations.

It felt like a home.

Marinette let out a little hum at the sight. Her parents must have run home to collect their own decorations to make it feel like their home.

“Pretty,” she said with a little smile.

“Oh I’m so glad you like it!” Alya stood from where she was checking lights. “I had no idea if you were going to be up for Christmas, but I figured you wouldn’t at least mind the decorations.”

“Looks very nice,” she stated again. “I’ll enjoy it more in a bit. I really just want to take a shower.”

“Fair enough!”

Adrien whined.

“Stay down here,” she demanded, without looking at him. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to wait for me upstairs when I’m coming right back down.”

He whined again, but it sounded more like he was relenting.

The Gorilla deposited him gently on a chair near the tree as Marinette once again, independently climbed the stairs.

Alya rested a hand on Adrien’s knee. “What do you think, Sunshine? Festive enough?”

He shrugged.

“Eh,” Nino winced. “Adrien’s not really...big on Christmas.”

“My wife is obsessed with Christmas,” explained Gabriel. “Since she...disappeared, it’s been hard. A lot of memories.”

Adrien shifted uncomfortably.

“Then we’ll all make some new ones together.” Said Sabine, resting a hand on his head. “Then we’ll honor the ones you have, and it might not sting as much.”

Adrien didn’t look thrilled at the idea, but he was hard to read. He shuffled his feet, and pulled at the legs of his pants.

He didn’t really seem to be listening.

So they let him be, and got back to decorating.

—

When Marinette reached Adrien’s room, she sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“Great job!” Praised Tikki. “That was a lot of stairs! And you did it all by yourself!”

“Stupid thing to be happy about,” she frowned. “I’m strong enough, my feet just hurt.”

“You’ve got to celebrate the little things.” Tikki flitted over to Marinette’s suitcase behind the couch. “Otherwise you’ll get discouraged.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Tikki wasn’t bothered by the reaction, and only picked out some clothes and moved them into the bathroom.

Adrien’s room had also been decorated for Christmas. There was a garland stretched across the railing to the second story. Another undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room by the windows. The bed was made, with fresh sheets and a festive blanket on the foot of the mattress. By the pillows sat the little Ladybug and Chat Noir plushies.

Marinette grit her teeth as she leaned forward to untie her shoes. It wasn’t enough to pull her stitches on her back, but it did sting.

“Do you need help?” Tikki asked after watching her struggle.

“No.” She finished untying her laces, and then started to pull them off.

The worst of the cuts on her feet were on the ball of her foot, right by her big toe, and it hurt the whole time she slid out of her shoe.

She still had to take her socks off, but she was exhausted.

Tikki seemed to pick up on it and pulled her socks off for her, pulling gently to not catch on the stitches.

“Thank you, Tikki.”

“Of course Marinette. Please don’t feel ashamed to ask for help. I want you to get better.”

Marinette didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree. Slowly, she stood and sauntered her way to the bathroom.

The tile was cool on the irritated skin. She shucked off her sweatpants and sweatshirt, then her shirt and underwear.

Then she sat on the toilet, feeling tired again before she could reach the shower.

“Here’s your hairbrush.” Tikki added, dropping it on the counter.

“Thanks.”

“Would you like me to stay in here? Or wait outside?”

“Wait outside.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “please.”

“I understand. You want your privacy. Well, if you need me, I’ll be out in Adrien’s room.” And she shut the door behind her.

Gathering her strength, Marinette sauntered over to the shower and turned it on. It didn’t take long at all for it to warm up, and she slid onto the bench, sitting sideways in the stream of water.

Words couldn’t describe the comfort clean, warm water gave her as it rushed over her body. She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair and let the suds slide down her skin. The luxurious fragrance of expensive soap filled her nostrils, hiding the stench of infection and body odor. The dirt and grime that had persisted even after the sponge baths, were disappearing down the drain, leaving nothing but smooth, clean skin.

She used a washcloth to scrub at the bloodstains, rubbing her skin raw. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough, she could wash all the bad memories away. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

After her hair was shampooed and conditioned, and her skin was raw from her frantic scrubbing, she just sat on the bench, letting the water beat on her. Clear her head of thoughts, good and bad.

And just exist.

Like that night in the rain.

She had leaned on Chat’s—Grimalkin’s chest then. He wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead tenderly, like they hadn’t just murdered 14 people.

A moment in the rain with Adrien.

How different things had become.

Before, she loved the rain. It reminded her of falling in love. Of misunderstandings turned to forgiveness, and friendships starting in the most sincere and innocent of ways. But now the rain tasted bitter. It was cold on her skin and made her hair hang flat to her head.

There was no umbrella, no laughter, no fireworks.

And even the boy she shared the moment with became a blur.

When living your last moments, it’s easy to say ‘I love you’. There’s no fear, no considering, no sorting out your feelings. Just the desire for comfort and to lean on someone, and to let your feelings known without regrets.

She loved Adrien, she knew that in her head. And she had moments with Chat Noir where her heart would beat faster and she’d feel at home.

But the twisted version of her boy was so foreign to her. They had both come out of torture as different people, that was obvious. But the month she was separated from him, something changed in his mind. It cracked. Or maybe it was the flogging, or even the akumatization.

Somewhere, the sunshine goofball she treasured was swallowed, and a blank slate was left behind.

Adrien and Chat Noir still never melded together for her. They hadn’t gotten to develop that gap organically. It was just a constant fight for their lives with no development.

It was her and him together, and that’s all it was. All it needed to be.

So what was different now? Why was everything so complicated?

Finally, she turned the water to cold, letting herself be pelted to numbness before she turned it off completely.

She stood, stepping out of the shower to get a towel.

But the marble floor was slick and her feet flew out from under her. She immediately fell on the ground, landing hard on her back and bumping her head on the lip of the shower.

It wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it did send searing pain up through the wounds in her back.

Honestly, it would have hurt even if she didn’t just get out of the hospital.

She didn’t cry out in pain though. She took the impact with as much grace as she could, only a rough grunt coming from her lips.

Now to get up.

She could do that, right? She just needed to sit up.

Sit up.

Sit.

Oh she was exhausted. Her head throbbed as she fought off nausea.

“Tikki?” She called weakly.

“Did you call me, Marinette?” Tikki asked from outside.

“Yeah...I...I fell. And I can’t...I can’t get up.”

Tikki was silent on the other side. Marinette hoped she had rushed to get help, and hadn’t shrugged her off.

Just a few minutes.

Just a few…

—

Tikki swooped into the main room where everyone was still decorating. “Marinette fell!” She cried.

Immediately, everyone abandoned their decorations and raced up the stairs, leaving Adrien alone on the couch.

Tom, Sabine, and Alya burst into the bathroom, while Nino and Gabriel waited just outside, giving her privacy, but also waiting to help where they could.

Marinette looked up at the sudden entrance. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh baby...” Sabine cooed, bending over her. “What hurts? Where did you land?”

“I landed on my back, and I bumped my head.”

“I’ll get an ice pack!” Gabriel called before leaving the room.

“Do we need to call the doctor?” Asked Tom.

“No, no don’t. I just...need some help getting up. I’m...weaker than I thought.”

“How’s your spine? Does anything feel wrong?”

“No, just my stitches.”

“Okay, I just didn’t want to move you if you hurt your spine.” Tom took hold of her arm and pulled her up to sit. Then he scooped her up and moved her to sit on the toilet.

Alya draped a towel over her legs.

Sabine scooted behind her, touching her back. “I’m not seeing any bleeding, so I don’t think you tore anything.”

“Girl, talk to us.” Alya demanded. “I see tears. What hurts?”

“It all hurts,” she confessed with a whisper. “But I feel so stupid for falling...”

Sabine took her hairbrush and started to comb out her hair. “Darling, no. You don’t need to worry about that. Accidents happen.”

“Dr. Boucher told me to be careful. But I just wanted to shower on my own...”

“Marinette,” her mother squeezed her hand. “We do not fault you for wanting to be independent or wanting privacy. You deserve it, you have the right to ask for it. This was simply an accident, and it’s not as bad as it could be.”

“I’ll call the doctor,” said Tom. “I don’t think he needs to come, but it would be smart to get his recommendation.”

“Sorry...”

“No apologies necessary, honey.” Tom kissed her temple, and left the room.

“Let’s get you dressed, Hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Only a few minutes later, Marinette emerged from the bathroom, clean and dry, dressed in fresh clothes. Sabine helped her to sit on the bed.

Gabriel handed her a bag of frozen peas for her head, and Nino gave her a glass of water with some ibuprofen.

“Dr. Boucher says he’s not too worried about it since she’s not bleeding or unconscious. He said there might be some extra soreness, but to call again if something feels sprained.”

“I’m sorry...” Marinette looked down to her toes.

“Really girl, stop apologizing.” Alya chastised. “We felt so helpless for so long, please let us help you now.”

Marinette looked up to her shyly, and prepared to answer, but before she could, a low whine came from the door.

Everyone collectively turned to look, only to find Adrien sitting at the door frame.

“Adrien? How did you get up here?” Gabriel asked, dreading the answer.

Adrien leaned forward to his hands and knees and started to shuffle slowly into the room.

“Nope!” Tom rushed to him and lifted him off the floor. He carried him over to the couch and set him down.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Gabriel reprimanded. “Why didn’t you just stay downstairs?”

Adrien flinched, curling up on himself at the shout.

Tom petted his head. “I’m sorry we left you down there alone. We won’t do it again.”

As soon as Adrien was on the couch, he was twisting to turn around to look at Marinette. He whined again.

Marinette didn’t look at him.

“She’s alright,” Sabine cooed. “Just bumped her head.”

His eyes never left her, as he just stared with an unreadable expression.

“Did you want to take a shower too, dude?” Asked Nino.

But Adrien didn’t answer. It didn’t seem like he had heard him.

“Adrien,” Gabriel stepped right in front of him and caught his eyes. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Adrien tried to look around him, back at Marinette, but she wasn’t looking at him. Not cuing him, not saying anything to him.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Adrien.” Gabriel pressed a little firmer. “Yes or no?”

Why was a simple yes or no so hard? He didn’t know! He didn’t know!

The decision was taken away as Tom scooped him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe you’ll feel better afterwards.”

As he was being taken away, he kept twisting to get a peek at Marinette.

She never met his eyes.

Once he was in the bathroom, Sabine helped Marinette over to the couch. “Here dear, just relax. We’ll put a movie on for you both, and we’ll decorate the tree! Won’t that be nice?”

“Hm.” She hummed noncommittally.

“You know, you have a lot of people that want to see you. So for Christmas Eve tomorrow, we’re thinking about having a big dinner. With the Cesaire’s, and Grandma and Grandpa, Chloe, and Jagged Stone and Penny! Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah.” She said flatly.

“If you’d rather not, they’d completely understand.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can call it off too. No pressure sweetie.”

“Yeah, mom I said it’s fine!” She barked, “If I didn’t want to see them, I would have said no!”

“Okay,” Sabine said patiently. “I just want you to be in control, but I also want you to have fun.”

Marinette sighed. Then she leaned over the back of the couch and looked in her bag. Not finding what she was looking for, she asked, more politely, “maman? Did you pack my favorite blanket? The gray and red plaid one?”

“I packed your bag,” Alya clarified. “And no, I didn’t. Sorry girl. I can go grab it for you, though! Anything else you want me to get?”

“Can you also grab my cat pillow?”

“Sure thing!”

“Wait a second, Alya, have Tom go with you.”

Marinette waited, sitting on the couch and looking out to the city. It was a gray, bleak sky, and even the buildings looked desaturated. While the twinkling of the lights in her peripheral vision showed a warm environment, the landscape in front of her reminded her of just how cold and unforgiving the world was. And how cold it would continue to be in the coming weeks. Perhaps even for the rest of her life.

Alya plopped down on the couch next to her. “So what do you want to watch? Hallmark’s got some really great ones this year. And by great, I mean terrible. We can play your favorite game: car accident or cancer?”

“I don’t want to watch a Hallmark movie. Too fake. Too predictable.”

“Alright, you want a classic one then? Something you’ve seen a hundred times before?”

“Yeah…yeah I think that’s what I want.”

“Okay.” Alya dashed up to Adrien’s movie collection. “God, he’s got like every movie ever made up here! Umm…oh, this will work!” She grabbed the case and rushed down the stairs. “I know you like this one!” And she popped it in the player.

A black and white film. A sleepy scenic town, covered in a layer of fresh snow. The voices of various people called up to prayer.

And then a sea of stars, where two stars flickered in conversation.

It’s a Wonderful Life.

It wasn’t Christmas without it. She’d seen it a hundred times, her heart hurting until the end.

It was hitting differently this year.

Eventually, Adrien was brought out, fresh and clean. His hair damp and combed back. With Tom holding his hand, he tottered his way to the couch to sit next to Marinette.

“Tom?” Asked Sabine, “Alya was going to run to the bakery to get some stuff for Marinette. Will you go with her?”

“Of course!”

“Would you like to take the car?” Asked Gabriel.

“No, I think a walk will do just fine.”

“Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.”

Marinette had noticed when Adrien sat next to her. He still sat just out of reach. One scoot and she’d be pressed against him.

But she didn’t move. And neither did he.

“Okay, then, I'll throw a rock at the old Granville house.”

“Oh, no, don't. I love that old house.”

An old house indeed. It was a weather-beaten, old-fashioned two-storied house that once was no doubt resplendent.

“No. You see, you make a wish and then try and break some glass. You got to be a pretty good shot nowadays, too.”

“Oh, no, George, don't. It's full of romance, that old place. I'd like to live in it.”

“In that place?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wouldn't live in it as a ghost. Now watch...right on the second floor there.” He hurled a stone at the window and broke it. An old man sitting on his porch sat up at attention.

“What'd you wish, George?”

“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful, Mary. I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then I'm coming back here and go to college and see what they know...and then I'm going to build things. I'm gonna build air fields. I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm gonna build bridges a mile long…”

As he talked, Mary had been listening intently. She finally stooped down and picked up a rock, weighting it in her hand.

“Are you gonna throw a rock?”

Mary threw her rock, and once more the sound of breaking glass echoed over the empty street.

“Hey, that's pretty good. What'd you wish, Mary?”

She threw him a flirty smile. “Buffalo Gals, can't you come out tonight…”

Alya and Tom returned from their trip, and set the pillow on the bed. Alya dropped the blanket over Marinette and Adrien both, then settled on the couch next to Adrien.

“Scooch!” Nino demanded, as he wiggled into the seat next to Alya. Alya then bumped into Adrien, who slid over to be closer to Marinette.

Their legs pressed together.

She didn’t acknowledge it, or the little whimper Adrien made.

On the screen, George Bailey entered the old, run down house they had broken the windows to. It was run down, water dripping from the ceiling, and the wind was blowing the drapes around as the rain poured outside. But a huge fire burned in the fireplace. Near the fireplace, a collection of packing boxes were heaped together in the shape of a small table and covered with a checkered oilcloth, set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sat on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens roasted on a spit over the fire. A phonograph played on a box, a string from the phonograph turning the chickens on the spit. A Hawaiian song played on the record. Mary stood near the fireplace looking as pretty as any bride ever looked. She smiled at George, who had been slowly taking in the whole set-up. Through a door, there was the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which is a pair of pajamas and a nightie.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bailey.”

“Well, I'll be...Mary, Mary, where did you…”

Ernie, the taxi driver, shoved George forward into Mary’s arms.

The record ended, and Bert and Ernie sang from outside.

I love you truly, truly dear,

Life with it's sorrow, life with it's tear,

Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,

For I love you truly,

Truly dear!

Ah, love 'tis something, to feel your kind hand,

Ah yes, 'tis something, by your side to stand,

Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,

For you love me truly,

Truly dear!

A searing pain overtook Marinette’s hand. The pain of a burn, searing flesh and nerves to a blacked char. She looked down, her clenched fingers unfurling.

Chat Noir.

That was engraved into her palm, the scar still very angry and red. The new skin began to show through, a pale white.

Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

It was the voice of the officiant echoing in her head, some of his last words before he was shot and killed. The man that had married her to Adrien.

She could feel the paint on her face, the itchy tutu on her legs, and the absolute humiliation of that mockery of a wedding. The drunken singing, the groping, the lifeless eyes of a corpse on the ground.

In that case, let’s get a sailboat. Sail the world. At night, we’ll be just a silhouette surrounded by a myriad of stars. Spend our nights on the glassy water, where you can't tell where the sky begins and ends. Just the two of us, free to go wherever we want.

That was Adrien’s voice, when it still sounded like him. The last time she heard him speak.

When we’re out of here, we’ll have our perfect wedding. And then we’ll go, and never look back.

“Marinette?” Alya asked.

Marinette just shook her head, and covered her face. She brought her legs up and curled up into the corner of the couch as far as she could.

Mary spoke on the screen. “Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for.”

—

Day number...who even knew anymore. The dark and the silence made time go on forever.

But the cement was not quite as cold, the ache in her knees not so strong, and she could hear traffic.

This is a dream, she told herself. Just a nightmare.

Just like every night.

The door to her little cage opened, and there stood Ladybug. Her arms were crossed and she looked supremely disappointed.

“Well?” She asked.

“Well what? You’re the one with the powers here.”

Ladybug scoffed, not moving from the doorframe. “Don’t act dumb. I’ve had it with your attitude.”

“You aren’t real,” Said Marinette. “And my attitude? You mean my trauma? My anxiety? My paranoia? You mean the fact that I don’t know who I can trust anymore? You mean the supreme weight of being closed in silence for a month? Is that what you’re sick of, Ladybug? My unheroic disposition? My unladylike mannerisms?”

Ladybug looked at her unflinching. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about at all. And you know it.”

Marinette turned away. “I really wish it was.”

“Because you have an excuse for it?”

“And a logical explanation.”

“I don’t think violent torture is logical.”

“No. No it’s not.” Marinette scoffed. “Look, do you have a reason for bothering me? Or did you just come here to taunt me? O ghost of Christmas past?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“No, I really don’t. This is a dream right? Dreams don’t make sense. They say dreams have hidden meanings, but I really doubt reliving every torment I dealt with in the past month is anything but trauma.”

Ladybug snapped her fingers, and in an instant, they were in Adrien’s room. Marinette was on the couch, where she had elected to sleep, despite the insistence against it from everyone else.

She didn’t look, but she knew Adrien was in his bed.

“You’re acting weird around Adrien again.” Ladybug stated coldly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“You don’t know? Really? After all you’ve been through together, now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him!”

“You haven’t said a word to him since he fought his way to you in the hospital!”

“He can’t speak! It wouldn’t be fair!”

“You won’t even look at him!”

“That’s not true!”

“Look at him right now!”

“I—I can’t!”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Marinette trembled. “I can’t...I can’t bear it...”

“Bear what, Marinette?”

It took awhile for her to have an answer.

“I…I don’t know him.” She confessed.

Ladybug didn’t answer, only looked down at her, waiting.

“I don’t know if I ever knew him. How could I, if Chat and Adrien never felt like the same person? And now…this—“ She cut herself off. “I’m horrible. I’m cruel. And I’m unfair. I’m not the Marinette I used to be, so why would he be different? Shouldn’t I just…love him regardless?”

Ladybug sat daintily next to her. “You know love isn’t easy. People change, and so must your love. But it’s not going to if you don’t communicate with him.”

“He can’t talk.”

“He can listen. And he can see. And he’s aware of every time you push him away. And he has no idea why you are. But, knowing him, he’s probably thinking the worst.”

Marinette turned to look at him. He curled up in his bed, looking far too small for the king sized mattress.

He looked restless and tense.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But don’t push away the person who understands your pain the most. Now wake up!”

Marinette jolted awake, still on the couch. This time for real. She blinked a few times, noticing that it was snowing outside. The lights from the garden shined up to illuminate the flakes.

Then, she noticed the blond head by her elbows. He was sitting on the floor, resting against the couch and watching the snowfall.

“Adrien?” She whispered, ever so gently.

He turned his head, looking at her with wide green eyes, full of panic. He had been caught.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked again, still gently.

He shook his head, no.

She sat up, making room for him. “Would you like to sit up here? It’ll be more comfortable.”

He took her invitation and climbed onto the couch.

Marinette took note of his posture, tense, closed off, unsure as he continued to watch the snow fall.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed.

He glanced at her again, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I…this is going to sound so stupid, but…now that we’re not in mortal peril anymore, I’ve been thinking…”

Tears gathered in his eyes as he started to scoot farther away from her.

“No, wait, Adrien…ugh.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Look, Chat Noir and Adrien were always so different from each other. I told you I loved you, and I do, and I didn’t lie. But…if the reveal had happened naturally, I would have wanted more time.”

He looked less upset now, and more just curious as he cocked his head.

“Time to reconcile the two versions of you into one. But the person you are now is even more different…I’m just confused. And I still feel…really guilty about getting us into this position in the first place.” Tears started to sting at her own eyes before she shut them tight to will them away. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Kitty.”

A hand fell on her shoulder. Sure, and strong as he gave her a little squeeze.

“Hey, no sweat Marinette.” She could almost hear his voice.

His hand trailed down her arm to take her hand, before he gave it a little squeeze and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.”

When she opened her eyes, she let out a shuddering sigh at the look on his face. One of adoration and trust. That slight smile, and eyes that sparkled with warmth.

Adrien.

The boy she loved. Her partner.

The line was blurred, but not completely gone. But things already felt better.

He let go of her hand and held out his arm, asking for a hug.

She fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her soul. He smelled like Adrien used to smell, and had a quiet purr that Chat always had.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I really love you.”

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her head.

They stayed like that for a while, until Adrien yawned.

“Let’s get back to bed, huh?”

He gestured to his bed.

“Yeah, I’ll join you.”

He beamed.

Slowly, they both shuffled to the bed, and dropped onto it. Marinette spread her blanket over both of them and snuggled down to rest. The bed really was more comfortable than the couch.

Adrien hooked his ankles with hers, and reached out to take her hand.

She just scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Then she left a peck on his lips. “Needy kitty.”

He nuzzled against her head, lulling her back to sleep with his purrs.

#longest night #miraculous ladybug #ml #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction

55 notes · View notes

kensboytoy · 5 years ago

Text

Meant To Serve Me

Title: Meant to Serve Me Fandom: Sonic The Hedgehog (2020) Pairings: Doctor Robotnik/Agent Stone/Reader (Gender Neutral) Ratings: Explicit

You had never quite anticipated being assigned to babysit one of the world’s leading scientists. When you finished training, you had hoped to be on the front lines of action rather than a desk job. It felt like school all over again with an egghead being the one to dictate your life. At least this time you got paid to listen to lectures. Luckily you weren’t alone in this tedious endeavor - Agent Stone, a man revered for his knowledge and patience, had been working closely with the Doctor for just over a year. The government had been suspicious about the relationship between the two being less than professional, so you were sent in to scope it out and to learn how to aid in classified missions. It was an ultimate test of trust that Uncle Sam would put you through.

Perhaps it was also the fact that Stone’s secondary agents to have on hand all up and left after just a few weeks of being around Robotnik. He was notorious for chasing them all away. You wondered how Stone could stay for that long if even higher ranking agents resigned.

[Keep Reading or Read on AO3!]

So far you had made it two weeks without cracking. With Stone’s help, you managed to stay calm and still while Robotnik berated the two of you about anything and everything he could find out of place. He was a brat with five PHDs. It was infuriating but you had garnered some sympathy realizing he had probably isolated himself from the world at a young age. Didn’t entitle him to be a ripe asshole, but you had the company of another sane individual to remind you that there were other people aside from the pity party of one that was Doctor Robotnik.

It was when you two were partaking in your morning coffee routine that Stone handed you a “celebration” latte. You smiled at the heart he had made with foam before you perked a brow up at him.

“What’s the occasion?” you murmured between sips.

Stone chuckled, the laugh lines of his face showing off with his radiant smile. The sight alone made you join in the merriment.

“You survived a whole two weeks, rookie! Count yourself proud. Not many people that walk in on this job make it that long.”

You stared at him a bit incredulously.

“What do you mean? Robotnik isn’t that bad.”

Stone’s expression wrinkled and now it was his turn to give you a look. You shrugged, gesturing with the coffee cup in your hand.

“You’ve done it for a year! Surely you don’t find it that hard either.”

The way that his expression shifted made you curious. His normally thoughtful gaze was now muddled with… embarrassment? It didn’t seem like you could make direct eye contact with him even if you tried.

Ah. So the government officials were right.

Not wanting to pull the cart before the horse, you simply sipped your warm beverage with giddy delight that you had the upper-hand. While Agent Stone had his charisma and sharp-wit, you were now supplied with an ace in your back pocket. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it. Blackmail wasn’t exactly your favorite weapon, especially not against the man you were harboring a crush towards.

“Well, I can contribute my luck to you, Agent Stone.” You offered him a genuine smile. “If it wasn’t for your tips, I’m sure I would’ve been screamed at halfway across the base by now. At least when the Doctor insults me, it’s quick and painless.”

As if you summoned the demon himself, he stormed into the lab, frothing mad about something. You two froze instinctively, Stone making the first move with another latte in his hand.

“Good morning, Doctor. I’ve made your favorite,” he offered, chipper as usual.

Robotnik glared at him and then to the drink in his hand. He snatched it up and sipped, taking a moment to let it roll around in his mouth. Stone held his breath, knowing he wasn’t out of the woods until he heard some noise of gratification. The Doctor never said ‘thank you’, at least not in the normal way one does to communicate with another human.

Instead, he simply grunt and turned to sit at his workstation. Sometimes you were grateful when he breezed by you. You felt like a fly on the wall with how you observed him.

It took another hour for him to finally speak.

“Agents,” came the threatening call.

You two were idly waiting for him, both perking up immediately.

“Yes, Doctor?” came the reply in unison.

“Can you tell me why there’s a lack of report on my computer from either of you about the power outage that happened by the anomaly?”

Both of you could feel the ice cold sting of his words. Neither of you had heard about said anomaly. Stone spoke for the both of you to save you from forming a lame excuse.

“I’m afraid our agency did not inform us, Doctor.”

“No?” Robotnik rose to his feet, on Stone in an instant. “Uncle Sam not texting a booty call in the middle of the night, hm? Or are you perhaps both distracted with gossiping like it was a teen dream sleepover.”

Okay. Well, now you knew that Robotnik had no idea what a sleepover was. More importantly, was he implying you two were sharing a room? Robotnik really didn’t know how anything outside his lab was run and it showed. For an IQ of 300, you were very much realizing socialization was not a strong suit.

“The two of you idiots are always side-by-side, talking your lives away! Yet the assignment that you are obligated to assist me with is out there and active! But no, by all means, talk about what great weather we’re having!”

Robotnik was getting easily frustrated. His hair was already coming undone as he stuck a finger up, pointing wildly at the two of you.

“You two must think I’m stupid.” He marched back to his chair and swiveled back and forth, antsy while he blew things out of proportion. “Do you think I can’t see what you’re up to?”

Stone moved forward in front of you, acting as a shield between you and what was to come.

“Doctor-”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Stone! You especially.”

There was a flurry of movement from his hands on his control panel before two heartbeat monitors popped up on screen. Your eyes were wide as soon as you read the labels. They were for the both of you. Yours was beating quickly yet Stone’s remained leveled as if he knew the Doctor wore your vitals on his hands this entire time. Monitoring you. Tracking you.

“You know what this is, don’t you, Agent Stone?” Robotnik inquired with a sneer.

“Yes, Doctor. But I don’t see-”

“Of course you don’t see! That’s the whole problem! Your silly little brain is focused on other things, Agent. Particularly, your new lover.”

Both of your vitals spiked, the blush on your face as you stared in shock between the two of them. Even Stone was flabbergasted at the accusation. Lovers? What in the world made Robotnik think that up?

“Shall I pull up the records from the last two weeks about your heart rate, Stone? How it seems to change so much when you’re around the rookie?”

The older agent paused. There was that look again, just as you had seen when talking about Robotnik. Stone was flustered. But that couldn’t be! There was no way he was interested in you when he was more infatuated with Robotnik more than anything, right?

Right?

Stone was silent as his arms dropped uselessly to his sides. His cheeks were a different shade than you were used to as he tried clearing his throat. Robotnik grinned at the biggest tell of all.

“Disgusting. I bet you two have been canoodling outside of all this, hm? Only mere feet away from my lab.” He made a loud, obnoxious gagging sound. “Humans are such vile creatures! Acting out their carnal desires.”

“We haven’t- That’s not-” you stammered, visibly upset.

“We aren’t involved, Doctor,” Stone finally spoke up.

Robotnik let out a mocking laugh and slapped his palms to his knees. He looked between you two like he had successfully landed a funny joke.

“Sure you aren’t! Then explain-”

He pressed a few more buttons. Video surveillance of inside the lab popped up in the corner along with a recording of both sets of vitals. Both of you watched as it played a clip from one of your normal coffee breaks together.

”Get enough sleep last night?” Agent Stone was smiling at you, the coffee in his hands already as he gestured for you to take it.

“Mm, not enough. Glad for my daily pick-me-up from my favorite mentor.” You laughed and happily took the drink.

You watched Stone’s heart race as his hand grazed yours. There was a temperature spike as well that you hadn’t even noticed when the exchange happened. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary, but it was clear that Stone had been excited.

“Here you are, trying to play me as the fool! I see right through your little charade,” he hissed. “I thought that you were just getting lazy, Stone. Making little slip-ups in your work that could be easily dismissed. But this is damning evidence!”

Robotnik’s hands curled into fists as he stared wildly at the two of you.

“This erotic tension is getting in the way of your assistance to me. You two have signed your lives away to me, don’t you understand? I dictate what you two do here! And I’m quite tired of these flirting sessions.”

His gaze was soured, no hint of joy or amusement left at all. Robotnik was in the dangerous state of mind when he felt the most confident that he could ruin someone’s life.

“Agent Stone,” the venomous words beckoned the man to stand at attention. “If you’re so infatuated with this little tart - show me.”

Like a frightened child, Stone stared at the Doctor. This was all in the Doctor’s hands. One false move could mean an early retirement for both of you, and not in the fun collecting pension way. This was a game of chess you couldn’t afford to lose.

“Put that insolent mouth to good use. Instead of lying to my face, pleasure your subordinate in all the disgusting ways you’ve been dreaming of.”

Robotnik’s fingers tented as he leaned forward expectantly.

Agent Stone turned to look at you, compelled to do what he was told. He never could refuse the Doctor’s orders. You felt gentle, calloused hands gingerly cup your face as you stared into the warm brown eyes of the agent you had been admiring. That look didn’t feel real - hell, none of this felt real. The scent of coffee stained his lips, shaky breath pouring across your face before he finally leaned in. The tenderness of the gesture was enough to melt you into the palms of his hands.

Neither of you seemed much opposed to the idea once it began, your lips lingering on his as your eyes fluttered. God, Stone was handsome even in moments like these.

A dark guffaw was enough to send you crashing back to reality, the romantic tension broken by the man seeming to orchestrate this event.

“See, I knew you two were lying.” He watched as Stone began to pull away and you heard him tsk’ing softly, scolding the agent like he were a dog. “I didn’t say stop, Agent. Keep your mouth precisely there.”

Stone froze in place, afraid to tear his eyes away from the sight of your waiting mouth to look at Robotnik. If he did, it felt that he might just turn into his namesake. With the Medusa examining you two like bacteria under a telescope, you could feel his hard stare on you despite being shielded mostly by Stone’s frame. You were thankful for it - having to face the Doctor like this would be too humiliating and a sharp blow to your morale. Now you understood why so many people ran. You were all experiments to him no matter what. Judging from how rigid Stone was, you surmised that he hadn’t been subjected to this sort of humiliation either. This was a new pet project for Robotnik, you were sure of it.

“Your hands, Stone,” the commanding voice ripped you from your thoughts. “Use them.”

“How... how would you like me to do so, Doctor?” Stone’s voice trembled.

“Get creative, Agent! Treat the body like a canvas for your perverted desires. Surely there must be some thoughts rattling around in that empty head of yours.”

The demeaning comments made you want to defend Stone. He was far from stupid, but you knew the point was moot. A scientist with no people-skills thought that everyone was stupid. However, all your pent up anger washed away as soon as Stone’s hands touched you.

They rested on your hips and brought you closer, his eyes glowing in the ominous red lights of the laboratory. How could a man look so angelic in this sort of light? It drove you crazy. Practically swooning in his surprisingly strong arms, your eyes fluttered as those hands of his roamed across your body. They slithered up your sides and along your stomach. His thumbs rubbed circles against you to soothe you into this forced situation.

You trusted Stone in every sense of the word. The fact that Robotnik was watching you seemed to fall from your mind. All you could focus on was the way your superior was moving to fondle you gently. His hands moved to play with your breasts, the obvious embarrassment on his face tickling you pink. You moved to keep his eyes locked on you to reassure him it was okay.

Robotnik felt a knot in his stomach as he watched you two. Jealousy. Of course you wanted to be with Stone. Of course Stone had been trailing you like a lost puppy this entire time. The notion that his two assistants were flirting made his blood boil. The Doctor had always felt that romance was a simple human instinct that could be easily crushed. What use was a lover to him when he had his machines? They were more reliant than some tart that would distract him from his genius.

However, the sight of you two fooling around was only adding up. He was upset that he wasn’t the center of attention. Robotnik loathed that you two were quite possibly in love without him.

Had you not been so distracted by Stone, you would have been able to see the tenting erection in Robotnik’s slacks. They were hidden in the sea of black he wore but it was most certainly still there. He was aroused at the sight of his playthings getting along.

Stone wasted no time in continuing his efforts to appease the Doctor. It wasn’t wise to be idle when he was watching so intensely. He could feel the hole that Robotnik was staring right into the back of his skull as he continued on to touch you. This was a chance to show you how much he had cared about you. Lattes and training advice paled in comparison to good old-fashion groping. Agent Stone was always such a people-pleaser - always had been. The stakes were a little bit higher than just pleasing you, however. One wrong move would earn the ire of Doctor Robotnik. Stone couldn’t risk losing you to his boss�� childish lashing out.

You leaned into the Agent’s hands wherever they roamed. Nipples hardening between his fingers, you almost wished that there wasn’t layers of clothing preventing him from having full access. Damn this stupid suit, you bitterly thought. Your body ached to feel those talented digits on your bare skin. He was teasing you so much with minimal effort.

“Enough teasing!” the man watching you snarled. You both froze like deer in the headlights. “I’m sick of you two playing lovebirds. I think it’s time you learn how to play with others.”

Confused, you both turned to face him. He looked at both of you expectantly before his gaze shifted to his trousers. Your face was a dark shade of scarlet when you noticed, Stone’s eyes fixated on his boss’ predicament.

“Get on your knees and crawl to me. I want both of you here to take care of my little problem.”

Stone was the first to drop, almost instantly, as he waited for you to do the same. Your legs felt shaky as you fell to your knees and followed behind him as you made the humiliating crawl to Robotnik. He was smirking, his cheek against his fist as he watched with amusement at the sight. Degrading you was one of his most favorite hobbies.

With his legs splayed, it was easy for both of you to rest on either side of him to wait for his commands. Touching him wouldn’t be an option until he told you to. It was like petting a cat: if you got too close when he didn’t want you to, he’d scratch and bite the shit out of you. This was all about following his lead.

You had never felt his touch until his hand graced the top of your head. He was appraising you for a moment, turning your face from side to side until he was satisfied. Robotnik pushed your face against the inside of one of his thighs before doing the same approval process to Stone. Part of you felt honored to be this close. Your face was flushed at the feeling of his warmth against you. Part of you had envisioned him to be as cold as his icy heart, yet there was something surprisingly human about the man who spent his life surrounded by artificial life.

Looking over at Agent Stone, you saw that his face was so in love with the man finally beckoning him this way. You felt like he had always daydreamed about Robotnik in this manner. It was obvious that the agent had a lot of love to share with that big heart of his. He was trying his best to only follow instructions and not linger in Robotnik’s hand.

“I think your mouths serve a better purpose than just mashing together,” Robotnik cooed, fingers pressing both of your heads even closer.

Your heart was racing, fueled by the infatuation you had with his cruel words and adoration for the brilliant man. Stone wasn’t the only one that you had contemplated having a fling with. By all accounts, you thought that Robotnik was a volcel with how revolted he acted at the thought of any affection. Now here you were in the wolf’s den with him eyeing the both of you like you were bite-sized bunnies.

Wordlessly, he expressed to you two what he meant. The soft zipping of his pants had you both ogling the sight of him. It was arousing, nerve-wracking, and delightful all at once. You were speechless as his cock popped free, fully erect and already beaded with precum. Stone was salivating at the sight. You were a bit more modest and blushed, eyes fixated on Robotnik’s throbbing prick longer than what you would like to admit.

Robotnik’s hand idly stroked himself to show his intentions. He wanted you on him. Tasting him. This was not in your contract. Like he cared. The man built and broke the rules every day. He was selfish and cruel. You knew that he only wanted to sate his desires - he didn’t care about pleasuring either of you.

You were both incredibly fine with it.

A glance to Stone and you both nodded. He once again took the lead by kissing the head of Robotnik’s cock to properly taste him. You watched Robotnik shiver and let out a venomous hiss of delight. The lack of attention he had given himself was clear. His balls looked heavy as they rested there against his trousers, cock twitching with just the slight touch of Stone’s mouth. It was fascinating to watch the agent work on kissing and tending to Robotnik’s cock like it was a sweet confectionery treat.

It was time you showed initiative. Slowly, your lips pressed to his sack to take a lick. The salt-and-pepper hairs there tickled your tongue as you pleasured him. That drove him wild. A hand was in your hair before you knew it, thigh squeezing your head to keep you locked in place between him and Stone’s body. Stone inhaled at the force, delighted to see that you were taking this all so well too. At least he wouldn’t be the only one with fantasies fulfilled that day.

With each of your mouths pleasuring a different part of him, Robotnik’s head lolled back as his eyes fell closed. This was delightful. How primitive this act was - he had never considered the possibility that your bodies were designed to pleasure him. Now he understood your purpose. It was all mapped out like the perfect formula. You both would serve him like this, humiliating yourselves on his cock for his pleasure.

He had opened his eyes in enough time to see that your mouth and Stone’s had met at the middle of his shaft. You both paused for a moment and did something you knew would rock his world. The sloppy kiss shared against his cock was amazing. It was a slutty situation you had only ever seen in porn - now here you were, making out with Agent Stone while the Doctor’s cock was between you. The skillful tongue of the younger man pushed its way into your warm, waiting hole to let you taste Robotnik’s cum on his breath. You shuddered at how filthy you felt.

Robotnik’s fidgeting hands were back on your heads, pulling you both up to look at him. You both were dazed, slutty mouths open on display for him.

“Absolutely shameful,” he mocked. “You two certainly know your place beneath me.”

His breath was shaky, indicating to you that he loved this as much as you guys did. Hazy smiles were on your faces as you nodded. Stone reached to stroke the inner thigh of your boss, teasing him with more stimulation. Robotnik’s brows furrowed as he let himself enjoy it.

“Stone, take my load.” Stone’s head was yanked to take the Doctor’s length immediately. “Show your subordinate how to take cock like a seasoned agent.”

The man was happy to oblige. While the government had never trained him for this, pornography and hook-ups had. Stone was more than happy to show off his particular set of skills by sucking him off, hands behind his back as he moved. You watched on, impressed at the tenacity from the man who had probably dreamt of this moment for so long. His eyes were lost in the gaze from the Doctor, lips pulling into a smile as he sucked.

You, however, felt empty without the feeling of your boss on your mouth. So, you peppered his balls with kisses once more to gain his attention as well.

“Ah, you’re a needy one, aren’t you, pet?” he mocked, his grin turning into a mocking pout. “Polish those and I promise you’ll get a treat too.”

Spurred by the prospect of a reward, your mouth pressed into his sack and lapped at him hungrily. Stone watched you from the corner of his eyes with admiration for your enthusiasm. While this was a fantasy of his, he also enjoyed the added bonus of having you in the mix. You were an astonishing little creature, after all.

To be quite fair, it didn’t take long before Robotnik was at the breaking point. Whether it was from Stone’s mouth or from his lack of experience, you knew the telltale signs of his orgasm by how he began to thrust hungrily to reach deeper inside the mouth working on him. Stone, luckily, was a powerhouse and had always been able to hold his breath for longer than your average person. He had claimed it was for “military training”, but it was entirely for serving people like Robotnik. Stone did love to make his partners as happy as could be. This was no exception, even as he drooled over Robotnik’s cock jamming its way inside him. He took it all in stride.

You could see Robotnik flail for a moment before a choked noise escaped, one hand swiftly pressing Stone’s head down to the hilt right next to yours. Playfully, you gave Stone’s cheek a kiss as you watched him take the hot load right into his mouth.

“Don’t-” Robotnik rasped, thrusting once more to spill even more spunk. “Don’t swallow, Agent.”

He eventually removed himself from Stone’s airway, body collapsing back into his chair. His hair was a disheveled mess but he quickly gained composure to maintain his dominance.

“Share what I just gave you.”

Stone smiled a goofy smile and nodded. He was so happy to let you taste too! That eager mouth was back on yours in a flash. Your eyes were wide as you let him explore you again, his tongue probing yours to share the treat. A moan fell from your lips and tumbled into his mouth, Stone’s hand on the back of your head to keep you there. He didn’t let up for a second. The Doctor’s gift was your shared prize for winning this rare opportunity. You both felt so special that Robotnik had graced you with this.

You swallowed and pulled back, displaying your open mouth to Robotnik proudly. Your tongue traced along your lips to show that you had taken every drop. Stone was in awe of your boldness.

Robotnik guffawed, slapping his knees in delight. You were such a whore!

“Unabashedly hungry for cock! How wonderful.”

He was grinning as he brought your heads back to rest on his thighs. For a moment, he even stroked your cheeks to reward you two further. The tenderness lasted only for a second before he sharply slapped both of your faces.

“Now, clean yourselves and get back to work. Report on my desk on the hour unless you want this footage to leak to ol’ Uncle Sam.”

You gasped and Stone stiffened like a board.

“What? You didn’t think I wasn’t recording all this, hm? Didn’t you learn anything? Seems like your brains were too focused on my cock to properly think of anything else.”

Robotnik smirked as he tucked himself away.

“Get a move on, agents. Unless you’d like the internet to see this all too-”

You both scrambled to your feet, stuttering and apologizing before you went to work to find more information about the power outage. Robotnik chuckled to himself as he turned on the footage to watch and experience the thrill all over again.

What fun new games he had in store for his new pets.

#Robotnik #Stobotnik #Works of Oz #Doctor Robotnik

18 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @dearericbittle!

Merry Christmas and Happy whatever Holiday you may celebrate! Hugs!

Read on AO3

*****

Oh Shit!

Oh Shit. Stiles takes a moment to revel in the fact that this is his oh shit moment. Not, oh shit, a dead body in the woods. Not, oh shit, werewolves. Not, oh, shit, Derek wants me to cut off his arm. Not, oh shit, kanimas, or hunters, or any other of bevy of supernatural fuckery. No, Stiles’ oh shit moment is walking past an alleyway and having his Derek Hale spidey tingle go off. His oh shit moment is seeing Derek Freaking Hale crouched in an alley trying to coax a completely demonic looking cat with a massive gash across it’s forehead out from behind a dumpster. Stiles assumes so that Derek can help getting Demon!cat treated.

Stiles oh shit moment is oh shit, I’m in love with this asshole.

Stiles would like to think that he is fairly self-aware but this knocks the wind right out of him. His stomach does a full loop-the-loop and his heart does a quadruple staccato for long enough that Derek looks up from his save the cat mission to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Derek’s eyes widen in apparent surprise before a grin spreads across his face. This does not help Stiles’ heartbeat situation, especially when paired with his recent oh shit revelation. The warm welcome fades on Derek’s features, replaced with a look of concern. Derek reaches out his arm as if to steady Stiles, though the only stumbling that is going on right now is emotional. Stiles rallies himself, before Derek can touch him - who knows how his traitorous body would react to that!

He gesticulates just a little too wildly with his hands, and bumbles further into the alley a little too dramatically before managing to get some words out of his mouth.

“Whatcha doin’, Sourwolf? You gonna put that poor cat out it’s misery with your teeth?”

Stiles cringes. It’s been years since any “rip your throat out with my teeth” jokes have really been appropriate or funny.

Derek has yet to speak any words but his eyebrows scrunch together in question.

Stiles takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“Nevermind, Sourwolf. Weird kind of day. You ever learn something that kind of shifts your whole world view? Did you know that squirrels are behind the majority of power outages in United States, Derek? Because, let me tell you, I did not.”

Derek shakes his head with what Stiles would define as fond eyebrows and proceeds to ignore everything that has come out Stiles’ mouth since “Whatcha doing, Sourwolf?”

“I tracked this little critter from near that bakery over on Main St. She’s bleeding and smells afraid. I’m having trouble getting her to trust me.” Derek’s voice stays soft and even while hes’s talking with Stiles. He’s crouched near the ground again and while his eyes are locked on Stiles’, his hand is reaching out towards the injured cat with feigned nonchalance.

Mirroring Derek’s tone of voice, Stiles asks, “What were you doing at the bakery?”

“Picking up cupcakes for Laura’s birthday dinner tonight.” He pauses, “You didn’t forget about that did you?”

Yes, yes Stiles had forgotten about that. In his defense, he’s been working nights the last week and days of the week are a nebulous thing when one is working the night shift.

Derek interprets his pause accurately. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re back on days, come over around 6 and we’ll feed you. Don’t worry about a present.”

Stiles is about to respond when he sees that cat has finally made her way to Derek’s outstretched hand and has deigned to be picked up.

Stiles thought that he’d gotten the whole loop-the-loop, crazy heart beat, oh shit moment stuff out of the way, that he’d managed to get a handle on it during his brief stint in the alley. But, no, he was a self-deluded idiot.

Seeing Derek cuddling a dirty, possibly mangy, blood soaked cat while whispering sweet nothings into her ear like she was a small child, disabused Stiles of the notion that he had any control over his bodily functions when it came to Derek Hale.

Stiles lived with his internal crisis for a few more seconds, until Derek stood up.

“I’m going to take this little beauty to see Scott. Will I see you tonight?”

Stiles mumbled what must have been some sort of affirmative because Derek said goodbye and left the alley.

When he got back to his baby, he collapsed in the front seat and banged his head against the steering wheel a couple times. He did not need this kind of complication in his life right now.

*******

Stiles can’t remember the last time he found himself banging frantically on Scott’s door. Probably high school sometime. With the distinct lack of big bads of the supernatural variety in the last few years, there hasn’t been much need.

Now, however, he finds himself banging on the door to the apartment Scott shares with Isaac, hoping the curly-haired menace is currently elsewhere. Don’t get him wrong, he’s square with Isaac now, friends even. It’s just, he’d like to have his mental breakdown in the presence of Scotty and Scotty and Scotty alone.

Thankfully, it appears Scott is home alone when Stiles walks in and collapses in flail of limbs on the couch.

“Scotty, my brother, my friend, my bro, my wolfy companion, the world as we know it is over.”

Completely unfazed by Stiles’ declaration, Scott sits on the coffee table across from Stiles and puts his hands on Stiles’ knees before speaking. With a gentle squeeze, Scott says, “The squirrels?”

“Yes, Scotty the squirrels. There’s an acronym. TSql. You know how I get about acronyms Tee-squill or The Squirrel Index.”

Stiles makes a concerted effort not to be sucked into an ADD fueled rant about squirrels and power outages before he can backtrack to what he came here to talk about.

“I’m in love with Derek Hale.”

This statement is greeted with complete silence. He risks a glance at Scott to see if maybe his declaration had somehow caused him to die of shock.

Nope, Scott is just looking at him with confused puppy dog eyes.

Finally Scott speaks. It’s slow, like he’s talking to a toddler or scared dog. “Are you okay?”

A noise Stiles can’t even begin to describe or categorize emerges from deep within his being. The gist of the noise was, “How can you ask me that? I don’t know. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. And when the hell did this happen?

Scott, blessed, wonderful, fantastic Scott seems to read his mind or possibly his noises. Maybe his noises are to Scott like Derek’s eyebrows are to Stiles. Aaand, that is a thought for another day.

“Well, it’s not the most terrible thing. I mean, Derek is a really good guy, You guys have been working together a lot lately what with working on the remodel plans for the house. Maybe it just happened naturally.” Scott says.

“Hmph. Naturally, you say.” Stiles pauses. Now Scotty is not always the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to analytics or plans or anything GPA related but Scotty has heart. When it comes to relationships and emotions, he’s usually right.

He things back to the first time they had to hit the road to visit some lumber distributor 3 hours away. The silence had started out extremely awkward. Stiles had fiddled with the radio and half-heartedly tried to comment on the passing landscape.

But then he had flicked the radio station through some kids station and Let It Go started playing. Somehow in the fraction of a second before Stiles was able to change the station again, Derek starts singing along. It’s under his breath, Stiles isn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it.

The ended up bonding over Disney leading ladies (not just princesses, thank you very much) for the next 2 hours. It seems like maybe that was the beginning of it all now that Stiles thinks about in a more calm state of mind. He should have figured it out when they gave each other nicknames. Derek is Elsa, Stiles is Mulan. And yes they actually call each other those names, unironically on occasion.

“…earth to Stiles….” He comes back to the present with Scott’s fingers snapping in his face.

“Sorry. You’re right.” Stiles feels himself smiling a little as his heart does a weird happy lurch in his chest. “Shoulda realized after our shared love of all things Disney.”

Scott nods, “And a relationship built over the years based on trust, respect, and a terrible sense of humor.”

“Okay, okay. So not a surprise and probably not as life altering and world changing as I may have first thought. But, still…” Stiles trails off. His oh shit moment blindsided him so much that he hadn’t actually thought about what came next. Does he declare his love? Or maybe just ask Derek out of a date? Or just pretend nothing has changed? Or die of embarrassment when Laura finds out that Derek said no? Or yes - he’s not sure which would cause Laura to dole out the worse punishment.

Scott, again with his uncanny ability to read Stiles’ mind, says, “You know you don’t have to decide what to do right away. The question to ask yourself is, what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want. I hadn’t really thought beyond hoping Derek doesn’t think I’m dying of a heart condition every time he walks in the room.”

“I hear you, buddy. I’ve got to go to work. Think about it.”

Scott grabs his keys and his wallet and is about to head out the door before he turns back towards Stiles, “You coming tonight?”

Already lost in thought, Stiles replies distractedly, “Yeah. I’ll probably just crash here until then. Ride over together?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Stiles barely notices the door slam behind Scott. What does he want? He’d always imagined himself in a marriage with kids like his parents. Then werewolves happened and it was hard to imagine past the next week, much less into a future with kids. He’d had a few brief relationships during nursing school but no one he could picture a future with. Now, since he’d come into his spark and they’d managed to bind the nemeton? Not to mention, Laura back from the dead and taking her place as Alpha? Beacon Hills was stable. Nothing had come rampaging through and killing people in almost 3 years.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’d sort of been cruising through on auto-pilot just waiting for another shoe to drop the past few years. Not doing noher, just not really having any intentionality about anything either.

This oh shit thing, this being in love with Derek, maybe that made him think about a future. Stiles isn’t ready to picture being married with 2.5 pups yet. But, walking down the street, holding Derek’s hand for all the world to see, that he could imagine. Sharing curly fries at the diner or going to see a movie, cuddling together under a blanket on the porch swing - those thoughts made him feel warm all the way to his core. Just thinking about made his lips twitch towards a smile and his heart race in anticipation.

Ok, he now knows what he wants. Now, what to do about it, that is the million dollar question.

*******

He ends up bailing on Scotty and going over to the newly-remodeled (with his help!) Hale house early, hoping to catch Laura before everyone started piling in for her birthday dinner.

Luck must be on his side today because for the second time in one day the person he wants to see is home and alone.

He finds Laura in the garden out back singing to the vegetables, She claims it makes them taste better - and veggies can use all the help they can get in the taste department, so she sings.

She waltzes over to him and takes his hands to lead him a rousing dance through the tomatoes as she sings highly altered versions of the VeggieTales songs. Stiles knows better than to try and escape the song and dance so he bears up manfully until Laura ends her song in a fit a giggles.

“What brings you to see your favorite Alpha, today?” she asks when she finally catches her breath. She folds her legs under her gracefully sits in the grass as she asks her question.

Stiles sits beside her and takes a deep breath for courage.

“I’m here to give you your birthday present.”

A grin spreads across Laura’s face as she does gimme hands towards Stiles.

He swats her hands away playfully, before speaking, “Alas, not that kind of gift.” He smiles, “What is your absolute favorite thing to do in all the world?”

Stiles pauses for a moment but before Laura can respond, he adds, with a pointed look, “You actually favorite thing, not some sentimental drivel cause it’s your birthday.”

Laura blows a raspberry at him, “Fine. But only because you’re my favorite.” She wiggles her hands like she’s a puppeteer and cackles before saying, “Meddling”

Stiles gives an exaggerated nod. “Thus my gift to you. First - information no one else but Scotty has”

Her eyes light up and her grin widens.

“Then, I’m going to ask for advice. Now, in the spirit of birthdays, I’m allowing you to meddle. I ask in return, good faith advice, not advice to make me do what you think would be funniest.’

Her grin doesn’t fade but a hint of seriousness comes into her eyes. Stiles can tell she understands even before she nods her head.

Stiles looks down at his hands. He had decided to come and talk to Laura but he hadn’t really figured out how he wanted to start. Well, he figured it worked for Scotty so he might as well just try ripping the bandaid off.

“I’m in love with your brother.”

Laura didn’t do anything so ungraceful as gape like a fish but the phrase, you could have knocked me over with a feather came to Stiles’ mind as he watched her reaction.

Stiles forges ahead before Laura has a chance to reply. “Our pack being what it is, we don’t stand on werework tradition very often. But I was wondering if there was a traditional way to court a werewolf? A wooing ritual or something?

Stiles can tell Laura is trying really hard not to laugh - not out of meanness but out of the sheer ridiculosity of what he is saying. Stiles waves her off.

“I know. I know. I’m the last person to care about tradition. But, you know, Derek has had the best track record. First Paige died, then Kate, and Jennifer. Braeden wasn’t so bad but it also wasn’t so serious. I want Derek to know I’m serious and that he has a choice. If there were a traditional way of doing that, then that is what I’m looking for. If not, I’ll figure something else out.”

Laura scoots around so they are facing each other and practically mirrors Scott from earlier when she puts her hands on his knees before speaking.

“I don’t know if Derek feels that way about you, I don’t know what his reaction to you will be. But I do know this. He could never confuse your intentions with any of those who came before.” She sat up and put her hands back in her lap before continuing. “There is not a wolfy-wooing ritual per se. At least, not one that I am aware. But there is this nursery rhyme or poem kind of thing that our mom used to say to use about the one we would eventually fall in love with. Let me think for a second and try to remember it.”

Her brow scrunched slightly and he eyes drifted to the left as she thought, Okay. It went something like this: Each wolf is whole in itself but there are those who are created to walk beside in perfect harmony. A mate to write their name on your heart will make you safe by watching your back, give you peace by travelling beside you, bring you joy by smiling back at you, and join hands with you so will never be alone on your life journey. You know Derek has the Triskelion tattoo on his back and that can mean a lot of things. But he also has a Triquetra tattoo on his hip. It comes from this verse. The three points are behind, beside and in front of, joined together in the center, together forever. It’s not a ritual or anything but it might help you figure out what you want to do.”

The whole time Laura had been talking, Stiles paid rapt attention. He wasn’t crying by the end but he was certainly moist in the region around his eyes. He had an idea.

But like all great ideas, life interrupted.

******

It was about halfway through Laura’s birthday dinner. Everyone had had one plate of food and most of the wolves had had a second plate but no one had even mentioned cake yet.

Stiles noticed the cat first. He nudged Derek. “You didn’t tell me you brought that cat home.”

Derek turned towards Stiles, confusion clear on his face, fork with potatoes stabbed through on it hanging in the air halfway to his mouth, “I didn’t”

Stiles chuckles slightly and nods in the direction of the cat which is now in the doorway to the dining room. “Then she followed you home.

By this time, the rest of the table has quieted and turned to see what Stiles and Derek are looking at. The cat continues walking towards but with each step, she gets larger and larger until when she reaches the table it is but a small step to climb up on the table and continue walking down it’s center.

The cat, now roughly the size of a miniature pony, walks past Lydia and Jackson, then Erica and Boyd, and Scott and Isaac, and completely ignoring Laura and Stiles before she stops in front of Derek. All of the sudden there is a naked lady instead of cat sitting in the middle of the dining room table.

“Kind one,” she hisses, “You have saved my life this day. You have shown your worth. In the name of Samaoth, High Priestess of the Sable Court of Fae, you are granted a boon.” She waved her arm in a graceful arc around her head somehow managing not to have any other part of her body move a single muscle. You’d think the naked part would be the most eye catching part of the naked fae sitting on the table but it was more like a statue that didn’t really know how a human body worked. It looked right - sort of. But the more you looked, the more wrong you felt on the inside.

When her arm was in front of Derek one, it held a plain manila folder in it’s hand. Derek was just staring.

With a slight hint of impatience, Samaoth hissed, “Take it now mortal. Do as it says and you will be granted your heart’s greatest desire.”

Derek reached out and took the folder. Before his fingers had even fully closed on the edges, Samaoth had vanished into thin air. He didn’t quite have hold of it yet and the folder dropped to the table, relieving itself of a single piece of paper.

It was a simple piece of printer paper. Across the top it read, “Booking Confirmation for Sable Court Representative to the Greater Northwest Region Supernatural Symposium: Derek Hale, plus one.”

After about 30 seconds of stunned silence, every single person at the table began speaking at once.

*******

An indeterminate amount of time later, Laura’s alpha roar breaks through the cacophony of shouts coming from the rest of the pack.

Once everyone is quiet, Laura turns to Derek, who is still sitting in silence and staring at the innocuous looking piece of paper on the table in front of him.

Laura asks him, with slightly forced calm, “Der-bear, what’s going on?”

Derek opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. Stiles doesn’t even recognize Derek’s current eyebrow configuration.

Derek swallows and tries again. “Well,” he pauses, “there was this cat and it was bleeding and I took it to Scott to get fixed up.” He looks helplessly around the table. “It was a normal cat.”

The focused attention of the whole pack swings around to Scott. He shrugs sheepishly. “It was a normal cat. I gave her stitches and left her in the kennel overnight. Though, it seems like she got out.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Normal cat. Got it. Except your normal cat is apparently the High Priestess of the Sable Court of the Fae. Derek, what does the paper say?”

Derek looks at Laura and startles like he hadn’t thought to read past the bold heading. His eyes rapidly scan the paper. “Apparently the Greater Northwest Regional Supernatural Symposium is being hosted in Seattle this year at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, ummm, next weekend. Registration starts on Thursday afternoon at 4 PM. It has a confirmation number, address, phone number and whatnot and a link to app download and password to download the app for the symposium.”

Stiles decides that now is the time to speak up, “For those of us who are new to werewolfly culture, what exactly is the Greater Northwest Region Supernatural Symposium?

Laura sighs before she answers. “It’s going to be a shitshow, that’s what. Wolves aren’t usually invited. We’re too volatile or something. It is mainly run by the fae and other ‘more evolved’ supernatural beings. The get together to schmooze, make treaties and listen to presentations on things like ‘Kobolds and cleaning: an analysis of practices through the ages’ or ‘Pixies in the modern age: pesky or pragmatic?’ It’s pretty much a chance for the hoity toity of supernatural society to get together and bond over how superior they are to the rest of us. For a wolf to show up, and not even an alpha will be an insult to every single being there.”

Stiles feels the need to pipe in again, “Great. So this is the gist. Derek saves this cat’s life, he gets a boon - supposedly his greatest desire but only if he goes to this conference of supernatural one percenters. This is ridiculous!” Turning to Lydia, he continues, “Is this even possible? I thought we had a big do not touch sign over us after our last dealings with the fae.”

Lydia responds quickly, “You’re right. But, Samaoth didn’t seek us out. Derek sought her out - albeit unknowingly - so that may cancel the binding. Let me see if Illirial is available speak with us.

Lydia’s eyes turn milky white as she chants under her breath. The wolves can probably tell what she is saying but to Stiles it just seems like a low susurrus. After a few moments her eyes return to normal and she holds out her hand.

A moment after that a small hologram - Princess Leia style - appears in her hand. Stiles hates dealing with the fae. It makes his brain hurt. But they all owe Illirial and he seems to make an effort not to be purposefully obtuse when speaking with them.

His voice is slightly tinny when he speaks, “Greetings Hale Pack. It is a pleasure to be with you once more. For what reason have you requested my presence this day?”

As Lydia was the best at untangling the vagueries of fae speech, Lydia replied. “We call upon you as a friend, with no obligation attached, to ask of you some information. Under what circumstances might this be amenable to you?”

Illirial appeared to think about it for a moment. “As friends, it would be in my heart to give this information, if I am able. Perhaps one day I may come to you, with no obligation, for the same, until such time as we have shared information of equal value. If I am unable to share what you ask, we will speak of this no more and part again as friends.”

Lydia nodded and continued, “This is generous of you, Illirial. You confirm yourself as friend of the Hale Pack. What can you tell us of the Sable Court of the Fae? Specifically of the priestly order attached to it.”

“As you know, generally, the fae owe allegiance to either the Seelie or Unseelie court. This is balance, as it should be. You mortals may believe one to be good and one to be evil but we fae do not ascribe to that kind of moral judgment. Seelie and Unseelie merely are. WIthout the balance of the courts, the world would fall apart, in a most literal sense. But we fae, while bound to our courts, do have free will. In times when balance is threatened, the fae turn to the Sable Court. They are judge; they are arbiter; and if need be, they are executioner. The high priestess has final say in all decisions made by the Sable Court.”

When it was apparent the Illirial was done speaking, Lydia spoke again, “If the Sable Court High Priestess were to offer a boon, with an obligation attached, what should one take into consideration while deciding on a course of action?”

Illirial responded immediately, in almost a panic, “Only the recipient of the boon can make that choice. Only five times in our history has the Sable court been known to offer a boon. Each time the obligation was how the boon was revealed. While danger might abide within fulfilling the obligation, the Sable Fae are straightforward. There will be no hidden knives or truthful deceits as you might find with some of the other fae.”

Lydia nodded again and replied, “Illirial, the Hale Pack thanks you for the information you have shared so openly, which we acknowledge is beyond your natural state. That which we do not speak of will remain private and you may feel free to call upon the Hale Pack for an exchange of information equal in value to what you have offered us. Go with peace and the blessing of Mother Moon.”

Illirial bowed and vanished from Lydia’s hand.

Stiles turned back towards Laura to see how she would respond to this information and saw his Alpha was white as a sheet. All the blood had drained from her face and she looked like she was about to fall over.

“That’s who did it?” she asked.

Stiles startled. He didn’t know how but he’d forgotten that Laura had never met Illirial before.

Derek grabbed her hand. “Yes.” He looked like he wanted to fight the binding for a moment but then his features calmed. “You know we can’t even speak of how it happened. But yes, it was Illirial who brought you back from the dead.“

Stiles suddenly realized that it was probably the Sable Court that had dictated the binding of secrecy around that whole fiasco. Even now, it was hard to think back to that couple of months when the fae had descended on Beacon Hills. If he tried to pin down the memory too specifically, it would slide away like trying to hold fast to a thousand strings being pulled in all different directions.

Laura seemed to come back to herself. “I know Der-bear. I understand.

Derek stood up. “Well, I guess I better get packed to go to Seattle.”

Stiles made the decision in an instant and stood up as well. “Me too.”

“What?” Derek replied.

Stiles picked up the sheet of paper and waved in front of his face. “Plus one, Sourwolf. I’m going with you.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but was cut off when Laura said, “Good idea. I’ll book you both flights up for Thursday morning.”

*******

2 Days Later (aka Thursday)

Stiles settled into the first class seat Laura had sprung for with a wiggle of his hips. He turned towards Derek, still grinning, when he heard him groan under his breath.

“None of your groaning or sighing is going to ruin this for me, Derek. First class! I’m going to get a hot towel. And free snacks. This is awesome.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to spoil your fun. It is pretty awesome.” Derek smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes - or his eyebrows.

Stiles turned serious for a moment, “Hey. Sourwolf, I know you don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen but your heart’s desire, that’s gotta be exciting to think about.”

Derek gave another half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know. I do kind of wonder about whether it’ll be something that I go, ‘oh, of course’ or if it will be something I didn’t even know I wanted. Or if Samaoth can somehow look into the future and know what domino to knock over now that will result in a chain reaction that will make me happy down the road.”

“Whoa there, Derek. That is a lot hamsters running around on their wheels inside your head.” Stiles pauses. “Seriously, though, would any of those options be a bad thing?”

Derek’s eyebrows morph into thinking position #2 and he is silent for a while.

This time, the smile on Derek’s face is genuine. “You’re right. We go to this conference. We come home and then I get my heart’s desire.”

Stiles heart does a little lurch at that. Right now, he knows what his heart’s desire would be: to build a life with Derek. He hopes that spending this weekend alone with Derek will help him think about what Laura said and decide how he wants to woo Derek.

Because Derek deserves ALL the wooing.

*******

Stiles flops on the bed as soon as they get to their hotel room. He blows out a frustrated breath and closes his eyes. Landing in Seattle had started off on the right foot. They had both fallen asleep on the flight and Stiles woke up with Derek’s head resting on his shoulder and their hands pressed together on the arm rest. However, it had all gone downhill from there.

Getting their luggage, getting out of the airport, and the ride to the hotel don’t bear mentioning beyond the word torture. But, then they had finally gotten to the check in desk and the finish line was in sight when Stiles tuned into what the customer service representative was saying:

“Mr. Hale and Mr. Stilinski, welcome to the Fairmont Olympic Hotel. I hope you enjoy your stay in Seattle. You have been booked in one of our honeymoon suites. This includes a complimentary bottle of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. Please, just let room service know when you would like them delivered. Here is your room key.”

Derek quickly responded, “We were booked in the what?”

“The honeymoon suite, sir.”

“We are just here for a conference, A room with 2 doubles or 2 queens will be sufficient.”

“Sir, we are completely booked. There are no other rooms available.”

Derek looks like he wants to argue with her but instead puts on his big boy pants and says, “Fine. But, you can keep the champagne. I don’t drink.”

The woman’s smile brightens. “Thank you, sir. And please accept this voucher for a free spa treatment instead of the champagne.”

Derek stares at the woman until Stiles reaches out and takes the voucher. “Thank you ma’am. Have a wonderful day.”

So, the bed Stiles has just collapsed on is the bed he is going to have sleep in tonight. With Derek.

Now, apart from the initial freak out, Stiles thinks he’s dealt with his oh shit moment like a completely mature adult. He listened to his heart, decided what he really wanted from the situation and is setting about figuring out how to get there while respecting the other person involved. But none of that mature adult thinking included having to share a bed with Derek Hale.

Also, until now he had somehow managed to not really think about the physical ramifications of being in love with Derek Hale. He didn’t think that Derek was asexual so that meant that somewhere in the future, if his wooing was successful, their would be sex. Sex with Derek.

His face burns just thinking about it. But also, his pants parts are also thinking about getting excited as well. Pants parts… Stiles groans internally. He’s not twelve anymore. If he can’t say the words he’s not mature enough to do the deed.

His brain spirals a bit as it starts to list all the names of things he needs to be mature enough to say. Penis. DIck. Cock. Asshole. Balls.

He is interrupted in his reverie by Derek clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you are thinking about right now but could you please not smell up the bed we both have to sleep in tonight with those thoughts?”

Stiles almost chokes on his own tongue. “Ye…YEa..yes. Sure thing. Sorry.”

He stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He groans. “That just made it worse, didn’t it.”

Derek chuckles. “Yes, it did. Don’t worry about it. I’m just teasing. I am not sure that there is any smell you could make that could be worse than the airplane.”

Stiles felt his face heat up for a different reason. He knows Derek is just trying to make him feel better, but he thinks he maybe just gave Stiles a compliment or said that he doesn’t mind what Stiles smells like when he is aroused.

Stiles shuts down that train of thought immediately and goes to throw some water on his face in the bathroom. When he comes out Derek is sitting on the bed like he was waiting for Stiles.

Stiles jitters nervously around the room, touching everything and generally berating himself for not being able to act normal.

FInally, Derek speaks. “So, I know we don’t spend a lot of time with supernatural beings outside of our pack. There are some rules of politeness that it would probably be good for you to know.”

Derek talks for awhile and Stiles tries to remember all the protocol that Derek is telling him.

“Finally, with me not being the Alpha and you being a human spark, we will need to ramp up the appearance of our pack bond.”

“What exactly does that mean, Sourwolf?”

Derek stands up and walks towards Stiles. He stops just inside a normal human’s comfort zone for being a near another person. Derek looks Stiles in the eyes. They stand there for about 5 seconds that felt like 5 years before Derek reaches out and cups Stiles face, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of Stiles’ cheeks. He raises his eyebrows like he’s asking permission.

Stiles has no idea what is going on here but he really doesn’t care. Derek can do what the hell he wants to right now. Stiles nods.

Derek steps closer and leans towards Stiles, coming even closer.

Stiles closes his eyes. His heart is rabbiting out of his chest. He opens his mouth to gulp in air as he thinks he might be drowning. Surely Derek can tells what kind of effect he’s having.

Just when Stiles thought he might die of anticipation, Derek ducks his head and rubs his cheek on Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

Stiles lets out a high pitched squeaking noise. He realizes that Derek meant pack scenting. They needed to touch each other so the pack bond was more apparent in how they smelled.

Derek is still rubbing his face on Stiles’ neck when Stiles breaks. He lets out a almost hysterical sounding burst of laughter and sways backwards away from Derek.

“Stiles, are you okay?”

Stiles wheezes. “Yeah, of course. Scent marking. Pack bonds. Got it. That’s all.”

He knows he’s not making any sense but oh shit Stiles wants to climb Derek like a tree. I mean, he always know Derek was attractive but this kind of visceral physical reaction is a whole new thing.

Derek takes a step forward, confused eyebrows returning, and asks again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Stiles begins to nod like a bobble head dolls, preparing to reassure Derek that he is indeed fine. Instead, he says. “No, nowhere near fine.”

Concern painting Derek’s features, he starts to talk but Stiles cuts him off.

“Scent marking makes sense now that you say it outloud. But seriously, before you saying it, it felt like you were going to do something completely different. I mean I know it makes no sense but I’ve been kissed a few times and I know what it feels like coming on. I mean I know that doesn’t make any sense but I don’t think my heart could take thinking you were going to kiss me and then you don’t but you’re still rubbing all up on me.”

Stiles knows he’s rambling. It’s the ADD and the stress but he can’t seem to stop himself. Finally Derek just slaps a hand over his mouth, forcing Stiels to stop.

Derek looks almost bewildered. “Is kissing me something you want?”

It’s Stiles turn to feel bewildered. “How do you just ask that? That’s a crazy kind of a question.”

Derek raises one eyebrow and says, “Stiles, answer the question. I’m not going to make fun of you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and looks up at Derek, feeling shy for the first time in a very long time. His voice comes out like a whisper. “Yes. I think I do. I mean it’s a pretty recent development and I had planned on wooing you before i told you, but since you ask, yes, kissing you is something that I want.”

Derek is silent for awhile before Stiles eventually begs, “Come on, Sourwolf, put me out of my misery here, one way or the other.”

Derek looks up again, his face vulnerable in a way that Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever seen. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never thought of you in that way before. But now that you bring it up, it seems like maybe it could be worth thinking about. I don’t want to kiss you on an experient, with us wanting different things out of it. Maybe we could talk more about it when we get home and give me a little while to think it over.”

Stiles isn’t really sure how to process what Derek just said beyond it wasn’t no. Stiles smiles, a little hope seeping into his own thoughts on the matter.

“Yeah, Derek. That sounds good.” He looks helplessly around, not really sure how to start a different conversation and not really having any thing else to do in the hotel room.

Derek saves the day. “Look, they have registrations times in the morning as well as tonight. What do you say we go and see a movie tonight instead of sticking around the hotel? We can grab some dinner too.”

“Yeah. That sounds great.” This is not a date, Stiles repeats to himself in his mind over and over again. But at the same time, he can’t keep the goofy smile off his face..

*******

The not-a-date was amazing. Somehow, they had both been able to just have fun together and not get stuck dwelling on to kiss or not to kiss question. Stiles was floating on cloud 9 until they got back to the hotel room. More specifically, the bed.

Stiles and Derek have both changed into sweatpants and t-shirts and are standing on opposite sides of the bed, just staring at it and not getting in.

Finally, Stiles looks up and tries to school his face into a serious demeanor. “Now look here. I have already admitted to where I stand on the whole kissing question. I am a virile young specimen of a human being. This” he says pointing a finger around the bed, “is a no judgment zone. You ignore any bodily functions that may happen in this bed, because of how I feel about you.”

By the end of his speech, Stiles’ cheeks are burning and he doesn’t know why but he is having trouble catching his breath.

Derek blinks like an owl. “Feelings?” He’s sounding a little breathless himself.

Stiles shakes his head in frustration. “Yes, Derek. Feelings! I thought we already had this conversation.”

Derek shakes his head. “No. We had a conversation about kissing. Not a conversation about feelings.’

“Yeah, well, for me there the same damn conversation. The feelings came first. Then the wanting to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

“What, oh?” Stiles bites out, beginning to feel annoyed. And embarrassed.

“In my experience, that’s not always the case. Not with Kate or Jennifer or Braeden.” Derek replies in a very small voice.

Stiles annoyance falls away and his heart breaks, just a little. Stiles walks around the bed so he can at least be near to Derek.

“I know we haven’t worked the whole feelings/kissing thing out but can I give you a hug?”

Derek doesn’t even reply. He just reaches for Stiles and wraps his arms around his entire torso. Derek practically collapses into the hug and Stiles does his best to channel everything he learned about hugs from his Mom and Mama McCall into this hug.

Stiles thinks this might be the longest he’s ever hugged anyone for and he doesn’t ever want to let Derek go. But eventually their arms naturally drop. Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s cheeks, and looks him in the eyes.

“Listen to me, Derek. I love being your friend. I love being your packmate. I love getting to spend time with you. Me being in love with you won’t change any of that if you don’t want it to. It’s like an A and an A+. Both are awesome. One is just a slight improvement over the other. I don’t want the A+ unless it is going to make you happy too. I’m here for the A no matter what you decide about kissing and feelings.”

Derek closed his eyes before he started speaking. Stiles can feel each movement of his jaw as he chokes out a response. “The last time I tried kissing and feelings together, I ended up having to kill her. I don’t know how to do this like a normal person.”

“Derek, look at me. Do you think that I know how to do this like a normal person either? There is no normal. There is just whatever we decide we want.”

In a barely audible whisper, Derek says, “I think I’d like to try this with you. But slowly. Definitely feelings, but maybe no more than kissing for awhile.?”

Stiles can’t imagine what the sheer joy that sweeps through him must smell like to Derek but Derek sniffs the air and a grin breaks out across his whole face, eyebrows and all.

Stiles is practically vibrating in place. “Can I kiss you now?””

Instead of answering, Derek leans forward and gently presses their lips together. Despite how chaste the kiss is, Stiles feels it to the very core of him. His heart is doing things he couldn’t eve describe and his knees are about to buckle.

Without thought, his arms wrap around Derek’s neck and his hips press forward. He stops himself short of grinding because that would not be taking it slow. But, as it is, he and Derek are touch from head to toe, wrapped in each other’s arms and more deliriously happy than Stiles knew was possible.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he pulled away from their kiss. Stiles didn’t have scent to go by but he thought that Derek was just as happy as he was.

“Alright, lover boy or lover wolf? Is that a thing. It should be. Lover-wolf, let’s go to bed.”

“Not a thing. Don’t make it a thing.”

“Too late, lover-wolf, its a thing.”

They both climb into bed and Stiles stalls out for a minute but then he reaches out and takes Derek’s hand. By the time they fell asleep, Stiles had claimed the position of big spoon and had Derek wrapped in his arms.

*******

The first thing Stiles notices when he wakes up is that he is wrapped around a furnace. Then he realizes that furnace is Derek and his brain shorts out in pure bliss for a moment. But as soon as the warm fuzzy endorphins finish blazing through his system, he begins to take note of other things.

The muscles of Derek’s arm under his head. The roughness of the hair on Derek’s chest, where Stiles’ arm is rested. The tangle their legs have made. The insistent pressure of Derek’s hip bone against his rapidly hardening cock.

Stiles moans almost unconsciously as his hips jerk forward a few times, chasing that beautiful, wonderful pressure. It takes more willpower than he knew he possessed to stop and cant his hips away from Derek. Rubbing off on Derek after sharing one chaste kiss was not taking it slow.

Instead, Stiles scritched his fingers over Derek’s chest where they lay and was about to wake Derek up. Before he can get ‘good morning’ out of his mouth, Derek is on the other side of the room, wolfed out and panting like he just ran a marathon. His eyes are wide and wild - almost like he is somewhere else and not here in a hotel room with Stiles.

Stiles sits up in bed, not sure what just happened. “Derek, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice taut with false calm. He has to stay calm.

Derek hunches further into the corner of the room when Stiles speaks and doesn’t respond.

“Ok, Sourwolf. I’m going to get out of bed slowly. I’m not going to hurt you. You are safe.” Stiles keeps talking, low and calm, while he slowly walks towards Derek with his hands out.

Stiles stops just inside arm’s reach of Derek. He curses himself for his stupidity in what he is about to do. He takes one step closer to the frightened, wolfed out werewolf, not really sure what his next step will be. But when Stiles gets closer to Derek, Derek sniffs the air and that seems to break through whatever Derek had been experiencing.

He manages to pull back the shift and lurches forward into Stiles’ arms, pulling him into a desperate hug and burying his nose in Stiles’ neck. He is pulling in deep breaths of Stiles’ scent and trembling in his arms.

Stiles is at a loss but does his best to hold the man he loves through whatever’s happening right now. He ends up sliding to the floor so he hold Derek better as he is rocking back and forth.

He seems to be inhaling huge breaths of Stiles scent. When Stiles focuses enough to tell what Derek is muttering, he hears, “It’s Stiles. Stiles not Kate. Stiles is safe” over and over again.

Once he picks up what Derek is saying, Stiles heart breaks even more. He leans back a bit and tries to get Derek to look at him, “Sourwolf, your’re safe. I promise.”

Derek won’t be moved. “Need to smell you. Eyes can lie. Need to smell you.”

“Okay, Okay. At least come to the be…couch with me. We can be more comfortable.”

Derek shook the whole way to the couch and immediately curled back into Stiles’ space when they sat down.

It was almost an hour before Derek calmed himself down enough to unwind from Stiles. Stiles arms and legs were so cramped and he had to pee so bad he thought he might actually wet himself. He’d kind of thought they might have gotten through a few dates and make-outs before he was hit over the head with the ‘worse’ part of ‘for better or worse’. Not that he was thinking about marriage already. Oh shit! He might be thinking of marriage already.

“You gonna be okay if I go pee real fast?”

A ghost of a smile flashed across Derek’s face. “Yeah, I think so.” He paused, “But hurry, please”

Stiles peed the fasted he’d ever peed and went back to sit beside Derek.

He gets a good look for the first time since they moved to the couch. Derek’s face is pale and drawn with tear tracks streaking his cheeks. His eyes look hollowed out and exhausted. His whole body is hunched over like he is ashamed.

Stiles gently lifts Derek’s chin so he can look him in the face. “What happened?”

Derek opens his mouth like he was going to talk but instead ends up shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you deal with that. You didn’t sign up for that. Just sorry.”

“Hey, hey. No. Before anything else, I am your friend and packmate. Which means I absolutely signed up for keeping you safe when you are terrified. I absolutely signed up for being there when you need me. The kissing and feelings has nothing to do with that. And I did sign up for that.”

Stiles thinks he must look strange because the way Derek is looking at him is like he’s never seen Stiles before. It almost makes Stiles embarrassed for how fierce he just was. But then Derek whispers, “Thank you.” And, that’s it. Stiles knows he said the right thing.

“Anytime. Though I do hope not all the time.” Stiles takes a moment to choose his next words very carefully. “If you don’t quite know what happened or don’t feel ready to talk about it yet, that’s okay. I’m not going to press. But I think you should consider talking about it. I mean, maybe with a professional. I’m always happy to listen but that was a really big reaction to I don’t know what. I am here for you and I will always be here for you. However, a professional might make it so you get better instead of just having support when it’s bad. I don’t know if I said that right or not.”

Derek’s voice is back up to normal volume. “You said it just fine. Maybe. I’d have to find someone supernatural. Maybe Laura knows of someone.”

Stiles is full to bursting with pride when Derek says that. The pink on Derek’s cheeks tells Stiles, he can probably smell that on him. He replies to Derek’s cheeks instead of his eyebrows like usual, “Yes, I’m proud of you. Get used to it, Sourwolf.”

*******

It takes awhile for them to finally get around to taking showers and getting dressed. By the time they are ready to leave the room, there is only about 15 minutes left of registration. Stiles is about to open the door when Derek grabs his hand and stops him.

He fumbles for his words for a moment before his eyebrows become determined and he looks up at Stiles. “So you know rank and protocol can be very important to supernatural beings.”

Stiles nods.

“As an unmated wolf representing a pretty powerful group, I will be considered fair game.”

“Fair game for what?”

“Wolves have a lot of behaviors surrounding smell because that sense is enhanced for us. For the fae, touch is very powerful. They can read auras, map bindings and relationships, heal or harm based on intention, enact treaties, and so much more. They understand enough about wolves to know not to touch a mated wolf without permission but an unmated wolf is fair game.”

“What are you saying? Cause it almost feels like you want me to be your mate so you don’t get touched too much while we’re here. And that feels like you are manipulating me because you know about my feelings. I don’t think you would do that so please tell me what you are saying.”

Derek looks horrified as he talks again, “No. Nonono. I just meant, maybe we could pretend to be mated. Maybe engaged to be mated or something. We wouldn’t smell right to other wolves but for the fae, they might believe if we were convincing enough.”

“I’m not sure that would be much better, Sourwolf. I don’t want you kissing me and touching me if you don’t mean it. That would be too heartbreaking for me.”

“What if we just didn’t say anything but did some of the stuff we’ve already done, just in public - holding hands, hugging, ummm, small kisses.”

Stiles thought about it for a moment. “Just make a promise. Don’t do anything with or to me that you don’t have feelings behind. I mean maybe you wouldn’t have thought to do it at just that moment except us being here but in general, it would make you happy to do it with me…”

Stiles huffs out a breath. That didn’t even make sense to him and he said it.

Derek takes a step closer. “I’d be happy to hold your hand all the time. Being surrounded by your scent is amazing. It’s like no matter what else is going on, no matter how crazy or dangerous things are, I can find peace if you are nearby.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yean, okay.”

Stiles turns to the door of their hotel room again, about to open it. And, again, Derek stops him. “Umm, before we go down there, can we do one more thing?”

Stiles tilts his head in inquiry.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Stiles’ breath whooshes out of him and his heart beats in that quadruple staccato as he nods his head.

Derek crowds him against the wall, boxing Stiles in with his whole body before he leans in and presses their lips together.

Stiles doesn’t know and really doesn’t care what to do with his hands. They flail up and land somewhere on Derek’s back as his legs give a wobble under him. Oh God. This is like a perfect moment.

Then, Derek opens his mouth just a bit and lets his tongue lick at Stiles’ lips. That sends a shock right to Stiles’ heart and feels warm through his whole body. Another lick and shock lands a bit lower. There’s nowhere for him to move that doesn’t involve rubbing against Derek.

This time, Derek rubs back and Stiles thinks he might die of sheer pleasure. He opens his mouth, letting his tongue meet Derek’s. At Stiles’ acquiescence, Derek growls, eyes flashing blue, and grabs Stiles’ hands. He slams them against the wall above their heads and presses hard into Stiles’ whole body.

Stiles whines and tries to reciprocate as much as possible but Derek has complete control over him. And, oh shit, does that work for him. HIs brain is rapidly dribbling out his ears, being replaced entirely by the pleasure of Derek pinning him to a wall.

All of the sudden Derek lets out a frustrated groan and Stiles’ front is freezing. Derek takes a step back, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. Stiles is sure he looks about the same. Maybe with a touch more confusion.

“Wha…why did you stop?”

Derek practically growls out his answer and his eyes flash blue again, “The first time I make you come, it won’t be pinned against the wall in a hotel room that smells like about 10 other people.”

Stiles thinks if he were five years younger, hearing Derek say that might have made him come untouched, standing against a wall in a hotel room. As is, he presses a hand against the base of his cock and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before grunting, “If you don’t want me to come, then you should probably stop talking about it.”

Derek is flushed and beautiful and his eyebrows have gone a bit sheepish. “Yeah, for me too.”

Stiles puts his full weight back on his own feet (and not the wall, or Derek) and looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Aannd, we now have 5 minutes left to register.”

“Then we better hurry.” Derek smirks at Stiles and grabs his hand to drag him to the elevator.

*******

The rest of the weekend was amazing. It turns out being the Sable Court representative meant they had to show up at a few seminars, make sure everyone knew they were there to represent the Sable Court, and attend the Banquet on Saturday night. No one made treaties with the Sable Court so there was very little politicking to be done. Every so often folks with grievances would try to get Derek to settle it between. Derek made a point of never giving a direct answer but he did keep note of a few situations that had the potential to blow up and made sure to pass that information on to whatever being was the equivalent of their Alpha.

Mostly, Stiles and Derek got to wander around a beautiful hotel, holding hands and reveling in just being together. The banquet had been the highlight of the weekend. Derek grumbled the whole time that he didn’t want to dance. But Stiles eventually convinced him, leading Derek onto the dance floor with a mischievous grin on his face.

Stiles proceeded to do the Macarena to every song that the string quartet played. Derek’s sour face barely lasted one song, by the end of the second song, he was laughing, By the end of the third song, he even had some of the other attendees who were around his age trying to get the pace of the Macarena right to match Liszt’s Angelus.

Derek pulled him close, laughter still in his voice, “You are ridiculous. Now you’ve got the whole place doing it, can we go?”

Stiles felt a pang of disappointment. He’d thought they were having fun. He quirks a half-smile at Derek. “Not having fun?”

Derek pressed a hard, quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? When you laugh, the joy in your scent is all I can focus on. I just want to slam you against some vertical surface and kiss you until it is as much a part of my scent as it is yours..”

Stiles’ eyes widened and yep, his whole body was on board with that idea. His voice cracked when tried to talk. Finally, he got out, “Yeah, that sounds like more fun than this. Let’s go do that.”

Later that night, after a good amount of very awesome making out, followed by two long, separate showers that would have taken all the hot water had they not been in a hotel, Stiles and Derek found themselves lying in bed together again. The heat from earlier in the evening has been banked and they are cuddled together, completely boneless.

Stiles is almost afraid to break the perfect atmosphere by speaking but he does. “You know I went and talked to Laura before her birthday dinner? I asked her whether there were specific werewolfy mating rituals. Or a specific way I should woo you.”

Derek looks at him, slightly horrified. “You didn’t!”

Stiles grins. “I did. I told it was her birthday present - that I was voluntarily letting her meddle.”

Now Derek looks worried for Stiles’ sanity. “What did she say?”

“I made her promise she would take the piss or get me to do something stupid before I asked her. She seemed to get that I was serious. She told me about this quote about mates that your Mom used to tell you.”

This time Derek smiled and recited from memory, “Each wolf is whole in itself but there are those who are created to walk beside in perfect harmony. A mate to write their name on your heart will make you safe by watching your back, give you peace by travelling beside you, bring you joy by smiling back at you, and join hands with you so will never be alone on your life journey,”

“Yeah, that. I started out thinking I was going to try to take that quote and prove to you that I am your mate, through wooing. But I realized there is no way that I would be able to convince you I am your mate, if I am not. Instead, I’ve realized that I want to tell you how you are my mate. From there, it is up to you where we go.”

Stiles swallows. “Derek Hale, I know that I am always safe with you. If we are in danger, I know you will be there, making sure that we both get out alive. You also make me feel safe sharing who I am with you. You’ve never made me feel bad about myself or how I was feeling. They say peace isn’t the lack of conflict but rather it is an inner quality that allows you to maintain equilibrium even in the midst of conflict. Now, equilibrium is not something I am much talented at. But with you by my side, I can find that calm. I can find my way out of calamitous thinking. You make me feel grounded. You’ve got a wicked sense of humor when you choose to let it out and you are the most fun to be goofy around because you’ll pretend to be annoyed but I know you really love it.”

Stiles stops for a moment, and takes Derek’s hand before he continues. “I know this isn’t really taking it slow when it comes to the feelings side of kissing and feelings but I want you to know, I think you are my mate. I hope one day you will decide that I am yours”

All of the sudden, there is a cat on their bed. It begins to grow and then transforms into a naked lady, just as it had at Laura’s birthday party.

Samaoth greets this with a hissed murmur, “Kind one, your obligation is fulfilled and your boon is granted.”

Stiles feels sick. Derek looks like he is about puke. Derek rasps out, “Not like this. I don’t want it like this. You can’t make him feel like this and then expect it to be okay.”

Samaoth arches one eyebrow. “Make him? I did not make him. This was a boon of revelation not a boon of creation. Maybe a slight nudge so that you were in a situation that would encourage you to share your feelings with each other. But the feelings themselves, they are yours, and yours alone.”

The pit in his stomach closed up and he was able to breathe again. But before Stiles could speak, Samaoth continued, “You know, not having to attend this thing was wonderful. Would you be willing to attend as my representative every year, Kind one?”

Derek appears to still be reeling, so Stiles answers. “Perhaps we leave it open for you invite us each year, while we retain the right to accept or refuse as we are able.”

Samaoth nods, “This is acceptable. Enjoy your mate, Kind one.” Samaoth then disappeared into thin air between one breath and the next.

Stiles and Derek look at each other. Derek finally speaks, “That was exhausting. Can we just go to sleep and talk about it tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Stiles kisses Derek’s forehead gently and then whispers, “Sweet dreams, Lover-wolf.”

*******

Traveling home was almost as exhausting as traveling to Seattle in the first place. But at least Roscoe was waiting for them instead of a taxi.

When they had both climbed in, Stiles tapped on the steering wheel a couple of times to relieve the nervous tension.

“We haven’t really talked much about what Samaoth said. I thought we might at least talk about what we wanted to tell the pack when we get home.”

Derek nods. “That’s a good idea.” He pauses. “I think I should go first.”

“Okay.”

Stiles is confused when Derek starts how he does but listens without interrupting. “Kate liked to play sexual games. She was always pushing me further than I wanted to go. I think Friday morning happened because you used your fingernails to wake me up. She used to scratch me, until I would bleed. She would start soft, almost tickling and gradually get harder and harder until I would beg her to stop. She would only stop if I did something for her, like go down on her or play with her nipples.”

Derek takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. “I thought I loved her. I thought she loved me. I thought that was just how sex was. I didn’t know how bad she was until it was too late. You know the rest of the story. But I think she really messed up how I think about feelings and kissing as we’ve been calling it. I think you’re right. I probably need to talk to a professional to get it all sorted out in my own head.”

Stiles nods and makes an encouraging noise because it seems like Derek isn’t done talking yet.

“I want that with you. I want the whole thing: mates, married, growing old together, everything. The feelings are there. But I think I also need time to work out my own head before we go any further than the kissing.”

When Derek looks up at Stiles, his eyes are pleading with Stiles, like there was anything other than yes that Stiles would say to all that. “Derek, I am here for you, however you need. As long as we can talk to each other, it will be okay. I can’t promise to always do or say the right thing but I want this too. I want this in a way that is healthy for you. And in the mean time, kissing you is no hardship.”

To demonstrate, and because he wanted to, Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek, once on the lips, once on the forehead, and then once on each cheek.

Stiles leans back, and asks, “What do you want to tell the pack?”

“The truth.”

*******

Everyone is gathered at the Hale house when they walk inside, hand in hand. Laura squeals and jumps up to hug them both as soon as she notices. Scott grins and gives Stiles a thumbs up while everyone else takes a moment to catch up.

They sit down together in one of the love seats, Derek on Stiles’ lap.

Lydia starts of the friendly interrogation. “I’d ask how it went but it appears to have gone very well.”

Stiles is grinning and Derek has a soft happy smile on his face. They look each other in the eyes and both say, “Yeah,” at the same time.

Laura throws and throw pillow at their heads. “Stop being so sappy and tell us all about it.”

Derek throws it back at his sister and Stiles starts to talk. “The conference was a conference. Nothing exciting there except, we kind of both decided that we are mates.”

The whole room erupts in shouts and wolf whistles.

Once they settle down, Stiles continues, “Samaoth doesn’t like to go so she used this as an excuse to get out of it and give Derek his boon. Apparently, we have always been each other’s mates and might have figured that out on our own eventually but Samaoth’s boon was one of revelation. The time alone together, along with a small nudge from her, helped us to be able realize our feelings for each other.”

“Congratulations, guys,” Boyd says when Stiles stops speaking. The rest of the pack echoes the sentiment.

Derek nudges Stiles, “Can you tell them the rest too?” Stiles startles slightly. “You want to share that part?

“Yeah. I don’t know that I can say it again but they’re pack. It’s safe.”

Stiles smiles, pride and happiness leaking out everywhere. “Part of us deciding what it means for us to be mates is that we decided to take it really slow. Derek shared some things about what Kate did to him that have messed up how he sees the physical aspect of relationships. He’s decided to talk to a professional about to get things straight in his own head. We’re still mates, we’re just taking it really slow.”

Derek stared at his shoes the whole time Stiles was talking. His embarrassment is bright on his cheeks and the rest of the pack must be able to smell it.

Laura stands up from her seat and kneels on the ground in front of Derek so she can look him in the eyes. “I am so proud of you. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. We all love you and want you to be happy.”

Erica yells from across the room. “What she said.”

Lydia replies, “I might have said it with more tact, but I agree too.”

Isaac, Boyd, Scott, and Jackson are quick to follow with their own reassurances.

There is a bit of awkward tension in the room like no one really knows what comes next, until Stiles declares, “It’s time for Frozen and a puppy pile.”

Derek smiles and says, “Yeah, that would be great.”

Three disney movies later, Stiles falls asleep with Derek sitting between his legs, back resting against Stiles’ chest. He’s never been so happy in all his life. Maybe he should be looking forward to his next oh shit moment.

The end.

#dearericbittle #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

19 notes · View notes

quarterfromcanon · 5 years ago

Text

2019 Fic Writing Roundup

I was tagged by my lovely friend @catty-words.

Total 2019 Word Count: 58,159

Total 2019 Hits: Asdfghjkl; Oh gosh, it’s much harder to tell when the work is only on Tumblr! I’ll tally up the notes from there to get the closest approximation I can. It looks like there are 174 total (a mix of likes and comments) on the pieces that I posted from this past year.

Other 2019 AO3 Stats: N/A, although I did finally join AO3 *this* year, so next time around there’ll actually be things to put here! :)

Total 2018 Word Count: Published? None. I think I might have tried writing a little bit of something for myself somewhere in there, but I didn’t get back to any kind of public fandom writing until 2019.

Total 2018 Hits: None. What a difference a year can make! I look forward to comparing 2019 to whatever’s yet to come in 2020!

Other 2018 AO3 Stats: N/A

links and titles to 2019 works

Oooh, this is actually a good opportunity to list them chronologically rather than in publication sequence. Let me see if I can get them sorted. (If, however, you’d prefer to read them in the order that they were published, you can click here and simply open the installments in reverse, since Tumblr displays things oldest-to-newest.) All of the following were written for the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend fandom and feature Heather x Valencia as their central pairing.

1. Barrier [1,385 words] - Following where we last saw them in 1.09, Josh and his friends continue their beach day now sans Rebecca’s presence. Consequently, Valencia’s critical eye falls on the only other woman in their company - Heather.

2. Unexpected [3,003 words] - The conclusion of 1.18 leaves Valencia with a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. As one of West Covina’s most frequented locales, Home Base is the first place that springs to mind where she might chase away her sorrows (or perhaps just air them out verbally while all other involved parties are away at Jayma’s wedding). Heather finds herself pulled into comfort and commiseration despite her efforts to avoid involvement.

3. Lost Control and Tumbled Overboard Gladly [3,265 words] - Heather goes to her parents’ home for the first holiday visit since moving out on her own. She has her new friend Valencia in tow. Sincere conversation and the rare allowance of vulnerability break down Heather’s walls with an ease that takes her by surprise.

4. Such Sweet Nothing [1,362 words] - Valencia and Heather return to V’s apartment after their Labor Day afternoon of story-swapping and quality time together. Valencia revels in the joyful acquirement of the second gal pal of her adult life. Heather contends with the dawning realization that her interest in Valencia may not be purely for friendship.

5. There’s A Reason Not to Want This (But I Forgot) [2,418 words] - Internet sleuthing with Rebecca pulls Valencia right back into a Josh fixation spiral. Heather must also face some unresolved feelings: namely, a crush now so intense it can no longer be denied.

6. Habits [3,599 words] - The desire to protect Valencia’s heart overrides the instinct to shield her own, and so Heather ends the self-imposed avoidance of her company. She arrives on V’s doorstep with a helpful cover story and some unfortunate news that needs to be broken gently.

7. I Want Not to Want Anything [1,314 words] - Heather Davis gets Santa Ana Winded.

8. Breathless [3,673 words] - A talk with Heather about Rebecca’s impending marriage to Josh leads Valencia to reassess what matters to her. A rosé-fueled jaunt to a local green space gives rise to the persistent inkling that what - or rather who - she really wants may be a lot closer to her than she’s ready to admit.

9. No One’s Really Got It Figured Out Just Yet [3,289 words] - Valencia throws the bachelorette party for Rebecca. Gurl Group antics and H+V flirting tactics set to hits from the mid ’90s and 2000s ensue.

10. Evading [2,207 words] - In the wake of events from 3.05 and 3.06, Heather and Valencia have a much needed heart-to-heart. They put some important truths into words while treading lightly around a few unspoken facts so delicate they’re best left in the margins.

11. How Long Do You Plan to Keep Me at the Back of Your Mind? [2,442 words] - An evening welcoming Valencia’s girlfriend Beth to be an honorary member of the Gurl Group doesn’t go quite as smoothly as planned when Heather has a difficult time harnessing her lingering feelings.

12. You and Me, Always Between the Lines [1,828 words] - Now that she has spoken with all of her immediate family members and closest friends, Valencia is prepared to announce her first romantic relationship with a woman on social media. In Beth’s absence, she seeks the moral support of her best friend. Heather is readily by her side for this next big step in Valencia’s coming out journey.

13. Gradation [2,503 words] - Valencia’s time with Beth is at an end and, in her hour of heartbreak, she returns to the same place for comfort as the previous occasion when she found herself suddenly single: across the bar from Heather.

14. Rough Draft [2,625 words] - Valencia and Heather FINALLY get together. Valencia experiences her own “Oh My God, I Think I Like You” freak out.

15. Strategy [1,212 words] - Heather and Valencia have a stay-at-home date night featuring deliberately cringey pick up lines and tangled limbs on a couch in the dark.

16. Verity [3,834 words] - Heather temporarily resumes her role as Valencia’s assistant coordinator when they plan a vow renewal celebration for Paula and Scott. On this night, the recently remarried couple may not be the only two pouring out their hearts in a room full of loved ones...

17. Different and the Same [1,035 words] - Valencia and Heather just moved into their own place. They spend their first morning there together and make good use of the privacy and freedom this new residence affords.

18. Finishing Touches [1,157 words] - Heather and Valencia personalize the interior of their new living space. The situation soon devolves into paint-splattered hijinks.

19. Patterns in the Light [1,058 words] - Despite the fact that they are literally cohabitating and have professed their feelings for each other, Valencia remains a clumsily flirty nerd and I love her for it. Heather does, too.

20. Sage [1,324 words] - After being trapped in a car with someone she didn’t want to be trapped in a car with, Heather returns covered in a dead woman’s ashes. Valencia’s time as a ghost-beleaguered home energy cleanser has arrived at last. She is uniquely qualified to save the day.

21. Portage [1,707 words] - Heather has plans for a couple’s trip with Valencia. The only obstacle is keeping it a secret between the two of them.

22. The Courage and the Strength I Need [1,957 words] - Valencia struggles during Heather’s business trip because it is their first time apart since becoming a couple. They FaceTime to ease the pain of distance and talk about their future.

23. Wanna Be With You All Alone [1,237 words] - Heather comes back from the aforementioned work travel to find that Valencia has made special welcome home arrangements.

24. Midnight, Fright and Candlelight [1,426 words] - A quiet evening is interrupted by a power outage. Heather and Valencia find a surprisingly wholesome and G-rated way to pass the time.

25. Next to You [1,550 words] - The big yearly Davis Family Reunion quickly approaches. Valencia prepares to accompany Heather to this event and be introduced to many members of her extended family.

26. Warm Whispers [1,683 words] - Heather and Valencia just want to be all cute and domestic and spend the morning fooling around. Their cats disrupt these pursuits in typical feline fashion.

27. “When We’re Together, Darling, Every Night Is Halloween.” [1,228 words] - Heather and Valencia get ready to attend a Gurl Group Halloween party. Their second annual couple’s costume? Gomez and Morticia Addams.

28. #afewofmyfavoritethings [2,838 words] - Nathaniel, Rebecca, Valencia, Heather, Paula, Scott, and Tommy all rent a cabin for vacation. This piece follows them through a day of wintertime fun. Pure fluffiness here and I had the best time writing every second of it.

Favorite Fic: Probably #afewofmyfavoritethings. I packed it with elements I personally love and moments I was hoping my new friends in the fandom would like. Plus, it was honestly just so good for my soul to write these characters in a soft world where they could engage in classic snow day activities and enjoy each other’s company.

Hardest Fic: I knew there were a few installments of Femslash February where I wrote whole paragraphs or even pages I didn’t keep/decided to revise, but I was pretty sure I also remembered at least one where I wrote an entire separate piece. My sleep schedule was, shall we say, not advisable during February but it was also easily the most exhilarating month of my year. I tracked down the evidence of that rewrite and it turns out the incident I recalled was for Unusual Kiss (the prompt for Day 4 of FF). The original involved something to do with butterfly kisses because, evidently, my inclination to link Valencia to winged beings knows no bounds. I’ve got to admit that I’m still fond of the concept of Valencia giving Heather a subtle “kiss” during a hug in that painfully frightening time before Beth when she was afraid to outright kiss a woman in any way that couldn’t be dismissed as platonic. There’s a good chance an interaction of that nature could appear somewhere in the full story. I am notoriously drawn to that angst period of undisclosed pining so the temptation is quite strong. Still, I’m glad I used the version I actually posted and saved elements of the first draft for later. Fragments of their conversation from the original will probably make it into the final tale, but I think I prefer to sprinkle them across several exchanges instead of divulging them all at once.

Do You Plan to Take Prompts in 2020? Sort of yes and sort of no. I am participating in the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Valentine Exchange, which involves a prompt-esque note from the participant each of us were assigned as our guide to spark inspiration for the gift. It’s also possible that there’ll be some writing prompt list posted somewhere along the way just like Femslash February was last year, and I’ll end up wanting to join the fun. Other than that, though, I’ll mainly stick to the one writing project in an effort to hone my focus.

What was the best thing about 2019? I’d definitely say the bonding and interactions with other members of the fandom. The encouragement and support I received from them remains the primary motivation for me to keep writing and chasing after the ongoing goals I set for myself.

What was the worst thing about 2019? The most honest answer that my mind immediately supplied is death of a close relative. While that isn’t the sole reason for the dip in my creative output (especially since there were multiple months between my last published fic and the passing in question), I know it could certainly be counted among the contributing factors to an overarching writing problem I had. Even before my family’s loss, there was a shift in my thought process that only got worse once there was more on my plate in my personal life. There were many times I sat down wanting to write again but it felt too difficult and intimidating to commit words to the page. I couldn’t seem to transfer them from my mind to the keyboard and I’d invariably switch to doing something else. I developed this terrible internal conviction that insisted the larger fic I wanted to write wouldn’t work as well as the shorter installments. That gnawing insecurity would have me believe one month’s worth of well-received efforts was already such a marvel that anything beyond that point was somehow pushing my luck. Where did the mental voice originate and why couldn’t I shake it? It’s difficult to parse out but what I do know is that I’ve firmly decided 2020 is going to be a year I put it on silent. I know what it’ll mean to me for everything that’s been floating in my head to finally be told in one cohesive format, and to have the satisfaction of giving my favorite characters the ending my heart says they deserve. It’s a sense of closure that’s worth the pursuit.

Any last thoughts for 2019? The bad parts of the last twelve months made me want to essentially say “good riddance” to the year, but the good parts were far too treasured to wish all of 2019 away. I am so grateful for the new people I met and friendships that solidified during that time. I especially owe my most heartfelt appreciation to @catty-words, @notbang, and @monaiargancoconutsoy. Thank you for everything. <3

Goals for 2020

Finish. The. Fic.

I believe everyone I know who writes fanfic has already been tagged but, if you haven’t gotten the chance to look back over your writing year, by all means, use these questions to give it a go! :)

#About Me #2019 Fic Writing Roundup #My FWR #death mention tw

9 notes · View notes

deathfrisbeeinthetardis · 5 years ago

Text

The Sky Beast, New and Improved Chapter 2

Yay I wrote a second chapter for the fic!! One of the key plot points is inspired by @q-unsolved‘s amazing art :D

Summary:

Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn’t find anything but Ryan might have brought a piece of the investigation home with him. Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Ryan goes to work with his wings tucked away, and they go camping for the weekend. Hijinks ensue.

Find it on Ao3 here or read below!

They take a sick day.

Partly to figure out how to best keep Ryan's transformation a secret from the rest of the world. Partly just because it is all new and exciting, and the two men want the chance to completely regress to boys for the occasion, you know, to celebrate.

Case in point, Ryan is flapping around his apartment with Shane on his tail, his wings doing all the work to keep them and Ryan's body from crashing into the walls or the furniture. They had taken time before this to clear away everything of value from shelves or tables, of course, they were capable of behaving like adults for a few minutes longer before they totally lost it.

"How's your six-foot-fourness helping now huh?" Ryan shouts with glee, cackling breathlessly as his wings maneuver him deftly away from Shane's outstretched hands, settling him to perch on top of a cupboard.

"Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?" Shane wheezed, supporting his hands on his bent knees before said cupboard with a giant grin on his face, which brightened even more, "You know what? Your mob name is going to be wings now if I am to be called legs! It's only fair." he declared, straightening with hands on his hips.

"Uh, no way. My wings are totally going to be my secret weapon! I can't go announcing that to all my enemies, also Night-Night is way cooler. You're just jealous." Ryan stuck out his tongue, relishing in the joy of this moment. The past two hours actually, they really haven't accomplished much.

It takes another half an hour before both of them are too exhausted and hungry to continue, and they collapse onto Ryan's couch with a carton of orange juice between them, chugging it down with the fervor of men after vigorous aerobic exercise and several cases of severe laughter-syndrome.

"So," Shane says when his breaths finally start to even out, "We know you can fly outside the natural laws of this earth. Also, I think I saw you're eyes glint red when the light hit it a few minutes ago, you're not about to go rogue on me now are you?"

"Wait, really?" He really hadn't noticed, cause that's not how eyes work. It was probably too dark the last time he looked in the mirror that morning for him to see. Ryan sets the carton onto the coffee table and hops over it to get to the window where watery sunlight shines into the room. Using his phone as a makeshift mirror, he wiggles his head until the light catches his eyes at a certain angle and, "Oh wow, they really are red."

"That could be a problem with filming, especially when our cameras are all good enough to avoid red-eye." Shane pauses, then chuckles, "Oh boy, if the fans ever find out they are going to go crazy. All those theorists positing how I'm a demon are gonna come after you now!"

Ryan wrinkles his nose at his reflection, "You're being way too happy about this."

"Hey, you win some you lose some. At least your red eyes are normal-sized, not like goggles or something like in the myths."

"Goggles," Ryan frowns at that, something in his memory sparking an idea, "didn't you recently get those pair of broke-Tony Stark glasses? The yellow ones?" He eyes Shane without turning, "You think they sell red ones? I can always say the red is from the glasses' reflection."

The other man makes a considering noise and pulls out his phone, after a minute his brows climb high on his forehead, stretching out his hand to show the screen displaying an astounding collection of red-tinted sunglasses, "They're supposed to help with visibility apparently, like the yellow ones." He strokes his nonexistent goatee, "Hmm I wonder what character wears red glasses, I gotta get you back for that Tony Stark comment."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan replies almost on instinct, squinting at the screen to pick out the least obnoxious design. There was an optician's a few blocks from his apartment and Shane volunteers to get Ryan a pair while he practices camouflaging into a normal human workplace.

It actually turns out to be pretty easy, just as long as he keeps the thought of the necessity of the invisibility in the back of his mind. Ryan also discovers to his delight and Shane's halfhearted dismay that tangibility does not seem to affect his flight ability much beyond some extra concentration. He'll be fine tomorrow at work. He'll just have to remember to take a break every few hours to stretch or something.

The shoot on Monday though, that could be a problem. Now that he has gotten used to his wings through one day of intense usage, Ryan has absolutely no guarantees that if he gets spooked he won't just flap away on instinct.

Shane sleeps over that night to 'observe the Mothman in his natural habitat', Ryan decides his newest favorite sleeping position right in the middle of a five-pillow nest and when he drifts off he dreams about the red-eyed Mothman from the stories.

On Friday, Ryan wears the biggest hoodie he owns to work, just in case his wings pop-out unplanned. Despite the confidence from the day before, paranoia of a different kind creeps up on him as he sits at his desk next to Shane. He almost never comes in this early, but it was better than walking through the office with everyone there.

He stares bleary-eyed when his computer boots up, taking his new glasses out of the case and setting them on his nose. The color gives everything a mildly sinister tinge and makes him more self-conscious of his appearance than he has been in a long time, but they do their job.

He's quite proud that he only jumps a little when Jen calls "Nice specs, Ryan!" from six desks away. He also manages to wait until lunch break before he has to race to the bathroom to let his wings out. One of the pros of working at Buzzfeed is that there are constantly so many weird things happening that his abnormal choice in eye-wear didn't draw any attention more than a few comments and even some compliments.

All things considered, it's a good day. Ryan even manages to get a good chunk of editing done amidst his paranoia and routine banter with Shane, the latter has gradually started to become more and more moth specific. Seriously did the guy research all the moth puns through the night?

"What do you call a group of moths dancing around a light?" Shane leans over to say an hour before they can go home for the weekend, his eyes twinkling, "A moth pit."

Ryan groans, choosing not to respond as the passive-aggressive way to protest against the excessive abuse of all things moth-related within the day. His shoulders feel stiff, and out of habit he folds his arms behind his head and leans back in a long slow stretch, and it is the most satisfying stretch in his life, as the strain of a whole afternoon of mostly sitting still with his head craned forward just vanishes. He hums a little in satisfaction.

Simultaneously, the lights overhead go out. So does his computer. And everyone else's.

"Oh no no no my computer just crashed!?"

"Is there a power outage? What's going on?"

"I didn't save..."

Ryan is frozen in his position as the cacophony of voices barrages his now slightly enhanced hearing, and it hits him a moment later. In a flash, he's hunching down in his seat, trying to seem as small as he can with his face in his hands, while his invisible wings come down to wrap around him from where they had just stretched too, unseen. Fuck. Wasn't there a thing about electrical malfunctions on the nights of Mothman sightings? Oh god, he hopes he didn't knock the whole of Los Angeles off the grid. He feels his face flush, the skin heating up against his palms. Great job Bergara. Fantastic managing of your powers.

Shane, who had been in the process of returning to his own editing after snickering at his godawful joke, has his hands hovering over the keyboard and a bemused smile on his face as he tilts his head and sees Ryan with the hood of his hoodie pulled down over his face.

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbles faintly into his hands, "I didn't think that part would apply to me."

Shane looks at him for a moment, then he claps a hand on Ryan's shoulder and wiggles him a little in his seat as his smile splits into a grin, "Lucky for you, I save my work by the hour. Otherwise, you'd have to fly like hell cause I'll tackle you."

"You'd never catch me," Ryan says, lifting his head a little to shoot a grateful glance at the taller man, "remember yesterday?"

"Oh but I was unprepared!" Shane declares, rubbing his hands and widening his eyes until he resembled a crazed hunter, "Next time I'll have a bow and a ton of those suction-tipped arrows, and I'm bringing you down baby!"

"You're unbelievable." Ryan huffs with a laugh, glancing around the pandemonium that has descended onto the BuzzFeed office and what seems to be the street outside as well, "Ugh, wanna head back now? We're gonna have to walk, uber is definitely not going to work."

Shane nods, chuckling silently at the whole situation. On their way out, Ryan desperately avoids eye contact with anyone and stares at his red-tinted feet, only snapping out of his inner guilt tirade when Shane pokes him in the rib.

"Stop looking down and hunching your shoulders, makes you look more guilty." He chides, the stupid grin still on his face as he tugs Ryan's hood back as they walk onto the sunlit street. "They'll just blame it on PG&E. The whole thing will teach everyone a lesson to be on top of their job and not rely entirely on technology and big electrical companies to save their work."

"You're just smug that you didn't get affected as much." Ryan retorts, but the comment didn't have any actual heat behind it.

"You bet I am. Come on, buck up buddy. We've got the entire weekend to have fun with this!" The taller man gestured to the general area on Ryan's back where his wings hung hidden, "Don't you want to go into the wild and see what happens?"

Ryan would never tell Shane this, but his wings stir and shudder a little at the words as if they were dying to show the extent of their abilities. Traitors.

They end up in Monrovia Canyon Park after an hour-long drive that afternoon, since they figured most of LA's population would be out in the city doing fun Friday night things, so the chances of anyone seeing a figure flying through the trees of the park are greatly reduced. Fortunately, they arrive with around an hour of sunlight left to hike in and set up their camping gear. Unfortunately, the light gives Ryan the opportunity to read the sign at the trailhead.

"Fuck no." Ryan yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the picture of a black bear with the words 'warning, you are entering bear territory' emblazoned in black under it. He's terrified of bears, those things are the apex predators of the land, and Shane knows that because they've argued about this multiple times, on camera. It's probably why he chose this damn park over the others. "I am not camping here with those things around."

The man shrugs and the tall backpack on his shoulders rise up at least half a foot with the motion. "It is the most heavily wooded park in the area, and I do have this bear mace here," He says innocently, though his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight seem to issue a challenge that riles up something in Ryan into a frenzy. "And in case you forgot, you can fly, Ryan, no bears are gonna get you."

"I hate you," Ryan mutters darkly, shooting the other man a look that was something between affection and scorn. What Shane said makes sense, logically, and Ryan is beyond annoyed when stuff like this happens on the regular. Speaking of powers, he wonders if there are any more tricks up the Mothman's sleeve that he can use to give Shane a good getting back at.

Ryan half stomps over and yanks the canister of anti-bear from the side pocket of the taller man's pack, scowling at his snicker and latches onto the cool metal with a death grip, finger crooked into the trigger. Shane is right on one account, no bears are going to get him on this trip, or he'll get a face of mace and whatever cool shit Mothman can do when it's spooked.

They dump their bags in a patch of grass amidst the trees, far from any established trails or camping grounds just to be safe. With a sigh of relief, Ryan's wings materialize at his back, dark against the dimly lit forest around them, dwarfing Ryan with their span. It seems they hadn't been at their full size that day in his apartment. They now stretch twelve feet in total, drawing a sharp awed inhale from Shane as the powerful limbs flex and stretch in their freedom. The best part? Ryan didn't even have to take off his hoodie, the wings found their own way through the material without really altering it.

Ryan rolls his neck and relishes the warmth that the cracks leave behind as the soreness melts away, and he grins at Shane. "What now?" he says, a little breathless already.

"Whatever feels natural, Ryan." Shane says with a wolfish grin of his own, "Just let go of all the stress and embrace mother nature."

So Ryan lets his eyes flutter close and gives in to that wild part in him that has started stirring since their investigation in Virginia. When he opens his eyes again, their red glint sharpens his vision as his wings carry him straight up into the air. The wind whips at his face and he has his arms spread wide, laughter bubbling out of him as his previous fear of heights dissolves into the crisp rich air.

He rides the soft winds, weaving through the semi-dense woods around their campsite and listens to his new instincts as he twirled in the air performing moves that he had once seen professional divers do. He feels free in there, and even though the falls and dips in height still send his stomach clenching, it's more in anticipation of the thrill of control, of pulling back at the very last second to glide just a few feet off the ground, rather than fear. He flies and perches on various treetops and swoops again, all to the whooping and cheering of Shane from down bellow.

"Hey Ryan! Look what I brought!" He shouted, and Ryan glides down to a lower branch to give the not-so-tall looking man a questioning glance, the man was smirking with mischief, holding out a hand to wiggle a bright camping lantern in his direction, "Since you're Mothman, d'you feel anything for this here light?"

Ryan was about to adjust his grip on the branch to only using a certain finger on both hands when suddenly Shane yelps and starts to do a twitchy dance with his upper body. For a second Ryan panics, but he was just close enough for his enhanced night vision to see that the strange behavior is, in fact, not caused by a demon possessing his friend.

"Oh, fuck is that a wasp?" Ryan bursts out laughing at the way Shane's face contorts a little at the tiny insect buzzing uncomfortably close to his face and did not feel sorry at all for his friend. Nope. Ryan was almost squealing in delight as Shane batted at the wasp as best he could, flapping his long arms around with a panicked look on his face.

"See what you get? This is what you get! Yes! Take that for--" Its a shame that his victory speech is cut short when a wasp materializes right in front of his own face, sending him tumbling backward off the branch with a high pitched screech.

A part of his brain thinks that if people heard what he had just uttered, there are going to be reports of the first Mothman sighting in Los Angelas.

For some life-fucking reason, the wasp--actually three of them now-- tormenting Shane decide to refocus their attention on the flying creature instead of the sasquatch. They obviously haven’t taken physics or learned about surface area.

Ryan threads his way through the trees with much less of his previous flare and joy, flying for his life as the few wasps quickly grow to a swarm, despite a small voice in his head encouraging him to stop, to take a stand. What the fuck did he ever do to them?? It's not like he kicked their nest or something. Frustration and exhaustion combining is never a good look on Ryan, and after what he estimates is four minutes of high-speed air chase, he dives to the ground. Landing softly, he lets instincts take over, whirling around to let out a snarl at the swarm that races for him, wings arched at his back and shaking slightly to make rustling sounds.

The wasp swarm halts before him with a jerk.

Ryan's teeth are bared, which is kind of dumb, cause he doesn't have fangs so that image must not be very scary to anyone. But the wasps hover before him, their formation shifting uncertainly, and Ryan can see the detail on each and every buzzing insect with crystal clarity. A deadly calm washes over him.

"Heel." He growls, and his own voice startles himself. With all the macho, gangster bits they've done on Unsolved, he has never heard his voice go this low and guttural. Ryan blinks, and the heavy blanket of calm is gone.

The wasps hold still, their formation now in a fixed sphere as they buzzed quietly. Respectfully, a part of Ryan's mind supplies, they serve him now. What the hell just happened?

A crackle of a boot on dry leaves has Ryan whipping his head around to see Shane approaching him with a flashlight and bear mace in perfect Harries position, concern and something like dread tightening his face. "Ryan come here, get away from the wasps."

"They're not a threat anymore Shane," he said, tone stiff and tired. "They obey me now." The taller man looks doubtful but after a few flashes of light at the swarm produced no change in the wasps' motion, he slowly lowered the mace can.

"I-I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed this," he said, lifting the mace a bit and then letting his arms drop back to his side. "Ryan are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

"What?" Ryan says absently, and there are tremors running through his hands. He clenches them into fists and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. A flick of his head at the swarm has them dispersing, buzzing back to wherever the hell they popped out from. "We're losing light, we should set up the tent," he says as he turns to walk back to where they had dropped their bags.

Shane stands his ground and reaches out a hand to catch the smaller man's shoulder when Ryan tries to walk past him, and his eyes widen slightly as Ryan's wings bristle at the contact, but his grip is firm. "If there's something wrong, Ry, anything at all that feels off about this whole Mothman thing, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, big guy." Ryan offers the taller man a small smile, though it might have wavered a little. He can tell that his friend would have liked answers to a great many questions about how he felt, about the mad chase and about that final showdown, but the man didn't push. He trusts Ryan to reach out if he needed it.

The problem is, Ryan has never been that good with emotions.

But at the moment he feels... okay. The excitement of the ordeal seems to have canceled out his energy. So he smiles some more, "I promise." At Shane's not at all satisfied expression, he nudges the taller man with the tip of a dark wing, "Come on, help me light a fire. I'm dying for some smores."

And so they did.

#fanfiction #inspired by awesome art #I love Mothman!Ryan so much #alex writes #Ghoul friends

1 note · View note