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hogwartsfirebolt · 4 years ago

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cw: wizarding war, and the violence it ensues.

The year bled.

It bled great gouts of wizards, beacons of hope shining bright red at the tip of their wands. Led them to their deaths, in the battlefront that had taken their friends and family, yet remained unsatisfied.

The year took his Hagrid, took his Ron, the year flung a sword into Harry’s survival instincts and turned them inside out — backwards, all wrong. He lived and breathed for his days on the front, inhabited the outermost trench for longer than anyone was allowed, his wand glowing green more often than red.

Voldemort’s tooth — sharp, a snake’s poisonous incisive — hung on a thread, rested against Harry’s throat, had for the better part of the season. Yet the war raged on.

There’d been a time when things had been simpler.

“Will you be resting this fortnight?” Hermione had asked him when she’d served, a few days earlier. She was at a safe-house, now, replenishing her core, drawing energy from the underground streams that pulsed with golden magic so she would be ready to return to the fight. It was was everyone did, every couple of weeks, what their warlord had ordered.

Harry’d not been to a safe-house in three months. He’d not known anything but carnage in all those days, was beginning to suspect that the inexhaustible nature of his core didn’t extend to his body, definitely didn’t extend to his mind.

“Where are they getting this strength? These numbers?” Ron had asked, the night before a Death Eater had torn his head right off his neck.

They still did not know the answer. It happened everyday, at the strike of dawn: dozens of Death Eaters arrived at the front, and it didn’t matter that Harry sliced right through their ranks like a sword, there were dozens more the next morning. And they still did not know the answer.

It was not simple. Nothing was simple.

“They must have found a way to clone their soldiers. It can be done — they have Voldemort’s knowledge on soul-splitting.” Kingsley had written, in the letter Harry had received two days earlier. “Soon enough they will press at their advantage. I trust you will know what to do. Do not fail me.”

There was no “soon enough”. The advantage was already being pressed, every waking second, on multiple fronts. Harry spent his days blocking them with his magic, with his body, and his nights fighting against their secret weapon, they one they seemed to reserve for him only — the mind games.

“They impersonate us?” Arthur had asked, when he’d brought health potions the previous week.

“They show up as you, or Molly, Gin, R-Ron. I’m not sure what they want, they seem to be trying to extract information, but not on our lines, not on our manpower. I don’t know what I have that they want.”

“Don’t trust anyone.”

The days cut him, and the nights suffocated him. He got approached by group after group of imposters, wearing a different face every night. People Harry loved and hadn't seen in months. Those ones didn't hurt as much. Not like it hurt when it was people he had loved and lost.

Arthur had told him not to trust anyone. Some nights, he didn’t even trust himself.

He was going mad, sending away whoever it was that wore Cedric’s body, that showed up in his mother’s face, that slipped into Sirius’ limbs like they would into a coat. People he trusted, people he loved, and whose memory would forever be tainted by this, in his mind.

The night Draco Malfoy showed up, Harry thought it was another mind trick. Then, he realized that it broke the pattern. He’d never trusted, never loved, never even tolerated Draco Malfoy.

But there he was. He showed up, nose bleeding, broken arm cradled against his chest, miserable, everything Harry raged against. His tears shone bright silver over his cheekbones, down his jaw, carrying magical energy, draining him.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I don’t know where else to go.”

Harry didn’t trust him, he shouldn’t help him. But he did. He mended the fractured bones, cut his own palm with a knife and gave him some of his magical energy, poured it right into his gaping mouth. Saved his life.

Malfoy stayed.

Something like guilt, if he was still capable of that, draped itself across Harry’s shoulders as he fed him their food, let him drink from their goblets, gave him their healing potions.

He didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust himself.

Malfoy talked, at least, which was useful.

“Portraits.” He coughed, shivery from the core-loss. “They all have hundreds of them, their magical energy split. Not their souls, that’s not sustainable, it’s their magical energy. And they take them out, give them life. There’s an energy source, and an ancient spell, a rune ... I wasn’t told, but I saw, she performed it in front of me. Please, I’ll tell you. I ran. I need your help.”

Harry didn’t need to ask who she was.

“I can fight. I can help. Please. Please, they killed my mother.”

And there were the tears again, but crystal clear, no longer carrying Malfoy’s power. Harry had successfully stopped the drainage.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please. Write to your general, I’ll say anything, I hate her.”

There had been a time in which Malfoy’s desperation would have made him feel at an advantage, would have made him laugh, prod at the wound. But that time was long gone, desperation was the only thing he knew now, as well, and there was no winning. It was a winless fight. Malfoy was too human, too scared, not an instrument of war.

“No. We don’t know he’s telling the truth, I forbid you from sheltering him.” Kingsley’s letter said.

There’d been a time when things had been simpler.

But the war raged, the weeks blended into each other, and the pain, renewed as it was every single day, numbed him.

Harry was human. Harry was scared. Harry was an instrument of war.

He sheltered him anyway.

“One wrong move, and you’re out. You have one chance.”

Malfoy nodded, weeping right there in the trench, in his blood-stained clothes. Harry couldn’t afford to distrust him, was too busy staying alive.

And Malfoy did not fail him. In the morning light, dozens of Death Eaters Harry had killed a million times marched into the battlefield, and Malfoy fought next to him. Harry’d not had anyone watch his back in months, and it made for a nice change.

At night, they fended off the imposters, and Harry fed him his own magical energy, watched him grow stronger with it. His core was inexhaustible, he knew. He didn’t have to send Malfoy away to regain strength, he gave it to him, every single night.

It was forbidden, but it was also the only thing that seemed right in the vortex of destruction he’d been living in.

“She keeps an artifact at the Manor. It looks like a prophecy, is kept under lock and key inside her chambers. I saw it, she made me clean it once. I think it’s the source of all this. I think if you destroy it, this will be over.” Malfoy said, three weeks after they’d been fighting side by side. He looked stronger, energized, and if Harry closed his eyes, he could feel his own magic inside Draco’s corestream, like an extension of himself.

“How?”

He felt Draco prodding back, felt him extending his energy so it circled back to Harry, so it flowed freely between them.

“There’s no time to look. Burn down the manor.”

The discovery that they could access each other’s magic should have been monumental, yet felt like nothing at all. They’d known, they’d experienced it every night for weeks. An intimacy unlike any other, between enemies, between allies.

“I thought I forbid you from taking him in.” Kingsley’s letter said, when Harry proposed the idea. It didn’t feel like a reprimand. It felt like a father, telling a child off for keeping a stray kitten. “I have sent reinforcements to the front, come to headquarters. Both of you. We’re burning the house this week.”

The plan was to march off to Malfoy Manor the morning after they arrived at headquarters. Instead, they slept for three days straight.

They were in different rooms, but Harry only had to close his eyes to trace his energy back to Draco, and it soothed him.

They’d been enemies. They were human, they were scared. Now, they were allies. Now, they were one, more than they were two.

“I think we can read each other’s minds.” Malfoy said when they woke up, except he wasn’t anywhere in the room. The voice had come from Harry’s head.

“So it seems.”

They found each other in the kitchen, had breakfast, made vague conversation, not a single word spoken out loud.

“Is the war ending?”

“Once they stop multiplying like crazy, we can beat them, and stop fighting. Live our lives, maybe. But I don’t think the war will ever end, Draco.”

He wanted to explain that he felt like he would carry it forever, but he didn’t have to. In the space between thinking it and wanting to communicate it, he already had.

“I know.”

For the first time in months, when Harry searched inside himself, he didn’t feel empty. There was energy, magic, there was someone else with him, in the space that had existed between his anger and his grief.

“Also, I can do wandless now," Draco added.

“Yeah, that’s on me.”

“Do you think this means we are …?”

“Yeah.”

They showered.

After, they apparated to Malfoy Manor, didn’t even have to touch to do it together, the crack of the spell going off in unison, turning heads once they arrived. The entire Order was there, and, in front of them, the house aflame.

The Manor bled. It bled tendrils of black magic that dissipated into thin air, screamed, called to the tooth hanging at Harry’s neck. He wrapped his fingers around it and held it tight — his trophy, his burden.

All that was left of the enemy army were twenty wizards that scuttled out of the blazing house like fleeing rats. She wasn’t amongst them. Somehow, Harry knew she’d died trying to protect her energy source. He knew that he would have, and soldiers weren't so different.

He and Draco took care of the survivors, both their powers pulled into a single explosion of green.

“Wow.” Hermione said, standing next to Harry.

“We think it’s over.”

“You two are …”

“Yeah.”

“Permanently.”

“Yeah.”

“You know that’s forbidden.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The year had bled, had been an open wound. Then it had been cleaned and stitched, messily, but closed. It ached. It bore the name of the friend Harry had loved the most, his other half. It would never go away, it would scar.

But it was healing.

Harry reached out with his magic, and felt Draco meet him halfway.

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt "forbidden"

#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #mine #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mywriting

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platypan · 4 years ago

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A Strategic Proposal (Pt. 2)

Part 1 That night, Billy came in their rooms quietly, and didn’t immediately drape himself over the back of Steve’s chair. “I’ve been given a quest,” he said, and Steve turned to face him, fondness welling up like a geyser at Billy’s startled frown, and his clumsy, exhausted hands trying to unfasten his armor. Steve trotted closer to lift Billy’s chin for a soft kiss, and then helped him unsheathe himself from his carapace.

“What is the quest?” he asked.

“The Serpent of the Fens,” Billy said, his cheeks bunching under Steve’s hands as he smiled wide at Steve stopping to kiss his stubble.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, pressing their foreheads together. “I would come best it for you, but I’m to ride with the entourage north—”

“As if I need you,” Billy grumbled against his mouth, and Steve pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you, next to me,” Steve realized aloud. “Be safe.”

“Will I be rewarded for my safe return?” Billy asked, laughing, and Steve lifted him off the ground with the force of his embrace.

“Fit for a king,” Steve promised, and Billy curled around him that night in bed, with Steve pulling him in closer.

When Steve returned two weeks later, hungering to get his arms around his husband, Billy had already ridden out again.

“He performed well,” Her Majesty said. She sounded a bit crisp, Steve would realize later, but in the moment he felt only pride. When Billy crawled into bed behind him two mornings later, before it was light, Steve pulled him close, kissing along his ear and jaw, and feeling him shake with exhaustion.

Billy was quiet the next morning, falling back willingly as Steve pushed him down against the bed to touch him everywhere—but strangely still, for Billy Hargrove. He hung back all day, until Steve blocked his path and reeled him in, and Billy finally relaxed in his arms, laughing.

The next morning he was gone again, and Steve stomped in to guard duty only to have his queen and his fellow knight look at his face, and burst out laughing.

“Somebody’s a storm cloud,” said Robin, and Steve sighed.

“I should thank Your Majesty for the long honeymoon,” he said, “—but I’ve gotten used to him. Here.”

“Now I’m not busy abroad,” Robin told him, “—you’ll see more of me.”

Steve nodded, honestly pleased, but his hand itched to reach over and brush Billy’s. “He was exhausted, last night,” he sighed. “If I’d known he was leaving again, I’d have got leave to join him.”

“You’re needed here,” said his queen.

Billy didn’t return for a week, and then two. Steve tried to wheedle the details of his location out of Robin, and then his queen, but both pretended ignorance until he demanded to know.

“It’s diplomacy,” Nancy said, her jaw set. “Help with a monster on the borders of Hagenton. If you go charging in, they’ll think we don’t trust them.”

“And you sent Billy?!” Steve yelled back, but Robin pushed him back out of the door.

“You do not yell at the queen,” she said, and Steve groaned, running his fingers through his hair until it was wild. Robin sighed. “I will find out where he is, and send it to your room.”

“Thanks,” he said, the fury in him still drawn up to strike, but now met with the need for gratitude. He nodded awkwardly, and stalked back to his—and Billy’s—rooms.

There was a small shape slumped against their door, which resolved itself into a squire, then, into Billy’s sister. “Max,” Steve called.

She sniffled, and threw the heavy book she was holding to thump on his foot, which let him know more than anything else that she was distraught—she had fantastic aim, as a rule. “You bastard,” she whispered.

She was also as polite as her brother. “What?” Steve asked, dropping to a crouch. “What’s happened?”

“You sent him out again,” she said thickly. “He-he nearly died, what do you—what do you want from him?! You…” Steve tried to help her up, and she smacked his hand away. “You told him you loved him,” she hissed. “He was gloating for days, why would you—”

“That was...wrong,” he admitted, sitting cross legged to face her. “I—I didn’t expect—it was—” he felt his face reddening, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have predicted Billy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What, you...you’re saying…”

Steve waited, blinking at her.

“You didn’t know?” she breathed. “About—that he—how could you not know—”

Steve clenched his fingers in the coarse fibers of the carpet, groaning. “Do you know where he is?”

“...not exactly,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“You know he isn’t safe,” he said, nodding, and tried to keep his jaw from clenching. He frowned over his shoulder, back down the hall. “I will ride out as soon as I know, and bring him back.”

She studied his face. “But you’re a liar,” she said hoarsely.

“I lied,” he nodded, grimacing, “—for—” he opened his mouth to say good reasons, but couldn’t make it stick. Imagining Billy’s startled smile as he opened Steve’s love letters now brought up a burning shame. “I have a lot to make up for,” he said instead, “—and I’ll bring him home.”

Max swallowed, her shoulders relaxing a little as her hands came unclenched from her trousers. “Good,” she said huskily, reaching a foot over to kick his knee.

Once she’d tromped away, her footsteps louder than knights three times her size, he dug through his wardrobe for Billy’s letters.

They were fat with layers of cheap, folded paper, and there were, he’d thought at the time, far too many—four and five a week right up until the day the contract was signed. Steve sighed, braced himself, and opened one at random.

He was treated to a bemused but detailed set of answers to questions he vaguely remembered asking. “In regards to your inquiries after my horse,” it began, and continued on with its height in hands, name (Bellerophon, Steve thought, after studying the letters in bewilderment), and favorite treat, which Steve now learned (months later) to be carrots.

Billy was funny in his letters, Steve found, his eyes stinging as he laughed at a description of Max as a toddler, climbing across the beams in the Great Hall of Hargrove House, and Billy running around underneath her, holding a large basket and yelling insults out of sheer terror.

He made reference to Steve’s life as though he knew it well, offering chicken for trade at dinners, and Steve was whirled away in his mind to the long tables at Harrow, and his dismay over kidney pie.

The next letter was less sure—Billy began with “If you find time to read this,” and continued with phrases like “I know it’s of no importance,” and “I won’t expect you to remember, but—” and Steve groaned as it dawned on him how obvious it must have been that he wasn’t reading Billy’s replies. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling it tuft up like scrubgrass, then crossed his arms, took a deep breath, and dug further into the pile.

Eventually he found the first missives from Hargrove House, where Sir Neil Hargrove, Billy’s father, said Billy would do whatever they asked if only they’d overlook that it was Billy, and Billy had scribbled in a postscript wondering what part of him Steve had so sadly missed.

All of him, Steve thought, crumpling the letter. I missed all of him, though I didn’t know it, quite, yet. He glared at the door, paced in a circle, and then dumped an armload of letters on the bed, and collected his quill, ink, and paper. He began penning replies.

When a knock came to the door hours later, he sprang to his feet, then fell into the wardrobe as the foot he’d been sitting on gave way. His yells brought Robin in, and she snickered at his uneven walk, and showed him where Billy was on a map. Her face was solemn. “He was meeting the Hagenton guard there, to help fell a chimera. It’s killed every knight that’s fought it, so now they’re sending an army. He should be helping plan.”

“He won’t stay in the tent and plan,” Steve whispered, grabbing her hands. “I need the unicorn horn, chimeras are poisonous—”

“Hold on there,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“And the vial of phoenix tears,” he told her. “I need to go—”

She grimaced. “I will see about the horn.”

“He’s fighting a chimera,” Steve told her, his voice shaking.

“I thought your fever for him had...cooled, watching you,” she said carefully, and Steve shoved away to start pulling on his underarmor.

“It’s burning ever hotter,” he muttered. “And I hate it that I’m telling you first, I need to tell him—”

“Probably should,” she nodded, eyebrows raised.

“He’s exhausted,” Steve told his trousers, “—he has doubts about whether I...even want him to return. I need to find him before he’s…” he trailed off, pulling chainmail over his head, and Robin ran to help. “Why is there a chimera,” Steve asked her, when she pulled it down so he could see again. His voice had gone high and shaky, and she clapped his shoulder, smiling tightly.

“Go get horsed, and find him. I will meet you in the armory.”

“I’ll find him,” he nodded, feeling steadier. “I—I’ll tell him. I’ll make sure he—knows.”

She nodded, her eyes narrowed at his expression. “You’ll find him. I’ll bring the unicorn horn.”

Robin did not, in fact, return with the unicorn horn. Steve looked up from trying to saddle his anxious horse—she had caught his anxiety, and kept side-stepping just as he tried to slide straps through buckles with shaking hands—and instead of the glint of armor, there stood his queen, shivering in a tatty robe and knitted blanket. She held the unicorn horn over the stall door, and he grabbed it, taking a shuddering breath of relief.

“You shouldn’t need it,” she said, reaching in to pat his horse’s nose and hold her still. “He wasn’t to engage the chimera—”

“Why would you send him,” Steve hissed, yanking the cinch around his horse’s belly. “Why send him at all, if he—if he isn’t—” He took a deep breath instead of yelling at his queen, and tried to swallow down thoughts that Billy wasn’t a strategist, there was no reason to send him, unless. Steve took another deep breath, swallowing hard. “Why—why would…”

“It was an excuse!” she hissed back, flailing an arm so her blanket fell, and cursing as she gathered it back up. “It was near—” She cut off, and Steve waited.

“Near what,” he asked hoarsely, trying to remember the map Robin had shown him. “...it’s near his home,” he realized, feeling the tightness in his shoulders ease. “Is he—why not say he—”

“He is late,” she said, opening the stall door. “He may have encountered the chimera unintentionally, he—he may very well be in danger. I have been trying to find out—Sir Hagen is not responding—” She took a slow breath as well, rubbing the skin between her eyebrows, and he felt bouyed up to know she and Robin were helping. Steve swung up onto his horse, and she grabbed his stirrup. “Wait! Robin is assembling more knights—if he’s fighting, you’ll be little use alone—”

“She can catch up with me,” Steve said, smiling down at his queen, still regal in her favorite soft robe with the holes in the elbows. “I need to find my husband.”

He rode through the night, expecting to reach the hunting ground of the chimera just after dawn. As the sun rose in a reddish, smoky haze, it wasn’t difficult to find where the chimera had been—where the intact armor wasn’t filled with ashes alone, charred bones in melted armor lay under still-glowing craters in boulders. Steve’s eyes stung and watered from lack of sleep, the fumes, and the realization that the fallen knights were scattered, some fleeing, and armed with swords, not the spears and crossbows they’d have taken to fight a beast with fire breath. Travellers.

He resisted the urge to yell Billy’s name, tying his horse in a copse of trees and grass near the road, and trying to keep his steel boots quiet as he walked, watching for the chimera. He found claw marks, once or twice, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of a knight skewered on the jagged stump of a burned tree, though when he ran closer, he could see the armor was too small, and the curls hanging from her crushed helmet were too gold to be Billy’s.

Steve bent to lean his hands on his knees, breathing shakily, and stuffed his handkerchief inside his helmet to wipe his eyes.

He walked by a pile of half-eaten horses and two knights, and took another few deep breaths before he stepped in close to crouch, his sight blurring, to see whether it was the armor Billy had brought with him. Steve wondered, abruptly, rubbing his eyes, whether Billy’s armor was good enough, good as the Queen’s Guard, and his lungs shuddered in his chest at the thought that Billy’s family might have pinched pennies and Steve’s husband had fought a chimera armed with some sort of—gilt tin. He leaned his face in his hands, remembering it lying around the room, and wondering why he’d never thought to take it to the castle armorer, and made sure it was the best. Steve groaned, trying to remember buckling it on, and whether it had felt oddly heavy or light, but all he could remember was buckling it wrong because Billy was smiling, and had to be kissed.

“If he’s alive, I’ll commission a figure for your chapel,” he muttered, touching the St. George inscribed on his hilt. “I’ll have Billy model. You couldn’t ask for a better model—you—he’s beautiful, he’s strong—he’s brave, he—he’ll—just keep him alive ‘til I find him, I’ll buy candles, I’ll—” he cut off as his throat closed, and he coughed. “Protect his body from harm,” Steve whispered. “Def-defend the happiness of my home from all those who may conspire to destroy it. Give me the strength of your faith and fill me with hope and with the love of God—”

He brushed the ashes and blood away, and didn’t recognize the armor. “...amen.” His whole body trembled, a bit, with relief, and he stood slowly, letting himself mumble the prayer again and again, since St. George himself seemed to be listening. His sword started to glow.

The road seemed as good a place to look as any, and Steve wished Robin would hurry and help him search, wondering how many miles of wreckage he’d have to kick through, and how long Billy had, even with the intercession of Steve’s patron saint. “I will never ask for anything again,” he whispered at the sky, as loudly as he dared.

As he crept along the road, he heard a soft cry, and found one of the Hagenton knights, her leg charred off at the thigh. “Help is coming,” Steve told her, helping her drink a few swallows of water. She nodded, weakly punching the air, and he tied his handkerchief to the tree she huddled under, in view of the road. “Have you seen...anyone else,” he asked, swallowing, and she squinted, her eyes not quite tracking his face.

“Routed,” she rasped. “We were routed.”

“Thank you,” he told her politely, his voice thick, and she squeezed his hand, trying to sit up.

“Some...ran,” she said, her breath rattling as she tried to focus on his face. “May-maybe they survived.”

Billy would not have fled, leaving the others behind to die, he wanted to say, but she was pressing his hands, the white of a rib sticking out of her crushed armor as she tried to touch his face, so he just nodded, helping her ease back against the tree. “Thank you,” he said again, and again, “Help is coming.” He hoped for her sake and his own that they made it in time.

He kept up a series of pleas to St. George, as well as some gentle chiding—it would be much easier, after all, for Billy to stay alive if Steve’s saint was any help at all in finding him, but praying with his eyes closed didn’t give Steve the urge to walk in any particular direction, and he opened them again, rather than fail everything entirely by breaking his ankle by falling into a ditch. “Protect his body from harm,” he whispered. “Defend the happiness of my home from all who may conspire to destroy it.”

His heart thudded in his chest when he saw the curled gilt of Billy’s showy armor on a shape lying crumpled in the underbrush. “Billy,” he muttered, scrambling over the crumbling stone wall at the edge of the road, and running to his husband’s limp form. He yanked the helm up, crouching to see Billy’s wide eyes, hazy and flicking around under the pale, sweaty skin of his forehead. Steam wafted from under his armor, and out of his mouth, and Steve yanked at the wrapping on the unicorn horn, hissing, “Billy.”

“Harrington,” Billy whispered.

“William Hargrove,” Steve said back, wiping his eyes, as he tried to unknot the ceremonial bindings. “Thank you, St. George,” he mumbled, hoping the sincerity made up for the lack of formality. “I’ll get you those candles—”

“I’m dying,” Billy said, oddly forthright.

“No,” Steve hissed, yanking the knots free. “No, you’re alive, I’m here to save you.”

“You can marry someone else now,” Billy laughed unsteadily, and Steve yanked at his husband’s gauntlets, trying to find somewhere he could press the horn against greyish, steaming skin. His veins were black.

“I don’t want to marry someone else,” Steve hissed, “—I want to be married to you,” he said, fighting with the buckles on Billy’s left gauntlet, and squeezing Billy’s unnaturally hot fingers around the gleaming unicorn horn. “Hold this,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath as it glowed and pulsed against Billy’s skin, and his palm turned pinkish again. “Protect him from harm,” Steve whispered again, squeezing the horn so hard against Billy’s skin that his knuckles went white.

“I’m about to turn to ash,” Billy laughed again, tears evaporating into bursts of steam as they slid from the corners of his eyes. “May I touch you?” He pushed the horn away, trying to reach for Steve’s face, and Steve scrabbled for the rolling iridescent spiral and clapped it back in Billy’s hand, sniffling, laughing and grabbing his surcoat to wipe his eyes and nose.

“You’re touching me, you are,” Steve yelped. He held Billy’s hand around the horn, reaching his other arm around to try and unbuckle his husband’s helmet. “You won’t turn to ash,” he hissed. “I won’t let you—Billy, is the chimera dead?”

Billy’s eyes widened, and he tried to push himself up. “Wounded it,” he gasped, as Steve pushed him back down.

“Do you know which way it went, m-my love?” Steve asked, feeling awkward, but Billy went still.

“Oh,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Steve’s face.

“I love you,” Steve said again, leaning close to see Billy’s expression through the slit where his helm lifted. “Where is the chimera?”

“I died,” Billy whispered, frowning.

“Knight of my heart,” Steve hissed, “You’re not dead. I followed you—where is the beast that felled you?”

“I thought there would be more pain,” Billy mumbled, “—turning to ash,” and Steve groaned, grabbing his husband’s helmet and pressing a kiss to it.

“Shut your mouth, idiot,” he told Billy, pushing himself up to a crouch so he could still hold Billy’s hand around the horn, and watch for the chimera. “You’re alive, and I love you—of course I would love you, you—”

“I can feel your hand,” Billy mumbled some more, sounding aggrieved.

“Yes,” Steve told him, sighing and biting back a smile, “—because I’m saving you, idiot. You can’t die, I replied to all your letters.”

“...my letters?”

“I missed you sliding your hand around my cock all night,” Steve rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush, “—so I read all your letters.”

“Burn them,” Billy whispered.

“They were very interesting,” Steve told him, grinning, and taking a shaky breath at the sight of the pinkish glow showing through the join at Billy’s neck. He squeezed his husband’s hand. “I brought your horse carrots. Now I know her favorite treat.”

“I hope she’s alive,” Billy sighed. “Do you think if we’re both dead, I’ll see her again?”

“You aren’t dead,” Steve growled, banging his free hand on Billy’s armor.

“I don’t mind,” Billy said. “It’s good here.”

Steve thought, biting his lips together. “...I don’t love you.”

“Ah,” Billy sighed. “And I hurt. I am alive, then.”

“Ha!” Steve grinned, leaning in to try and kiss him, again, and having to kiss his helmet. “But I do love you!”

Billy opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking both bewildered and annoyed.

“I would have told you before you rode out,” Steve told him, raising the hand he was pressing the unicorn horn to and kissing it, “—but you rode out while I slept.”

“...you love your queen,” Billy mumbled.

“I love my husband more,” Steve told him, feeling a little awkward at the thought his saint was listening, but sure a saint would understand that Billy needed to hear it. He sent up a silent apology as he reached into Billy’s helmet and pressed a finger over his mouth. “I—it isn’t only—” he bit his lips, thinking, with Billy’s eyes fixed on his face. “You aren’t only my best friend, and—and the person I—I want to show things. Tell things to, talk about—I—I miss you,” he whispered, “—I miss you when you—when you’re on the other side of the room, I…”

Steve trailed off, staring in horror at the tears trailing down Billy’s cheeks. “I love you,” he tried, and Billy made a choking noise. “I’m sorry,” Steve said, watching his husband cry, and yanking at his armor to try and see whether the unicorn horn was working, or whether he was talking like an idiot while his husband died.

“Don’t stop,” Billy told him, laughing as Steve shoved his fingers in every cranny in his husband’s armor, feeling for unnatural heat.

“Protect his body from harm,” Steve hissed around the lump in his throat, wondering whether St. George had stopped paying attention. “Defend the happiness of my home from those—”

“I am well,” Billy told him, grabbing both Steve’s hands away from their frantic prodding. “I am safe, I am well—”

“You are crying—” Steve informed him, feeling his own eyes welling up at the thought that it hadn’t worked, he’d been too late, he’d failed. He’d arrived just in time to tell the truth, and maybe that was all his saint could do, he realized, and he cleared his throat. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner, I—would have told you—”

“Stop,” Billy said, too loud, yanking at the ties on his helmet, and pulling Steve down against him in a clash of denting armor. “I am well, I am saved. Why are you here,” he whispered between kisses, and Steve tried to remember the living chimera wandering about somewhere.

“Had to tell you I loved you,” he panted, still trying not to bawl himself. He rubbed his thumb up and down Billy’s cheek, salt-smeared from his tears, and the sweat from the heat of the chimera’s poison. It felt warm, but nothing like the heat of before, and Steve took a shuddering breath.

“An urgent missive from the queen,” Billy whispered, smiling down at where their hands were still locked around the unicorn horn. “...is...is this a national treasure?”

“Yes you are,” said Steve, hoarsely, feeling clever, and Billy started laughing until he choked, then groaned as he rested his head against Steve’s chestplate. “You need to drink some water, I think,” Steve whispered into his husband’s curls, and Billy hummed, squirming closer. “You taste like you lived on nothing but whiskey for the last fortnight,” Steve coaxed, and Billy started laughing again, shaking in Steve’s arms. “Can you stand?” Steve asked, wiping his eyes and nose, and kissing his husband’s hair. Thank you, St. George, he prayed silently. Please help me get him home.

In the distance came the shriek of the beast.

They both listened, and Billy flushed, smiling down as Steve’s hand tightened on his wrist.

Billy sighed. “It drug people away. They might…”

Steve frowned, sliding his hand up the back of Billy’s head and pulling him into another kiss. “They might be someone’s Billy Hargrove,” he said, nodding, and Billy’s eyes widened as he turned inexplicably red. Steve checked that the unicorn horn was against his husband’s skin again, worried about the heat, but Billy smacked his hands away like Steve was being unreasonable, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“...it worked,” he whispered in Steve’s ear. “I was gray as ashes, remember? I am tired, and...” he swallowed, trailing off as Steve frowned into his face.

“Keep the horn against your skin,” Steve told him, with the narrowed eyes of one expecting to be obeyed.

“I will,” Billy said, smiling. “Only because my husband is worried.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Steve hissed. “I have to get you back to our bed. I have to—I have to commission you better armor—”

“Armor,” Billy blinked. “My armor is—”

“You were poisoned—”

“Its breath is—”

“Maybe I can convince Her Majesty I’ll fall ill if she sends you away again,” Steve mumbled over him. “It happens in ballads, lovers pining—”

Billy started laughing again and crying, and Steve grabbed his shoulders, wondering whether his actions had driven his husband mad. “...let us search,” Billy wheezed, wiping his eyes. “So you may carry me back to our bed.”

“Yes,” Steve nodded, ignoring Billy snickering again. Sorry, St. George, he thought, for talking about beds. Then it occured to him that St. George might have had a Billy as well, and he just prayed,—and thank you. Again. As they walked, he continued to update the saint with as we’re still looking for the chimera, we could use some more help, and could you look for Billy’s horse, and you probably know what we’re doing, from up there, do I need to tell you?

“Do you believe me yet?” Steve asked, and then as Billy grinned at him and stumbled over a charred tree limb, and Steve grabbed his arm, “—not about the bed. Of course I want you in bed, anyone would want you in bed—stop laughing.”

“This is a very strange day,” Billy told him, sighing, and leaning into his side. “I think I...will believe you, but…” he shrugged his shoulders, and Steve nodded, thinking.

“I woke yesterday morning, and I was glad,” Steve said, clearing his throat as they walked north, following the trail of smoking, empty armor and the ever-heavier ash filling their throats and lungs. “I don’t like waking up,” he continued.

“No one does,” Billy put in.

“But I did,” Steve told him. “I smiled before I opened my eyes. I thought I would roll over, and you’d be there, and when I put my arm around you, you’d lean against me, and I’d smell your hair.”

Billy burst out laughing so loudly Steve shushed him, feeling wrong-footed, and wishing he could speak properly and be clear, but Billy dropped into a crouch, hiding his face, and Steve forgot his frustration leaning over him.

“I’m sorry I’m doing this wrong,” Steve whispered. “I thought—I thought you should...know.”

“I love you so much,” Billy whispered back. “So much, I can’t—I can’t even—I can’t—”

“You can’t...believe me?” Steve asked, crouching to try and lean to see Billy’s face.

“I—I’ll try,” Billy said huskily, and Steve nodded, leaning to kiss his husband’s exposed ear.

“I will keep telling you,” Steve told him, “—until you’re sick of it. I told St. George it was important you knew, and if you were alive, I’d never stop telling you—”

“You don’t even go to church—” Billy sniffled, and Steve shrugged, pulling him around for a kiss.

“I think St. George would rather I kept fighting monsters and telling you I love you,” he said, licking his lips, and Billy cried in earnest while Steve kissed him for hopefully not the last time, and busied himself putting both their helmets back on.

#harringrove #knights in love #fake marriage au #Silliness for troubling times

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everamazingfe · 4 years ago

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Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together.

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake.

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on.

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape.

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do!

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure.

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be.

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled.

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.”

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!”

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly.

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.”

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind.

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In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land.

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost.

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced.

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them.

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.”

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.”

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it.

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

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The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep.

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Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it.

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache.

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt.

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him.

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Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back.

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself.

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him.

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With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before.

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand.

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!”

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

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Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up.

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off.

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back.

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious.

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his.

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years.

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it.

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought.

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him.

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.”

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces.

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all.

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too.

#ragehappy #rpf #mavin #oneshot #magic au #secret sunshine #secret sunshine event #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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cristalknife · 4 years ago

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Kadam Week 2021 Day 1 ~ Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the fist prompt was Puzzles and Games. And what represents better both than a treasure hunt? So here we go, I present to you Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

All the student body was abuzz, the annual treasure hunt was to be announced soon, it was always a great event. Mainly because the winner of the event earned a full booklet of backstage passes. Sixteen of them, completely blank to be used at the winner discretion during the current theatre season.

No limits were imposed on how the passes were to be used, be in a single show with a large group or even touring all the shows solo. The catch was that if multiple shows were to be watched by a group of two people up, the winner had to be there for each show.

Those booklets were the courtesy of Alumni working in the field. And to be honest it was a fun event for the faculty as well to create the set of riddles and clues needed to reach the destination.

It was supposed to be a moment of fun, but at the same time given the kind of prize, it was not meant to be effortless.

However to the faculty disappointment, the individuals only rule with no cooperation allowed present in the previous editions, resulted in no winners for the past couple of years.

After consulting the sponsor, it was decided that for this year students could sign up as pairs.

But if the students decided to sign up as pair, then both the winners would have to be present each time they were to use the passes.

And apparently that wasn’t a condition that some were comfortable with, while others like Kurt were actually overjoyed.

Once he heard of the treasure hunt, he went out searching for Adam, barely containing his elation and desire to share the news.

Upon finding his boyfriend, Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement and he launched himself into Adam's arm sure he'd be caught.

Adam grinned and kissed Kurt back, holding him securely before saying "Hellu Love, what got you so excited?"

Kurt chuckled and as soon as his feet touched the floor once more he raised the flier and pointed to the fine prints "They mentioned a change in the rules and on this year’s event people can sign up as pairs. The catch is that both need to be present when using the passes, so you're game signing up with me?"

Adam raised an eyebrow curious before reading the flier aloud "The Annual Treasure Hunt? Is that what got you so excited? Except for my freshman year, I don't recall any of those events actually ever having winners"

Erika came up from the side and quipped "Three years ago was the last time someone won, but it was again one of the last seniors graduating. After that batch left, no one ever figured out the clues, I'm surprised the faculty still does it"

Kurt shrugged "Well the prize makes very much sense for the school, I mean blank passes for the backstage of current productions? That sounds interesting, and sixteen of them would actually mean we could all go together as a group and still have two spares for the winning team to get another show, or split between two productions..."

Kurt speech had most of the Apples smiling and send to their favourite freshie an adoring look.

Adam still amazed by his boyfriend asked softly "So you suggest a common effort and register more than one team, and then Apples parties at my place, where we could all chill out and talk about our days?"

JJ quipped up "Only if that involved baked goods from both our favourite bakers, because Adam ma man, I love your cookies but gimme Kurt's casserole and salty cupcakes any time, and I could even fight you off and offer my hand in marriage for having those every day"

Kurt snorted and swatted away playfully JJ's offered hand "You are not even remotely bi-curious, If I wanted to live with an overgrown kid who'd stay with me for my cooking I'd simply invite my brother to move in with me"

Everyone around chuckled at that and JJ pouted mockingly offended "Are you insinuating I'm not man enough for you?"

Adam then stepped in smirking "More like implying that all the main male leads in his life are already cast, and you dear friend can only be the occasional torn in our butt, one that comes every now and then to offer his company in exchange for delicious food..."

Grinning like a cheshire cat JJ quipped back "Well we all know that the good ones are all gay, unavailable or happily being both together"

Everyone broke down in giggles and with resolute nods each claimed a partner. The divide and conquer idea Kurt had was very intriguing, and the thought of getting the upper hand on an event that even the Perks couldn't get their way by popularity alone, or that no one else won for the past couple of years had its allure…

Especially given the mixed composition of techies and performers in their group.

Seeing Kurt smiling radiantly was something each member of the Apples enjoyed and cherished.

Especially since the big fallout, or as it was known amongst them, the great purge of the toxic influx in Kurt's life.

Also known as the day when Miss fallen out Diva Berry left the loft in a huff and Kurt and his roommate Santana took the storming out literally and changed the key of the padlock.

Sending all of Berry’s stuff back to the temporary storage place two blocks away from bushwick, with a 3 days grace period and a week paid with Berry's part of the deposit.

Kurt himself was just very happy to be surrounded by friends who supported him as much as he supported them.

Being with Adam and being friends with all the members of the Adam's Apples, had given him a perspective he never knew he desperately needed, and it also lowered his tolerance for taking crap by those who were supposed to be on his side.

Kurt was not secretly very excited by the prospect of looking forward to something in his life that could be just fun and despite being officially a competition. He was still able to live it as an adventure, to be shared with his boyfriend and all their friends as well.

As they walked away from the registration boot and reading the first clue ‘Every adventure needs a captain to sail for the treasure island’

Kurt giggle when Adam playfully whispered in his ear "Aye aye captain let's get our sea legs on"

Kurt nodded and they made it to the costume department through the back corridors, not wanting to tip off the other not Apples participants, while their friends instead received simply a gentle reminded in their text chat, that all hearties were to meet at rehearsal later in the week same place same time.

Indeed their guess was correct when they found the next clue stating ‘Never forget those who came before you’

Kurt and Adam took the chance to grab a quick lunch as they discussed the clue. Adam was the first one to attempt to solve it "If we are thinking about the school that would send us to the hall of fame"

Kurt nodded slowly but tapped his finger against his lips "But what if it's a more general outlook? We are learning to get into an industry that broadens beyond the limits of the school and its social circles, even if those are still important"

Adam hummed softly mulling over it "So you're suggesting more like the library?"

Kurt nodded "I'm just unsure whether we are supposed to search in the history section itself or go more for the history of Broadway and theatre section"

Adam nodded slowly "there's no rule about not searching blindly both"

Kurt chuckled and nodded as well, after finishing his cup he raised an eyebrow in silent question and received a simple nod in response.

Once in the library, Adam was the one to take over the history of Broadway and the theatre section while Kurt went through the History books.

It took a while but finally Adam was successful and found a piece of plasticised parchment with what appeared half of the final clue.

The mention of a second half made him frown, but with nothing else to be found there, he simply took a picture of it with his phone.

He then placed the clue back inside the book and the book back on the shelf before going to find Kurt, hoping his got lucky and found the second half.

"Did you get anything?"

Kurt shook his head a little put off "No absolutely nothing, you?"

Adam nodded "Yeah I found something but it's only half of the final clue"

Kurt frowned confused "Guess it's time to start some baking then hmmm?"

Adam smiled and leaned forward to give Kurt a small peck on his cheek trying to stop the frowning "We could do directly at my place and then make an evening out of it"

The offer, as Adam hoped, brought a smile on Kurt's face as he replied coyly "I'd love that, are you offering just the evening or it could turn into a sleepover"

Adam grinned and moved so that he could kiss those cheeky lips, when he was almost where he wanted to be, he breathed quickly "We'll swing by the loft if there's something you absolutely need for tomorrow classes"

He then proceeded to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend.

After classes ended for the day, Kurt sent a message to their chat group informing everyone that it was baking time in the afternoon

Adam raised an eyebrow curiously at the message and Kurt shrugged stating simply "That way we can be sure basically everyone will show up with something to contribute, just before or around dinner time, and then the meeting will become a movie night"

Adam snorted because indeed knowing their friends that was what would most likely happen, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I offered to make an evening out of it darling"

Kurt grinned, mischief gleaming clearly in his eyes "That's why I raised your offer to a sleepover instead..."

And true to Kurt's expectations, that evening all the Apples who didn't have to work, appeared at Adam's doorstep with offerings for the shared evening meal.

Of course those who had worked demanded a do-over with double baked goodies of their faves as personal share...

Once everyone was seated around, Paul, who paired up with JJ for the treasure hunt, asked "How was your hunt we've only found half of the final clue"

Kurt wrinkled his nose "we reached only half of the final clue as well care to see if we've all found the same half or if we lucked out?"

Adam took off his phone and started to read aloud "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue for the final answer you will have to give to someone to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

JJ jumped up from his seat exclaiming excitedly "Yes we've got both!"

Paul shook his head smiling and took off his own phone reading "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue to figure out who is the officer that you'll need to impress with the answer that you still need to find to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

Everyone was suddenly buzzing with unrestrained excitement when Kurt asked pragmatically "So how are we going to tackle this? Reading both clues together and then split between them or focusing the attention on a single one?"

Adam suggested swiftly "We could actually read them both and then see how to tackle the easier one first"

When everyone nodded Paul continued reading their clue "You might go to Central Park Or catch a show on Broadway... Where in the world would you be to get to these by subway? Twice... I mean the answer is New York clearly but how does that help us identify who to give our final answer to?"

General groaning raised from around the room when Erika cut in "Adam what is your clue?"

Adam complied and read it for everyone perusal "What show is next in this pattern: A Chorus Line, Into the Woods, Bat Boy, Pacific Overtures, Little Women, Damn Yankees, Camelot, The Pajama Game, Children of Eden. As a hint, there is more than one show that correctly works, but one show fits more ‘perfectly’ than any others.”

Adam raised his phone to let everyone seeing the picture and commented

“As a side note there's only one blank line but its length doesn't seem indicative as it was formatted to look good rather than give a hint on the last name, or at least that’s what it looks like to me"

And everyone had to nod at that consideration at that point Chris' groan was the loudest "I don't get yall, neither of those is any more clear than mat moss paint..."

Kurt sniggered but offered a plate with Chris' favourite cookies on it "It's ok, we can work it out together so any ideas?"

Matt who had been quiet this far asked Kurt speculatively "You already have an idea for at least one of them don't you?"

Kurt looked taken aback and blushed getting himself busy with the food "Nothing solid.."

At that point Adam walked behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist as he pressed himself against his boyfriend "It's ok Love, you don't have to be right to speak your mind, we are here brainstorming there's no judging with us"

JJ quipped teasingly "I mean we'll obviously judge and tease you till the end of times for getting flustered the first time we took you out for blow jobs, but for this… I mean you're all going to hearing the suggestion my gorilla brain comes up with"

Chris snorted and quipped teasingly "Given what gets spawned out of your mouth I thought you would have said instead that yours is like a pig’s brain."

Matt joined in to the teasing, shaking his head as he grinned salaciously and wiggling his eyebrows "Nah a pig's brain is too big we are talking mouse if everything is in proportion."

Kurt coughed at the double meaning implied in that sentence, he feared JJ would take it badly. But he was once again surprised when JJ put theatrically one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest clearly mimicking a delightful surprise "Oh Matt, my darling why didn't you said that before… All this time you were checking me out because you wanted some of my sweet sweet love, comma hear lemme give ya some sugar baby"

Everyone erupted in laugher and Matt maturely threw his napkin aiming for JJ's face "You wish man, you wish"

JJ pouted "Harsh dude, harsh, you could have at least throw your cupcake with the napkin"

Kurt sent a levelled glare to both boys "If anyone dares to throw our delicious baked food not only they will stay for the cleanup, but they will be banned to get more baked goodies for the next month"

A single "Ouch" escaped Matt's lips before he silenced himself and raised his arms in surrender.

Paul swatted the back of JJ's head "Don't upset daddy, or I'm so going to gag you next time we are all in the same room to prevent that from happening, I rather enjoy our baked goodies"

Erika quipped at Paul "Which is why you shouldn't save JJ from himself, let him dig his own grave, more goodies for us... Kurt had not said anything about lowering the amount of baked goodies, only put a ban on who can access them"

Chris chuckled and offered their fist to Erika, as they said grinning "Well said girl well said"

Erika smiled brilliantly and bumped the fist and then both made an explosion motion as they both retreated their arms.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at being addressed as daddy, but Adam just held him a little closer and mouthed later.

So Kurt took the handle of the situation and started sharing his idea hoping for the current teasing to come to a natural rest "well I was thinking on Paul and JJ's clue... What if we need to take that final twice literally? As in the correct answer is New York, New York"

Erika's eyes shone brighter "Like the Scorsese's movie?"

Kurt nodded "Yes that's also the name of the most known song from that movie, so New York New York could be the solution"

Paul pondered and then said "Well if we are talking about a movie would that mean that we are to talk with the dean of the drama department?"

Kurt bit his lips and then he continued explaining his thoughts "I was thinking more about the fact it might refer to the song, which then in turn would make Madam T be the one to speak with, given that she's the dean of vocal performance. And with the movie being also a musical maybe the singing component is more pronounced and would lead to her instead of Mr Keller?"

Adam then said serenely "Once we figure out the answer we could even decide to split and each team going to both of them with the solution."

Murmurs of agreement run through the room until Matt stated "So now we just have to figure out what that list of musicals have in common?"

JJ scratched his head before raising and grabbing few more cupcakes to munch on "Do you think that the fact they cross two centuries means anything?"

Chris promptly opened Adam's computer and pulled up the wikipedia pages of all the listed musicals before shaking their head "Nope they are not in chronological order so it’s not that"

Paul then quipped "And that wouldn't make any sense, the additional hint says that there's only one answer that would fit perfectly... it's not like there's only one new musical coming out every single year"

Erika asked then "I am not familiar with all the titles but are they really all musicals?"

Adam answered "Yeah all of those listed are musicals, so maybe we need to check on the songs?"

Matt then wondered aloud "What if it's something all the songs have? Maybe there's a matching title or a recurring theme?"

Kurt took out his phone and looked around and said "well there's seven of us and nine titles maybe we could each open the list and check them side by side?"

JJ grinned and took out his phone as well "That's a great idea"

Kurt started listing all the songs of chorus line, Matt went on with the ones from into the woods, JJ giggled like a maniac as he read the bat boy's list. Paul read on the Pacific Overtures and Erika listed the ones from Little Women.

When Adam, who was reading from the Damn Yankees, reached the song titled Six months, Chris exclaimed excited while raising a finger silently asking for a moment "Holy moley I think we got something going here"

Everyone turned, waiting for more explanation that Chris promptly provided "Each of those musicals has a song with a number in their titles" and then they pointed to Kurt who quickly caught up and said "One" and then each proceeded in order Matt said "It takes two", JJ said excited "Three Bedroom House "

Paul grinned starting to see the path as he said "Four Black Dragons"

Erika was grinning madly as she said "Five forever"

Then JJ still super hyped by having discovered the key to decode the clue he asked Chris "So what are the others?"

Chris smirked and started prattling "In Camelot we have ‘The Seven Deadly Virtues’, The Pajama Game has a song called ‘7½ Cents’ while the Children of Eden has ‘A Piece of Eight’”

Kurt hummed softly and considered aloud "So we have nine musicals mentioned but the last number is eight... What if they had already given us the answer and it's literally Nine?"

Adam whistled impressed "That actually makes so much sense..."

Paul groaned "And if you explain it like that it seems so obvious too"

Erika shrugged "All riddles once explained make so much sense that you usually feel stupid for not reasoning it out before... That's why they are considered brain teasers"

Chris who in the meantime checked out Kurt's suggestion finally quipped triumphantly "That's it guys, we have a winner the answer is indeed Nine, which has a song called guess what?”

Chuckling everyone said at once “Nine"

JJ then scratched his head and then asked "So now we are only unsure on who we need to tell our answer to?"

Paul quipped happily “Me says Adam and Kurt follow Kurt’s reasoning, we follow ours, that way if our suspicion is correct and Kurt is right it’ll be them and not us having a private date… No offence man but I’d really prefer not having my girlfriend gutting me for going out on a date with you”

JJ snorted before sounding almost genuinely upset “Harsh man, harsh”

Paul patted JJ shoulder when Kurt asked confused “But what about the others?”

Matt answered smiling “Kurt you four are the only ones who got to the final clue, I personally wouldn’t like to try to get the prize knowing I barely got to the second one.”

Chris and Erika nodded as well confirming they felt the same way.

Kurt felt relieved that he wasn’t taking advantage of his friends. With everything sorted out, everyone else left leaving just Kurt and Adam alone.

After they settled down Kurt turned to Adam, with a questioning look on his face before asking “Is now later? Do I get to know what the daddy comment was about?”

Adam chuckled softly “Nothing bad Love, I can assure you that, you know that I’m considered the mother hen of the group right?”

Kurt hummed softly nodding as he snuggled closer to Adam who then continued “And well you’re too sweet and kind to all the Apples to be considered a father, but still we are together and we both tend to take care of them so…”

Kurt chuckled and finished shaking his head “So I’m daddy… Not sure how to feel about having so many kids that are all older than me”

They both sniggered at that.

The next day, when they went talking with Madam Tibideaux, they discovered that indeed Kurt’s reasoning was correct, and they got out of her office with the prize and matching grins. ~The End~

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #my kadam fic #my glee fic #treasure hunting #riddles #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #~3.8K words of story #I tried my best formatting it #vcg73

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missslothy · 5 years ago

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Writer’s Month 2020

H50 Fic: Captain America and the Angel of Death

Rating: M

Relationship: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams

I’ve chosen 7 prompts from the Writer’s Month 2020 prompt list, to make up a story. Chapter 1 is ‘magic’

“Let us come in with you.”

Steve ignores Lou plea. Instead, he hands over his automatic weapon and gun. They won’t be any use in the warehouse: he needs his hands free. “Ho Lua has at least thirty men in there with him,” he reminds Lou, and Tani, Junior and Adam who are loitering nervously too. “They’ll kill Danny before we can get in there.” ,

“We can get up high, give you cover—”

Shaking his head at Junior, Steve pulls off his tactical gloves and digs in the pockets of his cargo pants. Pulling out another pair of gloves, he pulls them on. These ones are lighter, silky to the touch and cover his hands completely. Looks are deceptive though: the outer layer of fabric is woven with microbeads of Kevlar, to protect anyone who touches them.

Lou still looks doubtful. “You know I’d do anything to get our boy back but you’ve got a concussion, Steve. A bad one.” He taps the side of his head. “Are you sure you can still do it? You know…the magic.”

“I’ve got this.”

Lou shakes his head, doubtfully. “You want me to call the Guild? You know the rules, you need to call it in before you engage…” Sighing, he tails off.

Steve tugs the gloves one last time, checking they’re tight around his wrists. Lou’s right: he has got a concussion and a motherfucker of a headache. And he should call it in with the Guild. But the bastards who gave him that headache – who kidnapped Danny from their house, from their bed, in the middle of the night – are very likely in that warehouse. And he wants those bastards. Badly.

A quick scan of the faces of the rest of his team confirms they are not happy either. This isn’t their first rodeo though and he knows they’ll do what’s needed. With one last nod, he turns and jogs toward the warehouse.

They are down by the docks. All the earth – the ‘āina – is covered with concrete. He can still feel her power leaking out, making the hairs on his body stand on end. She’s been muffled though by the greed and stupidity of men. He hadn’t lied to Lou about still being able to do his magic but the combination of the concrete and the concussion isn’t ideal.

Finding cover, he closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind. Under his feet he can feel the threads of magic running, like streams of water. Kneeling down, he places his palm on the concrete. Taking a deep breath, he calls her power to him.

Warmth flows up through his hand.

The first hit is always a surprise, no matter how many times he does it. It’s like a shot of drugs to his bloodstream. He bites back a groan as his headache flares in reaction. Placing his other palm on the ground, he braces himself. Now the effect – and the headache – has doubled.

All his life people have asked him to explain what he’s doing. The best way he can describe it, is it’s like recharging a battery: his body’s carrying energy gifted to him by the ‘āina. It doesn’t last long but while it does it gives him ‘magical’ abilities. In his case, that means he’s able to shield himself from attack.

He’d been at military school when his magical talent had first shown itself. Bullies had been making his life hell. One day he’d been cornered by a group of boys, found himself shoved to the ground. Seeing red, he’d put his hands out to save himself and that’s when it had happened: the next boy who’d tried to hit him had come up against an invisible brick wall.

That first shield had lasted less than a minute, too ragged to sustain. It had been enough to get him noticed. The of Magical Practitioners had been called in to assess him immediately. A place at Annapolis and a top-level military career was suddenly his.

His skill had saved his life more times he could remember. It hadn’t saved Freddie’s or his Dad’s.

He’s determined it’s going to save Danny’s. Standing up slowly, he pulls the energy towards him, mentally smoothing it into a bubble around his body. Straightening up, he heads inside.

Ho Lua’s men are waiting for him. Automatic gun fire rings out in the warehouse. In his ear, he can Lou yelling his name. Blocking out Lou, he focuses on maintaining the bubble of power as it warps under the onslaught.

Engaging in hand-to-hand combat and maintaining the energy is something he’s been trained in ruthlessly. Doing it with a blinding headache, that’s more of a challenge. The burning sensation in his hands grows, a sign that the power is leaking out, seeking its home; the ‘āina.

Fucking move, a voice in his head yells and he listens to it. Giving up any pretence of taking any of these bastards down, he starts running. Arms pumping, breath catching in his chest, he crosses the warehouse in seconds. Sparks fly off the concrete as bullets hit it: one of them bounces, pierces a weak spot in the bubble, strikes him on the ankle.

Stumbling, cursing, he half falls through the door to the offices where they’re sure Danny is being held. Lou’s yelling louder now but he hasn’t got time to listen or reply.

More men swarm out of the offices, like angry bees defending their hive. In close quarters he��s got no choice but to engage. Fighting dirty is something he’s good at. Bodies start to fall.

It’s taking too long though. The heat in his hands has turned to red hot pain. The headache is making it difficult to see. By the time he makes it to the last office, he’s almost on his knees. When he sees Danny in there – battered, bound, half-naked in his sleep shorts but alive, fuck he’s alive – it takes everything he has left not to collapse with relief.

They’re not out of the woods yet though: more of Ho Lua’s men are piling into the corridor. In his ear he can hear Lou giving the order to breach but they won’t be in time to help him or Danny.

Crawling over to Danny, he notices with relief that Danny’s eyes are open and he’s tracking. The bottom half of Danny’s face has been taped over, layers of it. Ho Lua knew what he was doing: Danny’s mouth is his secret weapon.

Apparently it’s not a secret any more. Which can mean only one thing: someone in the Guild’s been talking – to the wrong people.

Steve dismisses the thought as he peels the tape off Danny’s face. He curses under his breath as Danny’s eyes widen with pain. Even with the gloves on, the heat and power is seeping through, leaking onto Danny’s skin.

The voices in the corridor are growing louder as the last piece of tape comes away. Danny sucks in air gratefully but there isn’t even time for that. Tearing off the tape that’s securing Danny’s wrists he leans in and kisses Danny. Hard. Fast. Gratefully.

Danny gasps – it feels like a bolt of electricity has shot through both of them – as Steve rips off his gloves and offers his hands. “Do it.”

Danny looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns. Ankles still tied with rope, he tries to shuffle away. “You’ll be hit too.”

Steve glances over his shoulder: they’re not the only people in the room now and he’s nearly running on empty. Grabbing Danny’s hands, he takes the decision out of Danny’s hands – literally.

Instantly the power senses a kindred spirit. Danny’s lips part, his pupils dilate, as the power transfers over to him. Steve lets it go, his body slumping as it empties itself. Unable to hold himself up, he slides to the floor.

“Babe…”

“Do it.”

For a moment he doesn’t think Danny’s heard him. Ho Lua’s men are nearly on them. Then Danny inhales, loudly. And it feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room.

Steve’s not the only one who can feel it. Ho Lua’s men have faltered too. Sharing confused looks, they look around them. Then, one by one, their eyes settle on Danny.

Too late, you bastards, Steve grins, as Danny’s eyes flutter closed and he opens his mouth…to sing.

Danny hates it to be described as singing. Steve agrees. It’s more about how Danny harmonises his voice to every situation. Arguing. Laughing. Loving.

Or in this case: sending people to sleep.

The first notes are warm and soothing. Quickly though they disappear off the scale. Steve’s vaguely aware of a high pitched whistle nudging at his already blinding headache. It vibrates in his skull, like a tuning fork, making his teeth ache. From his vantage point on the floor, he watches Ho Lua’s men start to fall. Then everything blanks out.

H50H50H50

“Careful, careful. Mind his head.”

It’s Lou’s worried voice that wakes him. That and being slung over Junior’s shoulder, in a fireman’s lift. The world passes in a blur. Concrete. Bodies. Dark. Light. And suddenly his headache is back with a vengeance.

It’s impossible to contain a groan.

“We’re nearly there,” Junior murmurs.

Their pace speeds up to an almost dizzying rate. More concrete. Sunlight. Voices. Sirens. He can’t help himself, he groans again. Then the air cools and the concrete is replaced with grass and something deep inside him unfurls, reaching out for relief.

The world spins as he’s lowered to the ground. For a second he thinks he’s going to throw up. Before the nausea gets the better of him, his hands are placed palm down on the earth.

Energy flows into his body. Soft and sweet. Soothing. The pain in his hands lessens. The headache from the concussion is still there but that’s to be expected: the ‘āina gives only what is needed, she doesn’t perform miracles.

Opening his eyes, he sees blue sky. Pure blue. Not a single cloud in the sky. Birds are chirping in the trees. The sun and wind is kissing his skin. Gradually he feels less like he’s been hit by a train and more like he hasn’t slept for a week.

As his mind comes back on line he realises he’s forgotten something. “Danny—”

Lou looms into his view, blocking out the blue sky. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’s right here.”

Following Lou’s eyes, he rolls his head to the right. Danny’s on the grass beside him. Wrapped up in blankets, his blonde hair peeking out just over the top, he’s fast asleep.

An overwhelming urge to have Danny in bed beside him – to have Danny in his arms – assails him. Rolling his head back the other way, he meets his friend’s gaze. “Take us home, Lou.”

TBC

#WritersMonth2020 #magic #H50 #H50 fic #Steve McGarrett #Danny Williams #McDanno #alternative universe #writing prompt

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

A Strategic Proposal 2/6

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Part Six

That night, Billy came in their rooms quietly, and didn’t immediately drape himself over the back of Steve’s chair. “I’ve been given a quest,” he said, and Steve turned to face him, fondness welling up like a geyser at Billy’s startled frown, and his clumsy, exhausted hands trying to unfasten his armor. Steve trotted closer to lift Billy’s chin for a soft kiss, and then helped him unsheathe himself from his carapace.