#it is so so so good and scratches a hindbrain itch

[celestial-sphere-press]

Name of the Game by @esamastation

There's a new Dark Sider on the battlefield, one who has it out for Cody's General.

Very excited to make a copy of Name of the Game!! This was one of my first ever codywan fics that I read, and I fell in love with it from the start!

There's a chess motif and heavy emphasis on seduction through strategic warfare, so I leaned in hard there. The covers are double layered, with the top black layer + cutouts in colibri uran bookcloth, and the lower layer with the marbled paper. I used this diamond pattern to evoke a chess board without going full checkerboard on it. This diamond orientation was inspired by Jasmin of Cami Press' beautiful leather binding.

I got to use crepaldi endpapers for this book, and I think they turned out lovely!

Instead of sewing the endbands I made my own with the same marbled paper as the cover. And of course, gold speckled edges!

The chess motif continues in the typeset, and the paragraph breakers change depending on who is the focus and what their possible place is on the metaphorical board!

Thank you @esamastation for all of your wonderful stories!

[brittledame]

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O Dynamics, Creampie, Breeding (mentioned), Riding, Slight dirty talk, Knotting, Marking, Claiming bites, Blood (mentioned), Mating, Semi is a little possessive of reader, Reader is a little oblivious

Word Count: 11K

Summary: After your tryst with Semi in the locker room, he whisked you away to his room to spend the rest of the rut with him. The morning after, you wake up hot and disoriented, finding that your heat has come around early. The instinct to claim each other overshadows all other thoughts, leading to an enjoyable time for you both.

Series: Part 2 of Semi’s Big Blow Up

Notes: Ok it took me a while but I got there. This is literally 11K words of pure smut with side of fluff. Please enjoy my horny world splurge for the OG eboy Semi-Semi.

The warm sunlight filtering through the gaps of Semi’s blinds is what woke you up from a dreamless sleep. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with the drool-worthy sight of Semi’s bare chest. The sheets were kicked off during some point last night. Judging from the heat emanating from the male wrapped around you, it was safe to assume that it was Semi that did it.

Your bodies were close enough that the cool morning air nipping at you wasn’t an issue. If anything, you felt a tad too warm to be comfortable. You note that your shirt must have ridden up last night, as you feel his heavy arm was thrown over your hip that was almost bare thanks to the scrap of underwear you wore. Mind feeling as if stuffed with cotton, you notice that you were slightly sweating from the heat generated between the two of you. Shuffling back a little to give yourself some more breathing room, you relish the wash of cool air brushing over your heated skin, lending clarity to your disoriented mind.

The morning was quiet and warm, it was exactly the kind of morning where you would easily fall back to sleep if it weren’t for the breath-taking sight of the ash-blond man before you.

His long eyelashes fanned across high cheekbones, sleep-tousled hair looking wild against the pillow, and soft-looking lips parted as he continues on sleeping blissfully unaware of your enamoured stare. Fingers twitching, you were overcome with the sudden urge to run your fingertips across his skin, to map each dip and slight freckle and commit them to memory. Listening to his deep breathes, chest slowly moving up and down, signalling he was still deep asleep and surely wouldn’t mind if you carried out the desire. It was enough permission for your drowsy mind to go ahead anyhow.

Carefully, you move a hand from his well-defined chest and reach up to stroke the soft skin of his cheek. God, it was so unfair that he was blessed with a sweet personality, good looks and sexual prowess. The attractive asshole probably only washed his face with soap – if he washed it at all. Quelling the jealousy rearing its ugly head, you continued with feather-light touches now moving down to his lips.

Pressing your thumb slightly into the plump bottom lip, memories of those lips exploring and pressing lingering marks across your body rise to the forefront of your mind. Flushing, you silently curse at how smitten you were for him. He was literally sleeping with you loosely ensnared in his arms and here you were stroking him, feeling a little overwhelmed at how elated you felt to have the man of your dreams reciprocating your affections.

The wondering hand slides back to his chest and you bury your face into his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment as you recall everything that had transpired last night.

Honestly, if you hadn’t woken up in his bed, you would’ve played the whole thing off as a really horny dream and carried on with your life. You probably wouldn’t have been able to look your friend in the eye after having an explicitly detailed sex dream of him, but you would’ve at least attempted to carry on like you didn’t dream of him fucking you into mind-blowing completion.

Yesterday felt like a dream, it felt so distant and yet you could recall certain details so vividly that you couldn’t just brush off the incident off like you normally would. Your face feels like it could start melting as you blush fiercely while recalling Semi admitting his true feelings for you. Your heart lurches inside your chest. Everything felt like a blur to you, one moment he was unexpectedly distant, the next you were both arguing and then… fucking on the bench.

The rest of the night was kind of hazy to you, but you do recall him pulling you to his room, hands planted on your waist. You remember him whispering, “I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend. I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

Your core pulses at just the thought of his words. He made a quick stop to the vending machines to get a few drinks and snacks, stating that he really wasn’t planning on leaving the room anytime soon. When you two were finally stocked up and alone in his surprisingly orderly room, you were both still fatigued from the previous round to go beyond a messy make out. Collapsing into one another, exhaustion from the long day finally caught up to you both.

And now here you were, in close proximity to the boy of your long-held affections. It would be scarily true to your fantasies if not for the sticky feeling of the sweat lightly coating your skin and the nausea swirling around your stomach. Skipping dinner never was a smart decision and it looks like you were suffering the consequences of your hindbrain doing the thinking for you.

You perk up when you inhale the subtle shift in Semi’s calming scent he started to unconsciously emit. He somehow sensed the slight distress in your scent before you recognised it. Turning onto his back and shifting against you, you hold your breath in hopes of not waking him up.

Pausing from his stirring, he sleepily opened his eyes a crack to take you in. Damn, that was cute. Even when waking up he’s stupidly hot. A smile graces his lips as he takes in the slight of your pink face and wide eyes.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You had to beat back the horny side of you that jumped up at the sound of his deep voice rough with sleep.

Giving him a smile in return, you whisper back a good morning.

Pale eyelashes flutter as his eyelids shut. For a moment you were sacred he would fall back to sleep and leave you to face your traitorous thoughts. Rolling onto his side, Semi tugs you close to him, banishing the unreasonable fear. You tense slightly at the new position as it brought your tacky skin close to his, only relaxing minutely at the feel of his fingers running through your tangled hair.

Enjoying the soothing feel of his chest rising with each deep breath and the feeling his fingernails gently scrape against your scalp, you were lulled into a trance. Unthinkingly, you grind against the well-defined thigh that was sandwiched between your legs. Semi paused when he felt you move but continued when you didn’t make a fuss about it. Your light scent signifying contentment rather than the sweet arousal he came to know last night.

Your nails lightly scratch at his chest as you feel his other hand start to rub at the sensitive skin of the major scent glands based under your ear. Sighing in pleasure, your muscles release all tension under his thoughtful ministrations. You knew that if he kept this up for any longer you would surely start purring. His loving touches were sating an itch that hid at the back of your mind along with the rest of your omegan needs.

Semi was quite obvious in showing his enjoyment under your thoughtless attention, member growing hard with your thoughtless grinding. The air thickened with your candied scent, tickling his sensitive nose. His eyebrows furrow as he’s struck with the realisation of what the saccharine undertone signified.

“Uh, I think you just started your heat… Your scent is really heavy right now.” You blankly stare at the flushing male, blissfully hazy mind not processing the meaning behind his abrupt words.

“I’m two weeks out from my heat, there’s literally no way.” You reasoned. There was a lenient time frame with most heats, but that time frame was at most three days, not a whole fortnight out.

“You were with me as I started my rut, maybe mine kick-started yours?” His unsure tone did nothing to assure you. Although it did give you something to consider.

You mull over his suggestion. You’ve heard of long-established couples having their heats and ruts sync together, a biological response to help maximise the chance of baring healthy offspring. But you’ve never heard of a rut kick starting a heat in advance in two people that got intimate with one another not even 15 hours ago – long friendship notwithstanding.

If you thought about it, you were exhibiting all the classical signs of entering your heat. It was just little preposterous that Semi’s rut may have incidentally kick started yours. Maybe a quick google search would help? Or maybe you should hit up the nurse when this was all over with.

Exactly what this weekend would detail was still a bit lost on you, seeing as now a new variable has reared its ugly head. A deep and largely ignored part of you was satisfied at how well everything had aligned. Semi’s rut lead into increased frustration, which resulted in his blow up and subsequently into the unexpected confession. All of that led to this moment of you laying in his bed, smelling of him and blessed with the sight of his sleepy smile.

Your heat did pose a minor issue though. With Semi being in his rut it was already tenuous with you pairing up with him after shortly discovering each-others true feelings. Not that ruts – nor heats – drove people sex-crazy like so many adult films liked to portray. They did have the capacity to blur the line for your newly defined relationship.

It was a time that you were both at your most vulnerable. Afraid of driving him away from saying something wrong or maybe not being the person he actually wanted. You knew exactly what you craved during your heats and you did not want to embarrass yourself by asking for something Semi wasn’t ready to give you.

Semi breaks your train of thought by offering up his shower to freshen up. Literally jumping up at the opportunity to get out of your own head and clean up, you thanked him.

“Thanks, I’d love that.” You made it to the doorway of the bathroom before a thought hit you.

“Hey, uh, I don’t really want to get changed back into these clothes. Do you mind running to my dorm to get some clean ones for me?”

Semi rolled onto his back and raises an amused eyebrow at your uncharacteristic shy tone.

“Just steal some of my clothes, I don’t mind.” He gestures to his plain white dresser. He doesn’t feel it’s necessary to add that he would much prefer you wearing his clothes over the course of the next few days. Eita’s hell-bent in fulfilling a few of his fantasies with your consent. One of those fantasies included you wearing his clothes.

Nodding at him, you make your way over and sift through the draws before deciding on a plain black Shiratorizawa volleyball team training shirt and a pair of clean boxer shorts that you may have to roll the waist band for them to fit.

Secretly, you were slightly overwhelmed at how fast this was all going. Was it weird that you were more flustered about wearing his clothes than fucking in a semi-public room? Probably, but life was weird, so it was best to roll with the punches at this point.

Giving once last glance at Semi’s lax form splayed on the bed, you close the door behind you. The lock of the door seemingly taunts you with ideas of Semi joining you in the shower. Then again, it would probably be best to establish at least some boundaries before you both got lost in your respective throes. Flipping the lock, you make quick work of stripping down bare and starting up the shower, shivering at the feeling of the cool air caresses your heated body as you wait for the water to warm.

Hand stretch out under the spray, you judge the water temperature to be adequate and hop in. The decent water pressure was one of the many things you would praise about Shiratorizawa, alongside their amazing cooking staff and meal plans. One could accuse that the students are just little bit spoiled and they wouldn’t be exactly wrong.

Washing your hair, your mind drifts away from you, occupied with wondering thoughts. As you lather up your skin, a dark spot on your hip catches your eye. You have a double take when you notice the bruises etched into your skin from where Semi had gripped you from before. Heat burnt across your cheeks as you recall what had transpired not even a day ago. Carefully, your fingertips brush along the dark spots littering your chest and hips. You’re astounded by how dark they look against your flushed skin. They didn’t hurt nearly as much you would think from how pigmented they were. Kind of like Semi in that regard, intimidating exterior and benign on the inside.

Even though you were sure to lock the door, dirty thoughts of him joining you in the shower and skilled fingers buried deep inside of you fill your mind as you conditioned your hair and rinse. As the suds washed off, your hands autonomously drift towards the crest of your legs, fingers brushing against your faintly pulsing core.

Yup, if you weren’t sure before, you were definitely experiencing an early heat. At least you had someone to rid it out with, someone whom you loved and trusted. Plus, the direct presence of alpha pheromones should make the heat less intense.

Shutting off the water, you made quick work of drying off and slipping on the soft articles of clothing. Giving the lonely pair of underwear sitting in a pile of dirty clothes a second thought, you shrugged off the thought of putting them back on. Hopefully, if all went right, it would save some valuable time later on.

Just as you thought, you had to adjust the boxers for them to fit. Pat drying your hair to the best of your ability, you comb through it with your fingers, hoping it’ll dry faster. Examining your appearance in the mirror, a tingle of excitement went through you at seeing his larger clothes draped over your figure. They didn’t fit, that was for sure, but god did you love wearing them.

Tearing yourself away from the reflection, you walk out of the bathroom with a pink cheeks and smelling clean. Semi perks up from his seated position and puts down the phone he was frantically typing on just before you emerged.

A lazy smile makes its way across his face at how good you looked wearing his clothes. It felt like the stole the very breath from your lungs. Tossing his phone to the side, already long forgotten, he walks over towards you and winds his arms around your shoulders and buries his nose into your still damp hair.

“You look so good wearing my clothes. We should make this a regular thing.” He laughs at your shocked squawk, not immediately shooting him down. Leaning back, Eita takes in your scrubbed pink skin and the way his shirt almost completely covered the boxers you wore. It was all way to cute for his heart to take.

Not being able to help himself, Eita draws you into a deep kiss. He loved how his scent completely enveloped you from his clothes to his body wash. Eita was already becoming comfortable with how easily your scents intermingled. He knew that he was playing with fire by kissing you. It would be a true trial of strength to see if he could stop before he got too into it again, he really needed a shower too after all.

Semi probably didn’t intend for the kiss to become heavy, but your body immediately lit up as his lips melded into yours, making you crave more. While you still didn’t hear bells or feel rainbows sprout out of you when his mouth melded with yours, your mind did light up with a thousand fireworks as you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip.

Ever the tease, it was as you opened your mouth to admit him entrance did he pull back and give you a smirk that had you wanting to both punch him and kiss him even harder.

“As much as I would love to continue,” Semi bops you on the nose, stunning you. “I really need a shower.”

You huff at his words and cutely pout up at him, driving his mind wild in return.

“You shouldn’t start things you’re not planning on finishing, Semi-Semi. You could get a poor girl’s hopes up one day.” Your teasing look belied the sad tone you adopted.

He gives you a deadpan look before snapping back as a reflex: “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright then, babe. What do you want to be called?” From the way his eyes lit up at the endearment, you had found the key to Semi’s heart.

Lifting your chin up, he whispers into your ear. “Surprise me.”

He inwardly congratulates himself for the way that you shuddered at his low tone. “Just don’t call me Semi-Semi. I should beat Satori’s ass for ever calling me that.”

He unwraps his arms from your body and you had to bite down the whine that threatened to embarrass you at the loss. Semi shot you a knowing look and effectively diverted your attention by pointing to the bedside table holding your phone on charge.

“I noticed that it was flat, so I put it on charge when you hopped in. It should be charged enough to turn on by now.” He said as he slipped through the doorway, not even bothering to bring clean clothes with him.

Touched at his thoughtfulness, you briefly contemplated how low your standards must be for someone being considerate to put your phone on charge was seen as heart-touching. Ignoring that and the tight coil of heat sitting in your abdomen that Semi had elicited, you went and grabbed your phone. Slumping down onto the bed, you impatiently waited for it to start up, taking a quick look of his room in the meantime.

Unlike most boys his age, it was neat and smelt of spiced bergamot paired with clean laundry. While there was a bit of chaos in his desk, it seemed to be organised in some fashion with different papers and books stacked in alternating arrangements according to a code only known to the ash-blond alpha. There was a few articles of clothing spilling out of the over-filled hamper. It was kind of funny that such a diligent guy like Semi would leave laundry until the absolute last second.

Thinking about laundry… You cosy up into the soft grey cotton sheets of his bed. You’d have to ask what detergent he uses because it was insane how soft the cotton felt beneath your hands. The smell of clean fabric and Semi’s grounding scent filled your nose as you buried your head into his pillows.

A quiet ‘ding!’ from your phone tears you away from your observations and into the real world. You had apparently missed a few messages from your roommate during your impromptu sleepover with Semi. After texting her a quick update of your situation and checking your emails, you decide to hope onto the school website to fill out the heat exemption form and after a short deliberation ended up filling one out for Semi too.

Who knows how long this will last and it’s probably best to be safe and use your last moments of coherency securing you both an easier week ahead – give or take a few days. Finishing up the last section, you heard the shower turnoff and the shower curtain open. Judging that he was going to come out soon, you submit the form and place your phone on silent.

Semi emerges from the bathroom with a cloud of steam rushing out behind him. Stunned, you look over, only to be hit by déjà vu. Looking tantalising standing there covered only by a towel dangerously low on his hips, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders.

Stalking over to the bed, he pounces on top of you and buries his nose into your neck. Giggling at his childish behaviour, the temptation to scolding him for not drying his hair died on your tongue as you feel him press a chaste kiss onto your neck.

“I couldn’t bare another second without you at my side” he murmurs, unwilling to leave your comforting scent. Blushing at the sentiment, you give a short embarrassed laugh at how cheesy he was.

“You’re such a romantic. Satori will have a field day if I tell him that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growls out. Eita hated the idea of Satori knowing any intimate details your relationship together. Also, the fact that Satori would never let him hear the end of it didn’t help Satori’s case of being let in the know-how of your sexual activities.

You laugh at the weak deterrent, full well knowing Semi would never follow through. A friendship spanning across high school let you gain insight to a lot of Semi’s quirks and behaviour. Never in the three years you’ve known him has he ever acted maliciously. Discounting the moment he was ready to tear Shirabu a new one yesterday – but that was a whole different situation.

You smirk at him in response. “You have no idea how far I’ll go to have some decent entertainment.”

“If you’re so bored, why didn’t you just say so?” Semi moves out of your grasp, now hovering over your body with his towel hanging onto his body through sheer will at this point.

Lips slotting together, Semi doesn’t give you the chance to retort. Not that you minded in the slightest. His mouth tasted of cool spearmint, contradicting the heat of his tongue mapping the inside of your mouth. You moan as he runs his tongue along your hard palate whilst giving a light suck.

Nudging his tongue out of your mouth, you bite his bottom lip and tug at it. Grip tightening on your hips, Eita refrains from pinning you down and kissing you until your begging him for more. It was the heady smell of need filling the air that knocked the idea away and replaced it with the burning desire to be buried within you. That’d be much more beneficial for the both of you, he grins to himself.

Eita notices the wet spot forming on the boxers he lent out. God, he was never going to be able to look at that pair the same ever again. The old shirt was way too big for you, hiding your gorgeous form from his hungry eyes. Fixing the sacrilege that it was, he grabs the hem giving it a slight tug to warn you of his intentions. At your nod, he rips the offending article of clothing off and is met with the heavenly sight of your bare chest still baring his marks from the night before. Eita’s dick twitches at the sight.

Dipping in for another kiss, he whispers against your parted lips. “God, you could make a grown man weep, baby girl. You should see how good you look laid out for me.”

Your heart flips at the comment. Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you  pulled him into another searing kiss. Hands that you’ve watched serve a thousand no-touch aces dragged down your sides, callouses rough against smooth skin. Fingertips danced along the band of his boxers, teasingly dipping just under it.

Nipping at him, you silently voice your frustration with his teasing. Any other time and you would be all for it – hell half of your wet dreams revolved around Semi edging you into a teary mess. Now though? You felt like you could spontaneously combust from the heat building steadily with you.

Hands falling over his, you help him push down the boxers and kick them off the side of the bed. The hands that you’ve admired for so long drift further southward. Completely skipping over your core, you note with disappointment. Eita grips your thighs, admiring the way the soft flesh molded around his hand, loving the contrast the two of you made together.

Hard and malleable. Rough and soft. Eita and you.

From the very moment he met you, he was blinded by your personality. Kind to those who warranted it and never backing down from your morals. He loved how gentle you were with the younger years and conversely never refraining from scolding Shirabu if made any vitriolic comments to Goshiki. Unknowingly, you had set up a home inside of Eita’s heart and he’ll spend every moment with you to show you as such.

Semi took in every inch of your body under his hands as he manoeuvres you into a pose that made his mouth go dry. Top half pressed against the bed, ass swinging in the air in front of him, you made such an appetising sight, it truly tried Semi’s self-restraint to not just slam on home and take everything you’d give to him.

Feeling his gaze burning into your skin, you could resist the temptation to tease him even more. Wiggling your hips, you shoot him a sultry look over your shoulder.

“Are you ready yet or am I going to have to start without you?” You move your hands from beside your head in preparation to slide them down your front and into your waiting hole.

The growl fills the air dampens your devious side. By all accounts, teasing him like that during a rut, even a mild one, was not a smart move on your side. A dangerous glint fills his eye at your unintentional challenge.

Semi removes the towel and tosses it to the side, revealing his already swelling member to your greedy eyes. The towel hadn’t even hit the foot of the bed before his hands were back on you.

Settling a hand between your shoulder blades, he presses his weight onto you as he lowers himself to your cheek not pressed against the sheets. Your breath freezes in your chest as he brushes his lips across the delicate skin with a wicked look on his face.

“You are such a brat sometimes you know that right?” He breathes out, lips both so close to yours and infuriatingly too far. “It’s alright though, maybe I could teach you some manners.”

He moves back with those final words, grinning at how you shivered at them. You were half tempted to whine at the loss of contact, already starting to push up on your elbows before he forcefully stops you by pressing even harder on your back.

Your heart and hole simultaneously pulse in anticipation at Semi’s more forceful nature coming out to play, not so secretly loving concealed strength coming out to play. Semi was usually respectful and kind to a fault, that was why you privately loved it when Satori riled him up. It was only during those times you could see Semi’s true passion, the fire burning inside his soul being exposed to your keen eyes. There is also the moments when he plays which unfortunately occurs occasionally now that Shirabu usurped him as a starter.

Before, you were slightly apprehensive you your heat coinciding with Semi’s rut, now you were grateful. Thanks to your heat, you didn’t require extensive foreplay like last night. Naturally prepared, your hole was more pliable and slick now than any other time, as a natural occurrence to prevent both omega’s and their partners from hurting themselves during the thick of the heat. The last thing on their minds is to properly prepare themselves.

That fact doesn’t stop Semi from dipping in a finger, soon slipping in another inside as he noted how easily you stretched around it. You tilt your hips up, encouraging his long fingers to press in deeper, to fill you in a way yours couldn’t. Scissoring his fingers, he twists his wrist in a way that had you grasping at the sheets.

“Shit.” You gasp out between clenched teeth.

“You really like my fingers,” Semi states. He slips in a third and fans them out inside of your leaking hole, watching the way your pink hole engulfed his fingers without complaint.

Having enough, you reach down and grasp his wrist. Fixing him with a pleading expression that had him melting in your hand.

“Please, I need you. Now.”

Unable to refuse your plea, he withdrew them with a slick sound. With the way you looked at him, he would steal the stars out of the sky if you asked him.

“That didn’t take long at all, look at how polite you’re being now.”

Bringing slicked-up fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicks out to lap up your juices. Your viscous slick coated his tongue and triggered his voracious appetite, now feeling the strong urge to spend the next hour eating you out until you were a sobbing mess on his tongue. This was the second time you had derailed him, without even speaking or looking at him.

Eita forcibly shoulders past the idea, not willing to keep you waiting anymore, especially now that you were being so cute. Meanwhile, you ignored the dig in favour for quelling your excitement as he lines himself up.

The ash-blond alpha moans as he slips inside, not bothering to tease you now. You clench around him as you shiver at the sonorous sound he releases. Just like you thought, he slipped in without an issue, leaving only the pleasurable burn from stretching around his rigid cock.

Eita relished at how receptive you were of his touches, whether they be stroking or digging, you received each one with delight.

“You take me so well, baby girl.” He thrusts in deeply, punctuating his statement. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The slick sounds and sensations of sex consumes your senses, adding to the fire your heat flaring up within you.

“Semi, please –“ You haven’t half an idea of what your begging for. All you wanted was something more. Voicing your greediness felt like admitting defeat to your omega desires but you needed him so badly that you no longer fought against them.

Long and deep strokes halt as he grabs your hip and you forcibly flips you onto your back. Eita doesn’t waste a single second to grab your leg, hiking it over his shoulder and re-entering you. Immediately Semi slides in even deeper. The new angle had starbursts exploding across your vision. You spared no thought to his poor neighbours as you let out a loud moan. Supposedly the dorm rooms were supposed to be sound-proofed, so this would be a good test to see if that was true.

Not being able to deny himself, he indulged the desire to mark you in a superficial way, unsatisfied that he couldn’t claim you as his. Yet. The day would come, hopefully sooner than later. Latching his mouth over faded splotches, he sucks them back into vibrancy before moving to a new spot. You arch your back as he sucks a few marks onto your breasts, one hand coming up to squeeze them and flick your erect nipple a few times.

Continuing fucking into your tight hole in the meantime, he admires his own handiwork. A masterpiece of pinks and purples of varying shades decorated you, looking stunning to his eyes. A promise is made to himself to not let them fade while you were in his care.

Driving his engorged dick in and out of you at a punishing pace, Eita has the one-minded focus of bringing you both to the peak. Eita wanted nothing more than to pull out and cum on your back and mark you up even more, but he knew that the urge to mate wouldn’t stop until he knotted you.

Knotting was a huge part of breeding and a significant factor to tempering heats and ruts alike. One could couple a dozen times a day during a rut and still not feel satisfied until the rush of hormones released by one is triggered. Having you here was both a blessing and curse in disguise, as he was now more driven than ever to breed you until your stomach was full and round.

The mental image alone made him clench his teeth, trying to reign in what little remained of his self-restraint. He’s had a partner before you during a rut, but it didn’t feel nearly as intense as your fucking did right now. Previous experiences didn’t hold a candle to being with you. This was better than any fantasy coupled with his right hand.

Knowing exactly what to do to drive you over the edge, Semi didn’t hesitate to deliver you to completion. Scraping his sharp canines against the delicate skin of the column neck, you tighten around him even more.

Fastening his lips over your scent gland, he gives a rough suck while pressing his teeth into the area, imitating a claiming mark. To your sex-hazed mind though, it felt like the real thing and that was the last push you needed to topple over the edge, his name on your lips.

“Semi!”

Lust becoming all consuming, your inner omega frustrated at being tricked out of a claiming bite went ignored as sensations threatened to drown you under unrelenting waves. You were only distantly aware of Semi chasing after his orgasm within your warmth. Mind feeling like a separate entity from your body, your vision fades to black.

When you come to, you instantly become aware of his knot locked inside of you. Okay, maybe you weren’t out of it for as long as your heavy eyelids suggested. Semi groaned at your restless shifting, accidentally tugging the sensitive appendage.

“You literally fucked me into unconsciousness for a moment there.” You state, not bothering to hide wonder in your tone. Honestly speaking, you thought that was a feat only achieved in porn, then in comes Semi to blow away every single expectation you held.

If things were to ever end badly between the two of you, Semi has wrecked you for anyone in the future. Your sexual expectations have been set too high now, bar raised to an incredible height.

Disbelieving, Semi just stares at you to gauge if you were telling the truth. He hadn’t actually noticed that you left him for a moment there. It was worrying that he was so absorbed by satisfying his instincts to fill you that he didn’t even notice you mentally checking out. Your weighted stare confirms that you didn’t lie.

“Damn.” He simply puts. The word alone couldn’t convey the myriad of emotions he was experiencing from hearing that.

On one hand, Eita was proud of himself for being able to do that. On the other, he was scared that he didn’t notice. The confusing mixture was enough for him to soften, knot deflating enough for him to pull out.

Cum drizzled out of your hole in thick globules, staining your upper thighs a transparent white. A deep primal part of him hated the waste, wanting nothing more than to gather it onto his fingers and shove it back into you, not wasting a single drop.

Mentally shaking off the intrusive thought, he gives your thigh a pat as he gets up to grab his towel off of the foot of the bed to clean himself off. Propping yourself up on his pillows, you don’t argue or bat him away when he starts to wipe you down and leaving the occasional gentle kiss behind. You were loving the feeling of being pampered by the alpha.

Throwing the dirtied towel into the hamper by his door, he lays against your side and rests his head on your chest. Your fingers brush through his almost dry hair that you knew was going to dry funny since he didn’t dry it properly. Eyelids feeling heavy from both physical and mental exhaustion, you didn’t want to leave the comfort of the bed for a shower. It wasn’t long before you peacefully dozed off with a just as tired Semi pressed against you.

A few hours later, you wake up feeling as if your burning up from the inside out. Irrationally scared that you may actually be on fire from how hot you were, you pat yourself down. Your dizzy mind registers the fact that you’re probably in full swing of your heat now, seeing as there was no sheet nor clothes suffocating you. Blindly, you reach out for your phone to confirm if you got at least some rest.

Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to your side, you’re met with the sinful sight of a flushed Semi jacking off. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible while you slept beside him, not wanting to wake you up just yet. Too focused on the task at hand, he failed to notice you waking up.

Seeing his lack of awareness, you eyed his painful looking erection being handled quite roughly as Semi attempts to rush himself towards a much-needed orgasm. Both pity and arousal fills you at the sight, causing you to deliberate whether to jump in and offer some assistance or watch for a little longer and memorise as much as possible for another night.

A moan slips out of his mouth as he twists his hand just as he pumps his hand up. It seems the decision was made for you as your body automatically moves forward, mouth already salivating.

Grabbing his hands, you move them off of him and secure your mouth around his swollen-looking tip. Looking up, you match his shocked look with an innocent one, fluttering your eyelashes at him while giving a gentle suck to the flared head. Throwing back his head, he groans again.

“Babe,” he mutters, threading his fingers through your hair. “That mouth of yours is going to be the death of me someday.”

Choosing not to respond, you take in more of his length, licking over the veins protruding from his shaft. It seemed to be the correct choice as his hips automatically jerk up, almost shoving the entirety of himself into you if it weren’t for your hand on his hip.

Sending him a warning look, he gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, sorry.” He murmurs, using is other hand to stroke your hair in apology.

Accepting his apology, you roll your eyes at him before proceeding to take him to the root. The action had Semi sputtering. The sight was funny enough that you had to physically swallow down the laugh that threatened to come up. Feeling you swallow around his length, tongue simultaneously rubbing against him, his dick traitorously jumped inside your mouth.

Smiling around his length as best you could, you knew that Semi was already close from that small move. You knew a rut made alphas physically more sensitive compared to other times, you didn’t know it went to this extent. You knew yourself that while omegas became more sensitive as well, it took about three hand cramps and an hour of toy play before your body was satisfied enough to allow a fitful sleep.

Lucky bastards.

Feeling a bit petty, you give a hard suck while you draw back and stroke his tip with your tongue. His body shudders under your hands, his breath now coming out in moans that caused slick to start leak out of you. Even sleeping during a heat, slick was continuously produced so while you were wet when you woke up, you could feel it start to trickle out from you at how sensitive he was.

You always loved seeing his softer side come out, whether that be helping Goshiki out with his spiking or joining you in your after midnight baking sessions when the exam insomnia became too much. This was a different side to his vulnerability. Much different to late night talks about his insecurities related to both the court and his musical talents, you still cherished it just as much as those other moments.

Hips jolting up without his permission, you let him go, not at all minding the way he made you gag on his cock. The rough noises that would leave his bitten lips at the feeling of you choking on his length was enough payment for you. Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you remove a hand from his hip and fondle his balls. Rolling them in your hand and giving them a gentle squeeze while giving a harsh suck.

Semi’s eyes fly open, harshly tugging at your hair as he thrusts his hips up. This time, he does make you choke in earnest as he just about shoves his entire length down your throat.

You could feel the exact moment he hit his peak before the cum sprayed inside your mouth, balls tightening in your hands as his entire body tenses. A guttural moan electrifies the air as you diligently swallow his cum, not wasting a single drop.

Licking his dick clean, you feel him twitch against your lips as the orgasm left him over-sensitive. Sitting up, you throw a leg over his and straddle a well-defined thigh. You grind down on him, trying to draw him back to earth and to alleviate the deep-seated need to alleviate the pressure that has made its presence well and truly known.

Semi’s post-orgasm face was something classical artists could try to capture but never succeed. His normally furrowed eyebrows and tense mouth finally relaxed. Like this, he looked like his age and not a stressed-out salaryman with a hardass boss.

“I knew your mouth would kill me.” He mumbles, popping an eye open to meet your eager smile.

You laugh at his over dramatic words and stroke the sweat-matted hair off of his forehead.

“Well you have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself when you have the audacity to look that hot while jacking it.” The ash-blond alpha blushes at your crass words but isn’t overly surprised that he woke you up.

Catching your hand in his, Semi has a sincere expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I did try to keep quiet at the beginning, at least.”

Warmth fills your chest at his consideration. Solo ruts were tough, exactly like heats, so when one finally found a partner to help them through it, not much thought went behind letting them sleep in favour for reliving the unbearable pressure.

“You didn’t wake me up.” You assured him. “I woke up because of how hot I felt. I’m pretty sure I’m in full heat now.”

You grind against his thigh in demonstration of both how horny and wet you were. Taking in the scent of the room, the air was thick with a mix of aroused pheromones. Semi could already feel his dick getting hard from the mixed scent and how wet you felt against his leg. He hadn’t even touched you and yet you were this affected.

Heats weren’t anything to look down on, he inwardly muses.

“Oh yeah?” He quirks a brow at your comment, acting like he couldn’t feel you dripping onto his thigh.

His hands come up to grip your hips, pushing you down onto his thigh as he pushes it up against your core. You moan at the pressure against your core, but it wasn’t nearly enough to relieve the burning desire. You pout up at him, knowing he wanted to tease you a little before getting to it.

Not wanting to lose at this game, you put on your best faux dejected expression. Sighing heavily, you place your hands on his chest and push him back slightly. A mixture of amusement and confusion played out over Semi’s fine features.

“Yeah… Too bad this alpha I’m with would rather play around. Oh well, maybe the next one to come around will be more to the point.”

If you were a sensible person, you would’ve avoided making a bad habit out of getting a rise out of Semi just to see how he would react, scarily similar to how Satori treats him. The difference was that Semi wouldn’t hesitate to smack Satori over the head when he pushes too far, meanwhile with you he can be creative in getting back at you now.

“I see.” Semi blandly says while releasing your hips.

Panic flashes inside you. Maybe you pushed too far, hit a little too close to home. It was a dick move of you to hit him in a place he couldn’t protect. Some would like to pin Semi as a little egotistical when in reality he knew his strengths and was his own worst critic when it came to every aspect of his life.

Fearing that you completely ruined the moment, you lean over to cup his cheeks. Heat be damned, if he wanted you to leave, the door wouldn’t even hit you on the ass you’d be running out of here so fast. Never in a million years would you ever want to upset Semi, you’d do anything for the deeply caring alpha. The very same one who gave you his team jacket at the Spring Interhigh when you foolishly left yours on the bus during the tail-end of winter.

“I’m so sorry, Semi. Forget what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Eita sat there, bewildered that you looked close to tears at the prospect of insulting him. His heart did a flip in his chest. Not being able to hold up against the worried look etched into your pretty face, he snakes his arms around your waist and rolls you both over to your sides.

Man, he was too soft for you. Eita smiles at the thought.

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” Semi pauses. Curious, you look up to see his eyes glittering in mischief. “You’re still a rude little omega, though.”

Those were the words that launched the two of you into an impromptu wrestling match. Semi obliterated you, surprise surprise. That’s not to say you got in a few shots that had Semi keeling over and proud that his partner could defend herself. Safe to say he was very proud about a lot of things relating to you, not that you would find out until a much later date.

Winding down, you grudgingly admitted defeat when he puts you in a headlock to stop you using your infamously fatal kicks on him. Laying side by side, shoulders touching as you both try to calm down heated blood. Hindbrain not knowing the difference between sexual and nonsexual activities, the match served to further rile you up.

Eita knew when you became restless, told by your twitching legs and fidgeting fingers twisting the bedding. A really effective way of venting that excess energy came to mind and Eita couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t feeling aroused in the slightest. Addicted to the cute noises you made and the expressions you made when he hit the right spot, he needed little reason to indulge you.

Thinking over the times he’d taken you, an idea struck him. It gave him a mental image of you hovering over him. The position deviated from the other ways you’ve fucked before, but he knew you’d love it. There was definitely nothing wrong with taking you from behind, in fact he preferred that position, but being able to see your face during it would be worth it.

Sensing Semi staring at you, you turned onto your side and gave him a languid smile. Smiling back at you, he placed a hand on your cheek and drew you into a languid kiss that had you wanting more. Tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking together as you both move closer to one another. It felt like hours were spent like that, hands running up and down each other’s body as you both lazily made out.

Your lips chased after his retreating ones, Semi chuckles and gives your bottom lip a chastising nip.

“Let’s try something different.” He says. The words alone were plain and ordinary, but dressed with context, it caused excitement to join the arousal stirring within you.

Laying down onto his back, Semi makes himself comfortable by propping his upper body up on his pillows. Once satisfied, he shoots you an expectant look. You just stare at him blankly, not understanding what to do now. Eita gathers that he will basically have to spell it out for you to hop on top.

Eita pats his thighs in invitation. “Come on, get up.”

Confused, you follow the order without question and place yourself over his thighs. What the hell were you going to do on his thighs? Your sinful mind conjured images of ridding his thigh until you came. From the way Semi grabbed his dick and gestured to move up, that idea was immediately crossed out.

Shuffling up, you shoot him a questioning look that had him want to both laugh at odd innocence it held while completely nude and want to cry at how oblivious you could be sometimes. Eita was infamous now amongst his peers for making heart eyes at the most oblivious girl. If only he knew back then how to read your subtle language of love, he would’ve acted much sooner than in his final year.

Oh well, he’d a lifetime to show you his unwavering affection. The thought gave him pause. It was a big jump to make from confessing to fucking to silently vowing himself to you, but it all felt so right to him. However, he didn’t want to chase you away by voicing those promises. Later, he swears to himself.

“Have you ever ridden someone before?” He bluntly asks. In situations like this, it was best to be as direct as possible, even though his hindbrain wanted nothing more to bury himself in you and not stop until –

“Oh. That’s why I’m on top.” Your revelation interrupts his devious train of thought. “I haven’t. I like the view though.”

What a view it was to have Semi Eita under you. His tip-dyed hair sticking up at odd angles from not drying it properly, proving yourself correct. His dark eyes fastened on yours, full lips tugged into an encouraging smile, you could melt under his unadulterated attention. Semi Eita was not good for your heart, much like all the other things you cherished in life.

Shaking off the sudden introspection, you remembered why you were here in the first place. Raising yourself up on your knees, you placed a steadying hand both on his chest and one on top of the hand holding his dick. Nudging the still wet tip at your wet entrance, you pause.

You’ve never ridden someone before; you knew the theory behind it: up on your knees and down you go. Rinse and repeat. Still, you hesitate.

As if sensing your internal discord, Semi helps you out by placing his hands onto your hips and start slowly lowering you. Meeting your gaze in wordless question, you nod him your consent, delighting in the way his strong hands lower you onto his rigid dick.

Without having to do anything, Semi stole your breath away. Semi was a genius and if it weren’t for the angle you had to hold yourself up to prevent falling apart at the seams, you would kiss him.

Walls fluttering around the intrusion the entire slide down. You have to close your eyes to truly embrace the sensations washing over you. Soon, your hips met his pelvic bone, where you just sat there, shivering at the full feeling of him throbbing inside. You don’t think you could ever get sick of the feeling of Semi pulsating withing you.

“You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you babe, look at you go.” He praises.

Taking in a deep breath, you look down at Eita and give him a shaky smile. His hands tighten in encouragement, giving you a rakish grin that just about drove you wild.

Slowly lifting your body off of his dick, Eita leaves just the tip in before he drops you onto his dick. The next few minutes were spent with him guiding you up and down his dick, letting you learn and try and get the hang of things.

Okay, maybe ridding someone was a little more complicated than you were led to believe. It took you at least a dozen haphazard thrusts before you finally place your hands on his chest, ready to go solo. Biting your lip, his eyes darken at the silent message you gave him.

Releasing your waist, his hands slide down to grab a handful of your plump ass cheeks, waiting for you to take control. With a shaky breath, you lowered yourself onto him and flexed your thighs to lift yourself off, all while intermittently tightening around his member.

It took a few tries before you got the hang of it. His fat cock slipped out of few times, but thankfully he fixed it before it could end in disaster. Once you gained confidence, you doubled down and really started to enjoy yourself, reveling in Semi’s humid, soft pants and the way the vein on the side of his dick dragged along all the right places against your walls.

Slick squelches fill the stagnant air of the alpha’s room. You’ve never been so thankful at the soundproof dorms more so than at this very moment. You would spontaneously combust if anyone asides from the male under you hearing you moan and pant like the bitch in heat you were, regardless if you were both in the throes of your respective hormone-driven fucking.

“Look at how well you’re ridding me, beautiful. If you keep it up this may become my new favourite position.” Butterflies unfurl their wings and take flight inside your stomach at his words of praise.

Praises kept falling unthinkingly from his lips, your heart jolts at each and every one. Your hole greedily sucking him back in, begging him to not leave you empty for too long. Impaling you on his dick, he could not name a more beautiful sight than you ridding his cock, mouth open and head thrown back. Eita wanted nothing more than to take a picture of you in this very moment and frame it. No artwork he’ll ever come across could possibly hold a candle to your ethereal expressions.

The friction generated from your combined relentless pace was enough to have your toes curling and fingers dig into his abdomen. Eita growls at the flash of pain, hips jerking up in reflex.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the motion forces the head of his cock to push past the lip of your cervix, pressing impossibly deep inside. Your walls grip his cock so fiercely, Eita was half afraid that you stopped his blood flow for a second there.

“Baby girl,” Eita groans. Hands tightening around the globes of flesh he held in his hands, signalling how much he liked that.

“Again!” You demand. Eita rushed to meet your call, readjusting his grip from your ass onto your hips for better control and rams himself up into you at the same angle. Knees locking up, it was less you ridding him now and more of him ramming up into you while dropping you down onto his cock. Eyes rolling back into your head at the new angle and the force he places behind each and every thrust. You had completely conceded all control and you never felt so good in your life, body buzzing in ecstasy.

One particular well timed thrust had your spine tensing into an perfect arch as the mild buzzing sensation intensified and struck through your body like lightning. Creaming around his cock, you draw blood as you dig your nails into his flesh to try and anchor yourself to him and not join your mind that was trying it’s hardest to leave this earthly plane of existence.

Unable to help himself, he fucks up into your outrageously tight hole a few more times before he grows frustrated with slowly building orgasm and takes matters into his own hands. Obviously, this position just wasn’t going to do it for him.

“Sorry gorgeous, but let’s change this up little, yeah?” With that said, he swaps your positions all while still buried within you.

To your post-orgasmic blissed out mind, you magically found yourself under him as he frantically seeks out his orgasm within your slick hole. Hindbrain completely taking over, he pumps into and out of you like a man possessed, hands creating imprints into your hips identical to the first set.

Thoughts of him biting into you, permanently marking you as his, were provided by your inner desires. They refused to leave you as he growled as your walls flutter around him at the mere idea of being claimed. Maybe it was just your omegan side finally coming out to play, but you couldn’t deny how pleasant the idea of Semi being yours was.

“Eita,” You try to catch his attention. “Claim me.”

His brutal pace falters. He clenches his eyes shut and chokes out a groan. “Don’t say that stuff, baby girl. You have no idea how much I want to.”

If he wanted this as bad as you did, then why did he hesitate? Yes, granted it probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up while in the middle of sex, but what better time than now, in the present. Your heart felt so light and warm thinking of a life with him by your side, how could you not ask him.

“Eita, I love you and I can’t imagine my life with another. If you don’t claim me now, we’re going to end up doing it later. Lets do it now and save some time.” His breath shudders at the way you say his given name. Meanwhile, you were surprised at how articulated the words came out while he was buried balls-deep in you.

Not needing anymore encouragement to fulfill his deepest desire, he sheaths himself deep within you with one last thrust. Simultaneously, Eita sinks his canines into your major scent gland as his knot locks onto the rim of your hole, blood rushing into his mouth.

In that moment, the universe clicked into place as you felt your very being interconnected so thoroughly with Eita’s, it was hard for you to distinguish where you ended and he started.

As the new bond settled over your entwined bodies, self-awareness soon floods back in to carry away the crushing feeling of losing that split-second deep-seated connection. Now you knew why bonded couples said mating was an entirely different sensation once bound. Nothing could compare to the high Semi and yourself flew into.

Being so thoroughly and intimately connected with you had Eita’s inner-alpha put at ease. Rumbling happily, Semi slumps onto your body and wrapping you up in strong arms, careful of the inflated knot still buried deep inside. Basking in the shared warmth of the new connection, you unconsciously began to purr in kind, satisfied to a base level.

A sudden question stirs you out of the stupor, one that leaves you burning to know the answer.

“Hey,” Semi hums, showing he’s listening. “Does that mean we’re partners now?”

Eita knew it was still a delicate moment and yet that didn’t deter the laughter that spilt from him. He professed his feelings to you, made love to you multiple times, fell asleep in your arms and mated you and yet you were still unclear where his feelings lied. The jolting of his chest bumped your head around. The feeling of being slighted was wiped away by the joyous sound and coaxed you to laugh alongside him. Not once in the years you’ve known him to laugh so freely, it was a beautiful sound that you wanted to hear more of.

Pulling you up and cupping your face, Eita’s thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks, leaving behind trails of a tingling sensation. Gazing deep into your eyes, he gives you a soft and open look.

“Of course. We’re mated now, so you’re stuck with me.”

“You promise?”

Semi shakes his head at you, knowing he signed himself up for a lifetime of your antics. A short reel of images flashed through his mind, mapping out his future with you. It was a future filled with laughter, passion and endless nights spent together. It was a future so bright it made his heart hurt from how full it felt.

Eita could spend a thousand nights trying to convey these feelings and still never truly encompass how far that love stretched. Instead, he presses a loving kiss onto your mouth; it was a good start. Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in deeper.

The movement knocked Semi’s slowly deflating knot from your hole, signified by the sensation of his cum slowly escaping your hole. Saddened by the loss of the physical connection, your pout was replaced by Semi’s lips as he pulled out with a slick noise. Lust did still nip at you, but it was sedated and easily ignored. Breaking the kiss, Semi placed three pecks in succession, causing you to instantly cheer up. The new bond breached all senses of physicality, proven by the wave of love that washes over you from his end.

“We really need another shower.”

“It can wait. I want to cuddle.” While you did feel gross from being covered in drying body fluids, it didn’t stop you from caving to his wish.

“Fine. You have to help clean me up, though. It takes two to make this mess.” Semi shakes his head at you with an amused expression. You both knew how that will go down. Eita could swear that his hands felt magnetised to your skin, so he’d probably dirty you up more in the shower.

Clutching you to his chest, you found yourself listening to his heartbeat. The satisfied scent permeating the room was soon joined by one of elation exuding from your tired forms. Between the pacifying scent of bergamot, the steady rise and fall of his chest below your cheek, and the circles he drew onto your back, it was a lost battle against the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids.

Reaching behind himself, he fishes for the long-forgotten blanket that had been kicked to the side and draws it over both you both. A comfortable warmth radiates from your intertwined bodies as you both drift away to sleep, heads filled with nebulous thoughts of the future spanning before the two of you.

Notes: Critiques, Comments & Notes are always appreciated!!

[lesetoilesfous]

"For DA Drunk Writing: "I never stood a chance, did I?" FenHawke or Handers?

Oh AMAZING prompt, thank you :D

(If you’d like me to write you a da2, da:o or da:a fic, send me a prompt!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: FenHawke

Characters: Garrett Hawke, Fenris

Tags: in which I think about Zevran extensively despite him not being in this fic, AU

Rating: Mature

“I never stood a chance, did I?”

For some bizarre reason, the great hairy brute of a human who’d ambushed him with a small gang of highly trained assassins sounds almost pleased by his observation. Fenris scowls at him, and wonders why he hasn’t killed him yet. The blood of the man’s accomplices drips from his fingers, and the human in question is on his arse before him in the dusty streets of Amaranthine. It would be so easy. Judging by how the man had handled a knife - it was necessary if Fenris had any intention of living long enough to give his master the violent death he so rightly deserved.

Instead, he hesitates. In the dust, the human stares at him. He has warm brown eyes and a thick black beard. There’s a stripe of red across his nose. His arms and legs are muscular and tanned by the sun, exposed by the light leather armour he’s wearing. Blood is streaked with sweat over his limbs, and he’s clutching a blooming rose of a wound in his side. Fenris frowns at the man’s companions - all wearing simillar light leathers. “Who sent you?” 

He tries to sound authoritative. He’s not sure that he succeeds.

The man raises his eyebrows, just for a moment, apparrently caught off guard enough to relinquish any attempt to bluff. “You’ve never heard of the Crows?”

Fenris frowns at him, internally checking his own memory for any other possible meaning of the word in the Trade tongue. When he comes up empty, his frown deepens. “The birds?”

The man’s thick black eyebrows hit his hairline. “No, the Antivan Crows. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Fenris glares at him, gesturing once to the extensive and outlandish tattoos curling across his body. “What gave it away.”

The man huffs a laugh, and it’s a deep rough sound that makes his broad chest shake. “Fair point. We’re a guild of assassins from Antiva with a terrifying reputation. Though not, apparently, a very far-reaching one. There was a contract on your head. I’m the idiot who took it.”

Fenris frowns at him. The blood on his hands is cooling and coagulating now. He itches to wash them. “Why?”

“Why take the contract?” The human clarifies. There’s a thick Fereldan burr to his accent that Fenris can hear the more he talks. He wonders how he got mixed up in a guild of assassins from Anitva. Fenris nods, once, and the human shifts and winces when he does so. Fenris viciously stifles his own irrational urge to help. “The money was good. I didn’t realise the reason was that the target was a one man army.” The man’s expression grows rueful then. Fenris wonders whether he is as guileless as he seems (certainly a flaw in an assassin) or if he has simply decided to forsake any further efforts to dissemble. “Probably should have.”

It’s all he needs to hear. This man would have killed him for money. He is no better than those who would sell him for it. Fenris pulls on the tattoos burning through his body, and ignores the dragging ache of them as he does so. The man on the dust huffs, and tilts his head back, exposing the thick line of his neck.

“Make it quick, won’t you?”

Again, Maker damn him, Fenris hesitates. The blue-white light around his hands flickers as he loses his focus. “Are you not going to try and stop me?”

The man shrugs, and flinches when it pulls at his wound. His blood drips into the dust. Nearby, mabari hounds bark on another street. “I know when I’m beat. Besides, being a Crow isn’t the sort of job you leave. This was always going to happen, one way or another.” The man gives him a grin then, blinding and handsome and full of mischief. “I’m just grateful it’s coming at the hands of someone so pretty.”

Fenris feels himself flush, and blushes more deeply in his own indignation, feeling blood rushing up the back of his neck and to the tips of his ears. He nearly kills the blighted man then, if only to stop the way he is looking at him. But something in what he’d said sticks and niggles at the back of his head, like grit in a shoe. 

“What do you mean, it isn’t the sort of job you leave? You did not choose this?”

The man sighs, then, broad shoulders dropping as he realises that Fenris is not going to kill him imminently. Above them, the sky is grey and promising rain. “Ah, no, not exactly.”

Fenris frowns. Around them the smell of warm blood is thick in the air over the astringent bite of poison. “Explain.”

The man looks up at him, squinting against the light of the sun, veiled by the clouds behind Fenris’ head. “Why do you care?”

Fenris answers, honestly. “I’m trying to decide whether or not to kill you.”

The man huffs, then, something that isn’t so much mirth as instinct. “I always thought this would be quicker.” He mutters the words to the dust. Blood dribbles over his fingers from the wound in his side. Then he sighs. “My father was an apostate. He got dead, left me and my family on the streets. I got picked up by the Crows when I was eight, I think? Been there ever since. Like I said. It’s not the kind of job you leave.”

“You said it was an Antivan organisation.” Fenris does not think he can hear a lie in the man’s voice, but he doesn’t know how good he is at lying.

The man scowls now, and the expression is thunderous. Fenris nearly finds himself stepping back, some cowed and trained part of his hindbrain demanding that he submit to such fury. He holds his ground. “Yeah, well. One of the Masters went shopping.”

“You are a slave.” Fenris hadn’t entirely intended to say the words out loud. The human stiffens, and Fenris watches with interest as pride and resignation wage war across his handsome face.

After a moment he says, with another attempt at levity, “after a fashion. Yes.”

Fenris crouches, then, and the human flinches. Fenris supposes that makes sense. He moves his hand to touch the human’s, and the man looks up at him. This close, Fenris can see the faint line of a scar tracing down from his temple, and the way the corners of his brown eyes tighten in grim anticipation. 

“If you’re planning to torture me, I should warn you that the Crows are sort of famous for training that out of us. You won’t get far.”

Fenris shakes his head, ignoring his own memories of torturous ‘training’ at the hands of his master. This close, the human’s voice is so deep Fenris can almost imagine that he feels it shivering in his chest. “I intend to help you.” He stops, then, and withdraws his hand. “What is your name?”

The human stares at him. Fenris can see the confusion in his brown eyes. He thinks he would have been confused, too. It only furthers his resolve. After a moment, the human clears his throat. “Garrett. Hawke. My name is Garrett Hawke.”

Fenris nods, and pulls a poultice from his belt, gently but firmly pulling Hawke’s hand away from his torn armour and the wound beneath it. “My name is Fenris. I know what it is, to be a slave.”

Hawke hisses as he presses the fabric of the poultice to his wound, applying a firm clinical pressure he’d learned years ago. After a moment, in which Fenris feels Hawke’s eyes on him and tries not flinch, the human breaks the quiet. “How do you know that I won’t hurt you?”

Fenris shrugs, adjusting the poultice a little and staring at it instead of the handsome man beside him. “I don’t. But I think I could take you, in a fair fight.”

Hawke grins. “I never play fair.”

Fenris smirks a little then, unsure of what possesses him to rise to the jest. “Neither do I.” Something flashes in Hawke’s eyes - dark and bright, like humour or admiration. Fenris feels blood rushing to his cheeks again and desperately wishes it away. After a few moments, his face cools. The smell of the poultice’s herbs is thick and bitter between them. Fenris breaks the silence quietly. “It is worth the risk.”

Hawke frowns, sunbeaten skin wrinkling with the movement. “What is?”

Fenris looks at him then, meeting his eyes. The poultice under his fingers is damp and soft. He wonders at what he sees in Hawke’s eyes: the quiet strength and courage there. He wonders what it is about him that seems so irresisitible. “Your freedom. If you are a slave, then I would risk my life to free you.”

Hawke stares at him. “Why?”

Fenris shrugs and turns away, letting his hair fall forwards a little to hide his eyes as he answers him. “No one should be a slave.” His fingers tighten around the damp fabric of the poultice. “I have won my freedom. I would not take it from another.” Carefully, he lifts the poultice. Hawke winces, and doesn’t meet his eyes when he replies.

“You’re a better man than me.”

Fenris shakes his head. “I am free. It is what you do with your freedom that will define you, not what you were forced to do in bondage.” He thinks, for a moment, of a sandy beach and blood between his toes. 

Hawke is still looking at him. Fenris gets to his feet, ignoring the burn of his tattoos as he does so, and holds out his hand. After a moment, Hawke takes it. He skin is hot and calloused, and his hand is broad and strong, enveloping Fenris’ entirely. He seems surprised that Fenris is able to pull him to his feet, and Fenris feels a faint hint of satisfaction at that.

Standing, Hawke towers over him. Most humans do. Fenris no longer finds it intimidating. Instead, he turns to leave, heel slipping in the dust. 

Fenris is a few feet away when Hawke calls out to him. “Fenris! Wait!”

Fenris stops, and turns back to him. Hawke stands a little awkwardly amidst the bodies of his fallen comrades, body tilted around his wound. It has, at least, stopped bleeding. He scratches the back of his head, and his hair is thick and black and curling. He is a very handsome man. 

“Can I come with you?”

Fenris stares at him. Hawke looks away, and his cheeks grow ruddy with his blush. Above them, the clouds break, and it begins quietly to rain. “It’s that or go back. And they’ll kill me for failing, so...”

This isn’t his problem. He should say as much. If he isn’t going to kill him, Fenris should at the very least leave the man to take himself and his problems elsewhere - and preferably very, very far away from him. Maker knows he has enough problems of his own.

But he thinks of the last few days, and weeks, and months. He thinks of the loneliness gnawing at his chest like a physical thing. (He thinks of a sandy beach and blood between his toes.)

Fenris inclines his head. “Very well.”

Hawke’s face brightens immediately, and he’s almost childish in his excitement as he lopes closer, like nothing so much as the mabari hounds of his homeland. “Great! Say, out of curiosity, have you ever been to The Crown and Lion?”

Fenris stares up at the human beside him. “The inn?”

Hawke nods, and together they step out of the alley and into the high street. Rain falls steady and cool over their faces. If anyone is perturbed by the two heavily armed men who’ve just left a back alley covered in blood, they’re wise enough to keep it to themselves. “They serve a great malt whiskey. And I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought much of the place when he’d passed it. But the idea of a decent drink is an appealing one. Part of him whispers that sharing alcohol with an assassin is hardly what could be considered wise. The other part of him is caught on the way Hawke is looking at him: bright and cheerful and laughing, brown eyes warm with the joy of it. It’s hard to imagine that this man had so recently been resigned to his own execution. Fenris cannot bring himself to regret his decision to let him live.

“Very well. But I shall be very put out if you poison my whiskey.”

Hawke grins at him, and the expression is crooked and handsome and laughing. “I wouldn’t dare.”

[emjee]

For me, the most Memorable Scene in your fics is the very start of "the common tongue of you loving me", when Joe goes 'do you not like when I do that? We said we would say if-'. The first time I read the fic I SWEAR I started tearing up when I reached that. I have no idea why or what button that sentence pressed in my Hindbrain, but Oh Boy.

Also, the scene where Nico confesses his love to Yusuf in the 'we should have sex to scratch an itch *5 seconds later* fuck we're in love' series? MAGNIFICENT. A MASTERPIECE.

oh I had SO MUCH FUN with that *five seconds later* fuck we're in love series! and with common tongue as well, I'm so glad that touched a nerve with you (in a good way I hope). <3

[unfolded73]

My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (2/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5714 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

Patrick first became aware of a constant, irritating beeping noise. He blinked his eyes open, his eyelashes crusty with sleep. Oh right, he thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital. It seemed like no time at all had passed since they told him that he was supposed to go into surgery for his arm. Was the surgery already over?

He looked down and saw his arm enclosed in bandages and a splint. Guess that's a yes to the surgery, he thought. The pain he remembered when he’d regained consciousness after the accident was gone, fortunately, numbed by what he assumed were some powerful drugs. He would have almost preferred some pain to this complete numbness.

Patrick had thought of himself as pretty unflappable when it came to getting injured — as a teen he’d suffered cuts that needed stitches more than once, and the sight of his own blood hadn’t really phased him. Once he’d suffered a ligament tear and knee dislocation playing hockey, and the sight of his leg bending the wrong way had been pretty grisly, but he’d still managed to joke around with his coach while he was being carried off the ice on a stretcher. None of that compared to the sight of his own broken bone protruding through the skin of his arm. That had triggered a visceral reaction, a deep, inborn knowledge from his hindbrain that screamed: this is very wrong! The paramedic in the ambulance had covered it with a bandage to keep any more dirt from getting into the wound, mercifully shielding it from Patrick’s eyes. The pain had been intense, though. ”He’s in shock,” he remembered the paramedic saying as he swam in a viscous soup of cold sweat and nausea and agony.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to his right side and saw David sleeping on the pull-out sleeper chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his clothes, but he’d taken his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the chair. The sight of David’s shoes brought a swell of emotion to Patrick’s chest.

“David,” he said. His voice was raspy, and he was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. “David,” he repeated, louder.

David started up, lines on his cheek from the pillow under his face and his hair sticking up on one side. It made Patrick want to hug him.

“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?” David asked.

“No. Is there water?”

David nodded, standing up and grabbing a cup with a bendy straw off of a small rolling table. He brought it over, carefully directing the straw so that Patrick could take it in his mouth and suck down some of the water. It made him feel uniquely helpless, being tended to like this.

“How long have you been here? What time is it?” Patrick asked.

David glanced at the clock. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” He pulled his sleeper chair closer and sat on it, taking Patrick’s right hand in his.

Patrick frowned. “How long was the surgery?”

“A couple of hours. Do you not remember when they brought you out of recovery?” David asked, the first hint of a smile that Patrick had seen flitting over his face.

“No. The last thing I remember was them prepping me for surgery,” Patrick said.

Now David almost laughed. “In your defense, you were very high when you first came out of anesthesia.”

“What did I say?”

“Well, you swore a lot, which was very out of character. And you said I was handsome several times.”

“You are handsome,” Patrick said with a smile.

“And now all of your nurses know it.” David squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember that.” It sounded embarrassing, but he still would have liked to see a video of it — of himself high as a kite and gushing about his sexy boyfriend to anyone within earshot. He squeezed David’s hand back.

“Mm, don’t be. You threw up and you kept saying your ears were ringing and I might’ve gotten a bit… testy… with one of the nurses when she said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“My hero,” Patrick sighed fondly.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patrick tried to assess how he was feeling. He had flashes of more memories — agonizing pain when he was in the ambulance and when they put in him the CT machine, but now there was little more than a dull ache. “Not bad, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re on the really good drugs,” David said, pointing up to an IV bag. “Morphine, I’m pretty sure. Also some antibiotics, but it’s the morphine that’s relevant here.”

“That explains it.” Patrick lifted his uninjured arm and tried to smooth down David’s unruly hair. “Thanks for staying here with me.”

“They would have had to drag me out of here,” David said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault; it was the other driver’s fault.” David reached up and stroked a hand over Patrick’s forehead and cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Frowning, Patrick tried to probe his memories, and while he did so the automated blood pressure cuff around his arm filled up, squeezing his bicep almost to the point of pain before exhaling in a long hiss. “Not the impact. I remember flashes of being extracted from my car and put in an ambulance. Some stuff from when they first brought me in here.” He looked down at his arm. “I remember my arm looking really not good.”

David winced. “Yeah. Well, look at it this way: you’ll probably have a very manly scar when all this is over.”

“The car,” Patrick said. “I had all the products from the Mennonite farms in the car.” He knew insurance would cover the losses, but he still felt a stab of guilt that he’d caused some of their precious merchandise to be lost. It would take time to replace, time during which they couldn’t earn any money from the sales. He wanted to kick himself for not watching more closely at that intersection. He’d seen someone run that stoplight before. He should have been more careful.

Shaking his head, David said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“David—”

“Let me worry about it,” David said.

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

‘Not a chance. Besides, Alexis drove me here and I sent her home a while ago, so you’re stuck with me until she comes back in the morning.” He lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. David’s eyes were suspiciously wet. “Also I may never let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“I love you more,” David replied, “as evidenced by me sleeping on this thing.” He pointed at the sleeper chair. “It makes me long for my bed at the motel.”

Patrick felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and shifted his body in an attempt to scratch it. A spike of pain shot through his side. Broken ribs, he remembered. Right. “Ow.” He chuckled uneasily. “This is going to put a real damper on our sex life.”

David leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? Your parents are going to be here in the morning.”

“My… what?”

His face cracking into a yawn, David answered, “I called your parents while you were in surgery. It seemed serious enough that they needed to know.”

Patrick’s heart began to race, which unfortunately he could hear echoed in beeps from the machines behind him. David noticed too, his eyes flicking up briefly to the monitors before looking back at Patrick’s face. Mind racing, Patrick tried to sit up, and another lightning bolt of pain kept him from executing that maneuver. “What did… what did you say?”

“That you’d been in a car accident and your arm was being operated on.” David’s face betrayed his confusion. “Patrick, I know you’re not super close with your parents but they needed to know that you’d been hospitalized.”

“Yeah, I know, but… David.” This was the worst case scenario, the thing that he’d hoped to avoid David ever knowing. If he could have just gotten up the courage to tell his parents the half dozen times he’d almost managed it, then David would never have had to know that he wasn’t out to them. That he was keeping his relationship with David a secret.

Well, there was no hiding it now. Patrick looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, steeling himself, before meeting David's concerned gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

David frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… I haven’t told my parents about the fact that we’re… together. I’m not out to them.”

“Oh.”

Patrick winced at the hurt on David’s face. “I wanted to tell them, I did, but then I didn’t go home for Christmas, and it’s just hard to… I don’t know how to say it, over the phone. I can’t get the words out.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “David, I’m sorry—”

“Mm mm, no. Don’t apologize.” David squeezed his hand and then kissed his fingers again, his facial expression difficult to read. The hurt wasn’t in evidence anymore, but perhaps because David was doing a better job of hiding it. “Coming out is very personal, and it’s something you should only do on your terms. Okay?” His mouth slanted to the side. “That’s why I brought this couple home from college one time and just told my parents to deal with it.”

Patrick chuckled in relief at the way David was trying to lighten the mood, but just as quickly his guilt rushed back to the surface. “I’m not ashamed of you, David. I promise I’m not.”

David’s lips quirked up. “Yes, that was obvious from the way you talked to the nurses about me when you were high.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “When your parents get here, I can just be… your business partner.”

His gut instinct was to say no. That wasn’t fair to David, or to what they meant to each other. But then he imagined it, lying here in a hospital bed, in pain and a little bit high on opiates, his arm in a splint, looking up at his parents towering over him and telling them he was gay. That he and David were boyfriends. It was an agonizing mental picture.

“Maybe… maybe just for tomorrow?” Patrick asked in a small voice. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He looked up at the IV bag. “For one thing, I’d prefer to be sober when I do the whole coming out speech.” It was an attempt at a joke, but it wasn’t untrue. He didn’t feel like he was in any kind of mental shape to talk to his parents about his sexual orientation or his relationship with David right now.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice that David had pulled away from him a little bit, but he still had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. “That makes total sense. Don’t worry about that for right now. Just focus on healing, okay?”

Patrick reached out, putting his hand around David’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against David’s lips. “So much.”

David gave his shoulder a little pat when he pulled away. “Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick felt exhausted from just the half hour he’d been awake. “Okay.”

He watched as David resettled himself on the sleeper chair, twisting and turning before finally settling down and facing the wall. When Patrick finally fell asleep, his last vision was of David’s back, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

~*~

When the Lincoln pulled up in front of the hospital, David was outside waiting for it. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, noticing every time Patrick shifted in his fitful sleep, and then was woken for good at six in the morning when a new nurse came on shift and stopped in to check Patrick’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Patrick, meanwhile, was in more pain than when he’d awoken the first time, and he was in a mood to match. Alexis finally called to say she was ten minutes away, so David kissed Patrick’s cheek and told him he’d be back later and escaped.

He felt grimy, still in yesterday’s clothes, aware of his own body odor in a way that he absolutely despised. He walked over quickly to the car, wrenching the door open and collapsing into the seat.

“How’s Patrick?”

“Awake and coherent and cranky,” David said. “I told the nurse he needed to up his morphine, but they don’t listen to me.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“You’re so sweet to stay by his bedside all night, David.”

He whipped his head around, looking for a sign that his sister was making fun of him, but her face was impassive as she concentrated on driving.

“Well, I couldn’t just let him wake up alone in the hospital. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, it happened to me in Singapore,” she said. “Also in Portugal, I think it was? Anyway. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“His arm is being held together with bandages and pieces of plastic and he’s in a lot of pain, but sure. He’s right as rain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left then,” Alexis said.

David gestured emphatically down at his clothes. “If I can’t get out of these clothes and into a shower soon, then I might literally have a panic attack.” He turned and looked out the window at the passing fields. “Besides, his parents will be here in about an hour, his mom said.”

“Meeting the parents, David!” Alexis said, and he turned in time to see her execute an exaggerated series of blinks that seemed dangerous to do behind the wheel of a car. “I guess you do want to be freshly showered for that.”

He huffed. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll meet them later.”

“David, no,” Alexis gasped, “you should go back to the hospital. Stevie and I can cover the store for a few hours. I talked to her about it when I got back last night.”

“I can go back tonight after work. His parents will be there with him,” David said, his stomach in knots, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, David.”

Sighing, David rocked his head back to knock against the headrest several times. “Patrick’s not out to his parents. They don’t know we’re together.”

Alexis bared her teeth like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “Oh, David. Yikes.”

“I know. So being at the hospital means that I have to pretend to just be his business partner, and I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do that right now when he almost died yesterday.” He turned and stared out the window again. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

Alexis didn’t say anything, but she reached over and patted his shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be sympathy. They drove the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek in silence.

By the time David was showered and dressed and had his hair in order, he felt almost human, and he was resigned to not seeing Patrick again until the evening. He stepped out into his and Alexis’s room only to see Alexis and Stevie standing there between the beds. They turned to him and folded their arms, determined looks on their faces.

He pulled up short, indignant. “What?”

“We’re going to look after the store for you,” Stevie said flatly. “You are going back to the hospital.”

“Patrick needs you, David,” Alexis said.

“Patrick doesn’t need me lurking around, making his parents wonder why his business partner is being so emotional,” David said, turning to the mirror and probing gently at the skin under his eyes. His lack of sleep was painfully obvious on his face.

“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents once he’s gotten his bearings. But in the meantime, he needs to know you’re standing by him,” Stevie said.

“That is a lot of sincere emotion coming out of your mouth, Stevie. Did you hit your head?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie said.

“You could also go by Patrick’s apartment and pick up some of his stuff,” Alexis said. “If he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, he’s going to need some comfy pajamas, and some changes of underwear. And a book or something.”

Okay, even David had to admit that was a good idea. He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, mirroring Stevie. “Are you sure you can handle the store?”

“Ugh, David, we’ve done it before,” Alexis said, stomping her foot. “Now go!” she said, shooing him out the door.

“Wait, I need you to do something else for me,” he said. “Can you contact the police and find out where his car was taken? I need to see if any of the things in it are salvageable.”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He made a quick stop at the apartment and packed a duffel bag for Patrick: pajamas, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, a book from Patrick’s nightstand, and his toiletries from the bathroom. He packed Patrick’s phone charger, although he wasn’t sure if his phone had survived the crash. He started to put in Patrick’s favorite hoodie, but then he remembered that Patrick might not be able to get anything long-sleeved over his arm. Instead he grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa, figuring that would have to do if Patrick was chilly in his hospital room.

The nurse at the front desk of Patrick’s floor recognized him, waving him through. It occurred to him that after yesterday, one of the nurses could inadvertently out Patrick to his parents.

David’s first impression of Patrick’s parents was of blue sweaters. I guess that’s where Patrick gets it, David thought as he hesitated in the doorway to Patrick’s room. The Brewers were standing by his bedside, his mother touching the top of his head affectionately. It was a perfect family tableau that he was loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t exactly linger in the hall all morning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I’m David Rose,” he said by way of introducing himself. His eyes drank Patrick in, cataloging again the small cuts on his face. His instincts told him to go over to Patrick, to touch him, but he couldn’t do that now. Instead he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed like an alien who didn’t know how to exist in the presence of humans.

“David! I’m Clint Brewer,” Patrick’s father said, holding a hand out for David to shake. David shifted his bag over to the other arm and suffered the overly firm handshake Clint gave him.

“And I’m Marcy. David, thank you for calling us last night.”

“Of course.” He turned to Patrick. “I went by your apartment and packed some…” He panicked. Was knowing where Patrick kept his things a tell? I mean, it wasn’t a big apartment; he probably could have figured it out even if he wasn’t over there all the time. “Some stuff for you.”

Patrick gave him a fond look. “Thanks.”

David fixated on the least intimate thing in the bag. “I grabbed your phone charger, but then I wasn’t sure if you even have your phone.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where it is. Still in the car, probably, and who knows where that is.”

“Stevie is looking into it,” David said.

“Thank goodness Patrick has you, David,” Marcy said, holding her hands out for the bag, so David surrendered it to her.

David met Patrick’s eyes, and then quickly looked away. “I’m just trying to be a nice person, Mrs. Brewer.”

Patrick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

A doctor David hadn’t seen before breezed into the room and picked up Patrick’s chart. “How are we feeling today, Mr. Brewer?” he said as his eyes scanned over the chart.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Patrick muttered.

The doctor moved over toward Patrick’s injured side, forcing David to step out of the way. He watched with morbid fascination, unable to avert his eyes, as the doctor examined Patrick’s arm, then his side where presumably his broken ribs were. David caught a glimpse of terribly bruised skin under Patrick’s hospital gown, and he flinched. Pain was evident on Patrick’s face.

“No sign of infection; that’s what we are concerned with most with this kind of injury, so that’s a great sign,” the doctor said. He then checked Patrick’s pupils and asked him a few questions, making some notes before clicking his pen and putting it away. “Did they explain the surgery to you yesterday, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick nodded. “Sure. That it had to be done quickly to prevent infection.”

“Right. We did what’s called an open reduction and internal fixation in this case. Metal rods were inserted which will allow your bone to fully heal.”

“Metal rods?” David asked, and then worried about how worried he sounded. Business partners shouldn’t sound so worried, he thought.

“How about that, you’ll get to set off the machine every time you fly,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s routine,” the surgeon said, putting Patrick’s chart back on its hook. “If you continue to show no sign of infection tomorrow and the wound is healing well, we’ll go ahead and put a cast on it so that you’ll be able to move more freely.”

“Am I going to regain full use of my arm? I play baseball and—”

“And guitar,” David interjected, his stomach queasy at the idea that Patrick might never be able to play again.

The surgeon smiled. “Well, you’ll definitely be on the disabled list for the rest of the season, but there’s no reason that with a little bit of rehab you won’t be able to do everything you’re used to doing after a few months.” He gave Patrick a corny thumbs-up gesture. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “How much longer before I can go home?”

“Well, that’s for the attending physician to decide, but I’d say tomorrow is a distinct possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” Marcy said as the surgeon gave them a wave and rushed out of the room as quickly as he’d rushed in.

David wasn’t sure what to do. There was no reason for him to stay now that he’d delivered Patrick’s belongings, and if he did stay, Patrick’s parents would probably wonder why.

“Is the store closed?” Patrick asked him. He had dark circles under bloodshot eyes, David noticed. He could probably use some more sleep.

“No, Alexis and Stevie are there,” David said.

“That’s your sister, and…” Clint asked.

“And my best friend.”

“Well, it’s very nice of them to help out,” Marcy said.

“Yeah.” David fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “So I should go…”

“Do you have a hotel booked here in Elmdale?” Patrick asked his father.

“Not yet; we came straight here. I guess we need to find a place before we collapse,” Clint replied.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Marcy said, “if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“One thing you’re going to need when you get out of the hospital is food that’s easy to heat up. I was thinking we could stay at your apartment and I could use the kitchen to make you some meals and fill up your freezer before you get home.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that—”

“Patrick, I want to. There isn’t a lot we can do to help, but I can at least do that.”

Patrick looked at David, and all David could do was shrug. It sounded like a good idea, actually, but he could also think of a few reasons why Patrick wouldn’t necessarily want his parents spending time unsupervised in his apartment.

“I can take them to your place, and… straighten things up.” David said, looking at Patrick pointedly to make sure he understood his meaning.

“Oh, we don’t care how messy it is,” Marcy said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Patrick said.

“It’s no trouble,” David added. “It’s on my way back to work. You can follow me in your car.”

“Thanks, David,” Clint said, clapping him on the back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you this morning, sweetheart?” Marcy was still at Patrick’s side, stroking his hair. David felt a stab of jealousy that he couldn’t stroke Patrick’s hair right now. Or kiss him.

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to get some more sleep, I think,” Patrick said.

“I… um… brought the afghan from your apartment.” David gestured toward the duffel. He wanted to spread it over Patrick’s legs, to tuck him in securely, but instead he stood to the side and watched Patrick’s mother doing it. Then he had to settle for a little wave as the three of them left Patrick’s hospital room.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom before we go,” David said, already pulling out his phone before he’d cleared the door to the men’s room.

911, he texted to Stevie. Need you to go to Patrick’s apartment and remove any evidence of our relationship IMMEDIATELY. There’s a spare key in the top drawer of the desk in the back of the store.

Stevie: why?

David: I’m bringing the Brewers over there. We’ll be there in 40 minutes.

Stevie: check. what should i be on the lookout for?

David: Photos, mainly. And there’s a shelf with some of my clothes on it.

He groaned to himself and then added, Make sure we didn’t leave lube out anywhere. Like the bedside table or on the floor next to the bed.

Stevie: gross. if I have to pick up a used condom, you’re going to pay.

David: What kind of animal do you think I am??? Although maybe also empty the trash. Thanks, I owe you.

She didn’t respond to that, but he’d have to assume she’d get the job done.

Stevie dispatched on her errand of subterfuge, he returned to find the Brewers in the lobby. “I’ll be driving an enormous black boat of a car; you can’t miss it,” David said to them as they walked out into the sunshine.

Once they were on the road, David’s attention bounced from the road to his speedometer to his rearview, making sure the Brewers were still behind him. By the time they got to Patrick’s apartment building, he was a tight ball of tension.

He had a text from Stevie waiting for him when he picked his phone up and looked at it. mission accomplished. who needs that many kinds of lube? im mentally scarred and also very curious.

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Marcy said, looking around.

David thought about the recycling bin he’d seen a couple of times outside the building that was full to overflowing with liquor bottles, and about the couple downstairs who had screaming fights on Saturday nights, but didn’t think either of those were anecdotes he should tell, particularly because they would indicate how much time David had spent in Patrick’s apartment already. Instead he just agreed noncommittally as he led them up the stairs.

It was only as he stuck his key in the lock that he realized that having Patrick’s spare key was one thing, but having it on his key ring with his keys to the store and his room key at the motel was quite another. He winced as he opened the door, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“So this is Patrick’s place,” he said unnecessarily, his eyes straying to the mantel and then to the desk. Stevie had done her job — the photos of him were gone. His eyes raked over the shelving next to the bed and zeroed in on the shelf where he’d had a couple of sweaters and a pair of jeans. It was empty.

“It’s not very big, is it?” Clint laughed. “But Patrick never has been someone who kept a lot of things.”

David wanted to agree vehemently — the only reason the apartment didn’t look much more spartan was David’s influence — but he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “So here’s the key,” he said, unclipping it from his keyring and handing it over. So much for not drawing attention to his key ring, he thought. “There’s a grocery store, Brebner’s, that’s not far away. And you can get fresh produce at our store,” he added, which made Marcy’s eyes light up. “I should change the sheets for you,” he said, turning to the bed.

“We can do that, David. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“Nope! It’s no trouble,” he said, and he knew he sounded manic, but there was no way on God’s green Earth he was going to let Patrick’s mother touch the sheets that were currently on Patrick’s bed. “I help my friend Stevie change sheets at the motel sometimes,” he said as he quickly stripped the bed. “I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, Patrick mentioned the open mic nights,” Clint said, pointing at the framed poster on the wall. “Did you know he used to play at an open mic night in high school?”

David finished stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper and grabbed a clean set from the shelf. “Mm hmm, he mentioned that.”

“I’m glad he’s picked it back up. I think he’d stopped playing guitar for a while before things ended with—” Marcy stopped herself, like it just occurred to her that she maybe shouldn’t be gossiping about her son’s past love life with his business partner.

“Rachel?” David supplied as he stretched the fitted sheet out over the mattress. Marcy came over and grabbed the other side, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about that,” she said, putting her corners of the sheet on as David did the same on the other side.

He nodded, remembering the worst week of the last year (until this one). “I do.” Then felt like he needed to explain knowing it. “All those hours of working together, you end up telling each other things.” Although not, apparently, that he isn’t out to his parents, David’s brain supplied.

“Thanks for all your help today, David,” Clint said. “We really do appreciate it.”

David stifled a wince and nodded, trying to approximate a smile.

~*~

“Marcy, you don’t have to start cooking right this minute,” Clint said once they had the groceries unpacked. “You’ve barely slept in the last 36 hours.”

“I want to at least get a lasagna put together,” she said, organizing the ingredients for her meat sauce on the counter and then opening cabinets, looking for an appropriate saute pan.

“Well,” Clint said with a sigh, “give me the garlic and onion and I’ll prep them for you.”

Marcy fiddled with the knobs on Patrick’s stove until she had the correct burner heating up. “His store certainly was beautiful,” she said, thinking back to their brief visit that afternoon. “I never imagined that Patrick could put something like that together.”

“Well, he did tell us that he mainly handled the financial side of things, so I suppose the look of the place is down to David.”

“I guess that’s true.” She unwrapped the package of ground beef, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell a mother not to worry, Clint Brewer.”

She put the ground beef into the hot pan and began breaking it up with a spatula.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Clint said. “I think David might have a crush on our son.”

Marcy frowned at him. “You know, it’s not okay to assume someone is gay just because they’re… you know. Effeminate.”

“It’s not that.” Off his wife’s skeptical look, he conceded, “Okay, it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at Patrick. You didn’t see the way David looked at our son?”

Marcy blinked, trying to remember. She’d been so focused on Patrick, she’d barely looked at David while they were in the hospital room with him. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I think there are some unrequited feelings there,” Clint said.

She mulled that over while she continued to put her meat sauce together. It wouldn’t be good for their business relationship if what Clint said was true. She wondered if Patrick knew, and if so if it made their relationship awkward. David seemed like a respectful person; surely he wouldn’t do anything to make Patrick uncomfortable at work.

Marcy was still worrying about it when she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night, beyond exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She wasn’t sure what impulse made her reach out and open Patrick’s medicine cabinet.

“Hasn’t Patrick been saying he wasn’t seeing anyone?” she asked Clint as she got into bed next to him.

He was already half-asleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s got a mostly empty box of condoms in his medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Marcy, you shouldn’t snoop.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to open his medicine cabinet?” he yawned.

“It’s a big box.”

“Marcy.”

“Okay, sorry.” She curled up on her side.

“Maybe he hasn’t had any relationships serious enough to tell us about,” Clint reasoned.

She didn’t want to have to think about her son that way, having casual, meaningless sex instead of a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted for him. It was why she’d encouraged him to patch things up with Rachel in the past. And while she now believed Patrick when he said things were really over between them, she still hoped he would find someone else who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. All night as she slept, her hopes and worries for her son monopolized her dreams.

Chapter 3

[virus-vodka]

Of Bitterness and Failures

A/N: Title is taken from the song Reverse by Robbie Williams, though it doesn’t really fit the tone of the fic lmao

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Fairly angsty but some good ol’ comfort at the end.

“Alright. Callow, are you in place?”

Callow rolled his eyes, glancing through the scope of the sniper rifle he had propped up on the edge of the roof.

He felt a small little pin prick of irritation that Psi didn’t trust him to get set up on his own, but he begrudgingly pushed the thought away. This was their first infiltration as a team, of course he was worried. Well, half a team; Peony and Equo had volunteered for some relief work in the Fallout District and Gamma had gone with them.

On top of missing a 99er and two teammates, they were in the DC District. Not the most dangerous by far, but still wild. Enough of a problem that the team was being mildly coddled by a virus who liked to not show a hint of emotion.

“Yeah, all set up and ready to pop a cap in some asses.” Psi sighed in his ear, Callow unable to stop the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Psi asked a similar question to the rest of the team, but Callow tuned him out, instead getting more comfortable sitting on his hip, stretched out and able to glance through the scope and aim at any given moment.

He was unable to stop his alligator tail from curling in a pleased feline motion, without a doubt learned from Glitch, as he watched the team bust through the front doors of the facility, poking his head up slightly to watch for anyone trying to get in or out.

“Floor one cleared, anyone showing up yet?”

“Nah,” Callow replied back easily, “y’all are still good to keep going.” Psi hummed in his ear, the comm link going silent again as the team continued on.

Callow let out a tiny sigh as he moved to a crouched position, propped up on the balls of his feet with the sniper resting across his lap, arms draped over it as his eyes darted around. He couldn’t help but feel mildly bored, he enjoyed sniping and had specifically sought out to learn how to use the weapon, but sitting out here on a perch acting as lookout wasn’t what he had in mind. He wanted to be up in some snipers nest, yes, but he wanted to shoot something. He was restless, his phone burning a hole in his pocket with a need to look at it.

He knew better though. If Psi found out, he was sure every piece of technology would promptly be shipped back to his mother and he would be living with a lifelong ban. Unlike Horns, he thrived off having access to his devices, so he decided he would fight back the itch that desperately wished to be scratched.

Suddenly, Callow felt a chill run up his spine, making him sit up a little straighter. Some part of his hindbrain alerted him he was being watched, his eyes beginning to scan the ground for the source of his discomfort. Some part of his mind new he should tell Psi, but he was too focused on finding the source himself. Callow, technically, was a predator and had never felt like prey before. It was enough to make a chill run up his spine.

Just as he started to turn his head, to see if what made him feel like this was behind him, something solid was rammed into the back of his head. He saw stars as the world around him spun, dropping down onto his knees as the gun rolled off his lap and onto the roof.

Someone gripped his hair and yanked his head back, still dazed and unable to see straight. All he saw was a white mask with a crudely drawn black smile looking down at him. “Say hello to the 99er’s for me.” Callow let out a small hiss as a sharp prick came to the side of his neck, the masked man holding him in place.

He was sharply pushed forward, barely catching himself on his hands from face planting onto the concrete roof. Though, he would rather have the pain that would have come from his face than the thrumming beat in the back of his head.

Callow turned as fast as his dizzy mind would let him, finding himself alone with only the sniper and a syringe. Fuck.

“Psi?” Callow started with a slight slur, pressing two fingers to his ear. “I’ve been compromised, we need…” he trailed off, eyebrows knitted in confusion as he heard some breathy noises from the other end of the comms. “Psi…?”

“Callow,” Glitch mumbled in his ear, sounding tired. “Callow, why didn’t you warn us? Why’d you let them get Psi?”

“W-what?”

“He’s shattered,” Horns whispered with a whine, Callow feeling his stomach begin to roll. “He’s shattered because of you.”

“N-no, that can’t be right, I only looked away—”

A shriek that sounded too much like Jolly cut him off, the hair on the back of his neck rising on their own volition. “Now they’ve come for us too, and you can’t stop them!” Jolly wailed into the comms, Callow unable to reply as his mouth suddenly went dry, unable to speak even if he wanted to.

A series of gunshots rang out into the night, Callow watching in horror as he saw the muzzle flashes, bright bursts of light from the windows of the building as the comms fell deathly silent.

The gator virus sharply rose to his feet, swaying slightly as he held a hand to his head. Callow began to back up, feeling his soul begin to race when he saw the door his team had entered open, that man in the white mask stopping and slowly looking up at him.

Callow turned and ran.

Roof to roof, for as long as he could, he lept across them, putting as much distance as he could between him and the factory. His head was pounding, a headache growing behind his eyes and at the back of his head. He had let someone sneak up on him, he let his team get compromised, he killed them.

He tripped, falling, falling, falling.

Callow felt the air forced out of his lungs on impact, landing hard on his side with his right arm aching under him. Without a doubt there was a crack or two, but he couldn’t stop running.

He needed to get out of here, out of the DC District, out of Dashland, out, out, out.

“Why did you let us get shattered?” Callow’s head jolted up, staring at Horns with owlish eyes. His face completely cracked, his eyes black voids as his soul leaked through the cracks and down his skin.

Callow shook his head, rolling to sit up and shuffled backwards as shattered-Horns slowly walked towards him. “N-no, I didn’t!”

“You’re lying to us, mostly yourself.” He looked over his shoulder, holding in a wail at a similar sight, Glitch with shattered skin, soul leaking through the cracks, and void eyes.

“I—”

“I thought we were friends,” shattered-Jolly whined, crouching down at his side as shattered-Glitch gripped his shoulders tightly and shattered-Horns came to crouch down by his other side. “Friends don’t let each other get shattered.”

Callow tried to pull away, feeling tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. “Just stop! I’m sorry, I’m…!”

He made some unsoundly noise as shattered-Psi suddenly appeared in front of him, crouching down and sharply grabbing his chin, forcing Callow to look into those eyes made of the void. “I always knew you were useless to the team; what lessons could you possibly teach some spoiled rich brat? Money will never solve the emptiness your soul feels, you pathetic, greedy child.”

“No!” Callow cried out, shaking his head. “It’s not true!” He suddenly reached into his stardust bag, grabbing more than needed, and threw it up above him. He twisted his left hand in the air as several small meteors formed above him. He didn’t want to, he didn’t, but he was scared, they weren’t his friends anymore, they hated him, hated, hated, hated.

Psi sneered at him, dropping his chin as he leaned back ever so slightly. “Murderer.” He hissed out, Callow snapping his eyes shut as he forced his hand down sharply, feeling the meteors collide around him.

He stumbled to his feet, not daring to look at the scene around him as he took off running again, holding his right arm close to his chest as he looked for some place to curl up and die.

          .:.

Psi came to a stop, crouching down as he ran his hand in the broken asphalt, glancing to the side to see unnatural looking stones scattered around the alley.

He was getting closer then, and thank fuck for that.

Psi pressed two fingers to the comm link in his ear, glancing up and down the alley. “I picked up the trail again, you three head back to the safehouse and wait for Sammy.”

“Are you sure?” Horns asked in a nervous tone, Psi able to perfectly picture him ringing his hands together, sharing a worried look with Glitch and Jolly.

He let out a hum. “I will get him back in one piece, do not worry.”

The line went silent, Psi rising to his feet as he took off again. He had a suspicion of what had happened, Callow’s suddenly delirious chatter before going silent. Glitch had found his rifle and ear piece still up on the roof, along with a syringe that was promptly disposed of properly, but the gator virus had since been long gone.

He gently thumbed Chi’s antidote in his pocket, taking a deep breath to steel himself. He needed to keep his wits about him, he was sure Callow wouldn’t be calm enough to just sit there and let him assemble the mask and vial. Psi didn’t know what went on inside the gator virus’ head, but this reaction spoke for itself.

Psi continued on in silence, glad that now he had a trail. Callow had clearly used his star dust, if the meteors were anything to go off of, and it seemed that either the bag hadn’t been closed or Callow had continued to use the dust long after he needed to. Perhaps he had a handful, ready to throw? Psi would need to be careful if that was the case. He didn’t need to bear witness to the virus’ cosmic powers firsthand, especially if Callow remained in these tight and narrow alleys.

 About five kilometres away from the impact zone, Psi found himself on the docks. Instantly, a previous throwaway conversation clicked; Callow found comfort in the water. This would be the ideal place for Callow to hide; close to the water and away from people this late at night.

He quietly came to a stop, fastening the vial into the mask, before bringing his hand up to his comm again. “I am drawing closer, I will be going dark until Callow is sorted.” He wouldn’t truly be going dark, he could still use the mind link if needed, but his team needed to know of his radio silence, lest they panic and start their own search for him.

“Okay,” Glitch started, “just be careful, you’ve never woken him up from a nightmare before.” He found it hard to believe anyone had woken up the insomniac, but he said nothing as he removed the earpiece and slipped it into his pocket.

Continuing on in silence, he made his way down the docks to be closer to the water, looking for any nooks and crannies a terrified gator virus’ could wedge himself in.

Just as Psi was about to call in someone better suited to try and see if Callow had decided to swim away all together, when he stumbled upon a sewer pipe, about a quarter of it submerged in the water.

The irony of looking for a gator virus’ in the DC District inside of a sewer wasn’t lost on him, but he shook the thought away as he climbed down.

The pipe was just tall enough to allow Psi to stand at his full height as he began to wade through the water, able to faintly hear whimpers and whines. He gripped the mask slightly tighter, slowing his movements as to not disturb the water and crept along at nearly a snail’s pace.

Finally, as he came to the first bend, he found Callow, the younger virus’ back turned to him as Callow clung onto the grate in front of him, stopping him from heading deeper into the pipes. Psi was thankful for that, he wasn’t sure of the expanse of the sewer that ran under the district and he didn’t particularly wish to find out.

With a quick survey of the area, he found Callow’s hat floating nearby, Psi would need to keep that away if he wished to keep any of his limbs. Other than the hat and the whimpers, Callow seemed mostly docile, but Psi knew that could change in an instant. If Callow was truly on fear gas, like he suspected, then the virus would be anything but docile once Psi tried to help him.

Creeping forward, thankful that Callow seemed to be too occupied with trying to get through the grate (and now that he was listening closely, he could guess the gator virus was trying to chew his way in), Psi crouched down slightly with his arms open, mask held tightly in one hand. He had one shot to get the mask over Callow’s mouth and nose, if he missed or if the mask was dropped, he would have to wait for Sammy to bring him a spare mask and vial. That would mean he would need to restrain a very terrified virus who probably thought he needed to fight for his life.

Psi sharply lurched forward and wrapped his free arm around Callow, pinning the gator’s arms to his side as the younger one let out a shriek of fear. His soul ached for Callow, but it was the only way to ensure either of them would come out of this unharmed.

“Callow, you are okay, calm down and just breathe.” Callow shook his head, trying to get away from Psi as he held the mask up to his face and secured it in place, turning the dial to release the antidote. “You are sick right now, this is the only way to help.” Callow tried to wiggle out of his grip and reach for his hat, the gator tail doing Psi no favours as it slammed back and forth. He had tussled with Florida before, he knew how much punch a gator’s tail could deliver. It was nothing like their bite, but Psi didn’t wish to compare Callow’s bite and tail strength today.

Finally, the struggling slowed to a stop, Callow leaning back into his chest ever so slowly, his breathing evening out though his body continued to shake ever so slightly. “Are you back with me?” Psi asked softly, worried of spooking the younger one.

“You were all shattered…” Callow mumbled, turning as he leaned more heavily into Psi’s chest, turning his face inwards. “I killed you all… I’m such a useless rich kid.” He let out a whimper, Psi sure that he would be crying if the gator was alone.

Without a second thought, he pulled Callow in tightly to his chest, gently rubbing a soothing hand down his back. “It was just a bad dream.” He whispered, feeling Callow’s shakes beginning to subside. “I would never let someone harm you or the team, you are safe with me.”

Callow slowly looked up, Psi’s soul aching to see such anguish in the virus’ green eyes. “What if you’re not safe with me?” He whispered, his voice wobbling, threatening to break.

“Do not speak like that, everything will be okay, you will be safe, we will be safe. I promise you, Callow, you will never hurt us.” Psi hid his startled look as best as he could, surprised Callow hid his face away in his chest once again, hands gripping onto his jacket.

They were silent for a long while, Psi just holding Callow close, soothingly rubbing down his back. Eventually, a little blinking light alerted him that all the antidote had been fully administered, so he removed the mask as tossed it to the side, cradling Callow’s head to his chest as the younger one gripped tighter onto his jacket. “You are safe.” He whispered, gently rocking them.

“I don’t want to snipe again.” Callow whimpered out suddenly, keeping his gaze away from Psi.

“No, you will snipe again, I will not allow you to fear what you enjoy because of a mission gone rogue.” Callow was shaking his head, but Psi sharply gripped his chin and forced his eyes to meet Psi’s. “It is fine to be scared, but I will not stand by and watch your fears eat you alive.

“Today was my fault, I should have left another team member to stay with you, especially in this district,” Psi paused, glancing away himself, “and for that, I apologize.”

He missed Callow’s frown as the younger one looked away, relaxing into his grip more. “It’s not like you could’ve known,” he mumbled out. “Yeah, it was dumb, but we all signed up for this shit, we knew what we were getting into when we applied to be on a team.”

Both fell silent again, neither able to really argue their own points further. Psi found it strange that Callow wished to remain silent, but quickly found out the gator virus was dozing off, head slowly drooping only for him to sharply bring his head back up, the process repeating. He must have been exhausted from all the mental and emotional whiplash he’d gone through tonight.

“Sleep,” Psi gently murmured, moving to get as comfy as he could sitting in cool water and the hard metal of the pipe. “Sleep, and when you awake, we will head back.” He also figured it would give Callow enough time to pull himself together, he doubted the younger one wanted the team to see him as less than presentable.

Callow didn’t seem to need anymore convincing, the virus out within minutes of Psi’s approval.

Sammy, he started in the mind link, waiting for some form of acknowledgement before continuing. I found Callow and we are both safe, but he is asleep and I do not wish to move him.

Thank the gods, Sammy replied, these three have been practically freaking out since they got here.

Tell them we are safe and that we will meet back at the dorms.

Sure, I can do that, love you!

Psi felt a small smile cross his face. Love you too.

With that, Psi shuffled slightly to get more comfortable, letting a jumble of vines cocoon them to try and ease the minor discomforts. Quietly, they rested together, Psi eventually falling asleep knowing Callow was safe and would be okay.

[readbookywooks]

A basilisk lay panting in the baking shade of a rock, dribbling corrosive yellow slime. For the last five minutes its ears had been detecting the faint thump of hundreds of little legs moving unsteadily over the dunes, which seemed to indicate that dinner was on the way.

It blinked its legendary eyes and uncoiled twenty feet of hungry body, winding out and on to the sand like fluid death.

The Luggage staggered to a halt and raised its lid threateningly. The basilisk hissed, but a little uncertainly, because it had never seen a walking box before, and certainly never one with lots of alligator teeth stuck in its lid. There were also scraps of leathery hide adhering to it, as though it had been involved in a fight in a handbag factory, and in a way that the basilisk wouldn’t have been able to describe even if it could talk, it appeared to be glaring.

Right, the reptile thought, if that’s the way you want to play it.

It turned on the Luggage a stare like a diamond drill, a stare that nipped in via the staree’s eyeballs and flayed the brain from the inside, a stare that tore the frail net curtains on the windows of the soul, a stare that

The basilisk realised something was very wrong. An entirely new and unwelcome sensation started to arise just behind its saucer-shaped eyes. It started small, like the little itch in those few square inches of back that no amount of writhing will allow you to scratch, and grew until it became a second, red-hot, internal sun.

The basilisk was feeling a terrible, overpowering and irresistible urge to blink …

It did something incredibly unwise.

It blinked.

‘He’s talking through his hat,’ said Rincewind.

‘Eh?’ said Nijel, who was beginning to realise that the world of the barbarian hero wasn’t the clean, simple place he had imagined in the days when the most exciting thing he had ever done was stack parsnips.

‘The hat’s talking through him, you mean,’ said Conina, and she backed away too, as one tends to do in the presence of horror.

‘Eh?’

‘I will not harm you. You have been of some service,’ said Abrim, stepping forwards with his hands out. ‘But you are right. He thought he could gain power through wearing me. Of course, it is the other way around. An astonishingly devious and clever mind.’

‘So you tried his head on for size?’ said Rincewind. He shuddered. He’d worn the hat. Obviously he didn’t have the right kind of mind. Abrim did have the right kind of mind, and now his eyes were grey and colourless, his skin was pale and he walked as though his body was hanging down from his head.

Nijel had pulled out his book and was riffling feverishly through the pages.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Conina, not taking her eyes off the ghastly figure.

‘I’m looking up the Index of Wandering Monsters,’ said Nijel. ‘Do you think it’s an Undead? They’re awfully difficult to kill, you need garlic and,-’

‘You won’t find this in there,’ said Rincewind slowly. ‘It’s - it’s a vampire hat.’

‘Of course, it might be a Zombie,’ said Nijel, running his finger down a page. ‘It says here you need black pepper and sea salt, but-’

‘You’re supposed to fight the bloody things, not eat them,’ said Conina.

‘This is a mind I can use,’ said the hat. ‘Now I can fight back. I shall rally wizardry. There is room for only one magic in this world, and I embody it. Sourcery beware!’

‘Oh, no,’ said Rincewind under his breath.

‘Wizardry has learned a lot in the last twenty centuries. This upstart can be beaten. You three will follow me.’

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even an order. It was a sort of forecast. The voice of the hat went straight to the hindbrain without bothering to deal with the consciousness, and Rincewind’s legs started to move of their own accord.

The other two also jerked forward, walking with the awkward doll-like jerking that suggested that they, too, were on invisible strings.

‘Why the oh, no?’ said Conina, ‘I mean, “Oh, no” on general principles I can understand, but was there any particular reason?’

‘If we get a chance we must run,’ said Rincewind.

‘Did you have anywhere in mind?’

‘It probably won’t matter. We’re doomed anyway.’

‘Why?’ said Nijel.

‘Well,’ said Rincewind, ‘have you ever heard of the Mage Wars?’

There were a lot of things on the Disc that owed their origin to the Mage Wars. Sapient pearwood was one of them.

The original tree was probably perfectly normal and spent its days drinking groundwater and eating sunshine in a state of blessed unawareness and then the magic wars broke around it and pitchforked its genes into a state of acute perspicacity.

It also left it ingrained, as it were, with a bad temper. But sapient pearwood got off lightly.

Once, when the level of background magic on the Disc was young and high and found every opportunity to burst on the world, wizards were all as powerful as sourcerers and built their towers on every hilltop. And if there was one thing a really powerful wizard can’t stand, it is another wizard. His instinctive approach to diplomacy is to hex ‘em till they glow, then curse them in the dark.

That could only mean one thing. All right, two things. Three things.

All-out. Thaumaturgical. War.

And there were of course no alliances, no sides, no deals, no mercy, no cease. The skies twisted, the seas boiled. The scream and whizz of fireballs turned the night into day, but that was all right because the ensuing clouds of black smoke turned the day into night. The landscape rose and fell like a honeymoon duvet, and the very fabric of space itself was tied in multidimensional knots and bashed on a flat stone down by the river of Time. For example, a popular spell at the time was Pelepel’s Temporal Compressor, which on one occasion resulted in a race of giant reptiles being created, evolving, spreading, flourishing and then being destroyed in the space of about five minutes, leaving only its bones in the earth to mislead forthcoming generations completely. Trees swam, fishes walked, mountains strolled down to the shops for a packet of cigarettes, and the mutability of existence was such that the first thing any cautious person would do when they woke up in the mornings was count their arms and legs.

That was, in fact, the problem. All the wizards were pretty evenly matched and in any case lived in high towers well protected with spells, which meant that most magical weapons rebounded and landed on the common people who were trying to scratch an honest living from what was, temporarily, the soil, and lead ordinary, decent (but rather short) lives.

But still the fighting raged, battering the very structure of the universe of order, weakening the walls of reality and threatening to topple the whole rickety edifice of time and space into the darkness of the Dungeon Dimensions …

One story said that the gods stepped in, but the gods don’t usually take a hand in human affairs unless it amuses them. Another one - and this was the one that the wizards themselves told, and wrote down in their books - was that the wizards themselves got together and settled their differences amicably for the good of mankind. And this was generally accepted as the true account, despite being as internally likely as a lead lifebelt.

The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find …

‘What happened, then?’ said Conina.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Rincewind, mournfully. ‘It’s going to start all over again. I can feel it. I’ve got this instinct. There’s too much magic flowing into the world. There’s going to be a horrible war. It’s all going to happen. The Disc is too old to take it this time. Everything’s been worn too thin. Doom, darkness and destruction bear down on us. The Apocralypse is nigh.’

‘Death walks abroad,’ added Nijel helpfully.

‘What?’ snapped Rincewind, angry at being interrupted.

‘I said, Death walks abroad,’ said Nijel.

‘Abroad I don’t mind,’ said Rincewind. ‘They’re all foreigners. It’s Death walking around here I’m not looking forward to.’

‘It’s only a metaphor,’ said Conina.

‘That’s all you know. I’ve met him.’

‘What did he look like?’ said Nijel.

‘Put it like this-’

‘Yes?’

‘He didn’t need a hairdresser.’

Now the sun was a blowlamp nailed to the sky, and the only difference between the sand and red-hot ash was the colour.

The Luggage plodded erratically across the burning dunes. There were a few traces of yellow slime rapidly drying on its lid.

The lonely little oblong was watched, from atop of a stone pinnacle the shape and temperature of a firebrick, by a chimera.[18] The chimera was an extremely rare species, and this particular one wasn’t about to do anything to help matters.

It judged its moment carefully, kicked away with its talons, folded its leathery wings and plummeted down towards its victim.

The chimera’s technique was to swoop low over the prey, lightly boiling it with its fiery breath, and then turn and rend its dinner with its teeth. It managed the fire part but then, at the point where experience told the creature it should be facing a stricken and terrified victim, found itself on the ground in the path of a scorched and furious Luggage.

The only thing incandescent about the Luggage was its rage. It had spent several hours with a headache, during which it had seemed the whole world had tried to attack it. It had had enough.

When it had stamped the unfortunate chimera into a greasy puddle on the sand it paused for a moment, apparently considering its future. It was becoming clear that not belonging to anyone was a lot harder than it had thought. It had vague, comforting recollections of service and a wardrobe to call its own.

It turned around very slowly, pausing frequently to open its lid. It might have been sniffing the air, if it had a nose. At last it made up its mind, if it had a mind.

The hat and its wearer also strode purposefully across the rubble that had been the legendary Rhoxie to the foot of the tower of sourcery, their unwilling entourage straggling along behind them.

There were doors at the foot of the tower. Unlike those of Unseen University, which were usually propped wide open, they were tightly shut. They seemed to glow.

‘You three are privileged to be here,’ said the hat through Abrim’s slack mouth. ‘This is the moment when wizardry stops running,’ he glanced witheringly at Rincewind, ‘and starts fighting back. You will remember it for the rest of your lives.’

‘What, until lunchtime?’ said Rincewind weakly.

‘Watch closely,’ said Abrim. He extended his hands.

‘If we get a chance,’ whispered Rincewind to Nijel, ‘we run, right?’

‘Where to?’

‘From,’ said Rincewind, ‘the important word is from.’

‘I don’t trust this man,’ said Nijel. ‘I try not to judge from first impressions, but I definitely think he’s up to no good.’