#it's wonky in three places and my shoulders slump forward

[homiro]

Tumblr decided that I wanted to post a picture (it showed me the post picture box lol) so here's a throwback to when I looked like an attack on titan character because I have bad scoliosis. I have since stopped using the shoulders thing for the most part because I don't have money to go to physiotherapy or visit a private orthopaedist. This is the plaster over the damage welp. I mostly use the lumbar support. The other one hurts too much and mind that I'm pretty tolerant to physical pain lol also these were bought from a specialised shop with recommendation and I cried when I saw how expensive it all us (totalled about 60 euros) and the shoulder thing pisses me off because all it does is hurt and I can't sit here and work with this stuff on because the pain will be too much. And obviously constantly taking OTC painkillers isn't a good idea, the pharmacists and even the dumbass doctor say that. To make matters worse, I react poorly to opiates welp

Because I want to 'shinzou wo sasageyo' but it's hard to do that when the 'shinzou' is pretty messed up and the money is very scarce lel but the visual of the gear was funky lol

And yes, the washing machine is in the kitchen. Let us be.

[craftypeaceturtle]

B is for Baby Time!

Summary: They finally get to meet the newest arrival for their family.

Note: Part of a series but can be read alone! The ABCs of their little family! Demus and Royality. 

The beginning- A is for Arrival

Next part: C is for Choas!

.

They got the call at exactly midnight. The second it turned to December they had prepared everything ready in case the baby would be early; they would not run around like headless chickens when the moment came. They had a baby carrier filled with blankets and a change of baby clothes that stood guard over their front door. But the 10th of December passed without any update. Remus was particularly insufferable but then again Janus had his own special brand of impatience. But all of that fell to pieces when they finally got the call at midnight that their surrogate had gone into labour. The baby was coming.

Janus blanched as he violently slapped Remus’ arm to get him up. He got up and started storming down the stairs all while silently gaping at the phone. Remus slunked after him before it suddenly dawned on him why Janus would be panicking at a phone call. 

The plan had been to sit at home and wait until the baby was born then drive carefully and calmly to the hospital. That lasted a good... 20 minutes? “Do you want to go and wait in the hospital?” Janus finally sighed. Remus’ fidgeting stopped for the first time since the call.

“Why? Do you wanna sit in a waiting room for hours on end?” Remus kept staring ahead. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but I can totally just sit here for several more hours.”

“We...” Remus sighed and wiped at his eyes, “We should be making the most of this really. Our last night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Okay then, go to sleep then,” Janus laughed. Remus chuckled.

“Okay, let’s get going shall we?” Remus got up and held out his curled arm like the gentleman he was. 

“We shall... after you put actual clothes on. I’m sure the nurses don’t want to see your manky boxers,” Janus chuckled and pulled and flicked him with the waistband.  

They launched themselves at the car and only just remembered to actually grab the baby carrier. Sitting in the hospital room both felt like a relief and horrifically underwhelming. There were here now! They were here ready for any and all news. No need to keep anyone hanging. They felt productive just sitting there. But also... Both of them were just sitting there. In their rushed on jogging bottoms and baggy jumpers, with Remus’ wild bed head and Janus’ own frizzy hair lying limply against his back. They were both shivering as the December weather leaked into the waiting room. “Just time to wait...” Remus smiled weakly. 

An hour passed awkwardly. The second hour passed both quickly and also as painstakingly slowly. 

Remus’ phone vibrated from his pocket:

Evil Twin Bro- Hey, you know lots of weird stuff about getting different stains out right?

- yep

-also it really isn’t that weird. 

-it’s called being an adult.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you know how to get blood out of t-shirt material?

-is it dried or nah

-soak in cold water

-wash like loads of times

Evil Twin Bro- I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work. Also, why are you awake at 2 in the morning you maniac!

-could ask you 2

Evil Twin Bro- I asked you first. 

-baby’s coming.

Evil Twin Bro- Wait really??????!!!!!!!!!

Evil Twin Bro- Congratulations!!!! 

-haven’t got the baby yet. waiting 4 surro. 

Evil Twin Bro- Are you at the hospital?

-yea

Evil Twin Bro- How long have you been waiting?

-like 2h

Evil Twin Bro- Woah, that’s rough. How you holding up?

-dunno

Evil Twin Bro- You don’t know?

-feel like I’m gonna vomit. but also excited. 

-well I don’t know if it’s good vomit or bad vomit y’know?

Evil Twin Bro- I really don’t. What are you lot doing then?

-J fell asleep. I’m trying to save battery on phone. 

-So just sitting here.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you want me to drop stuff off for you? Pat was planning this whole thing for when you lot got the baby. He was going to cook you lot some fancy dinner and take it to you three. So I don’t mind helping you out! I could give you some muffins (trust me you’ll start to get hungry) and I have an iPad with a few films downloaded so you won’t need wifi. 

-jesus why cant you be like everyone else and send a sentence at a time

-we’re all goiufhgb   

-Hello Roman. This is Janus. Yes, we would greatly appreciate you bringing some stuff. 

Evil Twin Bro- Haha, no problem!

“I can’t believe you’re dragging him here,” Remus sighed as Janus wordlessly passed his phone back. 

“Why not?” Janus answered honestly. His whole being looked dragged down by sleepiness. Remus shrugged and looked ahead. Janus usually put so much effort into his appearance. Even the most basic ‘going to the shop’ outfit was a dramatic black and yellow gothic Disney villain who actually did crimes look. But he was simply shrugged over in the chair. He looked sleepily up to him through his hair. 

“Why was he even asking all that at 2am anyway!” 

“You don’t want him to come?” Janus asked, Remus heaved a sigh and plopped his head on top of Janus’. 

“I dunno... I think I’m just tired and panicky. It’s all good,” Remus muttered off to a whisper. He pressed a kiss to his hair and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t actually sleep. He just wanted to stop all conversation. People continued bustling in and out and Janus managed to fall asleep again with his chin propped up against his chest. He was even letting out a steady stream of snorty snores. Remus kept his eyes closed hoping no one would try to start a conversation with him. Janus was the talker to other people of their relationship. He only opened his eyes when he felt a firm prod to his shoulder. 

“Hey Reem,” Roman whispered before flicking his forehead. 

“What do you want dickbag?” Remus answered without thinking. Janus thankfully stayed sleeping. Roman only gave a pity smile and held out his bag. He pulled out some muffins and bottles of flavoured water alongside the promised ipad covered in glittery space stickers. Remus was too busy dumping the bag on the floor to notice Roman trying to get him to stand up. 

“C’mon.” He gestured to over where the reception was. Remus nodded heavily and gently prised himself from Janus. 

Now that they were further away, Remus saw that another hour and a half had passed. “Woah, you took ages?” 

“Yeah, I thought about waking up Pat and then you have no idea what a nightmare it was trying to find a 24 hour shop. Like it was so much harder than I thought!” Roman now spoke loudly with his on brand gestures.

“Right...” Remus fluffed up his hair and slumped into another chair. Hmm, just as uncomfortable as the other. 

“You okay?” Roman lowered himself to his eye line, looking like he was talking to a spooked dog, “Like really?”

“Dunno. I-I just don’t know. I feel a bit all over the place to be honest,” Remus flung his head back, “What did you lot feel?”

“Pretty much the same,” Roman giggled, “Patton was a mess. I think it’s always one person does fine while the other has an existential crisis. That was definitely Pat. But he calmed down the second he got to see Logan.”

Remus nodded, not entirely sure if he was actually listening or just getting lost in the sensation of his heavy head tipping up and down. “Fair,”

“What’s going through your head right now?”

“Dunno... D-Do you...” Remus started before whipping his head to face the wall behind him, “do you think I’ll be like... I dunno a good dad?”

“Of course,” Roman slapped an hand on his shoulder. He was looking forward at the waiting room with an awkward wonky smirk. 

“Okay listen. Let’s be honest. Being emotional and gross with you just feels weird. I’ve been fine with having a baby before this. This is purely me panicking right now. As you said, I’ll be fine. So we can we not do emotional conversation?” Remus laughed awkwardly but he lightened up once Roman relaxed as well.

“Oh thank god you said it!” Roman laughed and melted back into his chair.

“Why were you coated in blood in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I wasn’t coated in blood,” Roman gasped way too loudly which Remus cackled at. Roman blushed bright red and nodded at the concerned receptionist, “I got the most random nose bleed out of nowhere and I knew you were the entire person in existence who wouldn’t question me.”

“You make me sound like a total weirdo! I would question you!”

“But you didn’t!” 

They settled into silence for a bit before inevitably Remus felt the need to speak, “How the hell did mum ever cope with twins? Like that seems like a lot...”

“Right?! Right after we had Logan, I think my mother’s day presents probably tripled in cost. She deserves it. Like all the same build up and worry but then you have another baby to come!” Roman shook his head.

“Aren’t babies are fairly gross as well?” Remus grimaced.

“Oh yeah! Don’t be put off from it! Oh, I feel so awful but the first time I saw Logan my first thought was ‘ew’. They don’t look anything like babies at first. Like Logan was blue with a traffic cone shaped head.”

“Their head is all fragile and mouldable. Janus made sure to show me pictures of newborns,” Remus stared off into nothing before turning to him with his signature smirk, only a little more tired, “But I am so telling Logan you thought he was an ugly baby.”

“Ahem,” Janus stood before them with an expectant look. Remus smiled and held out his arm which Janus jokingly shoved aside to sit down on the chair, “Hello Roman, I’m guessing you’re responsible for the pile of stuff that was at my feet.”

“Yep! How are you doing?” Roman smiled awkwardly.

“Tired but that’s to be expected. Are you staying long?” 

“No, actually that’s a good point! I really shouldn’t stay out longer. Pat will actually murder me for butting myself in,” Roman stood up with an exaggerated old man groan, “But... please text when you finally say hello to the little guy! I expect pictures!” 

Once Roman left, they wandered back over to their stuff and settled into a long night. Janus tried to stay awake. He knew that Remus was having a freak out. You would think it would be easy with the bright harsh lighting in the waiting room and the constant buzzing of conversation. Yet, his head bobbed lower and lower before Remus finally guided his head to his shoulder. He really tried but the tiredness and mix of emotions left him helpless. Remus only smiled at his useless husband before settling himself into Roman’s ipad. He settled into the Incredibles without much else to do. 

It was 5am when Remus saw the husband of the surrogate walk over to them. He didn’t think about it has he flung himself upwards, flinging Janus wide awake. The guy looked exhausted. “Hey, Remus and Janus?” He asked, thoroughly mispronouncing Janus, with his hand held out. Remus nodded awkwardly before thrusting a still waking up Janus at him.

“Yes, hello.” Janus shook his hand firmly. 

“Hey so the baby’s arrived,” He spoke softly as he walked back into the winding corridors he emerged from. They quickly followed after him, “He’s 6lb and about 20 inches. A little small thing but all healthy and average.”

“Aw, that’s all good to hear. Congratulations,” Janus sleepily smiled.

“Thanks but I think I’m supposed to be saying that to you two!” The guy chuckled awkwardly before he opened a door for them. 

Inside was the mother looking absolutely exhausted, curled up into her pillow with her frizzy hair thrown about the place. Janus subconsciously flicked his hand through his own hair, only now realising that he never brushed it before coming out. Ah well, not like anyone was looking their best for the demon of the baby that woke them all up. And of course there was the star of the show.

The baby was fussing a clear plastic crib looking thing, his reddened arms flinging around with his tiny little feet occasionally kicking. His face was screwed up but at least he wasn’t crying. He was simply laying there. The little boy that would change everything. 

Janus managed to pull away from the sight and say something to the mother. Remus deserved the first moments with their son. 

Remus looked at the mother but she was busy talking so he quietly shrugged before holding his hands out. It felt bad. They baby was clearly still fussy but quiet. What if picking him up set him off? But his hands were also hanging over him now. Sighing, he gently lowered his hands so they just about touched the tiny baby. He was warm to the touch and Remus grimaced at his thoughts that erupted from that. Maybe it was just because he was in a warm room. It felt like he was five years old all over again. It was like when a relative you barely know has a baby and just dumps the baby in your arms because it’s cute but you have no idea how to hold this fragile floppy new human. 

The baby sniffled at feeling his hands slowly worm underneath him but Remus then swiftly took hold of him and brought him to his chest, quietly shushing him without thinking. Thankfully, he settled down instantly. He was somehow both tiny and way heavier than he thought. “Heya little fella,” He cooed as he tried to uncurl his fist. The baby’s tiny little fingers uncurled and pressed back against his own finger. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Janus sighed as he came up behind Remus.

“Aw, he is. What are you guys naming him again?” The mother quietly asked.

“Virgil,” Remus answered but he kept his eyes glued to his baby. Janus smoothed his hand over the baby’s head. 

“Oh that’s a unique name!” The mother chirped.

“Has two people with unusual unique names, it only felt appropriate,” Janus muttered but his focus was completely enraptured by the baby, “Reem, do you mind doing the last of the paper work, then we can leave you all to recovery.”

“Cheers,” The father smiled awkwardly. Remus held out the baby and graciously lowered him into his arms. He perked up when he felt Remus press a kiss to his cheek, god he was clearly felt so sappy today. Not that he could really blame him.

They brought the baby carrier into the room ready to take him home and of course his eyes caught on their supplies. They brought a infant onesie- the cutest and non-halloween themed one they bought- but yet Janus frowned at the thought of trying to wrestle this baby into clothing. He looked much more comfortable pressed to his chest that he did lying down but he still looked like he could be seconds away from crying again. Of course, he couldn’t even begin to understand how stressful birth must be. The poor thing. He awkwardly bent backwards and grabbed the same blanket they bought about a month ago. Despite how much he tried, he couldn’t get out the black marker stain. It was just the first blanket they grabbed when preparing. Obviously. Of course. The first thing they grabbed. He grappled with the baby to gently cocoon him in the purple blanket. The spider web spiral sat in the middle of his back making him look like their little spider sitting in the middle of his purple spider web. 

He didn’t track when Remus came back in. He didn’t even think to keep up conversation with the biological parents. All he knew was that he was slowly stepping back and forth while pressing his face into Virgil’s own squishy cheek. 

Their little baby Virgil. 

[mar-bluu]

Hey there! I've been reading some of your stuff and I just... 🥰🥰🥰 So much good. We love! If you're still taking requests, (no worries if you're not) and would be interested, may I request #75 from the Fluff and Hurt/Comfort prompts (I think) "you're the only person I'd do this for" with Redfinch? Maybe just something mostly silly and fun, possibly featuring Rich Finch™? (but if your inspiration takes you elsewhere, that's fine by me. I'm not picky, I just want some happy for our boys.😉)

Heya!! I am SO sorry this took so long for me to get to, ran into quite a few problems while trying to write these last few months lol! Ship: Redfinch Word count: 3000 Warnings: swearing, mentions of a fight, i think that might be it?

“You ready to go?” Finch popped his head around the bedroom door, adjusting his suit cuffs as he checked in on his boyfriend. Albert was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, fiddling with his tie that was just a touch too loose and a little wonky. He sighed defeatedly. “I guess.” Finch walked over to him and grabbed hold of the tie, redoing it and smoothing his hands over Albert’s chest. “There. Now you’re ready.” Albert groaned and slumped forward, placing his head in the crook of Finch’s neck. “Do I really have to go? Super-fancy-high-end parties for dumb rich people really aren’t my thing.” Finch wrapped his arms around him and grinned. “It won’t be too bad. Just walk around, talk to a few stuffy people, have a drink or two, laugh politely at the occasional joke, and that’s all. We’ll only be a few hours.” He stepped back as Albert sighed again. “You’re the only person I’d do this for.” He muttered, grabbing Finch’s hand, and playing gently with his fingers. “And I appreciate every second you stay stuck with me there.” Albert smirked. “You owe me big time for this.” “I know.” Finch took hold of Albert’s wrists, adjusting his cuffs as Albert tried to do his hair with one hand. “Will your mum be there?” he asked, causing Finch to chuckle. “Yes, she will.” “Oh thank god! At least there’ll be some entertainment.” “My mother getting drunk and picking fights with other guests does not count as entertainment.” “Then why is it so fun to watch?” Albert stretched up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Finch rolled his eyes and tried to hide his reddening cheeks. “You know, sometimes I think you like my mother more than you like me.” “Well, you didn’t down six champagne flutes and deck the lady next to you for badmouthing the waitress.” “Not yet.” “Ooh, do I have something to look forward to tonight?” Finch just smirked, brushed some imaginary dust from Albert’s shoulder and left the room without a word. “Do I?” Albert called after him. “Come on, the car’s waiting.” Albert bounced out of the room following his boyfriends sown the hall. “Do I!?”

--

The large ballroom had been opened up, half the wall sliding back to reveal an extra room used to house the food and drink bar, but it made Albert feel vulnerable and exposed. He hated it. In a room full of up-tight men in stiff suits, and snotty women in flowing, over-the-top dresses, Albert felt completely out of place. He felt small, like everyone was watching him, judging him silently, every airy laugh or titter made him tense up. Finch had been dragged off by his dad to talk to a group of snobby looking people over by the fountain. Yeah, the fountain. There was a fountain just in the ballroom. Albert sighed, they’d only been there for an hour, but it felt like seven. He couldn’t wait to go home. He was sat at one of the elegantly decorated tables, resting his tired feet on the chair opposite –he knew he should’ve gone one shoe size higher- picking absentmindedly at a loose thread of the lace-trimmed tablecloth, lost in his own thoughts. The sound of someone clearing their throat above him pulled Albert from his thoughts. He quickly dropped the tablecloth and brushed his hands over his lap, looking up to see a lady in a lavish turquoise dress, dark hair scraped back into a high, stylish bun. She extended one delicately gloved hand, which Albert took on instinct. “Cordelia Van Rensselaer,” she introduced herself with a small curtsey. “And you are?” “I- uh, Albert, Albert DaSilva.” He stuttered, giving a small shaky nod of greeting. “Well, Mister DaSilva, I just happened to be walking by when I noticed you seemed to be awfully lonely.” Albert took his hand away. “Oh, no I’m-” “So I figured I’d come and brighten your evening.” She picked his hand back up, tapping her foot slightly as she fell into the beat of the song. “Shall we dance?” Cordelia pulled Albert to his feet, she was a lot stronger than she looked. He jumped a little, trying not to trip over his feet or step on her very expensive looking dress. “Ah! No-” Albert moved back, hitting the backs of his knees on the chair behind him. “I’m actually just waiting for my boyfriend to get back- and- and I’m not much of a dancer.” He pried himself out of Cordelia’s iron grip. “Oh.” She said, clearing her throat. “I see.” She smoothed her hands over the ruffles of her dress, opening her mouth to continue speaking, when she froze, eyes narrowing in realisation. “Wait… DaSilva,” she rolled his name around her mouth. “Boyfriend…” her eyes widened as the pieces clicked in place. “You’re dating Patrick Cortez!?” Albert stuttered. “I- uh- yeah? Finch is my boyfriend-” “Oh, I should’ve known!” Cordelia hissed. “That stuck up, no good jerk!” “Hey-” Albert tried to interject, frowning at her sharp words. “I did you a favour by offering to dance with you- I extended an olive branch and you set it on fire!” Albert blinked at her. “What are you fucking talking about?” “Enjoy the rest of your night, DaSilva!” with one last sneer at him, Cordelia turned on her heel, stuck her nose in the air and flounced away to harass her next victim. Albert stared after her in confusion and disbelief- mostly confusion- god, he hated these rich people parties.

--

“-and she spilled her champagne all over the oysters!” Finch laughed along with the group of other well-dressed people, tossing back gulps of wine and snacking on dainty little quiches that were being passed along by waiters. Finch held his hands up, excusing himself from the group, and not so inconspicuously scanned the room for a familiar streak of red hair. Spotting his boyfriend skulking over by the food, Finch smiled to himself and set his sights on Albert, making his way over as quickly yet subtly as possible, ready for a break from all the intrusive, boring questions. “Ah, Patrick!” Finch came to a screeching halt as his father materialised in front of him, an older man at his elbow. Shit! Here we go again. Finch resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Have you met Atticus Caswell and his sons?” he gestured to the other man. Finch bit the inside of his cheek. “No, I don’t believe I have.” He gave a strained smile as his father took him by the elbow and led him a few steps to the side, where another gathering of people he hadn’t noticed earlier stood, swirling wine in crystal glasses and chatting freely. Finch’s father immediately started forming a line of people for Finch to meet and talk to. Finch sighed, this was going to be a long, long night.

--

It was now ten pm and they had been at this stupid party for four hours. Four. Whole. Hours. Albert had eaten his way through half the food table and drunk at least three waiters clean out of their trays. And he hadn’t seen Finch once since they got there. Albert had been getting progressively more annoyed with the night as it dragged slowly on, but the dullness of not having his boyfriend at his side was what was killing him the most. He was beginning to seriously consider setting the gaudy curtains on fire just to get Finch’s attention. Just as his thoughts turned to the fountain, he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist. “Hey.” Albert craned his head back, trying to catch a glimpse of who was behind him. “Finch!” he gasped with delight as Finch buried his face into Albert’s neck, sighing with relief. “Miss me?” He asked and Albert grabbed hold of the hands that were still clasped tightly around his waist. “Not at all,” he smiled. “In fact, I quite enjoyed sitting here drowning myself in champagne and little tiny sandwiches. Did you know there are six different types of ham, but they all taste the same!” Finch grinned against his neck. “So I’m free to go back to mingling?” He began to untangle his hands from Albert’s. “No!” Albert pulled Finch’s arms back around him. “No, I was so bored! Please don’t leave me here to suffer again!” Finch chuckled and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Albert’s jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ve been just as bored as you are. Do you know how much it took me to not throw every single one of those people’s drinks in their faces? A lot.” “So why are we still here?” Albert whined. “It’s not like anyone would miss us.” Finch hummed. “Tempting, but you know my father would kill me. Besides-” “Well, would you look who it is?” The pair of them looked up to see a turquoise coloured demon standing in front of them, arms crossed over her chest, face turned to the ceiling as she looked down her nose at them. Finch sighed and let go of Albert, straightening his suit. “Hello, Miss Van Rensselaer, how are you this evening?” Cordelia clicked her tongue. “I was doing fine until you showed your hideous face.” “Hey-” Albert tried to interject, but Finch put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm. “That’s nice to hear,” he smiled, voice cold. “What may we help you with?” “Oh so now you want to help me?” Albert looked back and forth between the two, Cordelia had leaned right in, her face pushed right into Finch’s personal space. The overwhelming chemically floral scent of her perfume made Albert’s head spin and he fought to keep himself from coughing as he looked quizzically between the two. Finch rolled his eyes. “Look, Miss Van Rensselaer,” he had dropped the cold formalities. “If you don’t want anything from us, would you oh so kindly piss off? My boyfriend and I are trying to enjoy the night.” Cordelia screwed her eyes up and snarled. “Unfortunately for you, I’m allowed to stand wherever, and next to whoever I want!” her vicious demeanour shifted and she batted her eyelashes charmingly, pitching her voice up much higher than it was. “I hope I’m not sending you the wrong signals.” She said sweetly, baby-voice still dialled up to eleven. Finch not-so-subtly pulled on Albert’s sleeve, moving a step in front of him, narrowing his eyes at the haughty girl before him. Cordelia dropped her façade and returned to her aggressive stance. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Van Rensselaer’.” She hissed. Finch gasped, clutching at imaginary pearls. “Oh of course! My mistake, your royal bitchyness.” He bowed deeply. “Shall I kiss your ruby red slippers?” Cordelia bit back a growl, balling her hands into fists and stepping even closer to Finch, almost nose-to-nose with him. “Why you-” “Oh, Cordelia! Darling!” a whirlwind of champagne skirts rustled into view as Finch’s mother draped herself around Cordelia’s shoulders, wine glass loosely clutched in one hand. “How are you?” Albert struggled to keep the grin off his face. Finally, this night was going to get entertaining! Cordelia shifted under the other woman’s weight, stumbling slightly, trying to keep as far away from the wine that threatened to spill, as possible. “I- uh, I’m fine Mrs Cortez, thank you.” “Oh, that’s so good to hear darling!” She slurred. “But I saw you bothering my boys.” She tossed back another gulp of wine. “And I just wanted to remind you of what happened last time you tried something like that.” She purred, voice dripping with cheerful venom as she twisted a finger through a loose lock of Cordelia’s hair. Finch grinned and leaned down to Albert. “Cordie had the outline of my mother’s wedding ring on her cheek for a month!” He whispered through barely restrained laughter. Albert fought back a smile, as their attention was drawn back to the two ladies. Cordelia had grabbed Mrs Cortez’s wrist, still trying to keep away from the drink while also relieving herself of the weight of another woman hanging off her. “Well, Mrs Cortez,” she started, forcing a strained smile. “I was just having a friendly little chat with Patrick here!” She narrowed her eyes and hissed under her breath. “No reason for you to stick your fat nose in it.” Not as quietly as she thought, apparently. “What was that, darling?” Cordelia visibly froze. “O-oh! Nothing, Mrs Cortez, just clearing my throat.” “Mm, that’s what I thought.” She turned to look at her son. “And, oh! My boys! I got caught up, I forgot to ask you how your night’s going!” Finch pulled Albert closer to him by his waist. “It’s going well, thank you, mother.” “Ah, that’s good to hear sweetie!” Cordelia muttered again, her smile tightened “And you, Albert?” “Just fine, Mrs Cortez.” Albert grinned, shooting Cordelia a smug look from the corner of his eye. Cordelia snarled quietly. “Stuck-up bastard, I swear-” Mrs Cortez smiled, nails digging into Cordelia’s shoulders as she tried to stop her eyes from rolling. “Oh Cordie darling,” she sighed. “looks like we need to have another chat.” She moved her hand from Cordelia’s shoulder up to her pinned back hair, grabbing a fistful. “This way, darling.” And off she marched toward the balcony, dragging a squawking Cordelia behind her.

--

The entire room had gone silent, every person halting their conversation to watch them storm out. Albert and Finch followed suit, staring after them for a few seconds, until the balcony door slammed shut, and the room returned to its quiet chatter. Albert let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and laughed. He laughed and laughed, burying his face in Finch’s shoulder. He felt his boyfriend wrap him up in a hug, chuckling as well. “I love your mum.”  Finch snorted. “She loves you too, I think she asks more about you and how you are than she does me.” Albert stepped back, intertwining his fingers with Finch’s. “What can I say? I am pretty interesting.” He leaned out of the hug, hands still on Finch’s shoulders as the sound of Cordelia and Finch’s mother arguing floated faintly in from the balcony. The music slowly began to pick up again, and Finch smiled a little as he started to rock back and forth slightly, Albert could already tell what was coming and he bit back an eye roll and grin of his own. He felt Finch’s arm settle around his waist. “The night’s still young,” he murmured, pulling Albert back in closer. “Care to dance?” Albert smiled. “Ah you know I’m not much of a dancer, sweetheart.” Contrary to his words however, he reached down and slipped his hand inside of Finch’s squeezing it gently. “But with you, my dear? I’d love to.” and with that, Finch, who was undisputedly the better dancer of the two, lead them around a small section of the floor. Albert chuckled in embarrassment as he stumbled over his own feet, grabbing a little tighter on to his boyfriend’s shoulder. Finch slowed, helping Albert get his feet back under him before continuing on at a slower pace, listening to Albert count the steps under his breath. Eventually, they slowed again and returned to a gentle rocking, enjoying each other’s company. Finch could feel Albert growing tired, one hand clutched at his shoulder with the other pressed at his chest. “Hey Finch?” he murmured. “Hmm?” “I love you.” Finch blinked slowly, feeling a sweet warmth spread slowly through his chest. “I love you too, Albie.” And they stayed like that for a while, swaying in each other’s arms, letting the music wash over them, completely absorbed in each other’s presence. Albert, who was hiding his tiredness a little worse now –Finch was all but holding him up- could hear the steady beat of his boyfriend’s heart, which was not helping his sleepy state. “This is nice.” He mumbled into Finch’s dress shirt. “You also make a wonderful pillow, have I ever told you that?” “I don’t believe you have.” Finch chuckled quietly. “Well you do… you’re very warm… and comfortable…” he snuggled closer, and Finch watched as Albert’s eyes fluttered closed, he was just about to bend down and pick him up should he collapse in the middle of the ballroom, when a slightly muffled scream and the sound of a shattering wine glass sounded from the balcony, jerking Albert from his almost-sleep, steadying himself against Finch. The two of them looked toward the balcony, where the screaming was getting louder, before looking back at each other. “I think that may be our cue to leave,” Finch muttered glancing toward the balcony again. “I think you’re right,” Albert said, prying himself off of Finch and balancing on his own weak legs. Finch stole a glance toward the doorway that led out to the hall, then down to the exit and their freedom. “I’d say we can get the car around and be in bed in under half an hour if we leave now without any interruptions.” “Sounds like a plan,” Albert said as he stifled a yawn. Finch grabbed his wrist and gently tugged him toward the door, one eye on their escape and the other on the remaining guests, steering well clear of them. Their pace quickened as they passed through the door, turning into the hallway, and speeding toward the outside. Pushing open the large front doors, Finch helped Albert over the steps leading down to the garden where their car was waiting for them. “Hey, babe?” Albert asked as he and his boyfriend slid into the car. “Yeah?” “I’m never coming to one of these again.” Finch laughed. “Fair enough.” He took hold of Albert’s hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing his lips over Albert’s knuckles, before driving off into the night, leaving the stuffy party and all the stuck-up people at it, behind.

--

(@gendistic42 here’s the context :3)

[youarejesting]

Femme: 31

Recap: Waking up with only Taehyung leaves you time to think. After an impromptu massage and a collection of pictures and a bath.  You realize you were terribly in love with the BangtanBoys you facetime them crying. Prospects of appearing on a American Talk show. Later that day you walk in to see Yoongi and Taehyung tangled in a heated moment and you each record some remade christmas carols. In a moment of spontaneity, the three journeyed to their hometown of Daegu to visit their family.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, Yoonmin (Jimin x Yoongi) Taejin (Taehyung x Seokjin)

Rating: Mature Themes.

Warnings: Kissing, Heated Kissing, Making Love, Spanking, Dom/Sub vibes, voyeurism, exhibitionism.

Length: 3k words

Announcement: 

As a child you always wondered why the trip home was always quicker than the trip going somewhere. You made a note to ask the resident genius in the house why such a thing was. You could not believe in a few short months you had made friends and a family. You felt loved not only by the boys but their families as well, each one of them bringing you closure. You rarely had the chance to think about the family you left behind, but the train allowed for almost too much time to wander through those thoughts.

You rested your head on Taehyung’s shoulder listening to Epik High. Waking what felt like a second later to confirm your thoughts going home was always quicker. You arrived at the station to see your boys standing their rugged up in thick puffy coats waving long arms. You were engulfed into a tight group hug and they listened to you retell meeting their parents and gush about the pictures of tiny Yoongi, flashing the picture around the group.

“I’m glad you had fun” Hoseok smiled wrapping an arm around you and kissed your cheek as you headed home. You remembered to ask Namjoon about the travel phenomenon which he went into a long explanation about the illusion of time in your brain. Stepping into the warmth of the apartment you saw a bare plastic Christmas tree in the corner it was a snowy white color and beside it was a box of baubles and ornaments.

“We bought a tree but they had run out so it’s a bit small and they only had white and there wasn’t really any decorations but we managed to find a box of purple and silver” Jimin said his cheeks pink, “We wanted to decorate the tree with you”

You grinned throwing off your coat and dropping your bag in the entryway and rushing over to the tree it came up to your chin but you loved it. “Everyone has to decorate!” you exclaimed

“How about I play you a song instead, or it will get too crowded” Yoongi said moving to the small brown upright piano in the corner of the dining room and sat down. He played a few random chords before he started a familiar tune.

You all sang, while Taehyung was recording for your channel. Jimin was talking about even spacing of ornaments, Jungkook had the tinsel, Hoseok was plugging in the fairy lights, Jin was decorating the coffee table and the room. Namjoon sat alone sitting on the chair handing out baubles from the container.

“And the Star” Namjoon handed you the Silver star with the bright Purple Bow, smiling happily. You looked down at the object and handed it back much to his confusion. He leaned in waving you down to his level, he whispered in your ear looking at the other guys who were laughing at Jin who was placing mistletoe in the hall. Taehyung was underneath holding the step ladder and trying to film him. Hoseok pointed out they were both technically under the mistletoe and had to kiss. “You don’t like it?”

Once hung Jin stepped down nose to nose with Taehyung both staring intensely singing baby it’s cold outside neither backing down. Until Taehyung pulled Jin forward by his sweater and kissed him. You laughed shaking your head in disbelief turning back to Namjoon who had also been distracted by the mistletoe incident touched his cheek.

“No Joonie, I want you to put the star on love” His face went red as he stuttered about how it was going to go horribly wrong.

You took his two hands and guided him to the tree and he reached up placing the star on top, slightly wonky at first but you straightened it. Standing back as Hoseok switched on the twinkling lights you sat next to Yoongi watching his hands play the last few notes of the song with ease. Grinning you played the last notes back to him and he grinned “you can play?”

“Nope but I can remember and copy rather well” you grinned and he pulled you into his chest and laid his head on yours breathing in the peach scent of your shampoo. “Wait I do remember one song from a movie from my time can I play it?”

He nodded moving off the seat to lean on the upright giving you room to play with a grin you tried warming up your hands exaggeratedly and cracking your knuckles before playing. ‘Scales and arpeggios’ from the 1971 Aristocats film. His face turned into the disgusted face his eyes squinting and his lips curled as he slumped against the piano, you ignored him singing happily. Peeking over his arm you knew it was all for show and between the glint in his eyes and the shaking of his shoulders you could tell he was amused.

“Thank you, Thank you” You stood up acting as if you were receiving a standing ovation. Jin appeared behind Yoongi and grabbed your wrist pulling and spinning you until your back was pressed to the wall and he was hovering over you. He looked up and frowned taking your shoulders and sliding you a step to the left directly under the Mistletoe.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, it was a very heated kiss Jin’s hands traveled up your back under your shirt. His warm palms caressing the planes of your back his lips are so warm and silky soft you suspected he was wearing a cherry balm. His lips were hungry and eager to devour yours, his arms tightened around your waist lifting you up the wall. Wrapping your legs around him, your hands clutched his shoulders for support.

He nipped your lips and you parted them so he could deepen the kiss once more, his hips pressed yours against the wall and his hands clutched at your waist. He squeezed and massaged your sides from your hips to your breasts, muffling your moans with his mouth sucking softly on your tongue. Your tongues battled against one another and you weren’t ready to give up, you didn’t want to make it easy for him. Except he decided to play dirty his hands sliding up under your brassiere and he cupped your tender breasts rolling them in his hands. Hissing and pulling away from the kiss, his lips in a cocky smirk against your jaw. 

Warm breath ghosted your ear causing you to shiver. He pulled back planting brushing his thumb against your flushed and swollen lips, he admired how you looked. Hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, lips parted as you panted hard and all because he kissed you. “I am three course meal Kim Seok Jin” he walked away with a swagger and you knew if he said these words in any other situation you would find them hilarious. 

Staggering to the couch you let out a huge sigh like you had just finished climbing ten flights of stairs. Your mind was completely blank you didn’t know what you were supposed to be thinking about. You all finished filming and headed to bed. A single thought got stuck in your head, you didn’t know what to do about it.

What were the boys next door doing for Christmas? Should you invite them over. You wanted for a while to have friends over, you hummed sitting up making a small list of people you would contact to make sure they weren’t alone on Christmas. You couldn’t think of anything worse.

There was no way you would fall asleep yet, so you took your presents out and placed them under the tree. Jimin stepped out of the hall illuminated by the light of the tree and you made eye contact.

“I had a bad dream” he breathed. You were reminded of your younger self, seeking out your parents when you had nightmares. But Jimin was so far from home, it wasn’t as easy to go to his parents when he was worried about something.

“Tell me about it” you pulled him onto the couch and used your sleeve to wipe across his brow, he was clammy from fear.

“I had a dream and everything was going so well but everyone turned on me. You were all talking like I wasn’t there and you each agreed that it was better without me” Pulling him forward into a hug, you understood the feeling, you felt this way often around the boys.

“This feeling you have of not feeling good enough, I feel it too, you boys are perfect and here I am struggling to keep up. Hearing you say you feel like you aren’t good enough amazes me. To me you are perfect, beyond perfect. What am I doing wrong that you don’t feel like the Adonis you are”

“You aren’t doing anything wrong, it’s me who, I am making you second guess everything and bringing you down. I am supposed to make you feel loved and happy. I shouldn’t have you pity me, I want to be manly for you” You took his face in your hands delicately and kissed him softly. The kiss didn’t grow into anything intense it was delicate and soft full of sweet love. Jimin gently lowered you onto the couch and you could smell the orange blossom scent that was entirely him. 

He felt euphoric being around you, everything about you brought him happiness in the purest form. The idea of losing you was scary but also almost impossible to comprehend. How could he cope without you. Your existence was like the sun, he knew it would be impossible to live without you. It was a mystery how you all survived before you had come into each other's lives. Moving in with the boys for the program training as Teens and young adults, had been Jimin’s first six steps to being happy. He didn’t know how many steps there would be but he was so happy to climb them with his family.

You two were joined in such a gentle way it wasn’t like anything you had experienced this made you both shed a few tears. The only sound was your whispers of love and you crashed together overwhelmed with the emotions. The two of you fell asleep together exhausted. Jimin’s form was a welcomed weight on your chest, he wasn’t unbearably heavy, he was a comforting pressure, like you were secure in the moment and wouldn’t float away.

You woke you were pressed against Jimin’s chest the two of you still connected in body and soul but a blanket draped over you both. A retreating figure shuffling a mug of coffee in his hand the only clue to who provided you with the blanket. 

Jimin stirred awake his body used to his work routine, he apologized to you and helped you dress carrying you to his room to sleep a little more in peace. He had already told his second in charge he wouldn’t be working. He was allowed to be selfish and ask for a Saturday or two off during the month. He was the boss of course. 

You were woken by kisses and the brush of hair on your cheek. Memories flooded back and a warmth spread over you. Feeling loved you rolled away from Jimin burying your face into the pillow and squealing into the soft memory foam. He threw himself back onto his pillow laughing running his hand through his hair in habit.

“Ah my heart is going to burst” You whined kicking your legs.

“I love you, y/n baby look at me” he grinned and you rolled off the bed dodging his hands and sprinting out of the room. He was laughing his body struggling to hold himself up as he followed you out the room.

You ran into Namjoon’s office and pushed his chair away from the desk and slipped underneath he raised an eyebrow and the door opened. Jimin seemed to be struggling to speak between his fits of laughter. “Have you seen y/n?”

“y/n?”

“Yeah she is this big and the most beautiful treasure of my life” 

Your held your breath as Namjoon spoke, “I am not sure, I think she ran past”

“Okay make sure you catch her if you see her” Crawling out from under the desk when you heard the door you sighed in relief 

“That was close” you turned to see Jimin leaning on the desk with a grin. Hands locked around your waist pulling you onto his lap Namjoon chuckled.

“I am going to Shower, Hyung. You take care of our Princess”

“You sold me out” You struggled in his grip as he continued laughing.

“I did, because good girls shouldn’t try to keep secrets or hide themselves from us” he stood up pressing your chest to the desk “Should I teach you how to be a good girl?”

Hands pressed over your Tomato red face a squeak breaking through as he ran his hand down your back slowly. “Hmm, What do you say?”

“I really can’t say anything, it’s embarrassing” He laughed his hand reaching its destination on your behind. He loved you so much, you were so cute and he wanted to show you how much you meant to him, while also tease you.

“That’s okay, I will teach you” he grinned giving you smack to the behind. He leaned down watching you bury your face a little more in your hands “How was that? I need to know that it is still a yes. Otherwise you remember our safe word?”

“I think you could… maybe go a little harder.” Your ears were red, at the thought of something so strange making you feel so nice.

“Well, I won’t say no” he smiled, you finally found the right strength and told him, “You sure it’s not too hard?”

“How can you be so timid?” Yoongi scoffed from the doorway looking tired, he walked in leaving the door wide open and walking over. Namjoon sat in his chair, he understood the look in Yoongi’s eyes and wasn’t ready to challenge him just yet. “I was wondering what all the noise was”

Yoongi liked control, having very little and never having a say over certain situations growing up, he found the idea of being in control comforting. He pulled you back so your hands held the desk he squatted beside you and looked up, with a serious stare.  “Namjoon-ah has been going easy on you, huh?”

“That’s not fair you know I like your satoori” you pouted looking away from him and his intense stare. He pulled your face back to his by your chin. “It wasn’t easy”

“I think you can take more” he smiled “Tell me the safe word”

“Bangtan” you stated clearly and he nodded fire in his eyes telling you how good you were. Standing he ran his hand up your arm over your shoulder, he turned on the spot, his fingers lacing into your hair pulling it up.

“Look at him, you have to hold yourself pretty darling, straighten your back” his hand slid down your back and he pushed it down trying to flatten it. “I would like to sit my Glass of whiskey right here”

You shivered and he grabbed your hips and pressed, rotating them forwards to tilt your ass more prominent in the air he slowly removed your silk pajama bottoms before nudging your feet apart just a little over shoulder width and he smiled. “Doesn’t she look pretty, this is perfect form” Namjoon nodded, Yoongi’s palm rubbed soothing circles over the reddened cheek “How does it feel?” 

“It feels good” you said hearing a shuffle in the doorway, you couldn’t help glancing to see Taehyung who stopped and promptly turned to leave, you received a firm slap. A Surprised moan filled the room and Yoongi ‘tsked’. He couldn’t have you looking around that would be disrespectful, he wanted your attention on him, he wanted you to be waiting always anticipating his next move.

There was another shuffle and you glanced again unbeknownst to Yoongi’s ideas, the boys filed in and took a seat on the couch and watched Yoongi. Another stinging connection had you buzzing the warm throbbing feeling had also traveled to the apex of your thighs and shot up deeply between your hips. “I gave you orders to look at Namjoon, not only are you disrespecting me but disobeying my orders, you are disrespecting him, and we don’t want that do we love” he spoke softly. “Do we?”

“No we don’t want that”

“Good girl” he hummed his voice a low rumble. The desire to hold and comfort you was overwhelming. “Come here”

You turned to face him met with a soft expression and the smallest upturned corners of Yoongi’s mouth. He pulled you into his arms and just held you. You wrapped your arms around him and laid your head against his chest it was such a warm hug, it made you feel safe. He didn’t want anything more in that moment then to hold you.

You had realized early on that Yoongi didn’t always need physical affection to feel love, but you also learnt he didn’t always need sexual gratification to feel satisfied. He was the type of guy who could make it all about you and wouldn’t ask for anything in return. You could hear his heartbeat, it was strong and calming. Most people talked about falling in love being like two hearts beating as one but this seemed more like a call and answer. Like a harmonious Seesaw.

The others seemed to be chatting about how scary Yoongi was and how brave you were. “I don’t think, I would like to be smacked it would hurt my feelings and my butt” Taehyung said 

“I kind of want to try it” Jimin whispered making Yoongi’s heart flutter in his chest and you grinned up at Yoongi. 

“Yes Jimin, you should try?” You grinned and everyone seemed to lean forward in there seats as Jimin crossed the room, Namjoon pulled out a first aid kit from his desk and laid you over his lap, applying an ointment to your soft cheeks. You watched as Yoongi bent Jimin over so his hands securely held the desk, he knelt down and had a quick hushed conversation. Yoongi was an observer so he studied jimin’s eyes while confirming that the younger boy was ready and knew the safe word.

He smiled, “Look at our kitten” he said and you smiled at Jimin eyes locking asa Yoongi got him into position. Jimin looked much more graceful in this position the lines of his body were so pleasing to look at and you knew he looked better than you. He had removed Jimin’s pants and caressed his bare ass. You threw Jimin a thumbs up and he snorted his head falling and he was spanked hard and he looked up catching on quickly that he shouldn’t have laughed or looked away. 

Yoongi moved slightly before delivering the second blow, he of course had to be punished for both of his wrong doings. The second hit had his cock twitching. He inhaled sharply through his teeth before his mouth dropped open and he exhaled with the slightest whine. Yoongi applied the ointment from namjoon’s first aid kit and helped him to redress.

“You okay?” He hugged Jimin the same way he hugged you except Jimin was a little taller than you and so his chin sat on Yoongi’s shoulders. The two spoke some more in hushed tones before pulling away.

Hoseok received a text and was quick to sweep you away urging you to get dressed to go out. You were excited your second real date. He took you to a small market style place and he grinned explaining. “This is like a traveling market, it’s got good food, lots of stalls music and dancing” The two of you tried different food and bought some ugly Christmas sweaters for the five young boys next door. Filming the whole time just like with your date with Jimin.

The food was perfect your food preferences were very similar to Taehyung and Hoseok; not to spicy or sour. Feeling warm after a hot chocolate and a churro, you both couldn’t stop dancing. The event was moving to the park and so you helped the stalls and band move some instruments and product. They provided you with free lunch for your service and you played games with them until night began to fall and you ate dinner and started dancing once more.

“You were up on stage with Hoseok hitting a tambourine while he adlibbed to hype the crowd. His dancing had everyone amazed. He dipped you, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss that had the crowd cheering louder.

The walk home was slow and you swung your hands back and forth, in the middle of a rather deep conversation with Hoseok. Asking him about his work and family and everything that entered your mind. You entered the elevator and he leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the hips flush against him kissing you tenderly. What a perfect way to end the night.

Femme Media 31

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[smokeyloki]

“I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” Carter and Ben

The power came and went in little waves of itchy, tickling sensations that crawled under Ben’s skin, exploding into bursts of radiant color that only he seemed to see.  Ask him what his power actually was and he’d shrug his shoulders.  It involved desires, he knew; being able to know someone’s desires.  And sometimes, sometimes...he suspected that he could make those desires come true.  He wasn’t a genie, he knew, with a lamp or three wishes or loyalty to any one person.  But he didn’t know much beyond that.  He knew that he was hungry, and that his coffee, half-cold and still mostly untouched in its to-go cup, was doing nothing to keep him awake.

Ben sighed, grabbing his cup and sliding off the bar stool.  Time to shake these worrisome thoughts and head back to Carter’s apartment, he supposed.  Perhaps the young physician would actually be there when he arrived.  He hadn’t seen Carter all last night, and it wasn’t like Carter to not come back home.  

Well...he could always try to call him on that...what did they call it...?  A cell phone, right?  They didn’t have those in 1800′s England...

As he gathered his items, the door to the cafe was opened, and a pair of tired footsteps dragged themselves across the threshold and to the front counter.  Ben glanced up, pausing when he noticed the newcomer’s slumped posture, his tired, worried expression, the way he twisted a finger absently around a curl of red hair that bushed out around his freckled face.  Other than his obviously uncomfortable appearance, he wasn’t a remarkable young man.  But something about his curled hair, his dull, shifting gaze, the way he stumbled and mumbled his name for his order…Ben found himself sidling closer, engulfed in familiar hues of golds and greens that surrounded this man’s face.

“…Carter?”

The man turned, starting back as if the name had burned him.  

“Ben?"

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

Ben stirred his half-finished cup of coffee, now entirely cold, watching Carter nibble at an orange-cranberry scone.  More accurately, he was examining Carter’s spotless shirt, dress pants, and formal slacks. He was staring at Carter’s reddish curls, which had faded from their natural golden shimmer.  The color that surrounded his friend, too, colors that only Ben could see, wafting off each person like a personal aura, were different and wrong, though he couldn’t say how.

Carter sat back at last, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a long sip.

“I’m too sober for this.”

Ben blinked, sitting up a bit more.  Where…what had happened to Carter’s crisp Scottish accent?  His tone was clear, smooth, entirely devoid of his natural fluctuations and dips.

“..You don’t even drink,” Ben replied, slowly, his gaze sliding to the coffee cup in Carter’s hand. “Nothing besides coffee, water, and the occasional soda.”

Ben still has his own British accent, and he’s thankful to hear it coming out of his own mouth.  But Carter! It’s almost like Carter had changed into a new person overnight.  Someone cleaner, with better clothes and different hair and no Scottish accent, which made no sense.

…Unless…hadn’t he had some kind of strong desire…?

“Maybe I should start,” Carter grumbled, breaking into Ben’s train of thought.  But Ben already had an idea of what was happening, and his spirits sank as he processed the changes.  There was only one possible way that an overnight change could have happened…

“…I think I know what’s going on,” he finally spoke in a low voice.  Carter blinked at him, then leaned forward, picking at his long-sleeved shirt.  

“Please, Ben. You gotta help me out, here.  My own voice-!  Everything’s all wonky and…I can’t even begin to describe it to myself.  This can’t be a dream…it can’t be a hallucination, because you can see it..!”

Ben held up a hand, bringing his friend’s rambling to a stop.

“As I was saying,” he began, clearing his throat.  He picked at a bit of dried food which still clung to the tabletop.  “You wanted something, didn’t you?”

Carter looked at Ben, hard, then threw up his hands and waved them over his head.  

“Wanted something? Like what?  For my apartment to be gone for me to have some posh place down the road?  A dog? No one at the hospital recognized me and I couldn’t even tell them my name-!”

People were turning in their chairs, glancing over at the loud display being given.  Ben could feel their eyes, and he hunched over in his seat.  He didn’t like the staring, the attention, the murmurs he was sure they were exchanging about himself and Carter!  He held up his hands again, trying to get Carter to quiet down, if not stop talking entirely.  But Carter was done with his little outburst, and he sank back against his own chair, arms crossed.

“…Sorry.  I’m just…” he sighed and waved a hand.  “Go on, Ben.”

Ben gulped, his eyes darting toward the exit.  Then he breathed out, dragging his hands down his face.

“..It’s me, Carter. Me and you, both, that caused this.”

“…Come again?”

Ben pulled himself to sit up a bit more, taking a breath.  

“You wanted to please Hekla, Carter.  I felt it. You wanted her to be happy, to be taken care of.  I wanted to help, but I never know what my power is going to do with the desire.  I don’t have the control you have with your own abilities.  I just…I felt that you wanted that, and this is how the universe decided to interpret your desire.”  He sighed again, putting his hands to his face.

“I know…I know it doesn’t make sense.  It doesn’t to me, either.  But…that’s how I can best describe it.  That’s all I can think of.”

Carter was looking at him.  He also wasn’t saying anything, which bothered Ben more than the yelling from a few seconds ago.  So he peeped at his friend between his fingers.

“…Carter?”

Carter was pushing his cup back and forth, frowning at Ben.

“…So…if you did this…then you can reverse it, right?”

This was the question Ben was dreading.  His own gaze slid to Carter’s cup.  He watched it go to-and-fro, his skin crawling under the scrutinizing look that Carter was giving him.  He was waiting for an answer, and Ben didn’t want to give it because it wasn’t an answer his friend would like in the slightest.

“Ben…?”  

A sharp edge crept into Carter’s tone, so Ben dragged himself back to the conversation with a shake of his head and a resigned sigh.

“No.  Carter, I can’t.  I can’t reverse it unless you let that desire go.”

He ruffled a hand through his dark hair, then reached for his cup.  Now he was looking at Carter again, pinning him with a gaze to match his friend’s harsh tone.  

“Your desire to have life return to normal…to be yourself for Hekla…that needs to be stronger than this other desire.  It must subdue it.  Until then, my hands are tied.”

Carter opened his mouth.  Closed it. His face flushed, going a faint pink in his cheeks as he stared Ben down.  Then he stood, pushing back his chair and swiping up his cup.  With quick steps, Carter marched to the nearest door, tugging it open and stepping outside.  This left Ben alone with his cold coffee, and the staring eyes of other customers.  He scrubbed his face, slowly shifting to stand and push in his chair.  He needed a nap…he needed to just be home.  Home with his wife and boy, away from people that he only hurt with his powers.

People like Carter, who had given him kindness, only to be repaid with a new, confusing life that he couldn’t change without their help.

Wonderful work, Benjamin Dreeme.

[unityghost]

Perception

Promised my readers a holiday-themed installment of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. Sorry it's a little late; I, too, wound up at a Christmas party and got distracted by a dinner comprised entirely of black coffee and homemade M&M cookies.

As I've said before, this series isn't always in order. If there's a special part of the story or a request or something, I'll jump forward or back in time. This takes place just a year after Gabriel's rescue (which I always figured took place in the fall, but I'm not fastidious about the timeline).

Anyway, happy holidays and thanks for reading!

Gabriel really thought he’d been ready. But the air was thick with perfume, spices, meat, wine - and he needed to find an exit.

Mary Winchester’s friends were throwing a holiday party several miles north of the Men of Letters bunker. Just over a year had passed since Gabriel’s rescue from Hell, and he’d insisted to Sam - who had shown skepticism - that he could handle a crowd, and that he would probably enjoy seeing somewhere new. After all, Gabriel had accompanied them on a few hunts here and there and, for the most part, been fine.

Except that that was partly because his grace was now often at full strength. When Gabriel had enough of it on hand, he could shut out smells and sounds that drudged up bad memories. And while it was harder to ignore things that he could see in front of him, his grace gave him access to a clearer head and more self-control.

Yet even as his grace remained mostly steady, there were days when it fluctuated for no apparent reason. Gabriel had had moments when he would try and protect himself against things that upset him, only to find that he couldn’t. Inevitably, now and again he was compelled to eat to maintain his grace levels, or to get a few hours of rest.

After almost a thousand years of having it clawed out of him, perhaps Gabriel should have expected this quasi-gracelessness - this never knowing whether he would be at full power, or some power, or no power. But he’d been so desperate to get his grace back that he hadn’t once stopped to think that it might not be the same as it had been before.

It was exhausting. He simply wanted the random ebb and flow of grace to stop - even if it meant leaving him with no grace at all. That was better than wanting his grace and sometimes having access to it, then having it torn out of his grasp within a matter of hours.

Now, swallowed up by the crowd of strangers, he wove his way towards the door, all the while snatching glimpses of unfamiliar forms and faces. The Christmas jazz playing in the background flowed in and out of his ears - a brass rendition of Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.

It suddenly struck him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sung anything. He had once had a good voice, but hated to think what centuries of silence might have done to it.

“Gabriel?”

Gabriel jumped and whirled around, but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Cas. What’s up?”

Castiel frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”

“No - I just needed a second of the outside world, that’s all.”

“Is something wrong?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “My grace is acting up. I was feeling a little too warm.”

Castiel looked closely at him. “Then why are you so white?”

“Oh my god Castiel, you can’t just ask people why they’re white.”

Cas looked at him blankly.

“Ask Dean; he loves that movie. Anyway, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“May I come with you?”

Taken off-guard, Gabriel considered. One he got outside, he wasn’t sure what to expect from himself: there were things he may not want Castiel to see. On the other hand, Castiel had already witnessed some of Gabriel’s darkest moments, so perhaps there was no good reason to resist.

“All right,” said Gabriel. “Let’s go.”

They pushed through the remainder of the crowd, and Castiel opened the front door so that they could step outside together. Gabriel immediately regretted leaving his coat behind - he’d brought it to the gathering because iffy grace made him sensitive to cold - but didn’t dare go back inside to retrieve it.

“May I touch you?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel cast him a quizzical glance. “Okay.”

Castiel laid a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Gabriel looked away. “Long night. Funky grace. Leaves me feeling kind of antsy.”

“No, I recognize the look on your face. Something’s upset you.”

Gabriel swallowed.

“Tell me,” Castiel said softly.

Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Cas; I - there’s this feeling I get, this awful feeling. It screws with how I see the whole world. It makes things seem … perverted. Dark. Sick. People, places, whatever's in front of me. And it happens when I get wound up because of some stupid noise or smell or whatever. So I just … I needed to come out here and cool off.”

Castiel clutched his shoulder more firmly. “What made you feel that way just now?”

Gabriel’s stomach turned. “Don’t. Don’t make me talk about it.”

“Gabriel, if - ”

“Guys?”

They both looked up to find Sam leaning out the door, looking puzzled.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel acknowledged.

“What’re you doing out here? I saw you heading toward the door and tried to follow but, uh ���” He stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “One of Mom’s friends had a few too many glasses of champagne and was getting a little close for comfort.”

“Gross,” said Gabriel.

“Why are you out here?”

“Gabriel was feeling uneasy,” Cas explained before Gabriel could respond.

Sam’s face fell. “What happened?”

“I, uh …” Gabriel scratched the back of his neck. “Thought I’d clear my head. Nothing crazy.” Except me, he added silently.

Sam stepped closer, examining him. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I’m not. Seriously - just a few minutes and I’ll be okay. Now get back inside; Mary’s bachelorettes are waiting for you.”

“No, I think I’m having more fun out here.”

“Then Cas, go check on Dean and make sure he doesn’t need a liver transplant. At least one of you needs to be off angel-sitting duty.”

Castiel glanced between the two of them before meeting Sam’s gaze, and Gabriel recognized their unspoken agreement: He needs you, Sam, but I’m close by if you need me.

Gabriel’s insides twisted with guilt.

Castiel went back into the house and Sam, who’d had the sense to wear a coat, turned back to Gabriel. “So you weren’t up for it after all, I guess.”

“Welp,” said Gabriel, “I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong. Normal life is beyond my league. Why’d you even listen to me in the first place? Clearly my judgment’s every bit as whacked out as I am.”

“What’s going on?”

Gabriel sighed, looking away. “My grace is wonky tonight. So I couldn’t block out all the smells and the music and the voices and I ... I started to feel sick.”

Sam nodded. “You want me to tell Dean and Cas it’s time to head out?”

“No way! Let them have their fun. Ignore me and my passive-aggressive constitution.”

“All right. How are you feeling now?”

Gabriel hesitated, and considered telling Sam that he felt better. But Sam had a frustratingly keen eye for the truth, so perhaps it wasn’t worth the effort. “Pretty bent out of shape, I guess. I … it’s that gross feeling I get where everything seems …”

“I think you’ve described it as ‘grotesque.’”

“Yeah. That.”

“Huh.” Sam thought. “You want me to ride it out with you?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“You know I don’t mind,” Sam insisted. “Especially with Lorelei in there trying to get me into the corner.”

“If you want to.” A gust of wind whipped against Gabriel’s face, speckling it with snow.

“You’re freezing,” Sam observed. “What happened to your - ”

“Inside.”

“I can go get it for you.”

Now that Sam had offered to stay, Gabriel squirmed at the notion of being left on his own again. “No. Don’t. I have a nice cozy sweater.”

“A sweater and limited grace.” Sam shrugged off his own jacket and offered it to Gabriel.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a martyr. The last thing I need on my conscience is a Samsicle.”

“Take it,” Sam insisted. “Even at full stock you haven’t gained enough weight to keep you warm. I have three times the insulation you do. Here.”

“You’re annoying,” Gabriel replied, but accepted the coat and slipped it on. It was like being draped in a duvet. “Good, this’ll bulk me up a solid ten pounds.”

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“Obviously because you were busy getting it on with Lorelei.”

“I’m serious; what made you decide to run out into the cold by yourself?”

Gabriel shifted his feet on the damp driveway. “I don’t know. I guess … I guess I started to panic a little. For a second there I thought I would vomit on some innocent partygoer. And I’m not interested in looking like the town drunk.”

“What about now?”

“Now? I just feel stupid.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know, Sigmund. Just overall pretty disgusting.”

“It’ll pass.” Sam tried to sound reassuring, but Gabriel could hear the concern underneath.

“I could feel it coming on all night,” Gabriel admitted, lowering his gaze to his feet. “But I was hoping it’d wear off once I got used to being here.” He shivered, huddled inside Sam’s jacket, trying to quell the nausea raking at his throat. “I really thought I was on my way out of this. And my grace … sometimes it fluctuates by the hour.”

“I know. Give it some time. I’m sure it’ll get back to normal sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully in less than another eight and a half centuries.”

“Your grace is stronger than that.”

“Maybe. Used to be, anyway.” Gabriel looked up, watching the snow swirl down more heavily. It made him dizzy. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Gabriel’s voice trembled. “It’s not letting up. I feel …”

Sam reached out and touched his shoulder. “Is it something particular or you can’t really figure it out?”

“They were about to have a whole feast in there. The meat, it’s … you know.”

“Right. I remember.”

One of the lowest points of recovery, at least in Gabriel’s mind, had been set off by the powerful odor of Dean’s lamb recipe. Gabriel’s response was to lose awareness of his surroundings so that Sam practically had to drag him out of the kitchen. Secure in Sam’s bedroom, Gabriel had admitted to confessing in detail how Asmodeus had torn out his viscera and forced it down his throat. Once the truth was in the open, Gabriel lapsed into a fit of panic. The only good to come out of that episode had been an increased faith in Sam’s willingness to deal with Gabriel at his worst.

“And,” Gabriel went on, still avoiding eye contact, “There was perfume all over the place, and body heat, and … I just couldn’t stay in there.”

Sam creased his brow. “Perfume bothers you?”

“Hell has a robust inventory of succubi. And they smell like rose gardens until it comes time to rip their victims open and you can just about tastethe shredded organs in the air.” He struggled to get a full breath. “Being surrounded by all those people I didn’t know … everyone close enough to touch … the music …” He grimaced. “I don’t know what it was about the music. Reminded me of better days and somehow made everything worse at the same time. So all of that and now I feel like I’m not here.”

“No, hey, you’re okay.” Sam spoke gently. “Nothing is going to hurt you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “That was too much.”

“Yeah, I know, but we’re outside now.”

“It isn’t going away on its own; it - sometimes it last for hours. I can’t do that tonight. I can’t. Not again.” Gabriel opened his eyes and hugged himself, a protective reflex that still refused to die even after all this time.

“Then let me help,” Sam answered. “What can I do to keep you from getting caught up in that feeling, Gabriel? Here - ” Sam reached down and took Gabriel’s hand. “That feels safe, right? It doesn’t feel like that messed-up world you see around you, does it?”

Gabriel looked down at their hands. His was small and pale. “No.”

“Good. So. I want you to focus on that, all right? Just hold on. You’ll get both feet in the present, I promise.”

Gabriel nodded.

“And if you don’t think you can do anything about it, that’s okay too. All right? No one’s mad. No one’s going to be angry if you have a little trouble keeping it together.”

“Okay.”

There were a few moments of quiet. Then Gabriel said, “I feel sick.”

“You haven’t had anything to eat over the last few days. Your grace was fine, right?”

Gabriel shook his head, suddenly feeling panicked. “Yeah, well, now it isn’t. And I think I have to throw up. Crap Sam, I’m sorry - ”

“No, no, hey, we’ve talked about that. It’s all right.”

Gabriel let go of Sam’s hand to bend double over the snowy pavement. “You’re supposed to be inside enjoying yourself. And I - ”

“Calm down,” Sam placed a hand on Gabriel’s back. “Just calm down.”

Gabriel spat onto the pavement, trembling. Once he began gagging he found that Sam was right: there was nothing in his stomach except bile. Once he got that out, he retched over and over, bringing up nothing; and yet his body was desperate for release, for proof that some part of him was not locked in place.

“Easy, Gabe,” Sam said softly.

Gabriel heaved again, then grated out, “Sorry. Gross and pointless.”

“Don’t talk about Dean that way.”

Gabriel didn’t smile. “That hurt like a bitch.”

“Because you had nothing to throw up.”

“In that case I shouldn’t have been sick to my stomach in the first place.” Tremulously, he straightened back up. “But I guess psychosis doesn’t play fair, does it?”

“You’re not psychotic, Gabriel. It makes sense that you’d get scared by something that’s indicated a real threat before.”

“Sam, I - ” Gabriel huddled deeper inside Sam’s coat, trying to keep warm but also making a vague attempt to hide. “Sometimes I think - I think I’m borderline hallucinating.”

Sam frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Like …” Gabriel tried to figure out just how he wanted to explain. “Like sometimes I think he’s in the room with me. Feels like he’s standing there. My skin crawls, Sam. As if he’s breathing down my neck.” He shook his head. “But of course it’s always just my mind playing filthy tricks.”

“Gabriel, that still doesn’t sound anywhere near psychotic. You’re just on edge all the time because you weren’t allowed to let your guard down when you were with Asmodeus. It’ll go away. I used to get that too - Lucifer standing right next to me.”

But Sam looked uncertain, and Gabriel knew what he was thinking: things were different now, because eventually Lucifer really was at his side.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel went on, trying not to think about how Asmodeus, too, could come back to him. “Maybe it’ll stop someday. Maybe my grace’ll return. Maybe Castiel will learn how to play Cards Against Humanity without trying to be logical instead of hilarious. Who cares anymore, Sam? You guys - you’re lucky. Lucky you have such short lives. Must make things a hell of a lot easier.”

There was a long silence, broken only by a harsh gust of wind and a burst of laughter from inside the house.

“Whoops,” said Gabriel.

Sam took a deep, slow breath, then exhaled a silvery cloud of air.

“What can I say to deflect a diatribe?” asked Gabriel.

Sam didn’t reply, and Gabriel couldn’t read his expression.

“Maybe you should go back in,” Gabriel suggested.

But instead, Sam spoke. His voice was low, almost foreboding. “I thought you’d moved on from that. But I guess you just haven’t brought it up.”

Gabriel stiffened. “Well, it doesn’t exactly make for uplifting conversation.”

“And how many of our conversations qualify as ‘uplifting’?”

Gabriel shrugged. “You take a very zen approach to most things. ‘You’ll get better.’ ‘Nothing is permanent.’ ‘Be patient with yourself.’ So I’m pretty sure you go for uplifting. But me? I’m hopeless, Sam. We both know that; I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until one of us dies.”

“Gabriel, you just have to wait for your grace to - ”

“Even if my grace levels even out, there’s no guarantee that the rest of this won’t last forever. And you, your brother, your mom - every one of you has a definite end. For me, the only surefire stopping point is an archangel blade where it hurts.”

Sam’s eyes brightened with terror. “I can’t have you thinking that way.”

“Me neither.” The calmness of Gabriel’s voice surprised even him. “That’s the problem. It’s torture, Sam. Sometimes I think I’m no better off without Asmodeus than with him. The only difference is at least when I was down there, I got what I deserved. But pulling the emergency brakes would be a double win: I get what’s coming to me, and after that I don’t even have to think about it.”

Reflexively, because he didn’t want to watch Sam’s reaction, Gabriel turned away and stared into the snowfall, letting his eyes trace the patterns of individual flakes as they fell to the ground.

As a full minute went by without a response, Gabriel realized that Sam must be furious. In the past, Sam had reacted with rage to such words.

Gabriel’s heartbeat picked up, and he felt dangerously close to another round of dry-heaving. Was it really a good idea to stay facing away from Sam? Should Gabriel even try to defend himself? After all, what was the point of protection when his behavior - his entire existence - warranted every moment of whatever was coming next?

Gabriel whimpered, body tight with anticipation.

But when nothing happened, when the silence stretched on, he slowly turned around.

“Sam!” Gabriel was so startled that he forgot to be afraid. “Sam, what the hell?”

Sam didn’t say anything, just stood still and watched Gabriel through eyes flooded with tears.

Gabriel stared in horror. “Sam?”

“What am I supposed to expect from you, Gabriel?” Sam’s voice was strangled. “Am I just supposed to start bracing myself for a dead body every time I step into your room?”

Gabriel shrunk away. “I guess not as long as you keep the blade locked somewhere I can’t find it.”

Sam snorted. “Oh yeah? Sure sounds like you’re determined to find it one way or another.”

“I’m not! I just …”

When Gabriel didn’t continue, Sam’s gaze hardened. “You just what?”

Gabriel felt a sudden urge to dart away from Sam, into the liberty of darkness; into a gaping, unfamiliar space; into dangers he knew should have already been thrown in his path; into a broad, cold world in which he would never have to make anyone look at him ever again. “I just … sort of keep my eyes open for it.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “You don’t need me to tell you that it amounts to the same thing! Besides, Gabriel - where’s the line? When does ‘I just keep my eyes open’ become ‘sometimes I move things out of the way to see if the blade’s there’? You’re not going to realize when this changes into something you can't stop. And I won’t see it until it’s too late because you won’t let me! You know what’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen is you’re going to let this grow and grow until one day you look at it and realize it’s not the ‘maybe’ that you used to play around with.”

Gabriel took a step back, terrified by the light in Sam’s eyes. “Sam, you’re wrong; it’s not the same thing. This - this is a more, ah ... casual approach.”

“Well then how about no approach, Gabriel? What do you expect me to do with this? Am I gonna have to put you on lockdown just to make sure you don’t throw a whole year of work down the toilet?”

Gabriel gave a choked cry. “No, don’t lock me up. Don’t. Don’t do that, please. You haven’t wasted your time, Sam; I promise you haven’t - I’m still working on - ”

“It’s not my time, Gabriel; it’s yours! You gave just as much as I did and I know you know that! Somewhere in you, some part of you that Asmodeus never touched, you know that!”

From within the house, the Christmas music grew louder. God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.

Gabriel lowered his head and clutched his hair in both fists.

“Gabriel, say something!” Sam snapped. “Or I’m taking you back to the bunker now whether you want me to or not!”

“Sam, stop,” Gabriel whimpered.

“Then tell me what you expect me to do with what you just told me!”

Gabriel tightened his grip. “No, stop! Sam, I believe you!”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! I have no reason not to trust you on this! You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you!” His breathing quickened and he could feel tears forming in his own eyes as he made a frantic attempt to deflect Sam’s rage. “I’m sorry I don’t trust you. That’s on me. Because I don’t know how to trust you. I don’t trust anyone; I can’t. But if you think Asmodeus didn’t totally demolish me, maybe - maybe you’re right; I don’t know.” He let out a sob. “I’m trying, Sam! I’m really trying!”

Sam shook his head. “If you’re trying, how can you still be on the hunt for the blade?”

“I’m trying not to be!”

“Then why haven’t you told me what’s going through your head?”

“Because I keep hoping it’ll go away!” Gabriel began to cry more forcefully, still clutching his hair. “I’m sorry, Sam! I’m not expecting you to fix what’s wrong with me, but I’m not ready for you to change your mind. I know, I know, Sam, that I have no right to make you into the difference between me trying and me giving up, but - ” Gabriel let his hands slide from his hair to cover his face. “But you are.”

He felt Sam studying him from a few feet away. It was like being stripped, not quite in the way Asmodeus had done it but more as though someone were searching him for a bruise or infection.

“Gabriel.”

This time, when Gabriel looked into Sam’s face, he saw more resolve - more of the firm conviction that Gabriel could and would escape the worst possible damage.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sam’s voice was quiet and gentle now. “So I guess neither are you.”

Gabriel thought of all the reasons Sam would choose not to stay and help - thought of all the blunders that might lead to the same penalties inflicted every time Asmodeus spotted the wrong movement, heard the wrong turn of phrase, spotted the wrong place to stand or sit or lie down; thought of how Sam was standing in a sweater, snowflakes gathering in his hair, while Gabriel had not earned the privilege of warmth.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Sam said, interrupting his thoughts. “I just don’t want you to do anything to yourself. I don’t want you to hide from me, Gabriel. Because the longer you stow it away like this, the bigger it’s going to get. The harder it’ll be to move past it. So I’m not going to punish you if you let me know you’re feeling like you might do something serious, okay? I won’t. But you have to give someone a heads up. Even if you don’t want to.” He paused. “Especially if you don’t want to.”

Gabriel lowered his face again, letting the tears freeze against his cheeks.

“It’s cold,” Sam pointed out.

Immediately, Gabriel started to wriggle of out Sam’s coat.

Sam grabbed his wrist. “I’m fine. I just noticed that you were shivering.”

Gabriel shook his head. “That’s not why.”

“Oh. Got it. Okay, let me help.”

Gabriel didn’t try to fight when Sam pulled him into a hard, warm grip. It was strange to feel the snow at his back and the gentle beat of Sam’s heart against his ear. He trembled, letting the fear and the shame envelop him and no longer trying to force down the sense that he was still with Asmodeus.

As though reading his mind, Sam said, “You’re right here. I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Gabriel sucked in a jerky breath. “Takes - takes just a little Christmas cheer and suddenly I’m a basket case with no eggs in my basket.”

“Hey, I think you’ve still got one or two.”

“No thanks to me.”

Sam squeezed tighter.

“Flaky grace,” Gabriel murmured. “It’s a bitch.”

“It’ll get back to normal.”

“But how long am I going to have to wait?”

“I guess there’s no telling. Just let it go at its own pace.” Sam made to pull away, but Gabriel held on.

“Don’t,” Gabriel moaned. “Don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Sam pulled him close again. “Okay, sorry. I’m right here.”

Gabriel shut his eyes again. He could have fallen asleep standing up. This, being held like this, might be the only way to stop the nightmares.

“I hate being so freakin’ scared,” Gabriel said thickly. “It’s like a house of horrors. I wish I could describe it better, but I don’t know how to explain what a bad dream feels like. No control. No escape. This riles me up in a way nothing else can.”

“Ssh, it’s okay. Just let yourself breathe. Let it wear off.”

Gabriel turned his head so that his face was buried in Sam’s chest. He was long past caring about humiliating himself. “I can’t take this. I need it to stop.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. “I know, Gabriel. Let’s wait for it to quiet down together.”

“I think I’m going to start throwing up again.”

“No you’re not. Hold onto me, okay? Just focus on that. Block out everything else and just try to feel safe.”

Before Gabriel could reply, the door opened once more and Castiel stepped outside. “Sam, is everything all right?”

“We’re okay,” Sam said.

“How is he?”

“Taking a breather.”

“Does he need to lie down?”

Gabriel jerked his head up. “No.” He didn’t want to go inside.

Castiel looked him up and down, then nodded. “It’s late. Gabriel, if your grace is low, you must be tired. Let’s go back to the bunker.”

“That’s true,” Sam muttered to Gabriel. “It’s at least ten o’ clock and it takes three hours to get home even when it’s not snowing.”

“All right.” Gabriel’s voice was hoarse.

This time, when Sam released him, Gabriel didn’t try to hold on.

“You’re with us, right?” Sam asked under his breath. “You’re here?”

“Mostly.”

Sam turned to Castiel. “How far gone is my brother? I’m going to to stay in the back with Gabriel, so you’ll have to drive if Dean can’t.”

“Dean doesn’t want anyone else at the wheel even in the best of circumstances. The second he saw the snow, he decided it was better to refrain from overindulgence.”

“You ever want to see Dean exercise self-control, just threaten him with his car.”

“I’ll find him. Wait here.”

Once Castiel had gone back in, Gabriel collapsed against Sam again.

“Hey,” said Sam, surprised, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sam,” Gabriel replied. “I’m just sorry I thought I could do this. I wasn’t ready.”

“It’s okay. You tried.”

“I took you away from all the fun.”

“You took me away from a swarm of people I’ve never met and who I’ll probably never see again. The only time I’d do that voluntarily is if I were on a case. And besides, you know I want to help you.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?”

“I’m not sure. But like I said, I’m trying.”

There were a few moments of silence, and only as the door re-opened to usher Dean and Castiel back into the snowy darkness did Sam answer, “I believe you.”

[blxck-cxffee13]

The Red Line

For @hannahhateseverything

Summary: Spencer Reid takes the metro to and from work. So does Hannah Chase, the cute girl who works in HR.

A/N: Okay, I might’ve deviated just a touch from your prompt, but the spirit of it is certainly still there.

I hope you enjoy it bb ;)

Her name was Hannah. Hannah Chase.

And she was, without a doubt, one of the sexiest women that Spencer Reid had ever seen.

Not that he could ever tell her that, of course. That was an HR nightmare waiting to happen, and given that she worked for the Bureau’s HR department, it stood to reason that she’d know a thing or two about sexual harassment.

She visited the BAU offices about once a month - usually to go over payroll and logistics with Hotch - and occasionally Spencer would bump into her in the cafeteria or at the coffee bar and they’d share a small smile, but he was always far too shy to attempt to strike up a conversation.

But he’d noticed little things about her over the year or so that she’d been working for the Bureau.

Her dark hair was always pulled up into a perfectly twisted bun, her makeup was always subtle. She wore heels, but never anything over three inches. He’d never seen her in anything other than a skirt and blouse with a blazer to go over it, though whether or not she was wearing stockings depended entirely on the weather.

And then, one random day in September, she wore trousers. And her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn’t wearing makeup at all.

She looked tired, and he overheard her telling JJ that she’d broken up with her boyfriend and was in the process of moving out.

A week later, he spotted her on the metro while riding into work.

He started seeing her a lot more regularly after that.

But then, a case happened - as cases do - and his schedule went all wonky and he didn’t see her for a while.

Until one morning when he got to work a little earlier than usual and was heading into the kitchenette to get himself a cup of coffee when he nearly ran right into someone.

A woman. Who had bent over to pick something up.

A woman who had bent over to pick something up and had quite possibly the most perfect ass Spencer had ever seen.

He cleared his throat and immediately took a step back, cursing himself internally for the blush that was flooding his cheeks, a blush that only deepened when the woman in question straightened up and it turned out to be Hannah.

“Oh! Hi, sorry...” She shuffled out of the way so he could get by and he gave her a smile as he moved to grab a mug out of the cabinet.

“...I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologized as he retrieved the mug in question, turning back towards her with an awkward smile.

At least she was smiling back.

“Don’t sweat it.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I was kind of lost in my own little world there.”

Spencer knew the feeling.

“It’s um... It’s Spencer, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Hannah?”

“That’s me.” She giggled faintly, and Spencer was fairly certain he wasn’t imagining the faint blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I um... I was coming to give Agent Hotchner the most recent budget reports for the team.”

“Right.” Spencer licked his lips. “Well I um... I won’t keep you then.”

She was still smiling at him as she gave a nod and turned away, and Spencer had to force himself to not watch as she walked.

And failed.

And might’ve spent the rest of the day wondering what that perfect ass would feel like under his hands, slamming up against his hips as he...

You’re a walking HR incident waiting to happen, Reid.

Soon enough though, Spencer was back to riding the metro at his more usual times and he’d see Hannah from time to time. He’d sneak glances at her when he could, noticing the way her eyes would close as she listened to music on her ride home in the evenings, the way she clutched her coffee tight in the mornings.

Another case or six and his metro rides were all over the place again

And then, one dark night when the threat of a storm was tingling in the air, he found himself standing on the platform almost completely alone except for one other person.

Hannah.

She looked exhausted, but she gave him a warm smile all the same as she saw him, coming close because there was perhaps some comfort in their awkward familiarity.

She smelled faintly of ink toner and coffee and the remnants of her perfume.

As the train approached, the two of them moved together towards it, though Spencer naturally let her go in first, even if he stayed close once they’d boarded.

It was late, and she was a woman alone. He knew the statistics better than anyone, didn’t he?

It was a Friday night, but despite the lateness of the hour the car they were in was surprisingly full, standing room only and so they moved to the corner where a single pole was left for them to grab onto.

They rode in silence - it looked like Hannah was doing paperwork on her phone - but they occasionally brushed against each other with the swaying of the train and then there was one memorable moment when the train was coming to a stop - her stop - and she was moving forward as she gave him a smile, but the guy behind Spencer accidentally shoved him and Spencer had to reach out to stabilize himself, his hand landing on Hannah’s hip before he could catch himself.

She didn’t seem to mind, but Spencer couldn’t stop the stutter as he apologized, licking his lips again as he watched her hurry away so she didn’t miss her stop.

She was still smiling when she turned back to catch his eyes once the doors had closed and she was on the platform again.

It was another week or so before they managed to catch the same train again, a really late Tuesday night that found them once again sitting together - safety in numbers, Spencer had idly mentioned - with her sitting by the window and Spencer on the aisle seat.

There were a handful of other people on the car, but they were all minding their own business and probably weren’t thinking at all about the two FBI agents that were quietly sitting together in the far corner.

They were halfway through the last tunnel before Hannah’s stop before things went completely black, the train suddenly coming to a stop before emergency lighting came on.

A voice came on over the intercom informing them that there had been an incident up ahead, but to sit tight and await further information and instructions.

Spencer slumped in his seat but straightened again a moment later when he felt Hannah’s head drop to rest on his shoulder.

“...fucking figures...” She growled and Spencer turned his head to glance down at her. “I just wanted to go home, have a glass of wine and a hot bath and forget that today happened, but nooooo...”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He murmured, surprised when she reached out to take his hand with hers and lace their fingers together.

“People are dumb. That’s all.” She was tracing the veins in his arm with her free hand, though a moment later found her turning his hand over so she could trace her fingers along his palm and then up the digits.

“...has anyone ever told you that you have really nice hands?” Her voice was low, warm, almost intimate and Spencer wasn’t really sure what was happening, but he wanted to see where it was going.

“I um... I can’t say that they have, no. But thank you.”

She shifted slightly, turning towards him just a fraction as she studied his fingers a moment longer and it both exhilarated and confused the genius when she suddenly turned his hand back over and rested it on the warm skin of her knee.

Today was a no-tights day, apparently.

He wasn’t entirely aware of it, but his thumb had started to idly trace back and forth across that soft skin, but he was acutely aware of the way she curled into him, of the way she parted her legs just ever-so-slightly when he flexed his hand to feel more of that supple warmth.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is your conductor speaking-” Spencer’s hand tensed at the sudden burst of sound and he heard Hannah hiss slightly at the squeeze. “-we’ve heard back from dispatch and it looks like it’s gonna be about forty five minutes or so before they can get us out. Continue to just sit tight and we apologize for the inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you...” Spencer quietly murmured once the announcement was over, but Hannah hadn’t moved except to slide her hand up and wrap her fingers around his wrist.

“You didn’t,” She whispered in response, and Spencer still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he was damn well going to make sure he didn’t do anything to mess it up now.

“Just rest your head...” He cooed, smiling a hint to himself when she moved even closer to his side, but the movement caused his hand to slide a bit further up the inside of her thigh.

Neither of them seemed to mind that.

“This is going to sound forward-” She was saying, her voice low and warm and just barely loud enough for Spencer to hear. “-but I really want to break a few fraternization rules with you Spencer Reid.”

He blushed, but didn’t stop her. Encouraged her even, his hand sliding an inch further up her leg.

“You know I-I could send the reports in by email to Agent Hotchner every month...” Her breathing had grown a touch more labored all of a sudden. “...but I-I come to the BAU i-in the hopes of seeing you.”

His hand slid up a touch further. “Why me?”

“Because you’re hot.” She giggled, spreading her legs a bit further in encouragement.

Not that Spencer needed it, and a moment later found him carefully lifting her leg and pulling it over his own to open her up as far as her skirt would allow.

This wasn’t like him, and he knew it, but damn if he hadn’t thought about this a few times himself, especially after those really bad cases when he wanted nothing more than to go home to someone he could melt into and worship until the world made a little bit of sense again.

And here she was, literally offering herself to him.

“And because you’re brilliant-” Her breath suddenly caught in her throat as his hand slid up close enough that he could feel her heat and while he was almost completely focused on her, he was at least watching the other passengers to make sure they hadn’t noticed anything.

They hadn’t.

“Why else, beautiful?”

She whimpered faintly at the sudden naming and he gently shushed her.

“Easy, easy... Can you be quiet for me, beautiful?” He turned his head to press a kiss to her forehead, her face turning towards him and burying against his shoulder as she nodded.

To outsiders, it looked like she was settling in for a small nap.

“Promise me you’ll be quiet, and I’ll give you what you need beautiful.”

“I promise...” She managed to gasp and was immediately rewarded with his fingers sliding the rest of the way up, trailing lightly over the lace of her panties before he pressed his fingers against the damp material and rubbed.

“...why else, Hannah?” He made a V with his fingers and rubbed the outside of her lips for a moment before pushing aside her underwear and letting his fingers brush against her heated skin for the first time.

She swore, bit down on her lower lip, swore again.

“...your hands are perfect and you’re a good man and Christ don’t stop...”

He pushed a finger past the seam of her lips, letting it trail through the slick that had gathered there, properly wetting the digit for a moment before he found her clit.

“I live f-for the days...” She was whispering, lips barely moving as she somehow managed to spread her legs a bit wider for him and he rewarded her with rubbing her clit a little bit harder. “...w-when I get to go to your office.”

“Why is that?” He asked, his thumb taking over the circling so he could slide two fingers down and then inside of her, pressing another gentle kiss to her forehead as her hips bucked upward into the touch.

“Because I-I keep hoping... That I’ll work up the courage to-to ask you out.”

Her breath suddenly stopped when he found her g-spot and he knew by the way she was holding herself against him that it was taking everything in her being to stay quiet.

“So, you’re saying-” He rubbed her g-spot a little harder, feeling her start to tremble beside him as he worked her clit in tandem. “-that once we get off of this train car tonight, I have permission to take you on a proper date?”

She nodded, biting down harder on her lower lip and Spencer felt another gush of liquid coat his fingers and he smirked a touch to himself, making a mental note to explore that further later.

“Such a good girl for me...” He breathed, pressing his lips once again to her forehead, but letting them stay there as he worked his fingers in and out of her, as he rolled her clit beneath her thumb. “...such a good, beautiful girl...”

“Harder...” She begged, her voice hardly a breath and really, how could he deny her?

So he pressed harder, rubbed a little faster, worked his fingers in and out of her and made sure to press against her g-spot with each pass.

How she managed to stay silent save for a sudden sharp inhale when she came was a wonder, but she did and Spencer worked her through it, not stopping until she crested a second time a moment later and then reached down to pull his hand away from her.

“Too much...” She breathed and he nodded, bending down and doing something with his bag with his clean hand while he eagerly sucked his fingers clean at the same time.

He pressed a kiss to her leg before straightening up, letting his hand come once more to rest on her thigh which she immediately covered with her own.

“Ladies and gentleman, we thank you again for your patience. We’ve fixed the problem and should be underway again shortly. We apologize again for the inconvenience and hope you have a great rest of your evening.”

Spencer chuckled as he felt Hannah settle against him again.

“Does this mean I get to take you out to dinner now?” He murmured, surprised when she tilted her head up to glare at him.

“Absolutely not. Not tonight, at least.”

Wait. What? He frowned.

“I’m taking you home with me, Spencer Reid.” His frown increased a bit, but then it was his turn to suddenly bite back a moan when she let go of his hand to reach out and grab something else entirely.

“I don’t believe in leaving my man unsatisfied.”

She didn’t, either.

[carpemermaidtales]

Teddy, Ablus and James get stuck in an elevator for 10 hours

Here you are, my dear @goldentruth813!

send a ship or two characters + one of the three scenarios for a micro ficRead on AO3Teddy, James, Albus + getting trapped together on a broken elevator for ten hours

Hour One

Teddy grumbled under his breath and darted glances between James and Albus. They were hunched in opposite corners of the lift and currently not talking. They blamed each other for the state of the lift they were stuck in. Teddy shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his bomber and rolled his eyes.

Harry had allowed the three of them to rent a flat together in a Muggle part of the city under the strict understanding that none of them were to do anything that would threaten the Statute of Secrecy. That had all been well and good; they’d moved in without any trouble. They only did a handful of spells in the privacy of their flat.

But then James had been talking animatedly, waving his hands about as they piled into the lift, Al jabbing the button with his thumb. Without thinking about it, James had pulled his wand and cast a harmless Tempus to make sure they wouldn’t be late for the cinema.

That’s all it took.

The lift had gone haywire, lights flickering and the panel going all wonky so that nearly every floor was selected. The lift felt like it was backtracking before it went down again, then very slowly came to a stop as if it were a train completely running out of steam. There was a residual shimmer of magic flickering around the walls of the lift, even an advanced looking ward meshed across the ceiling where the escape hatch was.

They’d gaped at each other for two minutes, James’s wand still held aloft. And then James and Al had immediately gotten into a row over it. James shouted that Al asked what the time was, and Al pointed out that James had a perfectly working watch from their mum and dad.

Teddy glanced down at the watch Harry and his grandmother had gifted him with and pursed his lips. Almost forty minutes, that was how long they’d been sulking after their mutual strops.

“Why don’t we try the call button again,” Teddy suggested, trying to keep a level head. If all three of them got angry, they were sure to be at each other’s throats in the small space.

“It hasn’t worked the first ten times you tried it, so I’m sure it’s bound to work this time. Eleventh’s the charm, right?” Al shot over his shoulder before whipping back to face the wall.

Hour Two

“I’m starved,” James groaned.

“You just made a sandwich before we left the flat,” Teddy pointed out. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

“Yeah, but that was ages ago.”

“It was an hour and a half,” Al corrected. He was seated on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. He kept picking at a rip in his jeans, pulling threads until the hole over his knee got bigger.

James made another frustrated sound. “I wish I could just Floo grandma.”

“Well, now I’m hungry,” Al said, voice creeping into a whinging tone.

Teddy reached out his hand and pressed the red call button to send for help again, silently swearing when it proved to be futile.

Hour Three

“Well, that’s brilliant. We’ve completely missed the film. Well done, James,” Al muttered bitterly.

“Fuck off,” James said with little heat. After complaining about how he was going to expire from hunger, he’d slid down the wall to sprawl on the floor.

Teddy was the only one left standing.

Hour Four

“I’m so bored,” James declared. He’d shifted around to lay on his back, kicking his heels up onto the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle. He’d folded his hands behind his head.

“We’re all bored,” Teddy pointed out.

He was still standing, though his back was beginning to cramp from being stuck in an enclosed space with minimal room to move around. He’d done some knee lifts and bent over at the waist to try and stretch.

Al was snoring, head tipped back against the wall and mouth sagging open. Teddy envied both of them for their ability to fall asleep wherever.

Hour Five

“Teddy. Ted. Theodore Edward Teddington.”

“Merlin, what?” Teddy snapped, patience finally thinning. He should earn an Order of Merlin for putting up with his flatmates for five straight hours in the tiniest lift known to man. Teddy whirled around to face James, who was still spread out on the filthy floor. James had a bright look in his eyes and a smirk on his face.

“I dare you to—”

“James, no,” Teddy said firmly.

Hour Six

James jumped when Al’s steady snores abruptly ended in a snarled shout. Al sat up, blinking wildly. When he registered the surroundings he slumped back against the wall, the back of his head making a dull thunk.

“Still here, then,” Al said, drooping further. “Not a dream.”

“Nope,” James answered, popping the ‘p’.

“Hasn’t anyone complained that the lift isn’t working for them yet?” Teddy asked no one in particular.

“What if the magic’s made the electrical all wonky and now we’re in some kind of electro-magical pocket dimension,” Al suggested.

“Ominous,” James agreed solemnly.

Teddy sighed and finally gave in to sitting on the ground, pulling one knee up to rest his elbow on and letting the other stretch out in front of him.

“Wait, if the magic has broken the lift’s mechanics, what if it gets reported to the Misuse department and dad gets wind of it?” Al asked, shooting a horrified look at Teddy.

“If it means we get out of this lift, I’ll gladly face Harry for freedom,” Teddy said.

“Speak for yourself, mate,” James scoffed.

Hour Seven

Teddy pinched a long forelock of hair between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it just far enough forward that he could watch the colour change as he flipped back and forth from electric fuchsia to his usual shade of teal.

James was twirling his wand while he hummed a song from the wireless. Al was trying, unsuccessfully, to do yoga poses. Only, there wasn’t nearly enough room for the ones he was trying and his jeans constricted his movements, limiting how high he tried to bend his knee to go into the tree pose.

“Ah, shit,” James said suddenly.

“What is it?” Teddy asked.

James glanced up at him, shrugging. “I’m dying for a slash.”

“You could vanish it,” Al said, holding his arms out to balance himself when he wobbled.

“Yeah, but the smell lingers,” James reasoned, wrinkling his nose.

“Alright, well, we’ll just have to deal with that when it really gets to be too much for you to hold,” Teddy offered, voice stilted.

Hour Eight

“…Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty…”

“What are you doing now?” James asked.

“Counting the minutes. It’s been about fifteen,” Al said.

James snorted. “You have a watch. We all do. We all got watches for our seventeenth birthdays.”

“And yet, you still used a Tempus to tell the time instead of looking at your watch,” Al noted, tone blasé. He stared at James unblinkingly for a couple of beats before picking up where he left off with his count without losing track. “Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three…”

Teddy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the dull throb of an oncoming headache.

Hour Nine

“We should just accept that we’re going to die here.”

“Stop being so bloody dramatic, Jamie,” Al said, unimpressed. “We’re not going to die in here.

“We might,” James pointed out. “What if the magic sorts itself and then the lift doesn’t kick back on. We’ll plummet to our death.

“Isn’t there a safety mechanism in place that holds the lift up, though?” Teddy pointed out. He hoped he was right. He really didn’t fancy crashing do death in a horrible freak lift accident.

Hour Ten

“Are you three alright? Help is on the way.”

All three of their heads shot up at the sudden sound of Harry’s voice. Teddy met James and Al’s startled looks as they scrambled to stand up.

A moment later, a silvery stag leaned its head through the ceiling of the lift.

“Bugger,” Al swore under his breath.

“We’re fine,” Teddy reassured him. “We’ll think of something to tell him.”

“Gun not,” James barked quickly to get out of the responsibility.

“It’s only fair if it’s you, James, since it’s your fault we were even stuck in here,” Teddy said.

“Those aren’t the sacred rules of shotgun not, though, dear Ted,” James said, sing-song.

“Whatever it is, it needs to be good. Dad’ll be so fucked off if he finds out you used magic in the lift,” Al said.

The residual magic that had been intermittently flickering over the course of the day vanished and the lift doors opened to reveal that they were partway between floors. Teddy could see a number of legs standing on the floor above them. One figure crouched down and Harry’s face appeared in the opening.

“Hello, boys,” Harry greeted, looking relieved that they were safe. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Al said.

“Need to piss,” James said by way of greeting. Teddy elbowed him.

Harry snorted and turned away for a moment to speak to one of the other legs. When he turned back he reached an arm out. One by one, Harry fished them out of the broken lift. After hours, they were finally free.

[acharmedfanfiction]

The black ice cliffs of wherever the hell they were stood a hundred feet tall and at least half that thick. Walking through the ominous poorly lit gateway felt more like walking along a warped and frozen subway line—except for all the bones.

Every breath, every step, every rasp of bone on bone rubbing, multiplied into thousands of echoes which grew louder and softer in a mockery of the Doppler effect. The bones piled higher as they crept forward. Their breath misted up in miniature clouds before them. About halfway through the gateway, the skeletal remnants were so numerous they covered every inch of the ground. Gritting their teeth, they stepped on the bones and continued forward. Snaps and cracks of breaking bone added to the cacophony. The element of surprise was no longer an option.

The footing was too treacherous. The deep green and violet, and occasionally red or blue, pulses of luminance in the black ice walls did nothing to light the way. They only made the shadows shift and flow subtly, playing with shape and depth.

"This is the worst acid trip ever," muttered Paige.

Phoebe laughed nervously.

"Shh," admonished Piper.

If a demon appeared at the far end of the tunnel and charged, things would get nasty, fast. Given who they believed to be in the area, it was doubtful their powers would do much to slow them down. It would take the Power of Three, and they were sorely ill prepared to throw together a spell on the fly. The bones and ice made physical confrontation an even poorer choice.

Irrational fear threatened to overtake them. Piper, in particular, raced to reach the other side. She needed to find her sons, her family. Only a lifetime of demon fighting kept her from plowing through the piles of bones and worse without thought. Patience and caution prevailed.

She emerged from the gate into a courtyard in the midst of a permanent Arctic winter. The inside of the fortress was bleak, bitter, and beautiful in its simplicity and symmetry. There was a definitive lack of buildings, of a castle. Stairs led up to the battlements atop the walls at exactly even intervals. The courtyard was flat, smooth, covered in a thick sheet of ice, and at its center stood an angular distorted spire. Atop the spire sat a crenelated parapet that overlooked the walls and the grounds beneath.

The courtyard also held a sense of quiet stillness to it, as though it was not a place meant for living, breathing beings. The howl of wind outside and overhead did not reach the ground. It was silent as a tomb or forgotten graveyard, and each footstep sounded clearly on the ice, Echoes bounced back and forth in disapproval and menace.

Bones spilled out in a wave from the gate, rapidly tapering off after a few yards. Beyond that were only scattered groupings of twisted and misshapen skeletons. Paige walked over to one of the nearest piles and inspected it. The skull was too big to fit into an oil drum. The bone was too thick and dense to look entirely human. It reminded her of the remains of cavemen she had seen on a family field trip to the museum years previous.

"What the hell was it?" asked Phoebe. She too was looking down at a different skull. Her skull was slightly smaller but had the beginnings of horns abutting its brows.

"No clue," said Paige and Piper at the same time.

"Let's not stick around to find out," continued Piper, looking up at the central tower.

Phoebe abandoned the skull and stepped closer to her sisters. "Maybe we should take a moment. I mean—we were orbing to where Paige last felt Pyrrha and the rest. How the hell did we end up in the middle of a frozen medieval castle? I thought they were using a convergence of ley lines in the Canadian Rockies."

Paige joined them. "That is where I planned on taking us. Annie and Pyrrha did theorize that between the convergence and trying to open a gate to fairyland might make magical transportation wonky. It's why they orbed to the nearest town and hiked the rest of the way."

"Wonky how?" asked Piper, clearly losing patience.

Paige shrugged and gestured around them. "Like this?"

"So we're not where we need to be?"

Shaking her head, Paige pointed at the parapet. "It's faint, but I sense my daughter from up there."

"But we don't trust orbing?" asked Phoebe for confirmation.

Paige agreed, shoulders slumping. Concern flittered across her pale face; quickly replaced by determination.

"So we find the door to get into that thing." Without waiting for a response, Piper strode off toward the dark tower.

Mixed among the too large bones were broken piece of black ice interlaced with a strange metallic substance almost like almost solid mercury. The jigsaw-like remains reminded her of armor somehow. A few pieces bore the remnants of ornate engravings in gold and silver, confirming her suspicions. The artwork was among the most elaborate she had seen. Subconsciously, she counted out distinct piles of bones and icy armor: thirteen.

"There were thirteen of them," she whispered.

"Huh?"

She stopped and faced her sisters. "Thirteen piles of bones. And look at some of the ice, it's armor. They were guardians of this place."

"Who do you think killed them?" inquired Phoebe softly.

"Does it matter?"

Paige bent down to study the closest piece of armor. Scorch marks marred the edges. "This one was hit by at least one fire ball."

"Could be demons or Wyatt," griped Piper.

The second piece Paige picked up and turned it over. The ice was pockmarked. Tiny rivers of refrozen ice extended out from the holes. Something told her melting the ice took more than a simple fireball. While she had no doubt her oldest nephew was strong enough to produce the attack required to make such wounds, it was not his style.

"I don't think it was Wy," uttered Paige beneath her breath.

She stood back up and looked around. A shiver ran up and down her spine that had nothing to do with the subzero temperature. They were being watched.

Interspersed between the thirteen piles of remains were bones similar to the ones they are trodden upon in the gateway. The remains were smaller and less human yet still simian.

"These things remind me of trolls and orcs from those movies the boys like."

Paige glanced down at a skull and silently agreed with Phoebe. The feeling of being watched grew. She stiffly stepped back, closer to her sisters. Automatically, Piper and Phoebe reacted. They turned outward, pressed their backs together.

"What?" hissed Piper out of the corner of her mouth.

"A feeling," returned Paige.

"I don't see anything."

Piper narrowed her eyes. "Head to the tower. We need to find the door."

They crept toward the massive spire. Like the rest of the castle and courtyard, it was made of dark ice. They circled the base. It was a solid piece of ice. There was no hint of a divot or crevice to indicate the presence of an entrance. The purple, blue, and green pulsating lights swirled and mocked them in their quest.

"There's nothing here," said Piper in frustration. She angrily rapped her knuckles on the ice, eliciting a dull non-echoing thump.

"Try blasting it," suggested Phoebe.

"No," warned Paige. "It could rebound. Look at the damage to the guards. There was a massive display of power, and yet the surface of the tower is completely untouched."

Piper clucked her tongue. "Now what?"

At her words, the ice groaned. It parted right where Piper had knocked, forming an archway. The ice hiding it flowed flawlessly into the rest of the tower. The interior of the tower was all shadows and slowly shifting colored lights that did little to provide illumination. Inside was nothing bit a spiral staircase, winding perfectly up through the center of the spire toward the parapet.

"That's not creepy at all," deadpanned Phoebe.

Without warning, a sledgehammer slammed into the corner of the archway near Piper's head. She fell down, sporting a cut across her cheek from chipped ice. The three sisters spun around and gasped.

The skeletal remains across the courtyard were no longer simple piles of bones. Rotting and burnt flesh knitted together over animated bones. Ice armor swallowed former owners and acted to hold broken bodies together. Flashes of purple and sickly green magic buzzed across jagged gaps. Ghostly clouded gray eyes swiveled independently in eye sockets.

"Zombie trolls! Seriously!" complained Phoebe, dodging a tomahawk thrown at her head...

Go read the rest!