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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.25}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Two minutes after the elaborate goodnight wishes, the five girls were finally on their way down to the dungeons. Cas was babbling away as always, entertaining both Melissa and Lisa to the fullest, while Jorien and Robin merely listened and observed as they followed behind. The three girls up front barely made it down the spiral staircase, giggling as they were, but not even the gloomy darkness of the dungeon hallways could bring the calm and quiet of the night into their conversation as they happily chatted on and on about the many highlights of the dance. Thus it wasn't surprising when a minute later nobody took notice of Robin's quiet yelp as she was whisked away from the group in a crossing of one gloomy hallway with an even darker one.

The adrenaline in Robin's blood skyrocketed immediately, the yelp dying on her lips in a broken moment of initial surprise. Then the familiar arm around her waist and the comforting scent of home quenched every spark of fear or panic in her mind.

She found herself pressed against the cold stone wall a second later, kept in place by the weight of his body while his soft lips on her own demanded a fire she gladly returned, and every last cell in her body lit up in roaring flames as an immediate response. Her heart was bursting, drumming furiously against her ribcage while its echoes pulsed through her entire body in sheer blissful heat. Oh bloody fucking hell, this was magnificent… breathtaking, in every sense of the word. And it still was terribly dangerous, even here now in the dark. That, perhaps, was the only flaw of the moment, their one and only honest mistake.

"Are you aware that you are way too good at this?" Snape finally asked, ragged breaths brushing against Robin's skin as he leaned his forehead against hers. Upon this she smiled, but her eyes stayed closed as she found herself too overwhelmed to open them. She didn't need to; she could feel him, his presence, his warmth, his entire being…

"Really?" She finally let out a humoured and incredulous huff in reply. How could she be any good at this if she had never kissed anyone before? Was her lack of experience really not all that noticeable?

"Without a doubt. I would never allow myself to get this carried away in a school hallway of all places if you didn't enchant me beyond any measure. Beyond any reason."

"Sev-..." She was cut off by his lips, both in word and thought and she lost every string of reason that had just started to gather back together. Oh screw experience, they were way too good at this to even think of that. She must be doing something very right if he couldn't stop this madness either, couldn't resist the growing addiction.

It once again was the noise of people crossing by in a hallway close by that broke them apart, and only then Robin noticed for the first time how much it hurt to stand on one's tiptoes for an extended amount of time. For a kiss like that, she still would do it again and again any time.

"I should apologise for seizing you like that without your permission." He finally said when the retiring students' laughter and chattering had faded in the distance, then he took a step backwards to give Robin her space as well. "Who knew I could act like a dunderhead myself, given the chance."

"Oh, I knew." Robin couldn't help grinning as she stepped away from the wall, which earned her a small glare and a not-smirk. "And as much as I understand and appreciate your point, you do have my permission. Besides, where would be the point in suddenly pressing me against a wall and kissing me senseless if it came with a warning?"

Snape didn't look at her, but the corners of his lips were twitching and she could tell with utmost certainty that he was amused even though being rather flustered at the same time. It was surprisingly adorable, really, and made her wonder if he had never been in such a situation before. Well, not exactly the same situation, obviously, but still…

"I have wanted to do that for a long time now." He replied to her surprise, and his eyes were back on hers, dark and intense and every last idea of adorable was gone. Instead, his gaze made Robin shiver in delighted excitement. "But never would I have thought that it would be better than anything I was even vaguely able to imagine."

"You imagined kissing me?"

"More often than I should admit to, if I want to keep some last scraps of dignity at least."

"I've seen you lying in a muddy river before, as well as being stuck in a giant cobweb. And if that's not enough, we were just snogging in the hallways like the hormonal teenagers we scold for doing the very same. I think it's a bit too late to worry about your dignity with me." Robin chuckled, louder even when Snape rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but her heart soared when he smiled again after all. "We really should get out of the hallways though, I'm tired of fearing people might run into us. I really don't see how the danger of getting caught can be appealing to someone, for me it's just nerve-wracking."

"I could not agree more."

After taking two seconds to straighten out their appearances just in case, they made their way through the gloomy darkness side by side like they had done so often by now, with the small but significant change that the accidental touches, the brushing of hands and bumping of arms were more intentional than not this time, and both knew it to be their fullest intention as well. Robin couldn't keep the grin off her face, but she bit her bottom lip to tone it down as much as possible. She hadn't felt so much giddy excitement in one night since… well, ever really. And when they walked right past the office, then past the lab as well, a liquid lightning ran from the top of her head down her spine to her very core and every cell beyond. These new rushes were only an additional layer to the bottomless adoration and affection that had been there for years now, to the deeply rooted love she held for him, but it was a heavenly addition nonetheless. It certainly gave the term 'allconsuming' an entirely new meaning, an inevitably deeper one.

It was only when Snape stopped in the crossing of hallways that on one end led to the common room and to his rooms on the other that Robin's smile faltered. With a confused frown she didn't bother to hide she came to a halt as well, looking up at him with the question clear as night in her eyes so she wouldn't have to say the words. It was safer than admitting to being as boldly assuming as she had been… somehow she hadn't doubted that they would at least have a coffee. Like always. Or… did he need space now, with everything that had happened? After all the days and nights they had spent together, he didn't really strike Robin as the kind of person who would need space, not from her. From others, yes, always if possible, but he hadn't sent her away in years, rather on the contrary really. So-...

"I don't know if this could be considered a good idea by any means." He said in a calm tone, reluctant almost while yet he reached out for Robin's hand and pulled her closer to himself. Always the contradiction, that man…

"And why wouldn't it be a good idea?" She asked in return, calm encouragement colouring her voice now that she knew the reason for his hesitation wasn't a sudden wish for distance. Indeed, as if to prove that point, he interlaced their fingers and drew her closer the last bit in a single move of gentle elegance.

"Because if you come with me right now, I won't let you leave again until we are late for breakfast." He replied quietly and yet in that intense sincerity that had Robin's heart skipping beats while her eyes were glued to his. Gods, he really did mean it… excitement struck her like lightning, her heartbeat posed the thunder.

"I can live with that." She managed to say in a breath, her lips curving up into a smile upon the repetition of his earlier words. Then they formed a smirk as she went on. "Bold of you to assume that I'll want to leave for breakfast though."

"Oh, I've never been partial to having three meals per day anyway."

His reply made Robin laugh, then smile up at him brightly and with just a hint of tease. "It's not such a bad idea after all, huh?"

"That would depend entirely on who you ask." He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, then walked on down the hallway with a start while keeping hold of Robin's hand. She didn't need to be not-told twice to follow, and was again walking by his side when he spoke on. "I for my part cannot complain, and I honestly don't care about any other opinion but yours beyond that."

"Complaining wouldn't help you at this point anyway, because I have recently discovered the perfect way to bribe you."

"Is that so?"

"Open the door and I'll show you." Robin replied easily but with a teasing smirk no less once they reached his rooms in the bow of the hallway.

"Don't tempt me."

"Isn't that what a temptation is supposed to do?" She quipped while her smirk broadened. "Tempt?"

"You are insufferable."

"Or perhaps tease? Allure? Seduce? Ens-..." She didn't get further when she was pulled through the now open door and into the darkness behind it, barely catching how it was thrown shut again before she found herself tightly trapped against it from the inside. The grin that wanted to form on her lips died a broken second later when she got exactly what she wanted, and yet, as always, so much more.

His lips moved against hers in hunger, returning every bit of passion she gave, and yet there wasn't a hint of roughness in the kiss, no blunt strength which would taint the blissful sensuality. In a spark of boldness or bravery, Robin traced the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip, only for him to gasp against her lips in return. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and did the same thing again, the gasp turned into a silent moan and he pulled her with him away from the door, staggering through the darkness with a baffling certainty until one unfortunate movement of his hand over the hurting spot on Robin's back made her first hiss in pain, then flinch at the intensity of it. He let go of her immediately in return, and Robin's first fathomable thought was a silent curse directed at Morgan for being the cause of what had broken apart this moment. The stupid pain in her back.

"What did I do this time?" Snape asked in honest concern as well as subtle remorse, and a second later the fireplace lit up from a wordless spell, illuminating the remainder of the room in a gentle orange golden glow. They had almost reached the sofa by now, obviously having made their way there before the pain had put a stop to their plans.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise." Robin immediately gave him a small but reassuring smile, and held onto him so he wouldn't even think about moving away. "It's just that spot on my back that's still hurting ever since Morgan touched it, it really doesn't matter. Don't worry."

"Your back simply started hurting out of nowhere upon his touch during the dance? And he didn't speak a word?" Snape still inquired further, in lingering concern but quite obviously more at ease now that he knew it wasn't his doing that had hurt her at least. Robin had to smile at his sheer inability not to worry about her; it made her heart soar in warmth and adoration all the more. And seeing as he wouldn't stop asking, now that she had brought the mysterious pain to his attention, they might just have to deal with it right now.

"Not a word that was a spell, at least… and yes, he just traced his fingers over my back and that caused a strong stinging and burning that faded a moment later though. Now it hurts whenever someone even comes close to touching it. That's why I flinched so stupidly." She shrugged with a half smile. "Sorry for that."

"Don't apologise for what clearly isn't your fault. I should curse Morgan into oblivion for hurting you right in this instant… but I would rather take your pain away if I can." Snape sighed, then paused for a moment, lost in thought, before he finally spoke up again. "Did it hurt when your back hit the wall? Or the door? Or is it just a hand's touch that hurts?"

The question made Robin frown to herself; she hadn't considered that. The answer she came up with for herself then rendered her frown even deeper. "I believe it's just an actual human touch that causes me pain. It didn't hurt at all when I leaned against whatever surface, and neither does the dress make it sore or anything like that… But you and the girls could hurt me quite a bit by just touching any spot on my back. What does that mean?"

"I have a vague idea." He grumbled to himself at the thought of it, and Robin understood the sentiment only too well in this regard. "Can you touch it without pain?"

"I can try…" She mused and did just that, but even though she only barely could reach the spot with the back of her fingers when she twisted her arm enough, there should have been at least a little sting. But no, nothing, no pain at all. She frowned to herself again. "That's weird. I can't even precisely tell you where it is when it doesn't hurt… and I can touch it without pain. Perhaps it's nothing."

"Magical wounds should not be taken lightly, especially if inflicted by someone as irresponsible as Morgan. We should take you to the hospital wing."

"Or you could look at it here." Robin suggested easily, shrugging with one shoulder as she observed his reluctant but not averse expression. "You know more about the situation with Morgan, about what happened tonight and about me than anyone in the infirmary. I really don't mean to doubt their abilities at all, but I think if it's a magical thing of more or less unknown origin, it falls more into the dark arts anyway, which precisely is the point where I would prefer you to look at it. Who knows, maybe it really is nothing and we're through with it in two minutes… we could save ourselves the time of way. I have other plans for tonight than sitting around the infirmary with a bunch of punch-drunk students."

"Do you?" He couldn't help the smirk on his lips upon that, even though it was clear that he was trying to fight the short lived amusement due to the otherwise serious situation. At least it wasn't serious enough to warrant the complete absence of humour on his end, so that was a relief at least.

"Yeah, actually. I was hoping for a drink and the continuation of where we were interrupted, but I'm still open for further suggestions." She smiled up at him and he rolled his eyes, but the amusement stayed nonetheless, which sufficed to give Robin some more courage. They'd be through with this in no time, they always had been when she'd been injured. "Do you happen to know a spell to undo a million tiny buttons? I haven't found one yet, but if anyone knows such a thing, it would have to be you."

He let out an amused huff, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin. "I believe if there was such a spell, I would have discovered it by now. Every time I tried to invent one myself however, it led to the destruction of the garment rather than the desired result. Therefore I unfortunately have to disappoint you. Why do you ask?"

"Because it would have spared you work." She chuckled, somewhere between humour and embarrassment, the latter of which however she strongly tried to reason against. He'd seen her in various stages of undress over time, and it had never been a big deal. Or had it? Would he think differently of it now than he had over summer? Gods, why was she nervous now?! It wasn't even the kind of situation where she should be nervous, they were just trying to make sure that her back was alright, for heaven's sake! And she still stood with her point that she would rather have Snape looking at her injuries than anyone else, even in complete disregard to the most recent developments between them. This had nothing to do with that, it was just a coincidence. An oddly fitting one, going by the line of events.

Robin resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at herself and her antics and merely turned around so that her back was right in front of him, making an obvious point of what she wanted him to do. This wasn't a movie; plots didn't just fall into place like that. Two things could happen without any obvious correlation between them. She sighed, then focused on the task at hand. "Perhaps I should've worn a dress with a zipper like everyone else, huh? Then again, I wasn't really expecting anyone having to undress me tonight."

She didn't need to look at him to know that he was hesitating, and if she was honest, she couldn't really blame him. Truth was that things were different now, or could be different now, and it was uncharted territory for both of them. Either of them was uncertain what to make of it, afraid to make a wrong move. At least it brought some peace and relief to her mind that he obviously was just as insecure as she was in this new and yet so very familiar moment of innocent intimacy. Even though things like this had happened in the plenty over summer already.

"We're just looking at my back for the damage Morgan did yet again… Just like the times he dislocated my shoulder, or cut open my hand, or-... well, you know what I mean. You've seen me torn up and bloody before, and we've always taken care of it. And I know for a fact that your hands aren't cold, so there really is nothing to worry about, right?" She said in a calm, almost soothing voice, both to him and herself, and contrary to what she had thought, it actually caused an overwhelming wave of ease and comfort to wash over her when he finally started with the first button in the back of her neck. When his fingers brushed against her skin however, her breathing hitched nonetheless while goosebumps covered her skin within a broken second. Perhaps this wasn't entirely like it had been over summer… But comfort and excitement were what it caused yet again, and that really seemed to be a reoccurring theme with them. Their own perfect ambivalence. Home and adventure at once.

It didn't take long at all until the buttons were open down to her waist, just far enough so she could slip the spiky and stiff shoulder parts off her arms, which left her to clutch the front of her dress to her chest quite a bit more tightly than necessary. Robin blamed the neckline of her dress for making her forsake any kind of bralette… It left her upper body entirely bare now, and that in return was the reason why she was clutching the front of the dress to her chest. But then again, she didn't really mind it too much if she was being honest with herself. Having an excuse to show some skin… forcing her to be bolder than she was… it really was terribly exciting for some stupid reason. A lucky coincidence, even if a bit poorly timed. Most of all however, Robin liked the reaction she was getting from the man behind her, judged by the fact that his heartbeat had doubled in speed by the time her back was exposed to him almost entirely. There it was again, that overwhelming excitement that came with the power she seemed to have over him… the knowledge that her mere being did such things to him. But they were just looking at her back for the spellwork done on her, and she gave herself a mental slap to stop pondering how they could go on from there. Unrelated situations, and all that…

"So… how does it look?" She finally asked in a surprising calmness, considering that her every sense was heightened to the extreme. Gods, she wanted him to touch her skin again, even if it would hurt… No, bad thought, bad Robin! There was work to do, and she was getting distracted!

"Like three hand-length cuts that seem to have scarred. Did you ever notice those before? They look far older than just a few hours." He mused in return, then carefully pulled Robin closer to the fireplace by her elbow. She didn't resist and merely walked backwards blindly until she was in the direct light of the fire, and thereby also in the reach of its warmth. He stopped her there, and for a moment she wondered if he needed the light or if he had just noticed the goosebumps on her skin. Duh, obviously he had… they were hard to miss, even if they weren't at all caused by the cold. Either way, his hand lingered on her arm, and that was even more welcome than the fire's warmth.

"Actual scars? I don't think I've had them before, no. And truth be told, you probably would've seen them before if they had been there for longer." She finally remembered to reply, then frowned to herself. "And in addition to that, I can't remember ever getting severely injured on the back. Other than the thing with the bludger in fifth year, that is… I never really knew exactly how badly I hurt myself there, and I never dared to ask."

"Badly enough to have me terrified of your impending death."

"Oops…" She breathed rather lamely, then chuckled to herself almost apologetically. "I guess passing out in the infirmary right in front of your eyes didn't help much with that."

"No. Neither did it prepare me for the instance last summer where you actually came close to death when you passed out on my doorstep." He said in a sigh, then the hand on Robin's arm vanished as he spoke on. "Let us ensure that it won't happen again and find out what that pest of a man did to you this time. Tell me when the pain becomes noticeable, yes?"

Robin only hummed in agreement, and jumped a second later when he placed a hand on her shoulder this time, in a gentle touch that had her melting right on the spot. Slowly and with just enough pressure to be noticeable at all, his fingers danced across her skin, down to her shoulder blade and over her spine, tracing three lines at last with a bit more pressure. Robin had to bite her lip to keep in both a sigh of bliss and a whimper of pain. For some odd reason these two were currently very hard to tell apart in that they both caused an echo of his touch, a heat pulsing through her in the rhythm of her heartbeat.

"Didn't that hurt at all?" He asked with a frown practically ingrained in his tone, as well as confusion in the plenty, and Robin had to call defeat to circumstance.

"Oh. Yes, it did. Sorry, I really should have said something." She admitted in a quiet voice, then got a grasp of herself and continued on a little louder. "But I didn't want you to stop, so I kind of… forgot speech over the overwhelming feeling of having your touch on my back at all."

"You do make it very difficult for me to focus on the problem at hand when you say things like that."

His words brought a smile to Robin's face as it suddenly eradicated the nervousness, and she was only glad that he couldn't see it. "I'm sorry."

"You're not."

"True, I'm not." She couldn't help chuckling at her own half-hearted attempt to fool him, and even more at his trenchant ability to see right through her. "But I'll try to focus on the problem now instead of how amazing your hands feel on my skin."

"Robin…" He warned her quietly, but she could still hear the smirk in his voice, and that's when she couldn't help laughing.

"It's really not my fault!" She protested, and almost would've dropped her arms in a grand gesture if she hadn't remembered just why she was holding her dress in place in the very last second. This entire situation was as ridiculous as it was dangerous as it was wonderful. "You try focusing on anything beyond the tingles when your entire body is a goddamn wildfire!"

"I am trying right now, and you're not making it any easier. The sight of you alone is distracting enough."

"Just that little bit of skin is supposedly doing to you what your touch does to me? Sorry, but I sincerely doubt it."

"You shouldn't." He replied entirely seriously now, and the mere tone of his voice was enough to make Robin shiver again. "It does not take naked skin or fancy gowns for me to think of you as far more than simply ‘delectable’. You are nothing short of the most breathtaking creature I have ever been blessed to see, to stay with the trivial matter of physical appearance for once. But indeed, while I could not care less for others' looks and garments, you never fail to enchant me entirely with any of yours, and seeing as I have previously not had the opportunity to see quite so much of your skin, it does affect me quite strongly now at long last."

Robin's heart skipped a beat, then set into a steady gallop that made it delightfully hard to breathe. But for some reason, the words on her lips did not care for that at all. "You make it very difficult for me to focus on the problem at hand when you say things like that." She mirrored his statement, smiling to herself at the thought. "But do you actually mean it or are you just trying to get revenge on me by equal terms?"

"Both, obviously, but the latter is rather a lucky side effect of the former. And since we are discussing it already, you can call me blind if you will, but I do actually find your hair very attractive on any day, especially because it is a perfect mess." He answered easily, while his fingers continued to trace irregular patterns over the injured part of her back that seemed to hurt more and more by the minute. "Even though I very much appreciate the recent absence of the pineapple scent."

Robin found that she didn't mind the pain, especially not when his reference to her words from earlier this evening as well as the dreaded pineapple made her laugh, and the knowledge that he did, in fact, mean all of those things he'd said made her skin tingle pleasantly. He never made shallow compliments; when he deliberately said something nice for once, one could be sure that he meant it to the fullest.

"I think that might be among the loveliest things you have ever said to me." She smiled after a moment, when her soaring heart would let her speak up through the haze of emotions. "Directly said to me, that is. You say a lot of nice things when you don't mean to."

"Don't get used to it. What a crazy world would we be living in if I started saying nice things regularly now… It would entirely destroy the efficiency and purpose of my compliments." He scoffed in obvious sarcasm and tease, while placing his second hand on her shoulder to keep her in place for whatever he was doing.

"You're an idiot, Sev-..." Robin's words and laughter were cut off with a start when Snape placed his other hand directly on the hurting spot on her back, with quite a bit more pressure than before. It caused a pain far too strong for any measure to ripple through her every sense, and a well of tears to spring to her eyes in return. "Ouch! God damn and bloody hell…"

"I might be an idiot, but an idiot who can focus far better when we banter as usual. That seems to have become somewhat of a precondition for me to be able to work efficiently." He returned, then removed his hands from her entirely before he spoke on in a much more tainted tone. "I apologise for having to hurt you, but in order to undo the spell before it became even more dangerous, that unfortunately was inevitable. Now however, the pain should be gone once and for all in just a moment."

"Wait, you… you know what Morgan did to me and just… undid it like that?" Robin turned around to face him with a deep frown creasing her brows in an instant. "Is that what you were doing while we talked?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't bother telling me?! At least a little warning, perhaps?"

"I had the choice between distracting you by making you laugh and thereby forget about the pain I was unfortunately causing in the process, or to further said pain even more by talking about Morgan and his vile doings." He replied so easily that it made perfect sense now, that it appeared to be the most obvious solution ever. "As you see, it wasn't even a choice to be made."

"Thank you. That… was a really clever thing to do, actually." Robin sighed and gave him a soft smile, then took a moment to appreciate how the shadows of the flames danced across his skin before she spoke on. "So… no more pain for now?"

"Not as far as I can tell, at least."

"Let's find out for sure then, shall we?"

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ageless-aislynn · 6 years ago

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Title: “Bad Habits” Chapter 2 Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Caitlin Snow/Harrison Wells|Eobard Thawne (ReverseSnow), The Flash Summary: It looks like the Reverse Flash is developing a bad habit of his own: coming to Caitlin's rescue... For Snowells Week 2018 Day 1, prompt: Caitlin’s childhood Rating: PG Length: 1,913 Spoilers/warnings: None Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! ;) A/N: I had to miss last year’s Snowells Week, so I’m really happy to be able to participate this year! “Bad Habits” is a multi-chaptered prequel to my Good Day series. Reading that isn’t required for this entry nor is chapter 1, but this will probably make more sense if you’ve read that first. I tried not to make it incomprehensible if you haven’t, though. *fingers crossed* ;) If you read, I hope you enjoy! ♥

PS - Since I wasn't able to add a chapter last year like I'd wanted to, I'm planning two chapters for this Snowells Week. Chapter 3 should be along shortly! *crosses rest of fingers* ;)

The building started to collapse with a deep, ominous rumble. Had Cisco heard her call for help? Was Barry already on his way?

"Try to take cover under something!" Caitlin yelled to the civilians around her but before she could heed her own advice, debris struck a glancing blow along the side of her head. Everything went black.

***

She came awake in a dizzying wave of nausea. "'M gonna throw up," she said, slurring the warning into one long word.

"Not on my suit, you're not," said the distorted voice of the Reverse Flash. Thankfully, the sickening sensation stopped when he did.

She struggled to open her eyes but her eyelashes were coated with something thick and sticky.

"Don't," he said as she raised a hand to try to clear her vision. "You've cut your head and it's bleeding."

He was carrying her bridal-style against his chest. She intended to push away from him but her limbs didn't agree with that idea, twitching without much in the way of coordination.

"Stop squirming," he said, walking at a much more sedate pace. "I'm getting you to medical attention."

For a moment, she just relaxed into his hold, even though her brain felt like it was quivering in her skull. Then it tardily dawned on her.

"Are you vibrating?"

He gave a suggestive chuckle. "Most women don't complain about that."

An undignified snort escaped her. She blamed it on the head wound and recent shock of having a building fall on her.

The building...

"Oh," she said, stiffening in alarm, "there were about two dozen people in the room with me. You've got to go back and get them out!"

"You're mistaking me for a hero again, Dr. Snow," he said drolly. "You really need to break yourself of that bad habit."

She automatically tried to slide out of his hold so to get her feet on the ground. What she was going to do without even being able to see, she wasn't sure. But she wasn't going to just let people die. She'd find a way.

"Hey," he said sharply. "Unless you want to end up on the ground, I'd suggest you stay still."

"But--"

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Don't worry, he's already on the job clearing the building. Yay for the hero of Central City."

There was more she wanted to say but the next thing she knew, she was waking up in the hospital -- thankfully without blood gumming up her eyelashes this time.

Cisco was asleep in a chair to her left, head back and mouth open, snoring softly. She smiled, even as she raised a hand to find a bandage on her right temple that made her wince when her fingers grazed it.

"How are you feeling?"

Startled, she looked to her right, where Harrison Wells observed her thoughtfully from his wheelchair. For some reason, it took her an extra second to get the words to form. "Dr. Wells, ah, I wasn't expecting you."

The corner of his mouth twitched in one of his patented dry smiles. "You're an important member of the team, Dr. Snow, and you had a building dropped on your head. Where else would I be? So, the answer to my question is...?"

Why was she getting flustered? It had to be all of the trauma. "Um, I'm feeling all right, thank you. Better than I could be, for certain."

He nodded. "Good. I'll get back to S.T.A.R. Labs, then. Barry's cleaning up the mess that the Blue Dominator made."

"'S a dumb name," Cisco mumbled without opening his eyes. "That's what happens when the metas name themselves."

Harrison shook his head, raising an eyebrow as he met her eyes in a moment of solidarity, and she inexplicably blushed. His smile widened slightly.

I've got to have a concussion, she thought as he left, covering her eyes with both palms and leaning back against the thin hospital pillow.

***

A cool hand brushed her forehead and she murmured, "Hm?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to see if you could wake up."

The whisper was familiar but her sleepy brain couldn't put a name to it at first. "Hm," she said as a statement this time and tried to descend back to sleep.

"That means you need to actually wake up, Caitlin." The voice was louder this time, with a distinctive distortion.

Even as that processed and recognition dawned, she still only surfaced gradually. Her bedroom was dark, though the light from the front room was on, providing a bit of illumination through the open door.

He was a shape next to her bed, red eyes glowing in the darkness. There were half a dozen easy reasons why she should've been frightened and only a few concerning ones why she wasn't.

But she did wake up. "What are you doing here?" she asked, starting to sit up, only to discover that moving too much made her head throb in sick waves.

"I just told you: to see if you could wake up. It's standard practice when dealing with a concussion patient, though I notice that none of your comrades could be bothered to show up."

He sounded thoroughly annoyed, like he was personally offended by their lack of care.

"I didn't need anybody to stay with me," she said, feeling the need to defend her friends. "It's mild."

"Having a mild concussion is exactly the same thing as having a concussion," he countered. "I'm surprised that you're not aware of that fact, Dr. Snow. Anyway, go back to sleep. You need your rest."

She squinted at him and not only because he was a shadowy blur. "So, you're... planning on staying... all night?"

"Didn't we just cover this? Yes. Now, do you need something for the pain?"

"Why are you doing this? It doesn't make any sense. And how did you get in here, anyway? I know I locked the door."

"Magic," he said flatly. "Speedster magic. Pain meds, yes or no?"

She started to shake her head then quickly realized that was a bad idea. "Um, no pain meds, thanks. So you phased through my door?"

His sigh was barely audible. "Sleep, Caitlin. If you need anything, call."

He disappeared through the door and very faintly, she detected the sound of her TV coming on. The light switched off.

Should she call Barry or Cisco? And tell them what? That the Reverse Flash had let himself into her home because he thought she needed somebody to watch over her? The absolute absurdity of the situation made her head swim all on its own.

He hadn't answered her question about why he was doing this. That answer was most certainly important and she was still pondering it when she drifted off to sleep again.

***

He woke her two more times and didn't answer her question either of them. Though, honestly, she was a bit out of it, so it was entirely possible he did and she just didn't remember.

***

Her eyes fluttered open in the darkness, her bladder providing its own wake-up call. For a moment, she wondered if he had left. But then there seemed to still be the telltale flicker of light from the other room to indicate her TV was on.

Crawling carefully out of bed, moving slowly not only to be as soundless as possible but because she felt none-too-steady on her feet, she made her way to the door. There, on her couch, was a silhouette stretched out, boot soles hanging over the arm so to not soil the fabric. The TV's illumination ran across the yellow of his suit in a pale imitation of the lightning he could generate. He was still watching over her.

A sudden, sharp memory came to mind, being young and having come down with pneumonia and her mother staying up with her all through the night to give her medicine on a strict schedule so that Caitlin didn't have to be in the hospital.

I haven't thought of that in a long time. It brought a wave of feeling safe and cared for. Of that rare experience of feeling like she was truly loved and cherished by her mother. How odd that the Reverse Flash was the one to remind her of it.

From this angle, she could only see a sliver of the skin not covered by his mask. There was no glow from his eyes and he didn't seem to be vibrating. Was he asleep?

I could sneak over, maybe be able to recognize him by what I can see of his face...

The thought crept in temptingly. Like Christine pulling away the Phantom's mask or Psyche lighting a candle to see her beastly husband's face, what would she find? The deformed Erik or the beautiful god of love Eros? Her fingers practically itched to know.

She mulled it over for a moment longer, then exhaled a long, slow breath and let it go. Whatever all he was to her: enemy, weird friend, a combination of both, he had saved her life yet again and he had showed up to take care of her in the aftermath. He deserved respect for that, if nothing else.

So she went on to the bathroom then, on her way back, stopped at her doorway once more. He didn't seem to have moved, but there was a soft red glow coming from his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Do you need a blanket or anything?"

There was a hint of a smile in his tone. "No, but thank you anyway. I appreciate your... consideration."

I believe I just passed a test, she thought and said, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Dr. Snow."

***

He left sometime before she woke in the morning. She found a note in the printer tray -- Does that mean I'd recognize his handwriting, then? -- which read, "Eat breakfast and take it easy. Central City can exist without one of its heroes for a day. And try not to let anymore buildings fall on you."

For a split-second, she thought it was signed Eros, which would've been disturbing for a number of reasons. The Reverse Flash being a telepath would be an intimidating prospect, indeed. But no, it said Eo, which was equally strange and mysterious but slightly less alarming.

She called S.T.A.R. Labs while she made breakfast.

After she'd reassured Cisco a few times that she was fine, he said, "Maybe you can help us figure something out. Barry said when cleared the building, you were already gone. How'd you get out?"

She shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I got knocked out and the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital." There was a middle step that involved a speedster in a yellow suit but she left that out.

Barry said something in the background and Cisco went on, "Yeah, and there were those people outside who said that the Flash had saved them but Barry said that floor was empty when he got there. What do you think that's all about?"

She should've been dismayed at the fact that she was now going to have to outright lie to her best friend. But she thought, Eo, if you're not careful, you're going to start turning into a hero yourself, aren't you? and wasn't able to keep a slight smile from curving her mouth.

"Sorry, Cisco," was all she said. "I just can't help you."

#the flash #snowellsweek2018 #reversesnow #snowells #aislynn's fics

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bloomsoftly · 7 years ago

Text

the color of lightning, pt. 1

Darcy/Pietro, rated T

read: part 2, part 3

Now on AO3.

Agent Darcy Lewis is called in after the Battle of Sokovia to help identify the bodies of the deceased. Except, it turns out, one of them isn’t quite dead.

this is a mirror fic to @paranoidwino‘s Life is Unfair (which is amazing and you should read it!). a million thanks to @dresupi -- i couldn’t imagine posting a quicktaser fic without your seal of approval. ;)

Darcy received the emergency alert before dawn.

It was the first time her phone had ever blared that particularly shrill tone, and Darcy fell face-first on the floor in her haste to scramble out of bed. She got dressed in the dark, eyes too bleary with sleep to benefit from the bedside lamp’s light anyway. The phone went off with another alert, and she scrambled to turn it off. As she swiped at it, the screen displayed over a dozen text messages and several missed calls. They were all from Jane.

Darcy, you're in the States right now, right?

Darce, please tell me the jack-booted thugs didn't send you to an active war zone.

DARCY.

God damn it, Darcy. PICK UP YOUR PHONE.

The rest of the messages continued in a similar vein. Hastily, she typed out a quick text.

I'm in DC. just got called in. will call when I can.

Then, she called her superior and reported in. Coulson didn’t have much to say, except, “Turn on the TV, Lewis.”

She did. The destruction of Sokovia broadcasted from every station. It played in slow motion from a thousand different angles. Darcy didn’t think she could bear to watch the tragedy, but wasn’t able to tear her eyes away from the devastation.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, dumbstruck. No other words would come. “Oh my god.”

Luckily, Coulson didn't seem to expect anything more eloquent from her. “I know. Agent Lewis—”

Darcy couldn't answer, too riveted in the horror flickering across the TV screen. With a gentler tone, Coulson prompted, “Darcy. I need you to come in. Bodies will be arriving via helicarrier in a matter of hours, and I need people I can trust to oversee the identification of the deceased.”

That pulled her attention away from the traumatizing footage. “Identification of the bodies, sir? In DC?”

Coulson’s sigh reverberated through the line, tinny but audible in its exhaustion. “Yes, in DC. The area wasn’t stable enough to—Darcy, we can’t take the chance of someone picking up the bodies to use for—research.”

The air sat heavy with the words he didn’t say. Right. Hydra. Darcy nodded, even though Coulson wasn’t there to see it. “Got it, Son of Coul. Just tell me where to go.”

-:-

Several hours later, primed and ready with several cups of coffee and a shirt that was not inside-out (it turned out Darcy was not particularly skilled at getting dressed in the dark), She arrived at the morgue.

The entire building was eerily still. Only a handful of people were assigned to the task of identifying the bodies—Coulson didn’t lie about wanting to keep it quiet. Everyone stayed quiet in their work—either out of respect for the dead or due to the stifling silence that permeated the building. The only sound was the quiet thunk of SHIELD security as they made their rounds through the building.

Knowing that she couldn’t put off her job forever, Darcy sighed and entered her designated room. It was filled almost wall to wall with black body bags. She had to pause just inside the doorway to tilt her head back, willing away the sharp burn of tears that lingered at the back of her throat.

Darcy offered a silent plea for the dead to find peace, because they could not speak for themselves. Then, shaking off the last of her hesitation, she moved to the first bag. After confirming that the woman inside matched the identification found with her body, Darcy painstakingly wrote Tanya Ivanovna Mirkova on the little card.

And so the day passed. Darcy moved from one bag to the next, verifying identities and copying their names down before moving on. Her back started to ache terribly, but she refused to rush through the task. In some strange, morbid way she felt as though she was responsible for sending them off, and she wanted to do it right.

She was about three-quarters of the way through the room when an anomaly brought her up short. Darcy had paused for a moment, stretching out her sore back and cracking her neck before moving on to the next body. Stifling a small yawn, she pulled the zipper down on the next bag only to freeze in shock.

She would recognize that face, that hair anywhere. It was Pietro Maximoff.

(read more link here)

Pietro Maximoff, whose body was most definitely not supposed to be in a random morgue in Washington, D.C. Darcy simply stared at his face for a long moment, wondering absently if her sleep-deprivation and general second-hand trauma was causing her to hallucinate. She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision, and—nope. He was definitely still there, and she was absolutely certain it was Pietro.

But, why? How could this happen? she wondered. Was this what Coulson had been worried about? That somehow a superhero’s body would get ‘misplaced’ and end up in an easily-accessible, unsecured location?

Darcy stalked away from the body and thought frantically—surely someone had to know that Pietro was missing. He had a twin sister, didn’t he? Poor Wanda. She must have been frantically searching for her brother’s body.

Darcy pulled out her phone to call Coulson. He didn’t answer, so she tried again. Still nothing. Frustrated, Darcy bit off a curse and left a vague but urgent voicemail. She didn’t mention Pietro by name, just in case.

Once that was done, she glanced back in his direction. “As much of a troublemaker in death as you were in life, huh?” she asked sadly. A lump lodged itself in her throat and anger simmered hot in her belly—this was not the end a hero deserved, to be left forgotten in a random morgue halfway across the world. This was personal for Darcy.

After years of working at SHIELD (it turned out that it was really difficult to get a job when you were legally forbidden from speaking about past work experience), Darcy had gotten quite close to both Clint and Natasha. She’d seen the footage; Pietro had clearly sacrificed himself to save her favorite archer’s life.

Darcy wondered if there was a way she could give Pietro the send off he’d earned. An idea struck her and she began to move toward him, only to stop when she remembered the last 17 bodies she still had left to identify and catalogue. Assuming Coulson took a while to call her back, Darcy had the time to finish her original task and then come back to Pietro.

She worked quickly but methodically to identify the remaining bodies. Within the blink of an eye, it seemed, Darcy was back at Pietro’s table. She stared down at him. His body was covered in blood and soot, and his handsome face was tough to look at—his expression still carried the faint impression of excruciating pain.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Darcy grabbed some tools and went to work. Using her SHIELD field medical training, she painstakingly removed all of the bullets from Pietro’s body. If she was quick enough, she might have him cleaned up by the time his sister came to collect his body. It was the least she could do, Darcy thought.

As she removed the last of the bullets, a low groan broke the silence of the room. Darcy panicked and jumped backwards, dropping the tool. It clattered loudly, bouncing on the metal table before landing on the tile floor. Before she could stop herself, Darcy looked at Pietro’s face and hissed, “Pietro? Was that you?”

Which was ridiculous. Pietro was dead, Darcy scoffed to herself. She was hearing things because she wished he wasn’t, and her sleep-deprived brain was only playing tricks on her. Rolling her eyes at herself, Darcy took a step forward.

“W-wanda…s…sestra.” This time, Darcy saw Pietro’s mouth move as he choked out a call for his sister. He was alive.

His eyes opened to slits, and he groaned, “U..p-pomoć…Kér-kérem. Kérem…u p-pomoć. P-Please.”

The pain glimmering in Pietro’s eyes spurred her to action. Darcy screamed for help, shouting repeatedly for a doctor. With the distant sound of boots thundering down the hall in their direction, she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “I’ve got you, ” she reassured, leaning over him. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, painfully, then released it. “Stay with me, Pietro! Stay with me,” she cried, still gripping his hand, but it was no use. He was already unconscious.

-:-

The next several hours rushed past in a blur.

Darcy watched fretfully as paramedics pumped Pietro’s heart in an attempt to keep him alive long enough to get him to surgery. She had to step away and release his hand to give them room to work. She flexed her fingers several times as she watched them work—they still tingled from the distressed way he'd held her hand. Darcy’s whole body shook from stress, flinching with every squeeze of the balloon pump.

When the paramedics strapped him to a gurney and raced to an operation room, Darcy followed. No one tried to stop her, which was good—she really didn't want to have to pull the ‘federal agent’ card. Not that she was acting very professional at the moment, with a brain full of wool and a thousand-yard stare.

Her thoughts were strangely empty, save for one: she desperately hoped that Pietro’s last moments didn't belong to the morgue, trapped in a body bag in the dark, crying out for his sister. Her last vision of him was an agonized grimace in a handsome face, pale and still. Then the door to the operating wing swung closed.

Darcy stared at the white walls for a long moment, then mentally kicked herself. She wasn’t a surgeon, but she could protect Pietro and his sister in other ways. She straightened up and checked her phone—still no call from Coulson—before she headed to the main desk with a purpose.

It wasn’t every day that a man returned from the dead in the hospital morgue, apparently. Which worked in Darcy’s favor, because the admissions staff turned the paperwork over to her with little fuss. She froze for a moment, staring at the first line (NAME OF PATIENT).

The nurse misunderstood and tsked lightly in sympathy. “Let me get you something to wipe your hands, dear.” Darcy frowned in confusion, then realized—her hands were shaking, and smeared with Pietro’s blood. She dropped the pen abruptly.

After wiping her hands clean and thanking the woman, Darcy wrote Mikhail Petrovich on the line. Darcy was glad that she hadn’t written Pietro Maximoff’s name anywhere before starting to clean him up; Hydra would have no qualms about destroying the hospital and everyone in it. Not if it meant they could regain control of one of the twins.

Realizing she couldn’t fill out the rest of the form, Darcy alerted the nurse. “Ma’am, I’m really sorry but I can’t fill the rest of this information out. I know his name from my records, but we had so many civilians flown in from the disaster in Sokovia—”

The woman rolled her eyes. Darcy started to bite off a second, irritated apology, but the woman cut her off. “No, I’m sorry, I should have realized that. You’re SHIELD, right? It’s alright. I’m assuming you’d like to be notified about his progress?”

The lump in Darcy’s throat returned, and she nodded. The nurse grinned. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t want to be responsible for a man who looks like that, am I right?” she teased with a wink. Without waiting for a response—which was good because Darcy had no idea what to say to that—the nurse continued, “I’ll let the doctor know to keep you apprised. Hang in there, dear. Mr. Petrovich is a medical miracle.”

Darcy roused a tired half-smile and excused herself to find a place to sit. She chose an uncomfortably stiff chair that maintained a direct line of sight to the operations wing. It also put her within easy access to the coffee machine, which was a plus. Settled in for the long run, Darcy counted the passage of time by the amount of coffee she drank and the number of unanswered calls she made to Coulson.

Somewhere between coffee cups #4 and 5, Darcy received a flurry of texts from Jane. I’m glad you’re safe, Darce.

Wait, you ARE safe. Right??

I never should have let you take a job with the shadiest of shady government agencies.

Cracking her first true smile of the day, Darcy texted her back. I’m safe, Janie. In the hospital.

Realizing how that would sound, she added, Not for me! I’m supervising. Thank you for checking, though.

Before Jane could reply, Darcy sent one last text. But we both know you couldn’t have stopped me from working for Coulson anyway. My brain was not made for astrophysics, and I love you too much to ruin your research.

Darcy lifted her coffee cup to her lips, only to realize that it was empty. Figuring she could stretch her legs a bit, she got up for a refill.

When Darcy sat back down, a message from Jane was waiting. Call me when you can, okay? Take care of yourself, Darce. I love you.

Tears burned her eyes, and Darcy tilted her head back to lean it against the wall. Almost unwillingly, she thought about Pietro’s twin, Wanda. She must have thought her brother was dead, and it broke Darcy’s heart. If—no, when—Pietro made it out of this initial surgery, Darcy needed to let her know that her brother was alive. Even if he didn’t make a full recovery, Wanda deserved to know. To say goodbye, at the very least. The problem, then, would be to figure out how to get in touch with her. But that was an issue for later, once Darcy had heard from the doctor.

The last of Darcy’s adrenaline finally faded, leaving her achy and exhausted. She maintained her vigil, focusing on the doors leading to Pietro’s operating room. Everything else blurred and softened at the edges.

She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until her view of the doors was obstructed by a pair of blue scrubs. Rubbing her eyes, Darcy raised her eyes up to the doctor’s face. The woman looked as exhausted as she felt, and a spike of fear surged in her gut.

Scrubbing a hand over her face briefly, the doctor got straight to the point. “We’ve managed to stabilize him, for now.” Darcy’s whole body sagged with relief at the news. Her head fell back, bumping against the wall hard enough to bruise. She ignored the stab of pain and instead smiled tremulously at the doctor.

But the doctor wasn’t done. “He’s still critical, and to be perfectly blunt it’s a miracle he has made it this far already. If he has any family, it might be best to get into contact with them. Just in case.”

Darcy swallowed heavily and nodded. “I will find out, thank you.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you think it would be alright if I sat with him, sometimes? You know, if he doesn’t have family, or—”

The doctor’s eyes softened slightly. “You’re the one who found him alive, aren’t you? Down in the morgue.” At Darcy’s nod, she sighed and allowed, “We usually only allow family, but I think I can make an exception considering you’re a government agent and you saved his life. Besides, it might do him some good to have someone there to talk to him.”

The doctor hesitated, then turned to look at the clock. Following her gaze, Darcy was surprised to find that it was well past 8:00 in the evening. Her stomach seized in a sharp reminder that Darcy had consumed nothing but coffee all day. “I have to move on, Agent—”

“Lewis.”

The doctor dipped her chin. “Agent Lewis. They’ll be moving Mr. Petrovich to room 313 when he’s ready, but this late in the day it might be best if you went home and came back tomorrow. In the meantime, please let me or one of the nurses know if you need any more information, alright?”

They parted ways, and Darcy headed to the nurse’s desk to liaise about security measures for Pietro. If the hospital staff were curious about the fact that she was instituting heightened safety measures for a random civilian, they didn't let on. The nurses seemed to take her explanation easily enough.

By the time Darcy had settled everything, another hour had passed. She was halfway to her car before she realized she had yet to contact Wanda. She tried dialing Coulson again, only for the call to go straight to voicemail.

Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, Darcy abruptly remembered the number Coulson had made her memorize, something to contact the Avengers if there was an emergency. It was a long shot, to say the least.

Which is why Darcy was shocked that someone picked up.

“State your name and authorization, please.”

“Umm, my name is Darcy Lewis. I’m an agent of SHIELD and I need to speak with Wanda Maxi—”

“I have strict orders not to take calls from SHIELD, Agent Lewis.”

“No, wait—please, this is important—” She was too late. The line was already dead.

“Damn it!” Darcy was too frustrated and exhausted to do anything but order takeout and head to her apartment. She'd have to try again the next day.

-:-

A sudden realization jerked Darcy awake the next morning. Within seconds, she was sitting upright and cursing herself. “Damn it, Darcy,” she grumbled to herself, pulling on her clothing rougher than was strictly necessary. “Why didn't you think of calling Clint?"

Stumbling into her apartment’s sparse kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee to brew. As the heavenly smell began to permeate the kitchen, she pulled out her phone and dialed Clint's secure line.

He didn't pick up, which wasn't all that surprising. Luckily, she knew he checked his messages regularly.

“Hey, Clint. I know you're dealing with the aftermath of whatever the fuck happened in Sokovia, but listen. I have information about the two strays you picked up while you were over there. I know that one was—injured, but I have information that you need to know. I need you to call me ASAP. I'm not kidding, Clint. This is life or death stuff. Call me as soon as you get this.”

-:-

It turned out that coma patients were boring as hell.

Darcy felt guilty for even thinking it, of course, considering the fact that she hadn't even been sure he'd survive surgery the day before (and still might not, though she quashed that train of thought ruthlessly).

Still, the fact remained—sitting with a coma patient was boring. Especially when you weren't a family member or loved one. Remembering the doctor’s comment that hearing someone speak could help, Darcy dragged her chair closer to the bed.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. It was so awkward. Finally, she said the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be a debate between over whether cats or dogs made better pets. She stumbled at first, then settled into a rhythm.

Darcy spoke to Pietro until her voice went hoarse. She talked to him about everything, from her favorite movies and books to her childhood bouncing from foster home to foster home. She even told him about working for SHIELD (non-classified stories only, of course) and her experiences as one of the first Midgardians to meet and befriend Thor.

Partway through a recounting of her and Jane’s encounter with the Dark Elves in London, Darcy realized the shadows in the room had shifted to obscure most of Pietro’s face. Blinking owlishly, Darcy checked the time and found that the entire day had gone by.

“I'm gonna have to start setting alarms so that I'll actually remember to eat meals while I'm here,” Darcy grumbled, absently patting Pietro’s hand as she stood from her chair. When she realized what she'd done, Darcy snatched it back and blushed profusely. It didn't matter that no one was there to see her; she rushed out of the room like a bat out of hell.

#quicktaser #darcy x pietro #darcyland #my writing #the color of lightning

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