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lcnelyinthesky · 4 years ago

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admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed.

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out.

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight.

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested.

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything.

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi.

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises.

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least.

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light.

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe.

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed.

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge.

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling.

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height.

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet.

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain.

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief.

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him.

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were.

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know.

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration.

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virgojeons · 4 years ago

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true love (jjk)

summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together.

alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names

wattpad version here, ao3 version here

a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!

on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.

"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"

You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.

Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"

Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.

"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."

Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."

"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.

It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.

"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.

Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."

They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion.

The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook.

You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.

"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.

You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive.

Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now.

It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.

Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual.

The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.

No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.

And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.

Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."

You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.

"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"

"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."

"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."

A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor.

Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"

Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."

Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.

"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."

"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.

Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."

You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."

With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.

"Don't." You warn.

"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."

"I most definitely did not blush."

"You did. You still are."

"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."

"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.

"Stop."

"He likes you." He insists.

"He was just being polite." You defend.

"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."

This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."

He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."

Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.

"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."

For now.

"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."

As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.

It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book.

You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted.

Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.

He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.

The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.

It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.

Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"

"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.

And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.

Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."

"You'll be all over each other by next week."

"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.

Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.

Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.

The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference.

His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.

You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.

You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.

promise not to say i told you so :///

Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.

On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening.

Cute, you thought.

He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.

He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.

"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."

He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.

"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”

Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"

You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.

A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"

You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.

And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.

You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"

Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."

There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.

"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."

You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"

"Baby, it's the 20th."

"Can I have a hint?"

Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."

You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.

Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night.

It’s the trick that never truly runs its course.

And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.

"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."

You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.

You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"

Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.

"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."

He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"

Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.

"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.

You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."

He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.

"The Polar Express!"

"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."

He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.

"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."

If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."

You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours.

Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.

Made us some cocoa, you said.

He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.

I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.

Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.

And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"

You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"

He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.

"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"

You swallow. "I'm okay."

Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way.

Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.

Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.

Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"

"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.

"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."

You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.

"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."

Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."

And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.

There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.

"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."

Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."

read part two here!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #fluff #humor #jungkook fanfiction #jeongguk #kpop #kpop fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook series #jeongguk x reader

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vikingpoteto · 4 years ago

Text

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise. “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we’re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.

#jason todd #tim drake #red hood #red robin #batfam #batfam big bang 2020 #poteto writing #red bros #collab

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years ago

Text

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt XIV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII and part XIII.

Posting this for day 3 (Dalton) of @kbweek2020, for reasons.

Benjamin Harris asks Kurt to call him Ben during their first meeting, and pencils him in for two sessions per week “for now”. Kurt doesn't know whether to be grateful that he's at a school where his mental health is considered so important or horrified that he's seen as needing that much help.

When he brings it up with Sebastian the answer is “grateful” and Kurt's pretty sure that it's the right one. It's just such a glaring difference from McKinley where the closest he'd gotten to an adult caring about his anything (in a positive way that was) was poor Miss Pillsbury.

And that's, that's just sad.

So he agrees to go to Ben's office every Monday and Wednesday, and he tries to talk, only he finds he's still skittish and wary.

Ben's good though, and finds a way around Kurt's defenses by suggesting that they bring in Finn for a few shared sessions, “to heal old wounds”. It's a good solution as that's something about being back at Dalton, and about boarding again, that Kurt isn't entirely pleased about. Not living at home means it's hard to be there for Finn (and to not having Finn be there for him). Sebastian is a good friend, but Finn's his brother. Kurt worries, okay?

Ben being sneaky and getting permission to have Finn come over for the first two weeks is an excellent solution.

(The only one who doesn't realize that half the reason is so Finn can get the help he needs but McKinley won't provide is Finn himself.)

Once Kurt begins to trust Ben – once he's seen that it's justified – talking gets easier. Telling him about everything that's lead to Kurt transferring to Dalton not just once but twice in a year in painful but also healing. Even if he sometimes hides from everyone afterwards just to deal with the sheer hurt of how little help he's ever been offered outside of his home and his dad's garage, and how much he could have thrived if he'd gotten this earlier.

The worst part is talking about Blaine.

Except, he has to, and maybe that's even worse.

So he makes an appointment late on a Friday, arranges for Finn to come pick him up, and then walks in with his back straight and his emotions tucked away as deep as possible.

He tells the whole story of him and Blaine, from that first meeting on the staircase all the way to the police station, with as little detail and emotion as he can get away with. He winces, once, because Ben shifts a little during the part about Scandals, and right, he worked here last year. It's possible, Kurt thinks, that not that long ago it was Blaine sitting in this very chair telling Ben about his circumstances.

When Kurt reaches the end he falls silent. He's a little hoarse, from talking so long, and he feels empty.

Ben's quiet too, at first. He sits there, then gets up to fetch Kurt a bottle of water and waits for him to drink some of it.

“That's...that's a lot you just told me, Kurt. And judging from what I've learned about you I'm guessing this is the first time you've talked about all of it like this?”

True. Kurt's talked, yes, with Finn and Sebastian and even his dad. Before Blaine's disappearance he'd talked to Rachel and Mercedes. But not like this. Not without hiding things, or editing them out. Not with honesty.

“All of this, everything that's happened with Blaine... How does it make you feel?”

“Angry. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Why stupid?”

“Because I trusted him. I've got trust issues from here to forever, and I just trusted him. All I had to go on was that Blaine was cute, and charismatic when performing, that he was willing to listen and seemed sympathetic, and that he was gay just like me. That he'd been bullied, like me. Or so he said.

“And I just took him at his word. Trusted him like a damned sheep. Without a single shred of evidence that he was worth it. I told him things I hadn't even thought about telling my dad – who was worth my trust – and things I didn't have the right to tell him, and for what? So things could get even worse?”

Ben takes a moment again, before asking his next question.

“Do you feel now that Blaine didn't deserve that trust? Not just in the end, but throughout your relationship, I mean.”

Kurt laughs, short and harsh and joyless.

“You know, I dream about it. Not, not about that night – or I do too, but those are, that's not dreams, that's... Anyway, no.

“I dream that it's an ordinary day, and I'm driving over to Blaine's house to surprise him for some reason. I don't know why, since Blaine specifically told me I was never to show up there without warning, and I respected that.”

He'd added two and two and come up with “Mr Anderson is a homophobic prick”, which may or may not be true, and also may or may not be the actual reason.

“Anyway. I drive over there, and I ring the doorbell, and when Mrs Anderson opens the door I ask for Blaine. Only she tells me there's no Blaine living there, there never was. And when I push her on it, she tells me that a boy paid them to pretend to be his family, but she doesn't know why, or where he really lives.”

Kurt swallows.

“And then I wake up, and I can't help but wonder, if I were to do my research, would I find an Anderson family at West Elm Street? And if I did, would the faces match the people I've met?”

“What do you mean?”

“Blaine and I dated for six months, and were friends for another six months before that. And somehow I never got to know his family. I haven't even seen a photo of Blaine's older brother. I've only ever met Mrs Anderson three times, and Mr Anderson twice. If it wasn't for the fact that they were at the police station, specifically as Blaine's parents – which, by the way, is one of those times – I don't know if I'd believe that's who they are. Hell, at my darkest moments I still question it.”

“Do you really believe he would fake something like that?”

Ben's voice doesn't hold mocking, or disbelief, just worry.

“No. Not really. As I said, they went to the police as Blaine's parents. That's not something you risk if it's fake. Besides, Lima's too small to pull something like that off.

“It's more that I find that I was such an unimportant piece of Blaine's life puzzle that I can't even trust something like that.”

They both sit quiet for a while. After all, what is there even to say about thoughts like those?

When Kurt returns to Dalton on Sunday evening Sebastian is leaning against his door, dangling a thermos-flask from one hand. It's both a welcome sight and not, seeing as Kurt had let slip about the nightmares during a check-in the day before. But. It's coffee, and it's Sebastian.

He's halfway through his cup before Sebastian grabs the bull by the horn.

“Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”

No, he most certainly does not. Not those anyway. Still...

“The ones about that night, no. But there are others. Sometimes I have nightmares where I come to school and instead of Blaine being gone, instead of me being called into Miss Pillsbury's office the next day to be met with the news that Blaine's gone... I go to my locker and he's there. And I forgive him. I just...ignore that he tried to rape me, and I forgive him. Even worse, I take the blame.

“And then I wake up shaking, knowing that I could so easily have done just that.”

“Kurt...” His name falls from Sebastian's lips with almost no sound, and it's so clear that the other boy wants to protest.

“No, I really could have. Right from the beginning everyone was so happy to let me know I was lucky to find Blaine, and some made it clear that they didn't think I'd ever be able to do better. Hell, my own experience made me believe that. So why would I have let him walk away? If he was the best I could get, then it was forgive him or spend my life alone.

“Talking to Ben has made me realize exactly how unhealthy that kind of thinking is, and how me folding about something like that would have impacted our entire relationship. He would always have known he could get away with just about anything, and I would never be able to stand up for myself because of the fear of being alone.”

Kurt shudders. Had those dreams been reality then he would never have felt safe denying Blaine sex again. He'd never have felt safe denying Blaine anything. You want that role I need? Of course. You want to move across the country? I'll start packing. You want me to quit my job and be a househusband? Yes dear.

He'd have become a doormat, and he'd have told everyone it was what he wanted while believing it was all he deserved.

Blaine leaving had hurt like hell, but Kurt's beginning to believe it had been a blessing.

“I think I might have dodged a bullet there.”

Sebastian scoffs.

“No shit. That's not a bullet though, that's ammunition for a small war.”

Kurt acknowledges the point. It's a bit of an overstatement, he thinks, but then again he went the other direction.

“Either way, he's out of my life, and he's not getting back in. That's a good thing. The same will be true about the nightmares, sooner or later. No, this isn't me pretending things are fine when they're not, this is me honestly believing it'll be fine. Talking to Ben helps.

“Having you helps.”

He watches amused as Sebastian blushes softly at the compliment while trying to play cocky. He likes it when Sebastian's facade breaks down. In fact, he might just have made it his mission to make it happen as often as possible.

“So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening? Lacrosse equipment to clean? Lingering homework? No? What about that essay for Mme Lacroix?”

The panic in Sebastian's face as he jumps up is delicious.

“What essay? When did she– Oh, I see. Not funny, Hummel.”

“From where I'm sitting? Definitely funny, Smythe. But if there's nothing else you need to do, would you like to watch a movie with me? I've got some chocolate I don't mind sharing, and I'll even let you pick the movie.”

Sebastian looks at him suspiciously, searching for the next joke. Then he apparently decides that Kurt is serious.

“I could do that. Careful though, that almost sounded like you asking for a date.”

“Who said I wasn't?” Total deer in headlights look. “Would it be so bad? I like you. I think we are good together. I believe we could be even better. I trust you. Giving this, giving us, a chance feels smart. It feels right.”

Sebastian keeps staring at him, and Kurt feels himself begin to fidget a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Did he read the situation wrong? Then, finally, Sebastian speaks, voice a little raspy.

“Oh god. I thought you... Can I kiss you?”

There's a desperation in the words, but Kurt can't fault him for it. He feels it too. So he nods, and takes a step towards Sebastian. He's expecting... Well, he doesn't know what he's expecting. More of the desperation maybe? Expertise? Seduction? He definitely wasn't expecting careful softness, and constant checks for consent, but that's what he gets.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what he should have expected from Sebastian, who's been with him the whole way, who knows everything, and has shown himself to care in a way Kurt's not entirely used to to.

It's a Sebastian without masks and attitudes, meeting a Kurt without the same, and it's everything he could have wished for.

He's got no memory of what movie they finally play.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #a wild sebastian appears #sebastian smythe #in 2020 we finish our wips #kbweek2020

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megmachine · 4 years ago

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Mistakes

A/N: this is the first section of my WIP star trek fic. See the tags before reading if your interested, and please let me know what you think!

The last time Jim ever saw his aunt alive, she was crying. He was thirteen and being led onto a bus alongside his cousins and had glanced out the darkened window on a whim. She had been standing in the doorway to their farmhouse, clutching little Sarah’s favorite blanket, arguing with one of the large men dressed in black that had come to take them back. The man had laid his hand on his belt, saying something, and Aunt Josie had broken down crying. Through a cloud of red dust as they drove away, Jimmy saw her fall to her knees and sob. Tear tracks cut through the dirt on her face, leftovers from when they’d been playing in the garden earlier. They turned a corner and trees finally blocked his view, and he turned back to talk to his cousins.

He was only supposed to be on Tarsus IV for six months. Driving the car into the canyon had been the last straw, and even though they’d ‘worked things out’ with the cops, Jimmy knew he’d pushed too hard. Frank was fed up with him and he’d been suspended from school again and his mother was still out there, exploring space without him. Winona said she would be earthside ‘in just six months, Jimmy, it’s only six months,’ and that this was just a stopgap to get him away from his step-father. What a load of bull that was, not that he’d say it to her face. Two months in, when he moved into boarding school full-time and wasn’t counting down the days till his shuttle home, Winona messaged him. She told him her ship, the U.S.S. Faragaut, would be delayed eight additional months and for the first time, he wasn’t heartbroken. Fourteen months in the colony, he could make it fourteen months. His aunt actually liked him, she never even hit him, and his cousins didn’t treat him like a burden the way Sam used to. Classes challenged him, for the most part, and he got to go back home every weekend to see his aunt and the farmhouse. Sure, meals weren’t that big, but Jimmy had never really gone hungry here, either. Tarsus was good. Life was good.

This time, though, as the farmhouse faded from view, he could tell his Aunt knew something was different. Clouds of red dust obscured his view and it felt like he was losing something, somewhere he’d finally started to call home. It was silly to get so melancholy about a semester at boarding school, he’d thought. He’d thought a lot of things that ended up being wrong.

It was two Saturdays later when Jimmy and Will wondered if something was wrong. A full two weeks since they had seen the rest of their family. They were sitting on his cousin’s bed, each with a PADD in hand, working on their homework. Their teacher, Hoshi, had been grilling them on languages, and despite Jimmy’s efforts Will couldn’t grasp Vulcansu conjugations.

“No, see, it’s a past tense irregular verb, and you forgot the hyphen-”

“Jimmy.” Will interrupted him, something he never did. His face, normally an open book, was drawn and stiff. Jimmy held his tongue and swallowed back his knee-jerk snarky response. His cousin took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and let it out in a huff.

“I’m worried about my mom. She hasn’t been responding to my comms all week, and Mr. Davies told me we aren’t doing home visits next weekend, either. I just… I know you think it’s stupid to get all worked up over family, but this isn’t like her.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute, both brains running through the options. Finally, Jimmy sighed. He knew his cousin well enough to know where his mind had immediately gone, and had an idea of how to deal with it.

“Look, Will, I do understand where you’re coming from. If you’re really that worried about Aunt Josie, how about we go see her? Will that make you feel better?” Jimmy tossed his PADD aside and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and groaning exaggeratedly. Honestly, he’d been wanting to stretch his legs too, but hadn’t had the right opportunity to sneak out until this moment.

His cousin wasn’t convinced yet, though. “What do you mean? How are we supposed to get home if buses aren’t running to the farm?”

Jimmy smirked, tilting his head and glancing back. “Why, we’ll be breaking out, of course!”

That line sealed the deal. After all, Will was a bad boy at heart, too.

It was dark out by the time they could put their plan into motion. The double moons were rising in the west, casting everything outside the range of the street lamps in a faint, pale light. They took a walk in the botany gardens after dinner, a fairly inconspicuous thing to do. Subconsciously, Jimmy noted that a few of the plants seemed wilted, white flecks spotting a few lower leaves, but he wasn’t a botanist and so made no comment. Will kept an eye on the teachers that patrolled the area while Jimmy made his way to a shadowy corner, the one place he knew of that the cameras wouldn’t see him. From there, he accessed the security system from his PADD - he’d been teaching himself programming since he was five, sitting in the back of his kindergarten classroom, it was a breeze to hack these types of systems - and ran a loop of camera feed. From there the two made their way to the chain link fence that surrounded the school.

The principal told them it was to keep wildlife out, since Tarsus had some rather nasty native predators. Of course, there was a hole in the fence that Jimmy had known about for a few weeks, and nothing had managed to get in, so he didn’t know the validity of that statement. The gap was barely big enough for him to squeeze through, scrawny as he was, but he’d kept it in the back of his mind in case he ever wanted to sneak out. There hadn’t been anything suspicious going on, at least as far as he was aware, so he’d had no reason to utilize it before this night. He was enjoying his classes, and had no reason to mess around. At, least, not until then.

Jimmy went through first. After making sure the coast was clear, Will forced his way out, too. The fencing groaned, and they both held their breath for a minute before determining no one else had heard. After that, it was smooth sailing for the rest of their ‘escape.’ The fence opened up into a thick forest, full of a mix of native and terran flora that formed a dense canopy and heavy shadows. They could still use the moonlight and their knowledge of direction to make their way towards the nearby town of New Franklin. The school they attended was fairly secluded, so their hike took nearly an hour. The principal and teachers, when asked, had said that the governor thought it important that students learn astronomy and botany and all types of things you couldn’t study well in the city, so their school was the only thing this far out. They were surrounded by forests on one side, and a massive plain on the other, and as far as one could see there was no other sign of civilization. When he first got there, Jimmy had thought all the greenery was wonderful. Now he was starting to hate it, as he was slapped in the face by yet another palm frond-looking thing.

Eventually, pushing through the thick greenery native to Tarsus, Jimmy thought he could hear the murmur of human life. It was about time - they still had to consider the hour-long drive to and from the farmhouse, and he wanted to get a little bit of sleep that night. Their plan was to either hitch a ride from a kind stranger, an idea Jimmy wasn’t a big fan of, or steal a vehicle, something Will didn’t like - even though Jimmy had argued that they wouldn’t really be stealing, they'd be borrowing with the intent to bring it back unscratched. That argument was part of why they’d gotten started so late, and now Tarsus’ first moon was more than halfway through the sky. Its blue face watched them as they foraged on through the woods, unwavering and unyielding in its faint light.

They popped out on a paved road, the outlines of squat, wide-spread buildings against the tapestry of stars the only sign of civilization. There were next to no lights on, Jimmy noticed. No street lamps, or illuminated windows, or headlights. He’d have thought the town was dead, if not for the hum of generators he could still make out. A curfew, then? Why? Neither of them had any answers, but this did throw a wrench in both their transportation options. More so Will’s favored plan than his own, though his would be difficult to pull off too.

Well, there was no way around it. The two boys exchanged glances - neither had said a word their whole adventure other than to warn the other of a hole or tree branch, too scared of being heard and caught - and advanced towards the dead town. Jimmy knew more than enough about hotwiring to be able to steal most civilian vehicles, and Will had been driving aunt Josie’s truck for the past year, so they were rather confident in their abilities. But that all depended on whether or not they would find something to steal.

The first couple of buildings they approached were barren. Jimmy could make out the muffled sound of human voices and movement behind the walls, but there were no vehicles other than a couple of rusting bikes parked out front. The first hovercar they saw was all black and parked in the middle of town square. The engine was still running, but no one was sitting inside the car. Jimmy made a mental note of it and kept creeping along, hoping for a less suspicious get-away vehicle. The next one they saw was sitting in front of a small house. The car itself had four wheels and more than a little bit of rust, but it obviously hadn’t been used in the past few hours. The house it was parked near, similarly, didn’t show any signs of life. Neither Jimmy nor Will wanted to think very hard about that fact. Still, this was a better option, less likely to be noticed missing if they could get away quietly. Jimmy cracked his knuckles, gave his cousin a grin, and eased the driver’s door open.

Since he’d been old enough to start developing his fine motor skills, Jimmy had been playing with wires. Maybe not a sign of the safest childhood, but it certainly had its perks. For one, he could open a panel inside any car, four-wheeled or hovering, and get it running in under five minutes if it was a model from the past half-century. Thankfully, this one was. Another thing Jimmy was thankful for, he considered once the engine hummed to life, was that 23rd century cars were so much quieter than previous renditions. Not even the house a block over could hear it starting up. Will nudged his cousin over, crawling into the driver side and adjusting the seat to his liking.

“I’m still sticking by my argument that I could drive this puppy just as well as you,” Jimmy grumbled from where he was buckling himself into the passenger seat.

Will ignored him, throwing the car into gear and ever-so-slowly crawling out of the driveway and onto the road. “How the hell am I supposed to navigate all the way home if I can’t turn on the headlights?” he hissed, peering over the steering wheel in a way that didn’t really give Jimmy much confidence in his abilities.

He sighed, hunching over the center console and pulling out more wires from Will didn’t even know where. In between stripping colorful rubber with his teeth, Jimmy explained himself. “Most modern cars actually have the ability to display an active infrared view through the windshield - night vision. It’s better than using the headlights, actually, but we humans are too attached to the way things have always been to use it. Manufacturers even got rid of the easy-access switch, but they never bothered to get rid of the tech itself. Lucky us.” He spared a second to glance up at his cousin, grinning wildly, before twisting two bare wires together and clipping them to a circuit board. Jimmy had no idea how like his mother he looked in that second, and the excited expression faded almost as suddenly as it had appeared.

The windshield display flickered once, twice, before the pitch black landscape became visible in various shades of green and grey. The compass, temperature read out, and clock reappeared in their usual location (lining the top of the windshield, out of immediate eyeline), now a bright white against hunter green shadows.

Jimmy almost whoop-ed, catching himself at the last second and instead silently punched the air. “What’re you waiting for, Willy?” He snickered, flopping back into his seat. Will grumbled something about ‘cocky little nerds’ and eased his way down the pavement, gradually making his way out the town as a pace that had both of them out of their minds with boredom before they’d even made it a mile.

It took a little over ninety minutes to get to aunt Josie’s farmhouse. More often than either of them wanted to acknowledge, they’d pulled off the road and held their breaths, paranoid that they were being followed, only to laugh at themselves when no one showed up. Jimmy didn’t voice the alternative - that they were being stalked, toyed with. Will was on edge enough as it were.

The lights were off when they pulled up. Neither were that worried - Aunt Josie had always been more of a morning person, after all. Her red pickup was still parked under the carport. As they walked up to the front door, Jimmy watched his cousin unwind, tension easing out of his muscles. Will pushed the door open - again, not worrying, they lived far enough in the country to not bother with locks - and stepped into the kitchen. The house was silent. Jimmy followed, hands in his pockets but eyes darting around the heavily shadowed room.

Making their way deeper into the house, Will seemed to relax further and further while Jimmy felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong. It was a somewhat similar feeling to what he would get when Frank was about to come home, full of cheap liquor and anger he’d take out on Jimmy and Sam. The air felt stale in his lungs. At the end of the hallway, the door to Aunt Josie’s bedroom was closed.

Will was smiling as he nudged the door open. He took a deep breath, ready to call out to his mom, ready to be reassured of her health and safety. The next second he was hunched over, hands clasped over his mouth and stomach rolling. The smell of decay overwhelmed them, and Jimmy finally identified what, exactly, was wrong.

Aunt Josie was laying on the ground near her bed, an archaic bullet hole through her chest. The light grey rug under her body was stained dark brown with old blood. While Will clung to the doorframe, trying desperately to keep his dinner down, Jimmy stumbled forward to her side. He’d always heard that people were peaceful in death, but Aunt Josie looked as distraught as she’d been when he last saw her, through a school bus window, two weeks ago. Her body was breaking down, past rigor mortis and well along in the bloating process. Deep tan skin was now motley green. The stink of rotting meat and excrement and who knew what else was thick in the air, having been trapped in the room with her. Dark liquid covered the wood floor, leaking out from her body, more fluid than one would expect from a corpse. If he looked closely, which he tried not to, he could see the small movement of maggots and cadaverous bugs within her small wound and under the skin.

Saliva pooled in Jimmy’s mouth and he turned away, stumbling out of the room before collapsing to his knees and retching. Will staggered after him, pale and sweating. Neither of them said a word for the longest time. Will was barely breathing, not making a sound as tears pooled in his eyes and ran, silently, down his cheeks.

“How long has she been dead?” he finally whispered, choking on the word.

Jimmy hated how his mind automatically went through the stages of decomposition, hated how for a split second he could objectively analyze how far along the body (his aunt, not the body, it was his aunt lying there) was. He was barely aware of his lips moving and the words coming out of his mouth. “It takes around eight days for discoloration to start. She’s probably been… for over a week.”

“Fuck.”

It took another ten minutes for either of them to move. Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, dragged his cousin behind him, and made his way towards the front door. Will didn’t make a sound as he was led along, eyes unfocused and staring into the distance. It was past midnight at this point, and Jimmy knew they had to get going if they wanted to avoid being caught out. As he passed the kitchen table, a stack of mail caught his attention and he grabbed them, curious, glancing over the words.

‘In response to your request… Cannot supply more rations… Distress signal…’

Jimmy swallowed and stuffed the papers in his coat pocket without a second thought.

Will was still unresponsive when they reached the stolen car, and without a second thought Jimmy shoved him into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. Driving this old thing couldn’t be more difficult than the corvette, and this time he wasn’t trying to run from Frank and the cops and Riverside. Jimmy didn’t spare a second to glance in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the farmhouse. If he did, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.

It was only when they got close to town that Jimmy noticed they were being tailed. At first he thought it was a figment of his paranoid imagination. It was barely there, in the corner of his eye, and his cousin was of no help in differentiating real from fabricated. Will hadn’t spoken a word since the farmhouse. Jimmy stepped on the gas a hair and fixed his eyes on the road in front of him, ignoring the tingling in the back of his mind.

Jimmy pulled off on the side of the road and stared out the back window. He’d seen it again, bigger and more obvious. He was 85% sure there really was something out there, in the black of Tarsus night. Either way, he wasn’t too keen on getting caught, so they would be legging it through the woods the rest of the way back. He hopped out of the car and led Will behind him into the dense forest. He'd finally started responding when Jimmy asked him questions, and could see his surroundings well enough to avoid low hanging branches.

“Come on, we’ve got to go, they’re behind us Will, we’ve got to hide,” Jimmy panted in his cousin’s ear. They were making far too much noise, stepping on twigs and getting slapped by branches. He just hoped they could get far enough ahead of the people stalking them, out of hearing range and back to school before sunrise.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard boots stomping through the undergrowth after them. “Hey! Where’d you go? You know the punishment for breaking curfew, it’ll hurt less if you just stop running!” The overt threat of pain and punishment sent a chill down Jimmy’s spine and he couldn't let himself get lost in memories of Frank, he had to get his cousin back to safety. He grit his teeth and made a conscious effort to be quieter, shushed Will when he spat a curse at a vine that tangled around his leg but it was too late. Bright flashlight beams cut through the greenery and into Will’s face and shouts filled the air.

Then they are running through the woods, abandoning all hope at subtlety and there are crashing footsteps behind them, the high pitched whine of phaser blasts and deep voices calling out promises of pain, and -

Will trips over a branch, twists his ankle, and Jimmy hauls his cousin up and behind him. He’s limping and leaning heavily on the younger boy but Jimmy clings tight to him. He won’t lose more of his family, he won’t, not after Sam, he can help Will, it’s not too much further to the fence and if they can just lose these guards they’ll be fine.

Gunshots and phaser fire follow them, sinking into tree trunks in their wake, cutting through leaves and then they hit something definitively not wood and Will is screaming, crying, begging Jimmy to stop but he’s bleeding out all over Jimmy and it’s too much, too much, he can’t make it stop please make it stop! There’s a hole in his stomach, gaping in what little moonlight is filtering through the tree branches. Hot blood is burning his hands, his face, and he can’t put enough pressure on the wound while trying to run and he can’t stop running or they’re both dead. They’re both so, so dead.

Will is clawing at Jimmy’s hand and at first he grips it tight, trying to take some of the pain from his cousin, but he’s being slapped and Will is glaring at him with as much strength as he can muster, though it’s fading fast. Jimmy has never seen so much fire in those brown eyes until now. He’s wheezing, but he can force out a mouthful of words. “Leave me, Jimmy. You gotta get out of here.” The men are gaining on them and they don’t have much time left. Will lets himself go limp, still staring at Jimmy, shrugging out of his hold and collapsing onto the ground. He shoves him once, for good measure, when Jimmy stops moving. “Go!” Will shouts, the force of his words making blood spew from his paling lips.

Jimmy runs. He runs, and doesn’t look back.

#star trek #fanfiction #megan writes #tarsus iv #gun violence #child death tw #violence tw #gore #star trek (tos)#star trek (aos)

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savoies · 5 years ago

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Miscommunications - Nolan Patrick.

Nolan Patrick x Reader.

Summary: Nolan is feeling a little insecure and he starts to ignore his girlfriend but then they talk it out and it turns out to be just a miscommunication.

Word count : 1143 ( wow im proud)

Warning: like one bad word.

Nolan was currently on the road to Colorado. The Philadelphia Flyers were going to play against the Colorado Avalanche in about two days. Y/n was currently at home in Philly texting Nolan to text her when he got to Colorado. Y/n and Nolan had been dating for about a year and while y/n was more emotional and Nolan keeped his feelings bottled in, they made it work. She decided just to work on some homework and then go to bed afterwards since it was pretty late when Nolan left for his long road trip of a day.

Nolan had arrived in Colorado a few hours ago and was currently practicing making some goals into the net with Hartsy blocking most of them. Nolan had been off of his game and Tk noticed but didn't mention anything because his best friend wasn't one to talk about his feelings. The game was starting in thirty minutes and warm ups had started. Y/n was back home wearing his number 19 jersey getting prepared for the game to start. She knew Nolan had arrived safely because Tk usually posted stories of the arena they were going to play at. She just decided to send him a good luck text since he didn't text her earlier of his arrival but she didn't want to seem like a mom.

The game ended as the waves of orange were seen through the crowd jumping up and down. The flyers had won against the avalanche and they were pretty damn proud. Nolan walked into the locker room to get changed and when he saw that he had a new text from his girlfriend. He left it on read as he did the other one he received upon his arrival. It wasn't that he was trying to ignore her; he just sometimes got these thoughts into his mind that he wasn't good enough for her. I mean she had a bachelors degree, was studying to get her masters, and she was the most determined person he had ever met. He was just a hockey player. He knew that if he ever got a serious injury his entire career would end. But y/n had her whole life in front of her. Before more of these thoughts could enter his mind Travis walked in and told him they were gonna go out for celebratory drinks. He thought that maybe a couple of those would blur his mind and he would forget about these thoughts. So he got dressed and headed out with the rest of his team mates.

Y/n watched as the flyers won and jumped up and down as Kevin Hayes made the winning goal. She texted her boyfriend: congrats you did amazing and then call me when you can. Y/n saw the guys stories and saw they went out to get some drinks. She waited about thirty minutes but didn't get a response from her boyfriend. She decided to stop because she didn't want to seem clingy and she decided calling Teeks was a better option. The phone rang about four times when the caller on the other end finally picked up. “Hey Y/n whats up.”

“Hey Tk just calling to congratulate you guys on the win and wondering if I can talk to nols.” the girl said hopeful yet a bit nervous cause it seemed as though her boyfriend was ignoring her. There was shuffling on tks side of the line and then she could hear him shouting “hey pat your girl wants to talk to you.”

“Tell her I'm busy” the 21 year old centerman yelled back. In that moment y/n got enough classification and her heart broke a little. “Hey y/n he’s--...”

“I heard teeks thanks.” the girl said, trying not to cry. She decided to just watch netflix and eat some ice cream cause now it for sure seemed as though her boyfriend was ignoring her.

“Stop being such a jerk and talk to your girlfriend.” Travis said.

“Don't you think ive tried,” Nolan said, looking down at his shoes avoiding his friend's eye contact. “She's great but she's too good for me. I'm just a hockey player. She could leave me any moment.”

Travis listened to his best friend's sincere confession and thought about how y/n was seriously in love with him and she thought the opposite of everything he had just said. “Pat, i've seen the way that girl looks at you and she's totally whipped and I can say the same for you.” Nolan loved his girlfriend and it seemed like he just needed a slight push from his best friend to realize that they had their differences but they were totally and hopelessly in love.

He decided to step out for some air and call her and tell her how he really felt. Y/n was sitting on the couch when her phone started ringing. Her boyfriend's name flashed across the screen as she completed picking up. She decided to ignore how she was hurting and instead answered it cause deep down she could never be mad at her big goofball of a boyfriend. There was silence for a few minutes as the static was heard on both sides of the line. Then finally Nolan spoke up with a simple hey.

“Hey bub.” y/n said back. It felt good to hear his voice.

“Uhm wow ive been such a dick to you and i'm sorry, it's just sometimes i wonder why you're with me--..”

“Nol--..”

“Wait y/n let me finish, cause you know how hard this is for me.” The girl let him continue. “Sometimes it seems as though you are too good for this world and way too good for me and Tk made me realize that I should stop bottling up my feelings and talk to you about them. Communication is a big part of relationships and that's what I'm doing right now. I love you and I'm sorry sometimes I'm not good enough.” Nolan said exasperated at the end of his emotional speech.

There was silence for a few moments while y/n was trying hard not to cry. “Baby are you there?”

“Yeah sorry bubs, Nols if you ever feel this way please tell me. I love you so much and you are seriously perfect for me. I understand communicating is hard for you but you know i'm always here to listen. You are always good enough and beyond that. I'm glad Travis made you talk about it. God, I love you so much Nolan Patrick.”

By the end of her speech they were both trying not to cry. “I love you lovebug. I'll call you later when i get to the hotel.”

“I'll be waiting.” y/n said glad that all this was just a miscommunication.

Tags so it doesn't flop: @marner-lovebot @hockey-anyone @mitch-slap @mymanseguin @leafsxhockeywrxtes @summerko8

#hockey imagine #hockey #nolan patrick #nhl imagine #philly flyers #philidelphia flyers #hockey game #hockey boys

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artsythembo · 4 years ago

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Make Up Work - Chapter 1

Tw: Bullying, Minor violence

Nathan Rosen is tired of constantly being pushed around. He put his foot down and even got some kids suspended but now they're back! Nathan needs to fend off old enemies and without realizing it may grow closer to one than her ever thought possible.

The keyboard clacked rigorously as Nathan typed on his latest story. He knew the clock was ticking. However, he also knew this was what he loved and math class wasn't. With only five minutes left he found himself knee deep in the atmosphere and barely noticed when his timer went off. Three till, now he had to get to class. Begrudgingly he packed up his laptop and threw his bag over his shoulder. Making his way out of the library he kept his head down. Get to class and make it through the day.

As he made his way through the hallway he felt bumps and heard jeers. Insults flew at him like flies to fly paper but despite them sticking he ignored it the best he could. The last thing he needed right now was a fight and besides he knew he'd lose. It was thankfully a short walk to Miss Gallard's math class so he made it with little damage. He kept his mind on his stories as he sat in the second row, wanting to hear the lesson but not wanting to appear like a total nerd. Looking around he noticed something, or more like the lack of something. Seat five of row four was unoccupied. That's where Ryan usually sat or at least used to. Spying discretely around the room he noted Ryan was still nowhere to be seen. Thank god.

The last thing he needed was to deal with him. Ryan was one of the worst kids in the school, violent and demanding. He was always making Nathan do his homework, or at least he did before he disappeared. One day Nathan walked in dreading another day and no one demanded his lunch money. That was a month ago and it was honestly a pretty sweet month of no bullies! All his usual bullies had been suspended and then a week later Ryan went missing. He sure as hell didn't miss them! Especially Ryan, he was never anything but a jerk. The bell rang and with a whistle Miss Gallard's got the back row to chat quieter as she began class.

"Good morning students," She said less than enthusiastically, "I do hope you all studied as instructed because today is the day," She pulled out a small pile of papers. "midterms."

The students groaned as she passed out a few papers to those without laptops. There were a few boys sitting in the back who Nathan knew all too well, Jared and his gang. Those kids were real pieces of work. Nathan could feel them glaring at the back of his neck as he grabbed out his laptop. Theirs had been confiscated by the school after they were caught cyberbullying other kids, including him. He did his best to ignore them, but he knew they were planning trouble. It was because of him they got suspended. He sighed internally as they flicked papers at the back of his neck. At least Ryan is still gone.

He turned his attention to getting the test page up. Nathan was always good with tests and studied hard so he hoped things would be fine. Miss Gallard walked back to the front of the room and addressed the teens.

"Alright this will be an hour long exam, you will be timed. Quite a lot of your grade relies on this so good luck." Nathan did his best clicking through answers at an alright pace. He vaguely noticed other kids putting away their laptops and even Jared and them taking up their papers. Once finished Nathan submitted. He wasn't the last one done but certainly had taken his time. Closing the tab he opened his word processor and continued work on his story. He lost himself deep in the characters so deep in fact that he didn't notice the bell ring. Of course everyone else was in a hurry to get to lunch and he didn't have any friends in the class so no one bothered to tell him. Until Miss Gallard tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you going to lunch?" she questioned. It was then that He noticed the time. Crap! He quickly shut his laptop and shoved it into his bag walking quickly out the room. Once he was out of sight of the teacher he began sprinting. He really didn't want to miss lunch. Running he found himself drifting back to his story. The main character Ariana Valentine, he loved her so much, was a bad-ass outlaw on the run in a futuristic society. She was living her hectic life before she met Grey Lawson, an upstanding citizen of the new world who insists she change her ways. Through some pretty cool circumstances this unlikely pair are stuck together on the run from the government trying to break down a conspiracy! Nathan felt a little like he was floating as he ran at a breakneck pace. Maybe that was why he didn't notice the person in his way until he ran into them. The wind was knocked out of him as Nathan bounced back.

"Hey! What the-!" Nathan froze as his eye opened to the sight of a white and red letterman jacket with a patch in the shape of a capital R.

Crap! He knew who was inside this jacket and rather than look up he hoped he could slip past him. He wanted to go to lunch and pretend this never happened. Unfortunately he was never that lucky. As he attempted to silently stare forward and walk around he felt the familiar tug of a fist on his shirt collar.

His eyes shut again as the wind was knocked out of him for the second time. Colliding with the wall hurt but not near as much as he was about to if he didn't choose his next words carefully. Opening his eyes he saw the angry, bruised face of none other than Ryan Hyalls staring him down. He spoke slowly as if calming a rabid animal.

"Hey Ryan, long time no see…" Ryan looked him up and down clearly in a bad mood. Oh boy.

"So I'm gone a couple weeks and you think you can start throwing attitude?" Fuck.

"No, no, no. Of course not I didn't know it was you is, um all!" He knew he was slipping he had to act fast before this turned sour.

"And? Any more excuses?" Jeez he is in a bad mood today. Nathan stays silent unsure what to say. Act fast.

"No, no, I'm sorry." Ryan seemed to calm slightly letting Nathan down. "Look I'm super sorry to have caused any trouble." Nathan spoke somewhat frantically moving slowing in a half circle around Ryan. "So I'll go and stop bothering you! I'm sure you want to get to lunch." Nathan was about to bolt when Ryan grabbed his arm.

"Not without my lunch money I'm not." He held out a hand expectantly and Nathan cursed to himself. Great… He rolled his eyes internally but did as the older teen demanded. He even added a nervous. "O-of course!" The weaker he appeared, the less threatened the bully would be or at least that's what his mother said. Nathan handed the money from his wallet into Ryan's expecting hand. As Ryan counted the money Nathan backed away slowly and turned.

"Oh no you don't!" Ryan reached out before Nathan bolted and grabbed him by the arm. His hand was big enough to completely encase the younger boys arm. Nathan turned panicked hoping he could have gotten away and for the first time since the conversation began Ryan smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile, not even close! It was a wicked kind of smile a car salesman had before ripping off an old lady. Nathan wanted to yell for help but he knew better so when Ryan began dragging him around the school halls he let it happen. "Where are we going?" He asked exasperated but Ryan refused to answer and kept smiling.

It wasn't long before they reach their destination, a janitors closet. Nathan was confused until he saw the door propped open with a book, then he was terrified. Ryan pulled him forward opening the door and shoving him in. Nathan barely kept his balance and turned in time to see the door shut.

He wasn't sure what would happened next and the air was tense. Ryan opened his bag and pulled out a folder throwing it to Nathan who barely caught It. It was green and read HISTORY across the front in bold black lettering. Nathan looked up in confusion.

"What? You know your job. Ive been gone for a month. So that means lots of make up work for me. Or more accurately for you." Ryan smiled a grin that could kill kittens and Nathan fumed. Seriously? He scares the shit out of me to make me do his homework! Nathan would've voiced these complaint but Ryan blocked the door. Knowing this could go much worse Nathan sat down and got started. There was so much and Ryan was a grade above him so Nathan had his work cut out for him. As he worked through it he did his best, even pulling out his phone to look stuff up. He knew these papers had to get a good grade, or else.

After a bit Nathan decided to try his luck. He could see other kids in the hall heading to the lunch room and knew he'd miss it entirely if he didn't try.

"You know I could get this done a lot faster if I had some food?" Nathan bit his lip hoping this would work but unfortunately Ryan turned his face sarcastically to the trapped boy.

"Oh really?" He pretend to think about it before plainly stating, "No." Nathan knew he was already pushing it but he was hungry.

"Come on, please? Something small at least?" He begged. This time Ryan ignored him. Nathan grew desperate and nearly shouted. "Aw come on man! I'm already doing your work you could at least let me eat!" Nathan quickly regretted his tone as the older boy stood up walking towards him. Nathan prepared himself for trouble and quickly back-tracked.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean-" He was cut off as Ryan got right up in his face and pointed to the papers on his lap with a stern look. Nathan swallowed a knot in his throat as Ryan's demeanor dared Nathan to challenge him further. He didn't and thankfully Ryan went back and sat down messing around on his phone.

Nathan sighed internally and turned back to the work. Whatever! I'll get it done and then I wouldn't have to worry about it. He sat and worked on history above his grade level for far longer than he felt he should have been. Still eventually the bell rang and Ryan stood up. Thank god I can finally leave.

Nathan got up as well stuffing all the papers he had managed to get done back in the folder. Ryan opened the door and Nathan followed him out. He tried to hand Ryan the folder but with a dissatisfied look he shoved it back into Nathans possession. Nathan was confused and a bit angry.

"I did the work." He insisted. Ryan stared him down like this was a waste of his time and shoved back the folder.

"Do the rest." Nathan hoped this wouldn't happen but clearly that didn't mean much to the universe that day.

"What?" Nathan blurted but Ryan smirked.

"I want it done by tonight." He shoved Nathan back and walked away as the dumbfounded boy fumed unable to do anything.

#original fiction #oc #my ocs #tw bullying #tw violence #ryan hyalls #nathan rosen #nat rosen #make up work #romance #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #mlm #gay #lgbt #lgbt stories

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kittybellestark · 5 years ago

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Peter Parker Loves Everyone He Meets

Peter Parker Loves Everyone he Meets.

Peter Parker is tired of loving everyone. He loves people with all he has. He just wants them to know they’re wanted and loved and that they aren’t alone. But he’s tired. He’s so tired. It just takes so much sometimes. But he can’t let people know that he’s tired, he can’t let them know he’s tired from caring about them.

He doesn’t remember his parents. Of course he doesn’t. But Peter remembers that he felt loved. He remembers the feel of his mothers hugs, and how warm they were. He remembers the sound of his dad’s laugh as he put a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze. Peter doesn’t remember his parents, but he remembers feeling loved, and that’s worth a lot, isn’t it?

Of course he remembers Ben, his death was still relatively recent (though feeling like a lifetime ago, which, Peter supposes, it was). He also remembers how loved he felt with Ben. He remember Ben and him ‘sneaking out’ to get ice cream, or to watch Star Wars in that one theater that only ever played old movies. He remembers Ben helping him with his homework and that one special smile only reserved for him.

Peter remembers how his family loved him. And he’s thankful he still has May’s love. But he remembers how he felt. He also remembers his parents and his uncle’s love.

Peter also remembers how it feels to not be loved. Not that he was ever without love, but he remembers feeling like we wasn’t loved.

He remembers being told that his parent’s were never going to come back to him. He remembers feeling like the only people who loved him were gone. He remembers only being a child and feeling alone. Peter remembers that for the first time in his life he felt like no one loved him.

Peter also remembers the next time in his life that he felt anything but loved. And alone. Of course he was anything but alone at that specific time he felt like the only boy in the world who was being told that “friends always do this,” and “Einstein, haven’t I told you before that it’s important to know you’re friend inside and out? I’m just making sure we do just that.” Peter remembers every excruciating moment the first time it happened. And he remembers not remembering every other time it happened. He remembers it starting, but then he remember not feeling anything, and later being so sore, and hurt with bruises just under his collarbone. And he remembers being told “The things you do to me Einstein, you make me so weak. I love our little secret, I hope we can keep it forever.”

And then Ben died and Peter watched him die. Felt him die. Watch as his eyes became empty and his skin go grey, blood pooling on the sidewalk. And Peter knew. He knew there was only one person left who he loved (and only one who loved him back). Peter knew that if he lost May then he really wouldn’t have anyone.

So Peter started to invest himself in people. Of course it was hard. So hard. Everyone seems to be dying. And I mean there was- trusting people is hard. Letting people become so close to himself is also hard, especially when he knows what could possibly happen.

Ned is already a friend, while they aren’t all that close, they sit with each other at lunch, and meet each other at their respective lockers. So, yeah they’re friends. Peter just needs to put himself out there. Get closer to Ned. He can do this. Peter Parker can do this.

And Peter does it!! Peter loves Ned. Ned is Peter’s best friend, and they have sleepovers all the time. Ned even brings his Lego over to Peters!! Ned is the coolest person ever and Peter loves Ned.

Peter needs to tell Ned. But he needs it to be casual, make so Ned knows it’s in a friend way. Platonic love is a very important type of love and Peter knows Ned deserves it more than most people.

For Peter’s birthday Ned got him a Star Wars Lego set. Peter has been looking at this set for a while, but it was $60!! No one who wasn’t related to him has ever bought him anything worth so much before.

“Ned you shouldn’t have!” Peter laughs hugging his friend.

“You deserve it man.” Ned says back also laughing as May starts serving cake.

“Ned honestly, it means a lot. I love you man, you’re the best.”

After Ned it’s a lot easier to connect with people who want to be friends with him. He’s got MJ now, and Mr Stark, and while they both tried keeping Peter at arms length it was pretty easy when they finally cracked a tiny bit.

Peter has people now. He’s got May and Ned and MJ and Mr Stark. Peter’s pretty busy, especially because he’s Spider-Man, and Peter loves Queens and all the people in Queens. They need him as much as he needs them.

As Peter and Mr Stark get closer, and Peter spends more and more time in the lab.Then the lab becomes the living room for movies and pizza, which leads to Peter accidentally falling asleep, and walking up the next morning in a room Mr Stark set up for him on his personal floor.

Peter tried to tell Mr Stark that he loves him, but Mr Stark isn’t ready for that, and that’s okay. Peter just needs to continue showing his mentor how much he cares.

The Avengers move back in, and suddenly Peter had more people he needs to love, had to make sure they felt loved. The Avengers seemed so broken, and alone. Peter knows what it feels like to be alone. So Peter makes it his personal mission to have them remember the stories that Mr Stark told him. Peter is going to make them a family again.

Peter, as it turns out, also loves the returned Avengers. It comes in between the laughter and chaotic dinners, in between midnight snacks and hot chocolates after nightmares.

And now Peter is really busy, he has decathlon on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Lab on Tuesday and Thursdays. Dance practices with MJ Monday Evenings and Thursday’s before school, Ned on Wednesday evenings. Sleeping at the tower Friday night and every second Saturday night. May-Time on Sundays, Patrol until 11pm on school nights, 12pm on non school nights, and of course homework and he needs to sleep at some point, and remember to eat too. And if somebody needs him, he needs to make sure he’s available to help them, without making anyone else feel alone.

Mr Stark then introduces Peter to Harley Keener. Harley Keener does not seem to like Peter at all, and doesn’t seem interested in changing that. But Peter looks at Harley, and see’s that he’s alone in a new unfamiliar places, without any of his family, and he’s worried Harley feels alone. So Peter pushes, and pushes and pushes.

Harley resists, he doesn’t break. And Peter somehow Loves Harley, in a way he has never felt before. In a way Harley will not return. Peter is okay with it though, because while Harley may feel that Peter is a “pest,” and a “complete annoyance, that shouldn’t even be able to step foot in the tower,” Peter knows that he may have at least helped Harley feel less alone.

Peter just wishes he felt the same way. Because Peter has people, he has so many people, and they need him, and he needs them, but he feels alone. And he loves all these people so much that it physically hurts. He would do anything for all the people he loves. But he’s so tired.

Peter is so tired of loving people. Of loving his friends and family. He doesn’t remember feeling tired of loving Ben or May. But when has any of the people he loves, aside from May, ever say that they love him? No one tells Peter he’s loved.

Maybe Peter doesn’t have people. Maybe people have Peter. Peter shakes that unwelcomed thought out of his head as he reads over Ned’s schools report, fixing any mistakes.

Peter is tired though, as his phones continues to be filled with calls and texts of whoever saying “I need you!” And Peter can’t help but selfishly think ‘I need me too!’

On a Wednesday Peter is walking home, because May wanted him home for dinner before heading over to Ned’s, when he receives a phone call.

Peter picks it up without looking a who called, it doesn’t really matter it’s just another person he loves needing Peters help. Peter starts crossing the busy, fast moving street as the person on the other line is asking for help.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ll try tonight okay?” Peter tries to compromise, pausing in the middle of the road, hesitating over his answer and feeling the world weigh so much heavier on his shoulders.

His ‘Spidey-Sense’ doesn’t go off until it’s too late. Peter gets hit by a car, the driver was texting at the time, and Peters phone goes flying one way as peter feels himself roll up the hood of the car, impact with the windshield, before flying up further and crashing into the ground.

Cars and buses are swerving to miss the kid laying in the middle of the road, onlookers taking out their phones and taking pictures and videos at what has transpired.

Peter landing face down, head hitting the concrete hard enough to knock him out, bookbag filled with textbooks crushing his back. Peter is bleeding, but onlookers don’t know from where, can’t move Peter to find out because he may have broken his back, but the evidence is on the road.

With how quickly the pictures and videos were uploaded onto social media, Peter’s face clearly visible, it takes no time for Friday to alert Tony that Peter was hit by a car and is now trending on social media, with his location already programmed into the suit.

Tony gets to the accident scene quickly, doesn’t let anyone touch Peter until his own team of doctors comes and collects him.

Peter wakes up briefly, not long enough to know what’s happening or why Iron Man is there, but long enough to note how tired he is and how he’s alone.

He wakes up next in the Medbay. Attached to an IV with drugs strong enough to help with the pain, and a heart monitor. He wakes up to dimmed, warm lights, and a room full of people.

May and Ned and MJ and Mr Stark and The Avengers and Harley Keener are all hanging around in his over sized Medbay room. Everyone he loves is in his room, but Peter still feels alone.

“What happened?” Peter finally speaks, bringing all the attention to him.

“You got hit by a car, Kid.” Tony responds when no one else seems to know what to say.

Peter remembers walking home from school and getting a call asking for help, he remembers pausing for a moment and then he remembers waking up, no car, no injury.

“Huh.”

“Is that all you have to say about it?” May asks. She knows Peter should have been able to sense the danger coming, should have been able to move out of the way, and never end up here.

“Don’t remember actually getting hit. I got a phone call and I felt bad saying no and I stopped, but I don’t think I was trying to get hit. I was distracted and probably didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May scolded him giving the idea that she didn’t believe him. “I want the truth.”

“May!” Peter whined rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t kill myself. I can’t kill myself, I have commitments. And if I were to kill myself I wouldn’t put it on another person. I’ve been tired lately, probably why I didn’t notice.”

“Peter…” May whispers and Peter can’t help but feel uncomfortable in a room of all the people he loved, all judging him.

“May, maybe we should give Peter some privacy instead of doing this in front of everyone.” Tony suggested starting to usher people out of the room, but staying behind himself in case May needed back up.

“I’m not suicidal!” Peter sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, and looking back at May. “I don’t want to kill myself, May. I’m just tired. I’m really tired, and people need to not feel alone. I’m tired, May, I just wanted like half an hour to myself, I just needed some time to think.”

“Peter, honey, you know you can take time to yourself whenever you need it, right?”

“I can’t, I can’t. Someone always seems to need something from me, all the time. What if I tell them no, and then they’re alone and they can’t get other help. I don’t want anyone to be alone. I don’t want them to realize that I’m not worth their time.” Peter didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean to say any of it, but he’s so tired, and the pain medication is making him even more emotional. And Peter really, really didn’t want to say any of that.

“Oh baby, no one is going to be tired of you, and we’ll all understand if you need some time to yourself. Everyone here loves you.”

May ran her fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to give him some comfort. Peter scoffed in response rolling his eyes in such an extravagant way that he could have only learnt it from Tony. Peter crossed his arms over his chest looking away from May and off to the side.

May turned around to Tony, giving him a look that got Tony moving to the other side of Peters bed, holding onto the boys hand.

“Peter, kid, you can’t seriously think we don’t love you.” Tony spoke softly. Peter gave him a look and Tony sighed. “I’m sorry Peter, I’m sorry that I haven’t shown you properly how much I love you. Peter Parker you are special, and I think of you as my kid, even though I know you aren’t, okay? I’m sorry that we all are really bad with our emotions, but I promise you everyone outside those doors loves you too, we’re all just really bad at saying it.”

Peter Parker loves everyone he meets, but they all love him too.

#peter parker #spiderson #spiderman #hurt peter parker #tony stark #irondad #iron man #may parker #avengers #ned leeds #mj #bi peter #bi peter parker #harley keener #peter parker gets hurt #hurt comfort #tony stark loves his kids #peter parker loves everyone #avengers family

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winunk · 4 years ago

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Under A Peach Tree | iv | Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Chapter Four: Can I Call You Tonight?

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Summary: Akaashi isn’t sure why but he wants to spend more time with Sasaki. He’s struggling to figure out his feelings and doesn’t want to push Sasaki’s boundaries.

Genre: romance, angst, humor if you squint and think I'm funny

Warnings: cursing, incompetent author who literally does not know how to update regularly, cringe anxious teens, broken caps lock key

Word Count: 1.8k

Check out the series playlist here!

I fucked up.

I watched her walk away from me.

I fucked up.

The train was shaking me, but I couldn’t feel it.

I fucked up.

I hung my bag on a hook next to my desk.

Why couldn’t you just tell her that you wanted her around?

I dried my hair with my towel, staring back at the boy in the mirror.

Why do you even want her around?

I sunk into my bed, wrapping myself in the covers.

Tomorrow came too soon. Before I knew what was happening, I was unlocking the club room and getting all the equipment ready in the gym.

Focus, Keiji. You’ve got to get this team to the Spring Tournament again.

I began warming up as the rest of the team trickled in. I set the volleyball off the wall, and it came back perfectly to my hands.

This isn’t enough.

I started going faster, running back and forth, bouncing the ball of the wall from different angles.

Just hit that same spot.

I kept going, sweat dripping down the side of my face. The cold air of the morning pricked my skin.

Just--

I slipped. My shoes screeched against the gym floor, stopping my feet as my body flung too far to the left. I landed on the hard ground, a sharp pain in my ankle.

I fucked up.

“Akaashi-san,” Onaga called out, rushing to my side. “Are you alright?”

I rolled over onto my back, sprawling out on the floor. “I’m sure I’ll be okay,” I reassured him.

I’m definitely not okay.

I accepted his help up, and my knees almost automatically buckled. Pain flared up in my ankle.

Well, shit.

“Yeah, you’re going home.”

Onaga called Yuka and Coach Yamiji over to help me to my feet. He explained the situation to them, and Coach gave me a pointed look before telling Yuka to wrap my ankle and lock me out of the gym.

“You’re not going to actually lock me out of the gym, are you?” I asked Yuka.

She slid the door shut with a slam.

So much for being her favorite senpai.

I started on my way home.

Where did I go wrong?

I grabbed a bag of ice on my way to my room.

I’ve never been kicked out of practice like that before.

I set the ice bag against the part of my foot that hurt the most and sat down at my desk. I started to do some work written on my to-do list, but I kept glancing at my phone. I wasn’t sure why, but I kept checking to see if Sasaki had messaged me.

Yu-chan must have told her about my injury. She had to have given Sasaki my number for managerial reasons.

I picked up my phone and started looking through my social media apps for any missed notifications.

Why do I want her to message me so badly?

I opened the video calling app on my phone and called the first person on my recents list. Really, he was the only person on my recents list.

Maybe I just want attention right now.

“AGAASHE!” Bokuto’s hair filled up most of the screen. His eyebrows filled the rest. “How are you? You never call this early in the day.”

Do I want his advice or do I just want to catch up with him like normal?

“I finished my homework early, so I thought I would call you, Bokuto-san,” I replied, rubbing the nape of my neck. “How have you been?”

“I’m doing GREAT!”

I turned down the volume.

“I took Coach’s advice and stopped practicing on our days off!” he bragged. “I’ve been spending so much time just WALKING AROUND! THERE’S SO MANY FOOD STALLS HERE!!! I’LL JUST STOP ON MY WALK AND PICK UP SOMETHING TO EAT AND BE ON MY WAY!!!”

I smiled. “That’s good for you, Bokuto-san,” I said. “You always seemed a little more tense during those week-long training camps. Training nonstop didn’t do you well.”

“BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, AGAASH!!!” he exclaimed. “THE FOOD HERE IS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!”

“I’m sure it is, Bokuto-san.”

He continued talking about how much he was enjoying Osaka. Bokuto rambled on and on about the food. He had been upset that he wasn’t on the official roster for the team at first, but he was in the pool for the team to pick players from.

“It’s actually a lot nicer than I thought it would be, Akaash!” he shouted. “I’m getting to play a lot of games without feeling the pressure weigh down on me.

“I mean sure, I have to be good enough for them to put me on their team, but everyone here is good. Not that the guys at Fukurodani aren’t good. These guys are just so good. I don’t feel like I’m being pushed into a corner though. They’re pushing for me to be better in a good way.”

I nodded along. He gave me the opportunity for me to talk about what universities I was applying to. As always, he tried to convince me to go to a school with a good volleyball team so i could play.

“Hey, why are you upset?”

I blinked rapidly, his question washing over me like cold water.

How did he know?

“I’m not upset, Bokuto-san,” I responded, trying to slow my breathing.

My heart was beating faster as my mind scrambled for something, anything, to say to shake Bokuto’s interrogation.

When was he able to read me this well?

“How was your game with Nekoma yesterday?” Bokuto asked instead. He was narrowing down on everything that could have gone wrong in the last 24 hours.

I nodded my head, looking at the stack of books on my desk. “It went well,” I said. “We lost, but only barely. They have a pretty solid team while we’re still trying to get the first-years working in sync.”

Bokuto scratched his head. “Didn’t you say there was a really good first-year hitter?”

“Mamoru-kun.”

“Mamoru-kun! How is he doing?” Bokuto asked, light flashing in his eyes. “Is he giving you as much trouble as I gave you?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Bokuto-san, you weren’t as troublesome as you thought you were,” I reassured him. “But, uh, Mamoru-kun is shaping up very well. Anahori-kun actually got to play quite a bit in the last set of the game as well.”

His eyes narrowed and a wide grin graced his face.

Ah, so he’s caught on.

“I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG!” he shouted. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“You seem awfully happy that I’m upset, Bokuto-san.”

“AGAASHEE!!!”

I sighed. “So there’s this,” I hesitated, “person that I’ve gotten close with. I asked them to help Yuka-chan with her manager duties--”

“Haha! You said duties!”

“--but yesterday they quit out of nowhere,” I finished, ignoring Bokuto’s comment. “I don’t know if it was something that I did wrong, or if the team was actually stressing them out.”

My mind flashed back to Onaga’s arm around Sasaki’s shoulders. I felt my blood boil thinking about how uncomfortable she looked.

Bokuto scratched his chin. “What does this have to do with you losing to Nekoma?” he asked. Didn’t you guys just play them last weekend at the training camp?”

“I think I just got nervous with them watching,” I admitted, not realizing that it was the truth until I said it. “It’s the first game that they’ve watched, and I really wanted to impress them.”

“Oh?”

I sighed. The storm that had been brewing in my mind for the past couple days was finally settling down into a soft drizzle.

“They’ve been really distant from me, but I can see the intelligence behind their eyes. I want to spend hours talking to them about literature and school. I want to ask them a million questions about how they think the universe works.”

Bokuto laughed heartily at me.

“Why are you calling me then?”

“Wha--”

“Bye Akaashi!” he shouted. “I think you know what to do!!!”

He hung up on me. I couldn’t believe he just hung up on me. My own face looked back at me in shock.

Bokuto’s voice echoed through my room, through my mind. The phrase repeated itself over and over again.

I know what to do.

I messaged Yuka-chan.

“Took you long enough,” she sent back before sending me what I asked for.

I didn’t ask her what she meant by that.

How did Yuka-chan and Bokuto-san catch onto my feelings before I did? I’m still not even sure just how I feel.

“Hi, it’s Akaashi Keiji,” I typed out.

The blinking cursor mocked me. My thumb rapidly deleted the message and tapped out a new one.

“Hey, it’s Akaashi.”

I sent the message, my stomach uneasy with nerves.

“Can I call you tonight?”

The bubble indicating that Sasaki was typing popped up almost immediately. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Throwing my phone on my desk, I wrung my hands.

My phone buzzed, and I scrambled to pick it up. I couldn’t have her thinking I left her on read.

“I’m about to shower, but you can call me in an hour.”

I sighed in relief.

She doesn’t think I’m weird.

My phone vibrated again. “Are you alright? Did you need something?” she asked.

“I’ll call you at 19:30,” I texted back.

I’ll just explain to her what I need when i call her. Perfect. I get to talk to her.

Why do I want to talk to her?

I spent most of the next hour killing time. I cleaned my room, though it didn’t need much cleaning. I walked to the kitchen and stared at the contents of my fridge. I sat on my bed, staring at my closet in contemplation before deciding that I didn’t need to change my shirt.

By 19:28 I was lying on the ground, staring at the clock on my phone.

Should I call her exactly at 19:30? What if she thinks that’s creepy? Should I call her a little bit sooner? What if she’s busy and misses the call? Should I call her a little bit later? What if she thinks I forgot to call?

I groaned in frustration, slamming my thumb down on the screen. I quickly put my phone on speaker and laid it down next to my head.

With each ring, the pounding in my chest felt louder. My stomach felt like it was trying to dig its way into the ground.

Why is this so nerve-wracking?

“Hello?” a voice called out from the speaker on my phone. “Akaashi-san?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Hi, Sasaki-chan,” I replied.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist: [Open]

a/n: Most of this playlist/fic will be Dayglow songs. I love his music so much and they just vibe.

fun facts:

**I 100% made up Bokuto’s situation (I don’t know how pro sports works in Japan)

**Bokuto is Akaashi’s BEST FRIEND!!! just because he’s loud doesn’t mean he isn’t emotionally intelligent and knows what Akaashi needs!!!!

#akaashi keiji #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#volleyball #akaashi keiji x oc #akaashi keiji x fem!oc #oc #original character #krites #hq #fukurodani #fukurodani gakuen #fanfic #fanfiction #uapt #under a peach tree #can i call you tonight #dayglow #can I call you tonight?

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lyssismagical · 5 years ago

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Thought you were human but you're just a ghost, a shield of skin and bone

Febuwhump Day 17 & 18 – Mind Games & Revealed Secret

Read on AO3

Peter’s shoulders tense, keeping his eyes downcast.

“Mister Stark-”

“No!” Tony shouts, slamming his fist down on the edge of the roof. “This is where you zip it. You are not going after the Vulture. Ever. You hear me?”

Peter tries his best to hide his flinch, guilt and self-loathing rushing over him. He failed. Again.

“Mister Stark, please-”

Tony grabs the front of Peter’s stupid I Survived My Trip To NYC t-shirt, crumpling the fabric in his grip.

“If you disobey my direct orders again, I’ll do something more drastic than take your suit, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter chokes out, blinking back the tears that fill his eyes.

Tony lets go of him, smirking when Peter stumbles back a few steps. “Good. Now get out of here. And if I hear that you’ve been snooping around in The Vulture’s business again…”

The threat is heard without being said.

“Yes, sir.”

Peter tries to keep his pace as even as he can as he walks away from Tony, heading towards the door.

What Peter doesn’t see as the door closes behind him and he begins his trek back to his apartment, is the flickering holograms and Tony’s face morphing into Beck’s pleased sneer.

* “I shouldn’t have met him,” Peter says, face crumpling when he finally gets May to stop panicking. It’s a poor explanation but she can’t know he’s Spider-Man. “Meeting your heroes is never as good as you think it’ll be.”

May’s eyes harden briefly, probably preparing herself to chew Tony out for hurting her nephew, but then she watches her kid’s bottom lip tremble as he sits on the couch, shoulders dropping, and her expression softens.

“Whatever he said to you, he’s wrong,” she says, gently carding her fingers through Peter’s curls and rubbing his back. He leans his head up against his stomach, tears slipping down his face. “You’re the best kid I know, baby, and he’s an asshole for hurting you.”

“It’s just- I thought I was doing good, I was trying so hard, and I just- He- I just wanted to do something right and he shouted at me.”

May sighs softly. “You don’t need him, okay? You didn’t deserve that and if I ever see him again, I’ll make sure to give him a piece of my mind.”

That gets Peter to laugh quietly. “Yeah, sure, but I doubt we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

Fingers gentle and careful on his jaw, May lifts his head up to look down at him, thumb running underneath his eyes to catch the tears that fall, and she presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t you go believing Stark that you’re not enough, okay? You don’t need to change a single thing about you for some billionaire asshole’s opinion of you… Well, I could do with you not sneaking out or skipping school, but you know, we can’t have everything, can we?”

Peter doesn’t tell her that because he’s lost the suit, he doesn’t have a reason to sneak out or skip school anymore. He doesn’t tell her that Tony’s been his hero since he was five and Iron Man saved him at the Stark Expo, that he’s been idolizing the hero for even longer. He doesn’t tell her that the words have already sunk into his chest and wrapped around his lungs, planting themselves deep within him.

He doesn’t tell her any of that.

Instead, he settles for a quiet. “I love you, May.”

“Love you too, kiddo. Now, go take a shower and get your homework done. You smell like garbage.”

He laughs quietly and pushes himself. “I know. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby. Please get some rest.”

* Homecoming night came faster than imaginable and Peter was happy for the first time in months.

Meeting Tony certainly wasn’t high on his Worst Experiences, but after his uncle, Tony turning out to be cruel and aggressive had Peter’s mental health declining at a steady rate.

But now it’s homecoming and May’s helped him get his tie on straight, and Ben’s old suit jacket is a little too big on his shoulders, and the corsage he bought for Liz is a little bit droopy, but he’s happy.

Her mom is nice and offers to drive them to school, full of kind smiles and teasing jokes. Liz’s father died a few years prior and it’s obvious how much they miss him, but Peter doesn’t bother to make any condolences. He knows how little it means to grieving families.

Before he knows it, he’s in the gym of their school, dancing with Liz and MJ and Ned, rolling his eyes when Flash flips them off from across the room.

It’s good. It’s fun.

Peter doesn’t even miss being Spider-Man right now. It’s relieving to just hang out with his friends like a regular high school student.

Until, of course, his phone rings.

“Mister Stark?” Peter asks, ducking into the hallway for some privacy. “What do you want?”

“I know I told you to stay away from The Vulture, but I need your help,” he says. “I’ll text you the address.”

Anger swells within Peter’s chest where the insecurities are buried. “You want me to drop everything for you when you’ve done jackshit for me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony says like it’s obvious. “You can pretend to be the hero that you think you are, but I’ve got a lot of leverage here. I know your identity, Parker. I know your friends and family, and I know which villains and criminals want that information.”

“Are you… Are you blackmailing me?”

Tony just laughs, a cold harsh noise that makes the hurt in Peter’s chest swell and seize his lungs. “I’ll text you the address, Parker. You better be there.”

The phone beeps, signaling the end of the call, just as Ned turns the corner.

“Hey, man, you good?”

Peter swallows thickly, turning to his best friend, knowing the pain is shining in his eyes. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait, what? I thought-”

“Cover for me, please. I’ll- I’ll text you when I can.” Peter doesn’t give Ned the time to say no, he turns and jogs down the hallway, pulling up the section of lockers to snap his webshooters around his wrists and grab his mask.

“Peter, wait!” Ned calls.

Peter doesn’t let himself turn, doesn’t let himself face Ned. Tony is blackmailing him, and if things go wrong, Ned will be one of the people in the crossfire.

“Tell Liz I’m sorry.”

As soon as he’s clear of the school, he webs himself as fast as he can in the direction of the address Tony sent him, ignoring the panic that grips his lungs and the fear that settles in the pit of his stomach. He focuses on swinging.

And before he knows it, he’s reaching an abandoned warehouse outside the city.

“Hello?” he calls out, creeping down the staircase.

The stairway opens up into a big room where Tony’s waiting for him, leaning back against a table.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says, a grin stretching across his face.

Peter swallows thickly, stopping in his tracks. “Where’s The Vulture? What do you want?”

“Oh, kid, how naïve and stupid,” Tony spits, leaning back with a cold laugh. “There never was a Vulture. Or I guess, I suppose there was, but he was hiding in plain sight.”

Tony stretches his arms out and second later, the vulture wings are sliding across his back. He grins at Peter, rolling his eyes.

“You’re- How could you-” The breath catches in Peter’s lungs and he can’t breathe. The man across from him, his childhood hero, was the villain Peter was chasing all along.

“I can’t believe I fooled you for so long, Peter. How else do you think I got all that alien tech? It was right there at my disposal? I’m a war profiteer, I always have been. I’m not the hero you thought I was, but at least I’m more of a hero than you. You couldn’t even catch me when I was right there in front of you.”

Peter takes an involuntary step back, trying not to make it obvious that tears are filling his eyes behind his mask. He gasps for breath, panic engulfing his lungs like a wildfire.

Tony waves his hands and the wings are pulling off his back, facing Peter. “And now, you’re going to die for being stupid enough to ever think you could be a hero.”

* Sobs wrack his body as he stumbles through the sand towards the deserted road ahead.

Tony’s webbed to a few of the crates behind him. He tried to change the course of a plane flying from the Avengers Compound filled with Alien tech and other dangerous equipment, to Stark Towers instead. Peter managed to crash the plane on Coney Island.

But now what?

The only person who knows he’s Spider-Man is Ned, and Tony’s threats are still echoing in his head. The Avengers are away, the perfect time for Tony to strike, Peter supposes.

He has nobody to turn to and he’s so fucking tired.

He’s in the sand before he even realizes his knees had buckled, and he coughs, blood splattering in the sand. The warehouse dropping on him flashes through his head, a cry of pain escaping his throat.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to fix this.

His phone is shattered, his mask is missing, he’s out of web fluid, he can’t breathe. Everything hurts.

The last thing he’s aware of before his vision gives out is somebody stumbling through the sand towards him.

* He jerks awake, his nightmares of Tony grabbing his shirt, telling him he’d never be a hero, the warehouse falling on top of him, the plane crashing into the sand, the fires, the vulture claws ripping him into him, playing out in his head over and over again.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax, Spider-Boy.”

He knows that voice.

Shoving himself backwards, he tears the IV from his skin, wild eyes locking onto Tony. He’s sitting in the chair beside Peter, relaxing nonchalantly like nothing had ever happened between them.

“No, no, no, please,” Peter begs, trying to get his feet on the ground but his legs won’t cooperate like they should, a haziness settling on his mind. Tony probably drugged him, shit.

“Woah!” Tony says, lifting his hands, palms up in surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, kid.”

“You tried to kill me, more than once,” Peter says, gasping for air. Tears are blurring his vision and his hands won’t stop shaking. “Please just- just don’t hurt my family. Please- I-”

Tony’s face falls into something that Peter would’ve thought was confusion if not for the fact that there was nothing to be confused about.

“I’ve been on an undercover Avenger’s mission for the past nine months, kid. We just got back last night. We were staking out a whole bunch of Hydra bases across Europe,” Tony explains slowly. His eyebrows furrow and his mouth is set in a frown. “There was nobody at the crime scene last night but you.”

“You think I did it?” Peter asks, jaw dropping. “After everything you did to me, you think I’m just going to believe you? Just like that?”

They’re in a hospital room. Heart monitor flat behind Peter now that he’s pulled off the tracking pads. His ribs are aching, chest on fire, but he still sits up defiantly, glaring at Tony.

“Honest to god, kid, this is the first time I’m meeting you. I wasn’t allowed any internet while on our mission just in case Hydra could track it, so I’ve barely had the time to look you up.”

Peter tries to stifle the sob, but it still rips its way out of his throat, tears falling steadily after it. “If it wasn’t you, then who was with me? Who looked like you, talked like you, pretended to be you for nine months?”

“Fri?” Tony asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“Compiling all video footage with Peter Parker or Spider-Man facial recognition since September of last year,” Friday replies.

A hologram appears in front of them, as Peter draws his knees up to his chest and tries unsuccessfully to get his tears to slow.

There’s a bunch of boring, staticky security camera footage of Peter walking to and from school, of Peter getting a snack at Delmar’s, or of Spider-Man stopping petty criminals, of Spider-Man leaping from building to building.

And then it arrives to Tony picking him up afterschool.

It’s a far away shot, probably one of the school’s security cameras of the parking lot. Tony’s leaning up against a fancy car, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi, Mister Stark. What are you doing here?” Peter says, offering a timid smile.

“Came to give my favourite young adult a ride home. I got you something, actually. If you really want to pretend to be a superhero, you need a suit, don’t you? It’s in the back, take a look.”

Peter turns to glance at Tony, who’s eyes are surprisingly wide, jaw dropped. “That wasn’t me.”

“I know you think I’m some naïve little kid who doesn’t know anything, but I’m not an idiot,” Peter says.

“No, kid, I swear, that wasn’t me. I was in Europe, without internet, taking down Hydra bases at the time.”

Tony speeds through a bunch more videos until they get to the day of the ferry. The video feed is staticky and the audio is echoing, but it’s obvious enough what’s happening. Video Tony’s hand is grabbing Video Peter’s t-shirt, spitting threats in his face even as Peter tries not to cry.

“If you disobey my direct orders again, I’ll do something more drastic than take your suit, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get out of here. And if I hear that you’ve been snooping around in The Vulture’s business again…”

The video continues though as Video Peter disappears down the staircase, metal door slamming shut behind him.

And then Video Tony flickers. Flickers.

“Holy shit, wait, Fri, pause it.”

The man standing where Tony once was in the video is not Tony at all. He has longer hair than Tony and a full beard, a smile spreading across his face.

“Facial recognition, Fri,” Tony instructs, sitting up in his chair.

Peter doesn’t care though. He doesn’t care who the man really is, doesn’t care how he managed to look like Tony, what kind of motive he had. He doesn’t care.

He tucks his legs up to his chest, hiding his face in his face in his knees, and lets out a pitiful whimper.

“Quentin Beck, fired from Stark Industries five years ago for aggressive behavior, helped in the creation of BARF.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony breathes. “Kid?” And then his hand is tentatively on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter flinches, drawing in a shaking breath. “I can’t believe I was so stupid! Nine fucking months and he- he-”

“That’s not on you, kid. Anyone could’ve fallen for tech that good, I mean, it’s mine. I just don’t understand why?”

Peter lifts his head. “He wanted tech. Alien tech to make weapons. What better way than to pretend to be you? He had access to your tower, he was taking a plane from Avengers Compound and was going to redirect it here. He was using your labs, your technology.”

“But why you?”

“I was getting in his way,” Peter explains, shrugging and ignoring the spike of pain it brings. “I was going after this criminal. This guy everyone was calling The Vulture. That’s when you showed up, or I guess, when Beck showed up. He kept telling me to leave it alone. Until yesterday.”

Tony runs a hand through his hair, further messing it up. “He tried to kill you?”

“He called me when I was at homecoming… Told me he had a lead. Guess he knew you were coming back and needed to tie up loose ends.”

The silence that follows is thick and tense, nobody says a word, staring at Beck’s smiling image frozen on the screen.

Finally, “I’m really sorry, kid.”

Peter shrugs, trying his best to swallow all of the emotions that threaten to spill out. “How do I know you’re real and not just another hologram?”

A frown crosses Tony’s face. He doesn’t seem to have a good answer, but Friday speaks up instead.

“Inventory showed Beck only stole four projectors from R&D after he was fired. All four projectors were found on Coney Island with the plane debris, destroyed beyond repair. No other projectors have been removed from storage.”

All of the energy leaves Peter’s body in one big rush. He offers Tony a smile, one he knows is weary and painful. “Hey, Mister Stark, I’m Peter Parker. AKA Spider-Man.”

Tony catches on easily. “Hi, kid. Nice to meet you.”

“Could I borrow a phone?” Peter asks. He’s sure Ned’s covered for him with May, but he can’t even imagine how worried Ned must be.

“Yeah, of course. And, uh, kid?” Tony says, voice dropping to a tentative murmur. “You wanna, I don’t know, work with me in the lab sometime? I could get a new suit fixed up for you and you could show me how you make that webbing of yours?”

Peter half-smiles, trying to shove down all of the panic and worry and fear that threatens to engulf him. His brain is having a hard time understanding everything. He thought Beck was Tony for nine months. Tony tried to kill him, except it wasn’t actually Tony.

But now Tony’s sitting across from him, a kind smile on his face like it isn’t the same face that sneered and yelled and dropped a warehouse down on him.

It wouldn’t be fair to blame the real Tony for things Beck did as Tony.

“Yeah, sure, sounds cool, Mister Stark.”

* (Years later, kidnapped by Nick Fury on his European vacation, he sees through “Mysterio’s” disguise within seconds, recognizing the technology for what it is, knowing Beck’s face like the back of his hand, the same face that plagues his nightmares. It only takes a few days to get Beck behind bars with Tony’s help, his vacation back to normal before anyone notices anything is wrong. But Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever forgot Beck’s face and what the villain put him through. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop seeing Beck’s version of Tony every time he looks at His Tony. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop looking over his shoulder, just in case the things around him are all an illusion. He doesn’t think Beck will ever disappear from his head.)

#lyss writes #febuwhump #peter parker fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #Irondad and Spiderson #quentin beck #mysterio #smffh #spiderman homecoming

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adverb-slut · 5 years ago

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Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms. This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr. If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here. I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title:

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary:

No summary, really. Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC and being dumb. Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel. Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note:

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox. As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day. As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC: You called?

MC: What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon: MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon: I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC: Important things? Like what?

Mammon: WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion. Paid? Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash. It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this. You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away. You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away. As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think. The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around. “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you. “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod.

You cock your head curiously. The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty. “Is something wrong?”

He looks down and shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you. “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry. “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.” He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him. By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen. What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look. He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash. Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor. You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that. Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel. It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes. “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path. “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side. “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence. Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen. You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses. Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door. You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that. Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is …

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform. You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon: HUH? How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon: Getting paid means I’m going shopping! And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon: Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon: Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon: I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh. Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook. “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands. “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look. No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet. “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go. Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear. “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.” He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up. “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC! You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content. That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping. “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours. “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag. “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on. “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through.

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more. “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too! It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive. The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that. It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!”

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.”

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.”

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers.

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door. Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said. You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls.

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer. You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars. “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?” You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods. “Go for it.”

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game. “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know? He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother. “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss. “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym.

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you. “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously. “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head. “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him. “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top. You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through. “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier. The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too. You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans. “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic. “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.” Beel takes a deep breath. Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical. After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook. He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front. Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it. Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder. “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical. He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses. “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize. “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs. “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.” He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead. “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too. Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up. “Really, MC? You’d do that?”

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement. “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack. You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him. “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat. “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.” He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head. “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen. “I haven’t eaten many human foods before. Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.

“Haha,” he laughs. “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”

You smile and turn to the following page. The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday. Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

“Those look good.” Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow. Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse. “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head. “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning. “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you. You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother. “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him. Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time. To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap. He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘.

“Yes, you should!” Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way? This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!” He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger. “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?” He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles. “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo! And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.” He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo. “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown. “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you. “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.” Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen. “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly. “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes. You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC! Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah? Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me. I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited. “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips. He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook. “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides. He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher. “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross. Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes. “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures. He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese. He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC? I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen. He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan. “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?” You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go? Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book. He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto. Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes. He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these. They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time.

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto. “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar. One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by. “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red. “Asmo!” He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen. “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you. “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.” He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him. “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink. “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal. “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes. He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to. He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them. Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.”

THE END

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