#ive have really bad chest pain near my heart which is concerning but at least it's not persistent and that's the only problem

[thegreatdivide]

It's one of those days 😥

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: What kind of man

(see chapter 1)

summary: the matchmaking trio changes their strategy, and you end up on a sparring mat with Neil

warnings: language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT

author’s note:  ...you know what? I don’t want to take any responsibility for where this chapter ended up going. Those characters have mind of their own and at this point I can just write it down and try not to die on the way. (I know it’s far from what we’ve discussed A, but it’s best I could do with what these two had given me, promise to do better next time)

The song for this chapter is Florence + The Machine - “What kind of man”  (changed from “Undisclosed desires”, don’t ask me, I don’t know either)

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“...and you really think this is a good idea?” 

“It sure beats yours,” said Ives and took a sip from his cup.

TP huffed and smacked his arm. “Hey, I thought it was our idea!”

“What matters is,” - Wheeler chimed in, fighting a losing battle to hide the annoyance in her voice - “it was a terrible one, and we have to do better if you want them to not get each other killed on the field.”

Ives pondered for a while. When he looked at Wheeler, his eyes were full of concern. “Honestly? This sounds like a recipe for someone getting hurt.”

She kept forgetting how protective he could be over his friend. Although this time, she thought, the one at risk was definitely Neil. 

Wheeler smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, it’s gonna work.”

_________________

There was a certain peace in the emptiness of the HQ’s shooting range in the early morning. It always helped you clear your head - there was no place for emotions while you were holding a gun. And you always knew when to come there to be alone. 

At least up until today.

Just as you finished your routine and grabbed your bag, the door opened and you were greeted by the smirk from under the messy blonde mane. 

Bloody perfect.

A week had passed since the bar encounter, seven long days filled with Neil’s tiresome presence during your work time. If it wasn’t a merged mission of your squads, there were training sessions. The shooting range was your last place free from the walking reminder of your recent failure. 

Not anymore, apparently. 

“Going out already? Too bad, I was hoping to get some tips from you.”

“Aim and pull the trigger. Repeat. It’s really that simple,” you said, shrugging.

The blue eyes narrowed behind yellow-tinted lenses of the safety glasses as Neil sent a forced smile your way. “Never would have guessed,” he deadpanned.

You passed by him, not willing to allow him to get under your skin. But then, just as you were about to exit the room, you stopped and cursed internally at yourself. Closing the door and turning around, you placed your bag quietly on the ground and leaned back against the wall. With your arms crossed, you watched Neil as he prepared his pistol and started the practice. 

You studied his posture, the way he held the gun in his gloved hands, trying to find any weak points in his technical side. There wasn’t too much to improve, his problem with shooting during the missions must have been elsewhere. You briefly glanced over the rolled sleeves of his navy blue shirt and the way his jaw tightened when he checked the target to grade his accuracy. 

“Look at that, you actually can hit a target,” you said and the corner of your lips twitched. “An easy one and not quite lethally but still, I’d call that a progress.”

Neil scoffed and glared at you over the shoulder. “I thought you were done for today.”

The subtle hints of frustration rang in his voice, catching you by surprise. You didn’t know why, but all of the sudden, the satisfaction you felt had a bitter aftertaste. 

You eyed him carefully before speaking again, this time easing up on the mocking tone. Just a bit. “Maybe you just need to train in a more stressful environment.”

A sardonic smile tainted Neil’s lips as he focused on the target again. 

“Keep talking then.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you left the shooting range. 

Fucking hell, he was just infuriating.

_________________

You stared at the bulletin board in disbelief. The new training lineup added one-on-one sparring sessions, and your name was all the way at the bottom of the list, which only meant more late evenings at the headquarters. And as for the choice of your sparring partner-...

With the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure, trying to sneak by you unnoticed. You turned around quickly. “Ives, why do you guys hate me so much?”

He sighed slowly and patted you on the arm. “It’s nothing personal,” he said, his voice almost sincere. But you knew better, and after the crap they’d pulled on you last time, you had every right to be suspicious. 

“You could have picked anyone else for him,” you complained, quite desperate to try anything to avoid spending more time with that blonde pain in the ass.

“I didn’t pick shit,” Ives scoffed. “Besides, it’s just the combat practice, the usual training rotation stays the same.”

“And it’s a coincidence-”

“It’s not,” TP’s voice rang from behind you. “It’s the result of your recent evaluation.”

You stifled a curse. 

_________________

Neil’s brows furrowed in fake concern while he looked you up and down as you kicked off your shoes and stepped on the mat. The fact that you accidentally matched your black tank top and shorts to his black t-shirt and sweatpants didn’t get lost on him.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” he teased. “I thought you might enjoy it, I saw the way you look at me.”

You smacked your lips as you began to stretch your arms and sneered, “Good, so you know how much I want to punch your stupid face.”

Neil kept his features casual, but the taunting sparks in his eyes were saying plenty. 

“I can’t wait to see you try.”

You started circling each other slowly. After seeing him in combat, you knew that you were in his domain. You tapped into all your bottled anger to cover the lack of confidence you suddenly felt in his calm presence. 

“Ground rules?” you asked, putting your guard up.

Neil’s shoulders raised in a slight shrug as he mirrored your pose nonchalantly. 

“Just show me what you got.”

And that’s what you did. 

You always considered your close combat skills adequate. Good enough to let you get out of most of the situations you’d found yourselves into during missions. But after yet another blocked hit, you weren’t so sure about that anymore. 

Meanwhile, Neil was clearly having fun watching you struggle to break through his defense. “You don’t like hand-to-hand combat,” he rather stated the fact than asked as he dodged under swing aimed for his head and lunged forward, tapping your right side to mark the exposed area. 

“If you’re that close, it means I’ve failed to shoot you,” huffing in frustration, you spun around and kicked, missing him just barely. Neil didn’t give you too much time to regain your balance, making you jump out of the way of his flying knee. He flitted around you and grabbed your wrist, twisting it quickly and pressing it to your back, quickly adding your other one there before you could do anything about it. 

“You never let anyone near you, huh?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you tried to wriggle your way out. Neil was definitely too close for comfort, both literally and figuratively. “You’re not my therapist, blondie,” you uttered through gritted teeth, taking a sudden step back right into his arms, a change of direction finally allowing you to escape his grasp.

“Thank god, because I feel sorry for them already,” Neil laughed dryly. His eyes narrowed as he watched your mouth open in disbelief at his remark and a shit-eating grin crept on his face. 

You don’t know what pissed you off more - the fact that he was bent on driving you mad, or the sudden realization that the fucker was clearly holding back. It didn’t matter that you were struggling enough with the moderate effort from his side; to you, it was an insult worse than the comment. 

You brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead. “Aren’t you tired?” you snarled, shifting your balance back and forth. The question was vague enough, but from the way his expression changed, you knew he got the hint. The predatory flare in his eyes made the heart race in your chest. 

Neil sprung at you, faking a misstep on the way to throw you off balance. Your senses sharpened enough to predict his next move and you were there to deflect a lightning-quick hit to your abdomen. You returned with a strike at his side but to no luck. Neil ducked under your elbow and closed in on you, giving himself enough momentum to knock you down and pin you to the mat.

The self-satisfied stare just a few inches from your face was making the blood boil in your veins. Cursing internally at both his reach and flexibility, you squirmed under Neil and that only made him press his forearm to your chest even harder, a roguish smile tainting his lips. “See, there’s one thing you need to learn. You need to work smarter, not harder.”

An outraged cry built in your throat as you clenched your hands on his arms, trying to gain any leverage in your position. You glared into the blue eyes, the nauseating hate burning in every cell of your body.

Neil raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh no, did I hit a nerve?”

You let out a frustrated groan. Of course, that son of a bitch hit a fucking bullseye. And to make matters worse - he had a point, too. 

Neil spotted a change in your expression a second too late. You swiftly moved your hands and sneaked them under his t-shirt, sliding them up his stomach. His eyes widened as he gasped, reducing the pressure on your chest. That gave you enough room to maneuver, rolling him off you and pinning him with his wrists above his head. 

With your faces again just inches away from each other, both of you panted heavily; a part of you enjoyed Neil’s amused gaze, his mouth slightly open as he tried to level his breath. And then - 

“Good girl. Just like that.”

...fuck.

You didn’t know what exactly made your brain short-circuit. Was it the hoarse voice combined with the praise? The way the blue eyes suddenly got darker? Or both together?

And you didn’t even know how you found yourself underneath Neil again, flipped on your stomach, your hands behind your back. With one cheek pressed against the cold mat, you shivered at the sudden warmth of his uneven breath on your neck. 

A throaty chuckle made your heart skip a bit. “Two can play the game, darling,” he purred as his lips brushed against your ear. 

Your mind went blank again. 

Somehow, you made your way back to the shared locker room.

You leaned your back against the wall, crossing your arms. The tension between the two of you was almost volatile, elevating your heartbeat with every second passed and every step Neil made your way. 

“You’re insufferable.”

You grinned slyly as your eyes flared up. 

“The feeling is mutual, blondie.”

The way his gaze got even darker made your breath hitch. The burning sensation inside of you was something more than hatred now, not caring if you were ready to admit it or not.

He smacked his tongue, a vicious smile dangled in the corner of his lips. 

“You really should stop calling me that.”

The hidden threat in his tone made your mouth dry. You raised a brow and held your breath. 

“Or?”

He closed in on you and grabbed your chin harshly.

“Or I’ll make you.” 

You flashed your teeth and taunted him again. 

“Can’t wait to see you try.”

Neil hummed and moved a pad of his thumb against your lips, making you gasp breathlessly and lose all the resolve you had left. A dry chuckle in response to your expression was enough to haze your mind. You tilted your head as Neil leaned in, drawing his attention just where you wanted him. It took all your willpower not to sigh when he sucked at the skin just below your ear and your fingers raked through blonde hair, pulling Neil even closer. 

His hands roamed your body hungrily while his mouth moved down your neck. When you felt his fingers going up your thigh, you tugged at his t-shirt, and as they moved even higher, your hips bucked involuntarily, so eager to feel him where you needed him the most.

A sharp chuckle against your collarbone as he palmed over the almost completely soaked-through fabric of your shorts sent a bolt of pleasure through your every nerve. You could feel your core pulsing even harder as his long fingers rubbed you just right.

Your hand flew back up and yanked at his hair, making him look at you just before you trailed his jawline with your mouth. Neil groaned and a laugh rattled in your chest. 

You reached for his waistband, but he was faster. Next thing you knew, your shorts and panties were gone and Neil lifted you and pinned you to the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slid his arm around your lower back. You nearly cried out when he thrust into you mercilessly; instead, you dug your nails into his back and sank your teeth in your bottom lip. As Neil picked up the pace, you clung to him for dear life. The heat radiating from his body carried the musky smell mixed with the almost fade-out scent of his cologne, the combination so intoxicating it made you lightheaded. You felt yourself tighten around him as he ground into you relentlessly, and pathetic whine escaped your mouth. Hearing that, Neil slowed down, almost stopping and you groaned in frustration when you realized what he was doing. 

“I hate you,” you uttered through gritted teeth, panting heavily, rolling your hips, longing for the friction that son of a bitch was purposely denying you.

Neil pulled back enough so you could see the roguish sparks in his eyes accompanied by a mischievous grin. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teased, his voice low and raspy.

You huffed, outraged by the audacity and he laughed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he picked up where he’d left off. The fire he’d just fueled blazed in your veins, your heart raced in your chest and you felt yourself climbing the peak again. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling yourself closer, you frantically gasped for air and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone with a loud moan, the pleasure hitting every fiber of your body in violent shockwaves. That was enough to send Neil over the edge, a deep groan escaping his mouth as he came into you, tightening his grasp on you almost painfully. 

At that moment, you were nothing but a trembling mess in his arms. Coming down, you pressed your forehead to his, enjoying the way your breaths intertwined. 

When both of you regained your senses, you pushed him away and picked up your clothes. As you were both decent enough, you glared at Neil.

“This changes nothing,” you said. 

The self-satisfied look in his eyes made you realize your mistake. 

No nickname. 

You cursed internally, but it was already too late. He’d had it his way, in the end. 

Neil’s lips curled in a half-smile.

“How tragic.”

(next chapter ->)

[hale-13]

Febrile

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 23 - Sick

“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.

Words: 2101, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.

“Peter,” Ned’s voice is exasperated and he looks irritated. MJ’s face is still (mostly) an indifferent mask but he can see her eyes brows pulling in the way they do when she’s concerned. “This has been going on for three days now,” he complains. “you have got to tell May.”

“Sure don’t,” Peter says, drying his hands off on a scratchy paper towel and trying to surreptitiously blot at his sweaty face before tossing it in the trash.

“You’re an idiot,” MJ tells him with an eye roll and a soft shove of her shoulder. It completely throws off Peter’s limited equilibrium and makes him sway into the wall. Ned’s glare becomes even sharper.

“I’m fine,” Peter tries and even he can hear the lie in his words now. He totally isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all actually. He’s had a fever, vomiting and stomach cramps for going on three days now and he’s just not used to getting and staying sick this long since he got bitten by the spider. A cold or a twenty-four hour hell flu? Sure. Consistent nausea and a low to mid grade fever for seventy-two hours? Unheard of.

“This is pointless,” MJ’s voice is monotone as she tosses Peter his phone which he fumbles, just barely catching it with the tips of sticky fingers.

“When did you take my phone?” He asks confused.

MJ guides him out the door and towards the front office – the exact opposite direction he needs to be going if he’s going to make it to his chemistry class. “I took it from your pocket when you were re-enacting the exorcism. Happy should be here in like ten minutes.”

“MJ,” Peter whines, not putting up a fight when Ned grabs his other arm to help with the pulling and directing. “I don’t need to go home.”

“Yes you do,” Ned’s tone is firm. “No one wants your flu Peter.”

“Alright that’s… fair,” he admits. “But my homework-,”

“We’ll get it for you,” MJ reassures as the office comes into view. She pushes him into one of the chairs sat outside and marches in to speak to the secretary. Peter pouts and crosses his arms. Yeah he feels like shit and he really just wants to sleep and, sure, his lower abdomen is really cramping and hurting but he got shot two weeks ago and the pain isn’t that bad. He can totally handle it. “You’re signed out,” Michelle tells him when she comes back, offering Ned a note to excuse his tardiness. “Let us know that you didn’t die okay loser?”

“Bye Peter!” Ned says brightly, back to his normal self now that he knows Peter is actually going home.

His friends finally gone, Peter drops all pretense and lets his face rest against the cool wall next to him, letting his eyes slip shut in relief – his forehead was burning. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and shivers. Maybe it is good that he goes home. He can take a nap and recuperate and be back at school tomorrow completely better.

Yeah. He just needs to nap.

“Well your scary girlfriend wasn’t kidding,” Mr. Stark’s voice rips Peter out of his near-sleep and has him blotting out of the chair, nearly falling over if he hadn’t caught himself on the way. “You look like shit kiddo.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaks, surprised at seeing his mentor at his freaking school what the hell. “What uh… what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Tony asks with good humor, looking at Peter over the top of his AR glasses with a concerned smile, eyes scraping over him in a clinical way. “I’m here to get you.”

“Uh no offense, but why?” Peter asks, tripping over his book bag on the floor and falling back into the chair. Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Because I’m one of your emergency contacts,” he answers like this is the most obvious thing ever and Peter blinks a little in confusion. Mr. Stark is one of his emergency contacts? Since when? He opens his mouth to ask this very question when a sudden bout of nausea rolls over him and he, instead, scrambles to his feet and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

He barely makes it to the sink before he starts gagging and dry heaving, nothing coming up but leaving him feeling dizzy and light-headed. Peter leans his head against the porcelain of the sink with a low moan, gagging again on the end and leaning his face back over the sink to drool out the excess saliva in his mouth.

“Yikes,” he hears Mr. Stark mutter behind him and then a calloused hand is running carefully through his hair and resting on his forehead. Peter pushes his face into the cool palm subconsciously and keeps his eyes closed as he tries to push the nausea down. “Yeah you’re definitely coming back to the MedBay with me.”

Peter lets out a wordless whine but doesn’t protest beyond that. It has been three days of this after all – maybe it is a good idea to consult with a professional?

“Come on buddy,” Tony says as he slings Peter’s arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him out of the bathroom and towards the entrance to the school. “You have a date with Dr. Cho and your aunt is waiting to hear the results of her exam.”

Happy actually looks concerned when Peter sees him standing outside of one of the many town cars Mr. Stark owns and he doesn’t say anything when he takes Peter’s bag from Tony to put in the front seat. The leather of the back seats is cool and the interior is darkened by the tinted windows and Peter lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head against the window; already half asleep.

The drive is, thankfully, quick and Peter dozes through most of it – still nauseous but able to hold it down for the most part. Soon enough they pull into the underground garage of the Tower and Tony is hustling him into the elevator which rockets them up to the MedBay floor without either of them having to say anything.

“May wants you to call her once you get settles,” Tony says, rapidly texting on his phone.

Peter squints his eyes at his mentor. “I’m not sure how I feel about you two texting,” he says.

“Oh we’re besties,” Tony teases, pocketing the phone with a shit eating grin. “We have coffee every other Wednesday.”

“I… don’t know if you’re serious,” Peter says, concerned. He probably doesn’t want to know to be honest. The doors of the elevator trundle open and Tony steers Peter into an empty exam room, directing him to sit on the exam bed. It only takes a second before Dr. Cho bustles in.

“Hey Peter,” she says with a smile as she rubs hand sanitizer into her hands and grabs a set of gloves from the box on the wall. “Tony said you were sick. Want to tell me about what’s going on?

“Nausea mostly,” he says as she runs a thermometer across his forehead and frowns at the readout. “My stomach hurts.”

“Well you have a fever of just over one hundred and two,” she says as she clips a pulse ox reader to his finger and wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm and lets it run. “And your blood pressure is a little low,” she narrows her eyes at the reading and unhooks the machines. “Lay back for me?”

Peter does and stares at the ceiling as she starts to palpate his abdomen. He could probably fall asleep here actually if he – “OW!” He exclaims, curling away from Dr. Cho’s hands and wrapping his arms around his stomach to protect it.

“Well I have a tentative diagnosis,” she says snapping off her gloves. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm but, congratulations, Peter you have appendicitis.”

Peter and Tony both blink and then look at each other and then back. “For three days?” Tony questions, scooting Peter over to sit next to him on the bed and run a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain in his abdomen but it helps.

“His healing factor is probably slowing down the progression, preventing it from rupturing as quickly as it could or should have,” she says, typing something into Peter’s chart on her StarkPad. “I’ll have a tech confirm with ultrasound and get a surgeon out to do the surgery. It’s pretty quick – one hour tops and then a few days recovery and you’ll be good as new.”

“Surgery?” Peter asks hoarsely, feeling his heart rate speed up. He’s never had surgery before.

Dr. Cho looks up at him and her face softens a little. “It’s an easy procedure,” she promises. “You won’t even realize that you’ve had it really and. Once you wake up, you’ll feel immediately better. Everything will be fine,” she promises and Peter nods with a gulp. He can feel stomach acid rising in his throat again and lunges for the emesis basin sitting on the bedside table, gagging into it.

“Let it all out Webs,” Tony says, rubbing his back sympathetically. “Got anything to help with this doc?”

“I’ll have the nurses start and IV and give him an anti-emetic,” she said, passing a new basin to Tony and taking the one from Peter’s slack grasp. “Just try to relax okay Peter?”

“This sucks,” he grumbles, letting his head fall over to rest on his mentor’s shoulder and relaxing when he feels Tony’s finger scrub though his hair to massage his aching head.

“Sure does kiddo,” Tony agrees, pulling the blanket up to Peter’s chest. “But at least its an easy fix.”

“I don’t want surgery,” Peter tells him quietly. Even with all of his many Spider-Man injuries he’s never had to be put under for anything. “Is May on her way?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promises him. “And surgery seems really scary but its not I promise. It’s like taking a really good nap and May and I will both be there alright? It’ll be fine Underoos.”

“Okay,” Peter says quietly, feeling slightly better but still a little concerned. But he would have May and Tony with him. It would be fine.

————————————————

“Guess we still need to tweak the anesthetic formula for you just a bit,” Mr. Stark says apologetically as he mops up the sweat on Peter’s brow with a damp cloth and supports him as he retches again. The surgery had gone well and had been quick. Waking up however?

Not so much.

“Just let it out baby,” May croons as she rubs his back, sweaty and making the thin hospital gown stick to his skin uncomfortably. Peter just gasps a little and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose to quell his nausea.

“I’m good,” Peter croaks a minute later, letting his aunt settle him back into the bed and fuss over him. He had barely woken up after the surgery before the vomiting started again. It had alarmed Tony but May and Dr. Cho had both determined that it was just a poor reaction to the anesthesia they used. With how fast him metabolism was, it should move through his system quickly.

“Can I get you anything sweetie?” May asked him, brushing his damp hair out of his face and sitting on the edge of the bed facing him.

“I’m okay,” Peter said, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Tony squeezed his hand and tucked his blanket in a little tighter around him warming Peter up from the inside a little. He was so glad and thankful that he had the chance to get closer with Tony over the last couple months since the incident with the Vulture. The man was still a little awkward and learning how to be a mentor but he was trying and that’s all Peter could ask for. “Just want to sleep,” he said softly, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Okay baby,” he heard May whisper, running her fingers through his hair and Peter felt the ghost of a smile on his face. Yeah, he could probably handle this recovery.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober day 13

Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

Ao3

Warnings: hospitals, coughing, vomiting, near death experiences,

-o-o-o-o-

Even now, Jason's not really sure how it all went wrong. It was supposed to be a simple look-see and bail. Just watch the newest batch of criminals with their newest batch of illegal weapons, then take note of what their plans are, and then plan accordingly to take them down at a later date.

But here's the deal. Things more often go wrong than go right when it comes to Gotham. Things get complicated and sometimes someone is smart enough to look up. Sometimes, Jason has to duck just in time to not get shot in the skull. Sometimes, Red Hood has to make a quick escape while a small army of armed thugs chase him out of the warehouse, armed with the fun calibers like .223 or 9mm.

Sometimes, you make the dumb idea to team up on these kinds of missions, and sometimes you're forced to watch Nightwing take a lungful of some mysterious gas that definitely doesn't look friendly.

Sometimes, life just sucks ass, doesn't it?

"Wing!" Jason calls, slamming the back of his glock across some random bad-guy's jaw. He watches Dick stumble back, throwing the inside of his arm across his nose and coughing so hard he doubles over.

Jason doesn't have the mental headspace to deal with this kind of crap today. So, instead of trying to grab Dick's attention, he fires his gun into the leg of the closest thug, runs into the diffusing cloud of yellowing gas, then he grabs Dick around his thinner waist. He doesn't squander a single second grabbing Dick's grapple from his hips and firing up towards the warehouse ceiling windows.

He just manages to keep a grasp on Dick as they fly up and crash through the glass. Jason comes to a rolling halt on the slanted roof, but immediately rolls the other direction as a bullet whizzes through the rusting metal just to the left of his chest.

Escape after that is easy. Dick's blinking like an idiot and looking pale, but he's able to at least hold on to Jason while Jason uses the grapple to swing about a block away to where he parked his bike.

The moment Jason lands by his bike, he shoves Dick from him, rips off his helmet, and hopes his glare underneath is scary.

"What. The. Hell ."

Dick at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Sorry? I wasn't expecting the guy to just whip out a gas capsule like that."

Jason growls and runs his gunpowder covered gloves through his hair. He takes a deep breath. Tries to calm down. He gets so angry so easily .

He inhales. Exhales. Looks back at Dick. "What did it do?"

Dick shrugs. "It smelled badly? Seriously, Jay, I think I'm fine. It must have been a fluke."

"You saw the same guns in there that I did, right?" Jason folds his arms and gives an unimpressed look. "They were more advanced than the rifles in the military . You think they'd have a gas bomb that was a fluke?"

"Lucky me?"

Jason glares. "I hate you."

Dick shoots finger guns.

With a sigh, Jason stuffs the helmet back onto his head. He jumps on his bike. "Just, at least get it checked on? I don't want the entirety of the family wanting my head on a stick because you died teaming up with me."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick replies, waving his hand. Dick clears his throat. "I think you're being-" he clears his throat again- "a little-"

Dick clears his throat, louder this time. Jason frowns. "Wing?"

Dick shakes his head, clears his throat one final time before a single cough bursts from his throat. Suddenly, Jason's watching as Dick dissolves into a fit of coughs, his arms wrapping around his chest as he bends over forwards.

"Dick?" Jason jumps off his bike and approaches Dick with a spike of concern sprouting in his chest. Dick takes a gasping breath, spits out a disgusting lob of phlegm, then looks up at Jason with wide eyes behind his mask.

Jason stops in his tracks. Dick's lips are blue.

"Shit," Dick rasps, then his legs give out below him.

-o-o-o-o-

For the better part of an hour, Jason's been sitting inside the medbay of the cave, watching as Dick sat forward in the cot over a bucket. He's vomited in it a few times, but that was a little while ago. The bucket has since been washed by Alfred and returned so Dick can cough and cough and cough into it, spitting out pink tinged phlegm. Dick's eyes were puffy, the skin around his cheeks and eyebrows red from what's probably the beginning of a rash caused by irritated skin.

Jason originally didn't have plans to sit in the cave and watch Dick be sick, but because the chemical doing a number inside Dick's lungs was unknown, Jason didn't really have a choice. He walked into that cloud of gas, and while his helmet came with a filter, it didn't necessarily rule him out from being completely and totally at little risk of catching the same problems Dick's currently suffering through.

So, Jason's been confined to the medbay while Dick continues to hack into the bucket until he's choking and gasping. Bruce and Alfred work on finding a cure to the chemically induced pneumonia. Damian and Tim—who just happened to be visiting—were banished to the manor while this all went down.

Tim, because without his spleen there's no telling what could happen if the gas happened to be contagious somehow. Damian, because the kid really didn't need to be down here anyway.

Dick coughs wetly and makes a horrible sounding gag. Jason sighs and leans back in his chair, incredibly bored out of his mind and thankful that not the symptoms that appeared were not much more than coughing, small rashes, and blue tinged lips.

The door to the medbay opens, and in walks Alfred. Alfred frowns as Dick continues to cough and choke out bloody chunks of mucus. They've tried multiple times to get Dick to wear an oxygen mask, but the guy keeps having to cough and spit, which results in him tugging the mask off a couple seconds after it was pulled on.

"Any news?" Jason asks, ignoring Dick continuing to cough.

Alfred's shoulders fall ever so slightly. "I'm afraid not. How is master Dick fairing?"

Dick makes a half-hearted thumbs up and Jason rolls his eyes. "I'd tell him to shut up, but I don't think he can."

"Hmm." Alfred walks forward with a frown matching the downward tilt of his brow. He walks towards Dick and checks him over, pressing on what must be aching ribs and checking his temperature. He carefully inspects the rashes on Dick's face, and Dick just manages to hold in his coughing for the few minutes that it takes. However, the moment Alfred let's his face go, Dick returns to the bucket. Gagging.

Jason wrinkles his nose.

"Try to get him on the oxygen mask," Alfred says, turning towards Jason. "Miss Thompkins is still on her way with the breathing tubes and a solution for the IV."

"Traffic that bad?" Jason asks and Alfred hums.

"Apparently, there was a seven car pile up on the bridge. Traffic is being sent on rather long detours out and into the island."

Seven cars huh? "Jesus. Gotta love Gotham."

"Indeed," Alfred replies with a bit of a smirk. But then Dick //coughs and the tense reality of the current situation settles back over them like a sopping wet blanket. "Watch his rashes as well, grab me if anything changes."

"Will do, Alf."

They both exchange a smile before Alfred leaves; abandoning Jason to listen to Dick suffer alone.

Jason sighs and tries not to let his brain travel down dark paths. Like what kind of damage is really going on in Dick's lungs. Like if suggesting a team up tonight really was a bad idea. Like if this is all Jason's fault for being spotted in the first place.

Instead, he stands up and grabs the oxygen mask and shoves it over Dick’s face.

Dick tugs it off not two seconds later to spit more mucus into the tank.

“You’re disgusting,” Jason snorts.

Dick doesn't respond because he’s too busy hacking out a lung, but Jason catches a small smile.

Dick's coughing soon becomes white noise.

-o-o-o-o-

Jason knows immediately that something is very wrong when Dick goes silent. Then, he knows something is tremendously wrong when Dick chokes with cut off, painful sounding whimpers. He shoots his eyes up from where he’s been twiddling his fingers and then immediately jumps to his feet.

Dick is shaking almost like he's having a seizure, except Jason knows it's really his lungs struggling to take in air. Jason almost runs forward to help, but thinks better about it when he realizes he has no idea how he'll be able to help in the first place.

Instead, he turns tail towards the bay doors.

He's about to tear the door open, but he finds himself stumbling back as it opens on its own.

In runs one of the only people Jason truly respects and fears. Leslie Thompkins rushes past Jason towards Dick without even sparing a glance. Immediately, she's checking him over. Trying to get his attention. Listing to his gurgling that can hardly be called breathing. Bruce and Alfred enter as well, looking distressed.

Leslie doesn't take long to look up and glare at every single person in the room.

"He needs a hospital."

And no one argues. Alfred quickly leaves the room to call an ambulance while Jason and Bruce rush forward to undress Dick from his Nightwing suit. Leslie presses an oxygen mask to his mouth and keeps it firmly in place even though Dick begins to try and struggle, his eyes dazed and panicked.

Leslie snarls Bruce's ears off, something about her not knowing it was this bad and how he should have gone straight to the hospital, but Jason can only focus on getting Dick into normal civilian clothes so the hospital doesn't ask anything.

By the time they rush Dick upstairs and through the manor doors to where an ambulance made it over in record time—the perks of being rich, Jason supposes—Dick's hardly responding to anything. Hardly breathing.

The ambulance rushes away and Jason's left with Damian and Tim watching with matching looks of fear.

And for a single, strange second, Jason wants to tell them that it'll all be okay.

But he can't find it in himself to speak and possibly lie.

Dick will be okay. He has to be.

He has to be.

-o-o-o-o-

He will be okay, Jason thinks as he settles in Dick's private room. He's unconscious, hooked onto a crazy looking ventilator, trussed up to all kinds of tubes and wires. The doctors say they got most of the gas out from his lungs, but the damage left as a result is severe.

Severe enough for Dick to completely stop breathing on his own.

But he will be okay.

Even if it takes months for Dick to recover. Even if he'll be plagued by respiratory issues for the rest of his life.

He'll be okay.

Bruce's hand lands on Jason's shoulder. He looks so tired. So worn. Jason wonders if he looked like this when Jason died, or if he looked worse. He doesn't wonder for too long, he's not sure if his stomach could take it.

"He'll be okay," Bruce says. To Jason. To himself. To Dick. To nothing and no one at all.

Jason nods.

He'll be okay.

Because Jason's pretty sure no one in this quilted family of mismatch textiles could go on for long without him.

He'll be okay, because he has to be.

Dick continues to remain completely unconscious to the world, a machine breathing for him.

[strongerwiththepack]

Sensory Sunday: Touch

Whoops I’m a bit late but here’s my ‘touch’ fic for @gumnut-logic's new challenge. The boys weren’t cooperating with me today but I think it turned out alright in the end!

Hyperthermia vs. Hypothermia 

“Do you two coordinate your disasters just to irate me?” Virgil asked in exasperation as he warmed up another heating pad between his hands.

Scott just shrugged but Gordon grinned at him. “Just keeping you on your t-toes bro.”

The joke was kind of lost in the sound of chattering teeth so Virgil just rolled his eyes and placed the final heating pad onto Gordon’s chest. His little brother hissed slightly at the startling change in temperature. Virgil eyed him wearily, he was still pale and his lips had a slight blue tinge to them but at least he was shivering again which meant he was warming up.

He crossed the infirmary to examine how his other patient was doing. Scott, in complete contrast, had a cooling blanket draped over him with ice packs around his neck and armpits. Virgil removed the cold compress from his brother’s forehead and held his hand over it, cringing at the heat still coming off him.

Somehow Scott had come back from his rescue with severe heatstroke and then he’d had to go and pick up Gordon because he’d managed to get hypothermia. It was almost laughable. In fact he had laughed, and now he was regretting all his life choices as he yoyoed between heating and cooling treatments.

“You’re dehydrated, you need to keep drinking Scott.” He reiterated, eyeing the still full glass of water he’d left by his brother’s bed. “Don’t make me put an IV in.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Scott grumbled, grabbing the glass, a little too aggressively, and drinking a few sips.

Scott’s skin was sunburnt and irritated and Virgil could see it starting to peel at his hairline and cheeks. He’d already put cream on them so there wasn’t much more he could do.

“Don’t blame me, you were the one who decided not to wear your UV shielded helmet.” Virgil shot back with a hint of annoyance in his tone because this could all have been avoided if his older brother wasn’t such an idiot.

Scott just glared at him and Virgil rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was regretting that decision now that he was confined to the infirmary and off duty for 48 hours. He’d argued about the amount of time but Virgil was not budging on that one. He knew the dangers of heatstroke and he wasn’t risking his brother going out before he was ready.

“Hey V-Virgil, seeing as I kept my helmet on, do I w-win this one?” Gordon called.

“Seeing as you were at the bottom of the ocean, I’m glad you made that decision.” Virgil replied with a smile shaking his head.

Scott piqued up then, apparently putting the dots together. “How did you end up with Hypothermia anyway Gordon? Your suit should have protected you from those temperatures.”

Trust Scott to jump on the big brother train first opportunity he got. Gordon just grinned sheepishly.

“Well I said I kept my helmet on, I never said anything about the rest of my suit.”

“What!? Gordon, report.”

Virgil sighed. “Scott you’re supposed to be resting. You’re both supposed to be resting.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Gordon.

“Fine.”  He said getting comfy on the bed. “Let’s call it a bedtime story then, on you go Gordon.”

Virgil frowned but didn’t stop Gordon as he dove into the story with all his usual dramatics. He was pretty curious as well, he’d only heard a condensed version from John earlier.

***

“I’ve just got one more to get John” Gordon told his space monitor brother as he prepared to swim across from Thunderbird 4 to the downed submersible once again.

John popped up looking slightly distracted. “Okay Gordon. Listen, Scott’s got himself in a bit of trouble, think you’ll be okay to navigate solo?”

“FAB John.”

Gordon felt some concern rising for his oldest brother, but John would’ve told him if it was serious. He turned his focus back to the rescue. 3 crewmen aboard a research submersible in the Arctic Ocean that had been hit by a Bowhead whale.

Gordon was familiar with the mammal, Bowhead whales have a massive triangular skull to help them break through the ice in these waters so its unsurprising that it was able to do so much damage to the tiny sub. The entire vehicle was flooded, luckily the crew all had dry suits and breathing apparatus. The problem was getting them from their vehicle to Thunderbird 4 through the strong currents in the water. Due to the unpredictable waters he wasn’t able to dock safely to the vehicle.

So, now he was free swimming across with the researchers but he had to take them one at a time in case the currents were too strong for them to make the swim. It was a fairly standard rescue. He should be done soon. John had directed him to the divers in the first place but he knew where to go now.

Gordon swam through the outer hatch once more, battling his way across to the submersible. These definitely weren’t recreational waters, the current was strong. He really had to pump through the water hard to get through. It was a cross current so he was swimming pretty much diagonally to where he wanted to go, pushing against the current while also propelling himself forward. It was slow work but his hand finally found a rung on the research vessel.

Pulling himself through the opening he’d made previously he swam through the flooded hallways to where he left the last researcher.

“Final call for dry land.” He called out as he turned the corner. Luckily the woman was right where he’d left her and she smiled gratefully.

“What would we do without you International Rescue.” She said in a relieved tone, her Icelandic accent coming though strongly.

“All in a day’s work ma’am” Gordon replied with a smile as he attached a line between them. It was always nice meeting kind people on the job. It was pretty rare when everyone you met was going through what was likely one of the worst experiences of their life so he usually shrugged off any unsavoury characters.

They were almost at the door when the compulsory disaster every rescue seemed to contain occurred. The whole station started to flip on its side and they were thrown into the wall. Gordon felt a searing pain in his side as a piece of bent metal cut into his suit. It was a shallow cut but that wasn’t what Gordon needed to worry about. He hissed as a flood of sub-zero temperature water flooded into his suit. It felt like daggers against his bare skin.

Okay. That puts a time limit on things.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to stop his heart racing from the shock of the cold water and turned to the researcher.

“Are you alright?” he gasped out.

“I’m fine.” She seemed a little dazed before noticing the tear in his suit and widening her eyes. “Your suit?”

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged off. “Let just get you out of here.”

She looked at him with uncertainty but complied, nonetheless. Oxygen wasn’t an issue, he doubted it would leak into his helmet to that extent before they got back to Thunderbird 4. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew the risks in these temperatures but the best thing to do would be to just finish the rescue as quickly as possible.

He started swimming with the researcher swimming behind him. None of the research team would have made it through the currents alone, the connecting cable pulled taunt every time and he ended up propelling himself and his passenger through the water. It was what he expected though, the required level of swimming ability you needed to obtain an underwater vehicle license was pretty low.

The swim was definitely harder this time though, the cold seeping into his suit seemed to be burning his skin and his limbs were feeling sluggish. It didn’t help that the rip was near his chest, it would be reducing his core body temperature a lot faster. He was surprised John wasn’t already screaming at him.

His muscles were burning by the time he was able to latch on to his bird and he took a second to catch his breath before opening the outer hatch. He let the researcher in before him and gave a sigh as the water drained out of the compartment. Usually he’d be completely dry under the suit at this point but the soaked fabric clung to him and he shivered violently.

He secured the last researcher with her colleagues, leaving them with a reassuring smile, that probably wasn’t vey reassuring considering how bad his teeth were chittering, before heading to the cockpit and letting out a sigh. He was freezing.

“Thunderbird 4, your suit readings are showing a sharp decline in body temperature. What’s your status?”

John had popped up on the comm, his brow furrowed. Gordon was feeling pretty rubbish but he didn’t want to distract his brother if Scott still needed help.

“I’m okay Thunderbird 5, go help Scott.” He assured.

“Scott’s fine Gordon, he’s back on Tracy Island now. What’s your status?”

Gordon sighed in relief, realising he’d been holding on to some stress about his brothers situation subconsciously.

“My suit was compromised while in the water John.” He reported. “I may be in the beginning stages of hypothermia.” He replied sheepishly.

What he didn’t expect was an amused smirk from John and the questioning tone. “Hypothermia?”

Gordon was confused now, he was in the Arctic Ocean with a ripped dry suit, of course he was hypothermic. He must have let some of that confusion show on his face because John just shook his head and muttered. “It doesn’t matter, just know Virgil is not going to be happy.”

“Can you make it to the drop-off point?” John asked him, changing the subject.

Gordon was still confused at his brothers questioning but replied. “Yeah, I’m only 20 minutes off the port, but I may need a pick-up from there.”

“FAB Gordon, I’ll notify Virgil. Let me know if it gets any worse.”

“Thanks John.”

***

“And then Virgil came to rescue me and brought the warmth with him.” Gordon ended, snuggling down into his pile of blankets and heat pads.

“John called me exactly 30 seconds after I had got Scott settled and treated for heatstroke telling me that you had hypothermia and needed a picked up.” Virgil interjected shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“You know you love us.” Gordon grinned and Virgil was glad the colour seemed to be coming back to his cheeks. He repositioned the heat packs that had fallen out of place during his brother’s theatrical hand gestures.

Scott groaned. “Urghh, just looking at those heat pads is making want to throw up again.”

“Again? I think it’s story time for you now big brother.” Gordon piqued up.

Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish. “Wellll I was in Mongolia helping with earthquake evacuations and bear in mind here that this rescue took over 10 hours”

***

“Okay John, I’m moving on to Sector G now.”

“What? Scott you just finished searching Sector G.”

“Oh. Sector…” Scott had to do a quick run through of the alphabet to figure out what came next. “…H then. Sector H.”

John noticed the pause.

“There is no Sector H Scott. You’re done.”

“Uh…Great. I’ll head back to One then” Scott said looking around about him. He was glad to be done, he’d had a pretty bad headache for a couple of hours now but it had started to subside.

John frowned at him but replied anyway. “FAB Scott.”

Scott slowly made his way back to his bird. He was desperately looking forward to a nice long, cool shower when he got home. It had been a long day and he technically hadn’t needed to stay past the last aftershock but the local aid services just didn’t have the equipment they did. It was a much faster evacuation with him helping. He had been out in the sun all day though and he could feel the heat on his face.

Gordon was so going to laugh at him for getting burnt and he could already hear Virgil’s lecture on wearing sun cream.

“Scott, where are you going?” John questioned as he popped up on his watch.

Scott looked around himself. He had no idea where he was going. Huh.

“Uh, I might be a little lost Thunderbird 5.”

John frowned at him again. One of those frowns that said you’re acting weird.

“I’ll send through coordinates.”

“Thanks John.”

His brother signed off again. Scott knew Gordon was on another rescue so he didn’t bother his space-bound brother again, even though it took him way longer to calculate a path from the coordinates than it should have.

Finally setting eyes on his bird was a relief. The insulated metal encasing that promised a cool environment inside. Except when he did step inside, and the cool air hit him, all that greeted him was a strong feeling of nausea. He barely had time to grab a bin bag before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it. He sank down onto his knees and heaved over the bag as the feeling failed to pass.

“-ott what’s wrong?” He finally registered.

Bringing his arm up he was met with a worried looking John which managed to shake him out of the nauseous daze he’d ended up in.

“John. M’fine.” He mumbled. It didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

He pushed himself off the floor but was met with worrying double vision before it tunnelled and he ended up on his knees again, slumping sideways into the wall of his bird, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes.

“You’re not fine, Scott. Stay down.” John ordered. “When did this start?”

Scott sighed, moving to sit with his back against the wall, resigned to his fate as John quizzed him. He was usually pretty good at pretending to be fine but not being able to stand up was a bit of a giveaway.

“I don’t know John. When I got to my bird, I just felt really ill.”

John’s lips pursed but his attention got pulled to something on his left.

“Hang on Scott, it’s Gordon.” He made to blink away but turned back warning. “Don’t move.”

Scott started to stand up as soon as his brother was gone. In his defence, he did take it very slow this time. He leaned heavily against the wall as he stood, breathing deeply to try and dispel the nausea. His skin was tight and irritated, he rested his cheek against the cool metal of his bird and sighed at the relief it provided. His skin was on fire. That probably gave him an indication of what was making him feel sick. Virgil was going to murder him.

He stumbled up to the cockpit and sat down heavily in the pilots chair. John popped up on the dash.

“Scott. What did I say?”

Scott just smiled innocently. “Sorry bro.”

John growled in annoyance. “It’s not funny Scott. You could have passed out and hit your head. And you are not flying home.”

“John I’m fine.” Scott tried to reassure. “It was just a dizzy spell.”

“Scott, I am remote flying One home and Virgil is going to be waiting for you at the other end to take you to the infirmary because we are pretty sure you have heatstroke.”

Yeah he was pretty sure on that as well so he just groaned and leaned his head back against the chair. He tried closing his eyes but the world spun around him every time he did so he focused on a spot on the roof and fought to keep the contents of his stomach as John flew him home.

***

“Ha! You’re way more of a screw up than me.” Gordon boasted as soon as Scott was finished. “I’m here because of an unavoidable accident whereas you’re here cause you’re just an idiot.”

Scott scoffed at the statement but Virgil just raised his eyes in amusement. At Scott’s look of betrayal he stated. “What? He’s not wrong.”

“Virgil I was busy!”

“Not too busy to take care of yourself. All you’ve accomplished is John having to monitor your sun exposure and water intake from now on.”

“John doesn’t have time for that.”

“Exactly! So, stop making it a necessity.”

Scott huffed in frustration but Virgil just glared at him. He could see Gordon out of the corner of his eye itching to break the awkward silence but he gave his brother a slight shake of his head. He was not letting Scott get away with this one. He could understand one mistake but this was not the first time this had happened. Scott needed a reminder that they were not invincible, especially to the forces of nature.

He was pretty sure that in Scott’s mind the only dangers were the stuff that could actually hit you. That’s why Virgil had to be the one that watched out for the more subtle heath concerns of their job but he was tired of Scott not listening to him.

“Okay.” Scott finally conceded. “I’m sorry, I was being stupid.”

“Good.” Virgil nodded, accepting the statement. He was pretty sure that was all he was going to get out of his stubborn eldest brother.

Scott flopped his arms over his eyes and Virgil winced, knowing Scott probably had a horrible headache at the moment.

“The ice in those packs has probably melted by now. I’ll swap them out.” Virgil reasoned heading to the door so he could replenish their supply of ice from the kitchen.

“Good idea, I feel like a furnace.” Scott replied, arms still covering his face and mumbling his words slightly.

“That’s it.” Gordon suddenly declared. “I’m coming over to cuddle.”

Scott deadpanned him. “We are not cuddling Gordon.”

Gordon was already climbing out of his own bed though, keeping one of his blankets clutched tightly around him as he shivered. “Too late. Gimme some of that heat”

Virgil just laughed as he swiftly made his exit. It honestly wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He could still hearing his brothers bickering as he walked down the hall though.

“Just so you know, I kick in my sleep.”

“Gordon get off my bed!”

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 9

Word Count: 1597

POV: Reader

Warnings: language

Notes: So again this was another close vote that came down to literally one vote. Hope you guys enjoy this part. Peace, Love, Hugs and Happy New Year to you all!!!

Tyler’s touch was so soothing and loving; his fingers just caressing your back, as they made your way up to your bra clasp. His lips moved down to the sweet spot on your neck and you melted into him. You’re ready to give yourself over to him and magical hands. Just as you let out a moan, a loud crash sounded from the front street. “What the…?”

 “Oh my god, what was that?” You asked Tyler, as he was asking the same question; in the background you could hear the constant sound of a car horn. “That didn’t sound good.” He lifted you off his lap and the two of you headed to the door, to see what the commotion was all about. “That’s Jamie’s car.” You broke out into a run, as your feet carried you across the lawn to Jamie.

 His vehicle was crushed up against one of the giant oaks across the street; his body laying limp on the steering wheel. Another vehicle sped away; you could see the front fender hanging on the ground. It was the same car that was parked in Tyler’s driveway when you arrived, but there was no time to worry about them right now; your sole focus was on Jamie. You reached the car, but couldn’t open the door. It had been jammed on impact. Repeatedly you knocked on the window, trying to get Jamie’s attention. “Jame…Jamie…hun can you hear me?”

 “Jamie!” Tyler shouted. He ran around to the other side, to see if he could open the passenger door. “(Y/N), call 911! Now!” Tyler’s voice was panicked, he had seen something you hadn’t and your heart stopped beating.

 “Ty, what’s wrong?” you said it on instinct, as you took your phone out of your pocket and called for an ambulance.

 “Just call.” He was struggling with the door, but he finally opened it.

 The operator finally picked up. “Yes, I need an ambulance. There’s been an accident.” You continued to give all the pertinent details, as the handler told you to stay on the line until the ambulance arrived. Tyler was in the passenger’s seat now, trying to wake his captain. You moved over to that side of the vehicle, and your stomach turned; there was so much blood. Tyler was taking off his shirt, trying to stop the bleeding; though at the moment you couldn’t tell exactly where the injury was. Jamie stirred just then. His eyes fluttering open. “Jamie.”

 He let out a groan, then yelled louder from the pain. “Don’t move buddy, the ambulance will be here any minute.” Tyler was trying to keep him calm. “You’re gonna be ok Chubbs. I got you man.”

 “Fuck, man…my leg…it hurts so bad.”

 Sirens sounded in the distance, becoming louder as they drew near. “Hang on Jame.” You yelled to him over Tyler.

 “(Y/N).” His trembling hand reached out and you clasp it in yours. “It’s going to be ok Jame. I’m right here.”

 Firetrucks pulled up then, followed closely by an ambulance. “Ma’am, we need you to move out of the way, so we can help him.” He was pulling on your shoulders, yet you didn’t want to let go of Jamie. “Ma’am, please.”

 “(Y/N), you have to let go and let them do their job.” It was Tyler’s voice that broke through the fog.

 “I’m going to stay right here, Jame. I’ll be right here if you need me.” You squeezed his hand, one last time, before his fingers slipped from your grasp. Tyler jumped out of the car, as soon as you stepped back; to let the paramedic in. He pulled you into his embrace, as small sob escaped you. You felt so helpless standing there and not being able to help him. The paramedics were assessing him, as the firefighters worked on a way to extract him from the vehicle. Before you knew what was happening, they were throwing a blanket over Jamie and bringing the Jaws of life to extricate him. Firefighters, pushed both you and Tyler further away from Jamie, and it broke your heart.

 “Mr. Seguin, we need to get your statements.” A police officer came over to both you and Tyler. There was no way you wanted to do this right now; you were too focused on what was happening to Jamie to care about giving the details or what you saw.

 Tyler started to give the details of what you both knew; however, he missed the most important part. “It was Kathleen.” You interrupted him. “She was the one who hit Jamie’s car and then drove away. Check her car. Her whole front bumper is missing.”

 Tyler stopped you before you could say anymore. “(Y/N), you can’t be certain it was Kathleen. I think you’re making a huge assumption.”

 “I’m not. Her car was parked in your driveway when I got here. That same car, drove away from the accident with the front wrecked. I don’t know her last name. Tyler tell them what her last name is.” She needed to be held responsible for what she’d done to Jamie.

 “You’re distraught over the accident. I’m sorry, officer…”

 “Campbell.”

 “Well Officer Campbell. I’m not sure what my girlfriend here saw, but it couldn’t have been Kathleen.”

 “All the same Mr. Seguin, we should check out any lead that we have. So if you could just provide me with this Kathleen woman’s name and address that would be extremely helpful.”

 “I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Why was Tyler covering for the bitch? You wanted to scream at him, but just then they got Jamie out of the vehicle and you rushed over to him; leaving Tyler to deal with the police.

 “Jamie, I’m right here.”

 He reached for your hand again. The paramedics continued to work on him for a few seconds, then started moving the gurney to the ambulance. “Ma’am we need to go to the hospital. If you’re not family, you’ll need to stay here.”

 Without any thought at all, you said. “I’m his girlfriend. Can I go with him?”

 He nodded his agreement, before saying. “Jump in, just please stay back so we can work on him.”

 “Of course.” You stepped up into the vehicle, then glanced back at Tyler; his face unreadable, but he wasn’t your concern at the moment. As soon as they loaded Jamie in, you grasped his hand in yours again; softly caressing your thumb back and forth over his skin. Silently you sent a prayer up to God, asking Him to watch over Jamie. The ride to the hospital felt endless, though in reality it only took minutes.

 They ushered Jamie into the emergency room and you quickly followed behind. A flurry of activity happened all around you, as you stood back and watched both doctors and nurses work on him. Someone yelled for x-ray and ultrasound, to make sure there was no internal bleeding. IVs were being put in to him, so he could receive something for the pain. You watched everything in stunned silence; until you heard his weak voice call for you. “(Y/N)…(Y/N)…where is she?”

 “I’m right here Jamie.” You tried to wedge your way through the crowd of doctors so that he could at least see you, since you couldn’t touch him.

 “(Y/N)…I need you.” His weak plea tore at your heart, as you stood there helpless. Finally, a nurse grabbed you and placed you up by his head, out of the way of the doctors running an ultrasound on his abdomen. There was blood all over his beautiful face; his nose definitely broken. You ran your fingers through his matted hair. A cut to his forehead had blood all through his dark locks. “(Y/N)…is that you.”

 “Yes, Jame. I’m right here….I’m right beside you babe.” His head was locked into a C-spine collar still, so you were out of his line of vision.

“What happened?”

 “You were in a car accident, but you’re going to be ok.” You prayed that was true.

 “You won’t leave…will you?”

 “No Jamie, I’m not going anywhere.”

 “Ma’am we’re going to have to take him to CT now.” The nurse who had brought you close to Jamie, broke into your conversation.

 “Can I go with him?”

 Obviously, the nurses and doctors knew who he was, for the next thing she said was, “We don’t normally allow that, but I think we can make an exception in this case.”

 “Thank you.”

 It was determined rather quickly that he had no internal injuries and that everything was fine with his spine. He went through a series of x-rays on his leg as well. As they wheeled him back into the ER, you saw Tyler waiting for you both by the room, that was Jamie’s. You stopped to talk to him as they continued to work on Jamie in the room. “How is he?”

 “He’s doing better. Nothing definitive yet though.” He drew you into a hug, which you willing accepted. “Ty…I’m sorry I just left…”

 “Don’t worry about it. He needs you; I get it.” You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can we talk about what I said to the police about Kathleen?”

 You crossed your arms over your chest, sure this explanation would be one you wanted to hear. “Alright.”

 “(Y/N),” it was Jamie calling for you.

 ****************************************************************************************

 Time to make a choice.

 A)      Go see Jamie. He needs you more than Tyler does right now.

B)      Tell Jamie you’ll be right there and hear Tyler’s explanation.

C)      Your phone rings, answer it and see who it is.

[sciencelings-writes]

Last Man Standing

Summary: I wanted to write another endgame/ infinity war fix it where instead of Peter dusting, It’s Tony. shit goes a little crazy from there. 8.7k words, get ready fam. AO3 LINK

Peter sat in the guardian’s ship, frozen in place. He was in shock. Because the worst thing that could happen, happened again. 

He was gone, Mr. Stark was gone. Tony was gone. Disintegrating into dust after a single glance into Peter’s eyes. No goodbye. Not like Ben. Uncle Ben had moments more than Tony did. Bleeding out. Peter didn’t know which was worse, A father figure dying in front of him, slowly, being able to hear his heartbeat slow and stop or his new father figure disappearing without even a chance to say a word. Just look into his eyes, looking worried but not having any time to think about it. 

Peter had time to think about it. Too much time. He had worked with the blue cyborg woman to repair the ship for a few days. At least then he could distract himself. But she was working on getting them to earth, and he could only think. Or sleep. But sleeping was so much worse. 

He had been zoning out for god knows how long. Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity and he didn’t feel like he was in his body at a certain point. He was only shaking out of it because of Nebula’s, the blue woman’s monotone voice. 

“You need to eat.” She ordered simply. He took the space food out of her hand and muttered a thanks. Peter’s normally talkative demeanor was snuffed out after they lost. Nebula wasn’t much of a talker to begin with and they worked together out of necessity. Peter would always be thankful that she didn’t leave him alone on the planet even though she totally could have. 

Once she got autopilot fixed and had no need to stay in the cockpit, she seemed to always be near him. Not close but within her silent gaze. He would try to fill his time by tinkering with extra parts and pacing around. 

They had their real conversation a full week into flying in space. While they were frantically trying to upgrade the air recycling system so they wouldn’t die days away from earth. They had already run out of food and Peter was growing weaker but air was a little more important. 

“Was he your father?” Nebula said dryly as Peter took out the power source from his Iron spider suit. It was a tiny arc reactor hidden in the spider on his chest, made out of nanites. 

“Uh, kinda… not really. He’s my mentor but he is… was kinda like a dad to me. You know, teaching me how to be a hero and scolding me when I was being dumb…” His voice was a little hoarse from not being used and from not getting enough water in attempt to conserve it. 

“You are lucky. My father was the one we were fighting.” 

“Ouch, that’s rough. I thought my luck with father figures was bad…” This managed to lift the sides of Nebula’s mouth for the hint of a smile. It was gone faster than it came, she didn’t seem used to small talk. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him.” She grumbled as they worked. 

“It happened to your friends too and half of the universe if I remember. I don’t even know if we are the lucky half.” 

“We aren’t.” Nebula muttered. Peter knew she was right. It was much harder to live than it was to die. 

Eventually, the work was done and they could rest. The would probably have a few more days of air but they both knew they wouldn’t get to earth fast enough. If they had to die, they would die together and Peter would really rather not die but if he had to die, at least he wasn’t alone. 

He tried to hang out with Nebula more, explain earth things, show her how to play games like thumb wars, where she almost broke his hand. She would indulge him, knowing they were not far from suffocating to death. Or starving to death… or dehydrating to death. Whichever one happened first. 

Peter got weaker and weaker without the food to sustain him. Nebula had given him her last ration. They were out of fuel, out of water, hours away from being out of air, out of food and out of hope. 

They were still so many days away from earth when it got to the point where Peter couldn’t even stand. Nebula sat with him. She even picked him up and placed him on the co-pilots chair so that he could look at the stars instead of the dirty metal. 

He was so so tired. It was probable that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again. If he was hydrated enough to have tears come to his eyes, they would be. They were so close to death and so far away from home. And he was so tired… 

His eyes closed, for what he thought would be the last time and he wondered what he would see. Would he see Ben? Tony? Would his mom and dad be up there? Maybe Nebula would see her sister again. Maybe there would be nothing at all. The thought made him strangely at peace. The pain would be over, the sorrow wouldn’t weigh him down, it would all be over. 

That’s when a bright light apeared on the other side of his eyelids. He peeked them open, squinting his eyes as it had been so long since he had seen something so bright. Was this it? Was he dead? 

The light faded slightly and revealed a blonde woman smiling. Was she an angel? Peter was delirious but it was a nice thought. Maybe she would take him to wherever Ben and Tony were. 

She didn’t. She flew under their ship and carried it home. Peter fought to stay awake, he tried to call out to Nebula to tell her about the angel but his voice wasn’t very loud. He smiled knowing that they were saved. 

They landed near Avengers Compound, there were people waiting for them. The glowing angel woman had to help Peter out of the ship but he made it. He had never been more excited to breathe in his life. 

Captain America ran up to them. Before he could say anything Peter whimpered out a few words. 

“I’m sorry… I lost him.” 

“We lost,” Cap said sorrowfully. As if Peter couldn’t already tell. Pepper and Rhodey came running after Steve, they weren’t as fast as a super-soldier but they had much more reason to run towards the ship. Tony could’ve been on it. The thought made a ping of pain ripple through Peter’s chest. 

“Did Tony-” Pepper started. She didn’t finish. She saw the look in Peter’s eyes and she knew. She put a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob and Rhodey tried to look composed but Peter could see him trembling. 

“I’m so sorry…” Peter wheezed before starting a brief coughing fit that made him blackout for a moment. It was kind of spooky.  The glowing angel woman still held him up and advised that they take him to the med bay. 

That was the last thing he heard before everything went dark, thankfully, not for the last time. 

***

He woke up after a terrible dream. By the time his eyes were open, he had already forgotten it but he still felt his heart race and sweat, the moisture of fear, in several uncomfortable places. He noticed the sweat and looked at the optimistic side. He was hydrated. He had enough water in his body that he could sweat. 

Then he noticed everything else. He had needles and tubes everywhere they could medically stick him. His throat hurt, probably from having a feeding tube shoved down it. He had an IV and as many monitors that would fit on his malnourished body. The only other person in the room was Pepper. She was on her tablet and he noticed that there were slight shadows under her eyes. He knew he looked a whole lot worse though. 

“Ms. Potts?” He said weakly. She looked up quickly and plastered on a fake smile. 

“Hey, Pete. Did you sleep well?” 

“Uh, Yeah.” he lied, “Did Aunt May…” his voice shook as he left the question hanging, suspecting the answer. 

“I’m sorry Peter, she didn’t make it…” he looked down and avoided her gaze. Preparing himself did nothing and it was like the knife that was left by Tony’s death and it was now being twisted. In other words, it fucking sucked. 

“This is a pretty sucky fifty percent huh…” Peter muttered after a wet sob. 

“Yeah… you could say that.” Pepper smiled sadly as she wiped a few tears from her own eyes. 

“Who else did we lose?” Peter asked, desperate for a distraction. 

“The kind of Wakanda, his sister came with us to the compound, she wants to be part of the solution. Uh, Sam Wilson, you know, falcon, Nick Fury, Ant-Man…” she went on, naming everyone from celebrities to anyone she thought he would know. Including his friends. 

The next few days were the worst of his life. He had to deal with everyone he was close to being dusted and being unable to get out of bed. The later was much less painful but it still bothered him. It made him feel useless in addition to absolutely destroyed and depressed. 

Eventually, enough was enough. He took out everything except for the IV as he was still dehydrated and could roll it around pretty easily. He carefully got himself into his wheelchair and rolled himself to where his enhanced senses heard the somber avengers gathering. 

Peter was surprised but not that surprised to see a raccoon in clothes in the room with the remaining heroes. He’s seen aliens, it wasn’t that weird to see a talking raccoon with a familiar accent. 

“Kid, what are you doing out and about?” Rhode said, looking mildly concerned. 

“I got sick of just sitting on my ass.” He grumbled. “Now, does anyone have any idea what we’re going to do or did I just exchange sitting on my ass with access to a comfortable bed for sitting on my ass in a room full of depression?” 

“If we find Thanos and get the infinity stones back, we can theoretically bring everyone back.” Doctor Banner said calmly. He ignored Peter’s grumpy mood, everyone dealt with major tragedies differently.  

“We couldn’t keep the stones from him, now he has the most powerful weapon in the galaxy and we have half the ranks with some of our best indistinguishable from the sand on a beach. And you want to go back and try again. Like he can’t just snap his fingers and have you join the rest of the universe. Yeah, that’s pretty stupid.” Peter spat as he settled near the holograms listing the people who were dusted. 

“Well, do you have any other ideas?” Cap sighed. 

“Yeah, anything but that.” Peter groaned. “You’ll all get killed and then the universe will have no hope. Maybe we can contain the stones or something.” 

“We wouldn’t be able to do any tests, if it doesn’t work we’re all dead.” Doctor Banner shrugged. 

“Tony Stark’s nanotech sheild deflected a direct blast from the purple infinity stone. That’s at least a start.” 

“The purple one… that’s the power stone kid! So this dead guy deflected a hit from the power stone with his tech? I’d like to get a hold of that…” The raccoon exclaimed. 

“You know, it’s really too bad that this all couldn’t have been avoided…” Peter looked directly at Captain America. He didn’t know why he was consumed with such irrational anger because he would never act this way normally. His line had been crossed weeks ago when Mr. Stark died in front of him. He was just at a point where he didn’t give a fuck. 

“What are you even talking about kid?” Steve raised an annoyingly calm eyebrow. 

“If only everyone was all together to fight him at once rather than separated and weaker. We almost got the gauntlet off with only like seven people, imagine if it was all of you guys too…” Peter hissed. “You know Tony warned you about this. He knew something was coming and nobody listened.” 

“Ultron was made because of his paranoia.” 

“So was the Vision. He was our superman and the only being I would trust with the infinite power that he was given. It really sucks because if you all just stuck together and you know, didn’t become war criminals because you had your heads so far up Mr. perfects ass, Tony would still be alive, along with all of my friends and the only family I had left.” Peter gradually started to yell. He had just held too much in for too long and apparently now was the time to let it out. 

Most infuriating of all, Steve just stood there. He didn’t try to argue with Peter, he didn’t make any kind of retort. He just stood there with a blank expression. 

“If you had any sort of trust in him, he would still be alive!” Peter ripped his IV out of his arm, it was just in the way and it had become one of the things that were just holding him back. He shakily stood up in his adrenaline-filled fury. 

“Whoa kid-” Rhodey put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder but it did nothing to hold him back. 

“No matter how strong and mighty you think you are, you’re nothing compared to the guy that killed him. Don’t let your fucking ego get in the way of the fate of the universe! A fucking wizard with fucking magic couldn’t take this guy down! You’re just full of steroids and misplaced self-confidence.” Peter limped his way to Steve with so much rage in his eyes that the man several inches taller backed away a little. “ So yeah, I’ve got nothing for you. No plan, no ideas, no trust, LIAR!” he had an accusing finger stabbing at Steve’s chest. 

This, of course, was the exact time he started to feel light-headed. He stumbled back a little and barely caught his footing. After not standing for so long, thirty full seconds made his useless body want to give up. 

He could sense angel lady and Rhodey being ready to catch him when he inevitably fell. He looked at Cap one last time, who also seemed like he was worried that Peter was going to fall. 

“I… I don’t feel so good-” His voice shook, less than a second later, his vision turned black and he collapsed to the floor. 

The next time he woke up, it was days later. He physically felt as good as new but that changed when he was told what happened while he was sedated. The Avengers came back with Thanos’ blood on their hands but no infinity stones. Thanos had the last laugh when he used the stones to destroy the stones. He destroyed the only thing that could get everyone back and it finally sunk in what happened. They were all gone. And unless they had some reality-defying solution, it would be for good. 

***

FIVE YEARS LATER

***

Peter had moved on. Or at least he thought he did. For the first year after the snap, he put all his effort into finding a solution. He didn’t find one. He had to move on. Without MJ or Ned or even Flash, he didn’t have a reason to stay in the same grade. He finished high school early. He sped through college and when he turned eighteen, he revealed his identity to the world and became an official avenger. 

He also became best friends with the new black panther and queen of Wakanda. They were both incredibly smart and the same age and were enhanced with the theming of an animal. She was the only person he could feel normal with. Well, It started out as best friends, it evolved a little beyond that. 

They became an unstoppable duo, superheroing and not superheroing. They made a pretty good team in smash. Shuri always played Samus and Peter always played Kirby. Peter visited Wakanda when he couldn’t stand living in the city, they worked endless hours in her labs and alternated music choices to blast at ungodly volumes. It was some of the best times of his life. 

He moved past Thanos and he finally felt kind of stable. That was until Scott Lang came back from the quantum realm with ideas that have already been thought of. Peter and Shuri had already tried time travel to get their loved ones back but for some reason, this was different. Scott came to them. Most people wouldn’t come to them, they were often underestimated for their intelligence and sometimes ego was a larger factor than actual intellect. 

Ant-Man came to Peter and Shuri because right now, they were his best bet to get everyone back. At the moment, they were probably the smartest people on the planet. Sure it wasn’t as taboo as when they were teenagers but they were still too young to be respected as tech geniuses.

But Peter wasn’t ready to change everything again. He had finally found peace after years of trauma and loss. Of course he wanted everyone back but he didn’t know if trying again would just make everything worse. The world had moved on and accepted what happened. It had been over for years, reopening old wounds, potentially for nothing, did not sound fun. 

That’s why he said no at first. Even the idea of Thanos still scared the shit out of him. Thanos was dead. At least this version of Thanos was. If they went back in time to get the stones… Thanos would still be alive. Peter thought he had seen the last of that dried eggplant asshole. 

He worked on the time travel simulations after Shuri had gone to bed. Scott was staying in a guest room in the palace and Peter was all alone, with barely any hope, trying to solve time travel. Then he did it. At two AM when he was about to give up, he did it. The simulation worked. With the information Scott had about the quantum realm, they could use it to time travel and actually control where they went. 

He could get them back… May, Tony, Ned, MJ… all of them. He could bring them back… 

He spent the rest of the night crying with joy until he fell asleep on his desk. For once his sleep was peaceful. He dreamed of seeing them again. 

***

“I figured it out.” He brought up, out of nowhere the first time they were all gathered for a hologram meeting with the avengers all around the world and the few in space. “Time travel. I figured it out. We can get the stones from the past and use them now to bring everyone back.” 

There was silence for a moment as everyone thought about what he said. 

“You… figured out time travel?” Natasha said and if Peter wasn’t mistaken, she sounded impressed. 

“At least the method. It will take a few days to make the actual time machine. But it is possible and my simulations have been successful. We only have enough Pym particles for nine of us round trip excluding two tests. We’ll have to split up into teams to collect the stones so that we can get to them all. We can discuss everything at the compound after the machine is built so… avengers assemble I guess.” Peter said calmly, but he couldn’t keep a smile from his face. 

“Well, you heard Spider-Man, Avengers Assemble.” 

***

Peter decided not to go on the time-traveling adventure. They would need tech geniuses on both sides, just so nothing would go wrong. Shuri would go with Professor Hulk, Captain America, and Ant-Man to New York 2012, Carol would go with Rhodey to get the power stone from some planet in the past, punk Hawkeye and Black widow were going for the soul stone, and hobo Thor with Rocket, going to Asgard for the reality stone. The hulk had managed to get Thor out of his hole in New Asgard. 

Hawkeye had tested the time machine by going into the past and saving some enhanced kids’ life. Someone named Piedro. He was apparently the magic girl’s brother. Well, she better be thankful when they bring her back from the dust.   

“Everyone ready?” Peter said as he flipped all the switches and pressed all the buttons that he needed to get the large time machine set up. The avengers came into the room wearing their black and red quantum nano suits sans helmets. 

The vibranium gauntlet that was to hold the infinity stones was waiting to be used beside him. It was hard to accept that for him, it was only going to be a minute before all of the stones were together. They were so close to bringing everyone back that it was almost impossible for Peter to wrap his head around it. 

The Avengers took their places on the platform with Shuri bringing up the rear. Before she started on the steps, she leaned down to where he was sitting and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She smirked at how red his face turned. Natasha snorted at his reaction. Rocket scoffed something that Peter couldn’t quite hear. 

“Stay safe your highness. And uh, I guess everyone else.” Peter smiled shyly. “Okay, sending you all off in 3… 2...1!” He twisted a nob and everything started to glow. In a flash, everyone was gone. 

“And they should be back in… 3… 2… 1!” He talked to himself as a flash of light flooded the room and everyone was back. Well, almost everyone. Everyone’s helmets disappeared and Natasha had tears in her eyes. Clint wasn’t in the group that came back. There was a moment of silence between all of the Avengers and Shuri jogged towards Peter and almost suffocated him in a hug.

“Woah woah, what happened? You okay?” He said worriedly. 

“It’s fine, there were just a few bumps in the road.” She sighed. She looked a little bruised and had a few bloody wounds, nothing too bad though. 

“It was a sacrifice…” Natasha said weakly. “It was the only way to get the stone…” 

The room went quiet once again. They weren’t prepared for a casualty. 

***

 They would mourn Clint later, they had all the stones and could finally get everyone back. Peter’s veins were filled with adrenaline. He had never been so excited in his life. He wanted everyone back so fucking bad, but so much had changed. Would they even recognize him now? He was in his early twenties, he had grown so much. Physically and as a person. God, he was probably taller than Tony now… 

“I’ll do it.” Carol interrupted his train of thought. Oh yeah, they were trying to decide who would do the snap. “I can absorb the energy that tries to damage me. I’m the safest option.” She said definitively. Thor and Professor Hult seemed to try to argue but Carol talked them down. It wouldn’t hurt her as it would hurt them. She was practically made of infinity stone energy, if anything, it could make her stronger. 

Peter had used an enclosed robot arm to place the stones in the dark vibranium gauntlet and it was ready to be used. Carol picked it up and put it on impatiently. They had already waited five years for this moment, none of them wanted to wait any longer. 

Arcs of multi-colored light grew on Carol’s arm, she didn’t even wince. She closed her eyes and snapped. There was no more lead up, she just did it. 

Peter was the only one that felt an immediate change. He felt what he could only describe as a sigh of relief. It was like all the background noise he tended to tune out was doubled. He just felt the presence of people. It worked. Oh god, it worked. After all this time, they did it. Holy fuck.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment, it was just something that they couldn’t wait to be done. There was no music to confirm that everyone was back, they just had to trust that it worked. It only took a moment for the changes to prove that they happened. 

Peter’s phone rang. He whipped it out at the speed of light and sobbed a little when he saw who it was. He didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Peter? Is that you? Can you please tell me what’s going on?” May’s voice sounded a little bit shaky. It took Peter a moment to find his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me… It’s a little bit of a long story.” He quickly wiped a tear from his eye and shuffled out of the room of avengers. He didn’t what them staring at him. They probably also had a few calls to make. Including one to Clint’s family. 

“Why does your voice sound so weird? Are you sick?” May asked. 

“My voice is not what you should be focusing on. A whole lot has happened. You might want to sit down…” He said as he did the same. He knew May would be distraught for missing out on his life but it’s not like she had a choice. 

“Peter!” Carol’s voice came frantically from the other room. “Kid! Get in the quinjet!” 

“Sorry May, I’ve got to go. I’ll explain everything later!” Peter knew that if Carol was panicking, something must have really gone wrong. He ended the call and jumped up to sprint outside to the quinjet. He could vaguely sense the rest of the avengers following him, with a little bit of emphasis on Rocket’s scampering on all fours like the animal he looked like. 

Carol scrambled to the pilot’s seat and everyone, even those who could fly independently, filed into the dark jet. 

“Okay, can someone tell me what the hell is going on now?” Peter groaned as he stood behind Nebula who was in the co-pilots chair. 

“Sorry kid, I guess I got ahead of myself.” Carol sighed. “I just wanted to bring everyone back, I didn’t think that the black order would come back too.” 

“Including Thanos or not including Thanos?” Peter’s voice shook and may have risen a few octaves. 

“We don’t know, but their ships are gathering above New York City.” 

“We still have the infinity stone right? You can just dust them can’t you?” 

“The gauntlet is practically unusable.  Even made of vibranium it couldn’t stand the strength of the infinity stones.”

“You absorbed the first snap, right? Maybe you could just hold the stones or something.” He said frantically as they took off and headed to the city at full speed. It would only take them a few minutes to get there. 

“I almost couldn’t contain the power from the first one with the gauntlet. If I used them without it, I’d explode.”

“Then explode near their ships,” Peter suggested.  

“I’ll think about it.” She snorted in response. “I can deal with the ships and hopefully the black order is easily knocked off of the playing board. We need people dealing with civilians.” 

“I’ll go. My weapons didn’t do much to these guys last time…” Rhodey said. 

“Me too.” Natasha nodded. “Unless you want me to sneak on their ship and take hold of their weapons. I can do that too.” 

“Can I come?” Antman asked as his mask flipped on his head. “I can help with small stuff!” 

“Sure, go for it,” Carol said, accidentally becoming the leader instead of the other captain. Neither of them really seemed to care. 

Peter stayed quiet as they discussed plans, he thought this was all over… He thought Thanos was gone but apparently, he might not be and that scared the shit out of him. Only minutes ago he was pretty damn happy that they brought everyone back but now it could all be undone again and Peter really wasn’t ready. 

Okay maybe he was panicking a little but not one was noticing so it didn’t matter. Maybe he was just overthinking it, they had everyone back, it wouldn’t be like last time. 

“Spidey, were you listening?” Shuri seemed to realize that Peter was having a little bit of trouble but didn’t point it out. 

“Uh, kinda. You should repeat it just to make sure…” 

“We’re splitting up the stones since we can’t exactly use them. Carol is taking the power stone since she’s the only one that can hold it, I’m taking the mind stone because I might be able to figure it out, Cap gets time, yadda yadda yadda. You get the Soul Stone. The guardian of the soul stone said that it was different from the other stones so we need someone special to protect it. Someone fast and with a danger sense. Anyway, we’re about there. Just make sure the stones are split up so that we can defeat Thanos without them. Got it? Cool.” Shuri rambled at a speed that only Peter could follow along with.

“Cool.” Peter put on his web-shooters and activated the nanites inside them. The nanotech left their containment and covered his body in his suit. He had adjusted the design of the iron spider suit and even got vibranium added to the mix. There were several lines and points in the suit that had a slight indigo glow from the metal but Peter kept the bright red sections. For the aesthetic. It was the perfect amalgamation of starktech and Shuri’s Wakandan technology with Peter’s own designs sprinkled throughout. 

Carol gave him the little orange stone. It seemed too small to be one of the most powerful items in the galaxy. Even through his suit, it was warm. He could feel it’s energy. He put it in a pocket in his web-shooter. Normally the place had extra web fluid but he forgot to refill it. It managed to be the perfect size, thank god. 

Then he remembered that people were sacrificed for this little glowing rock. Hawkeye… Nebulas sister… This tiny stone definitely was different than the others. The other ones could be stollen, this one had to be paid, and the price was a little steep by Peter’s standards. 

He really hoped that the soul stone wasn’t affected by inflation and that it was always a soul for a soul. Maybe a thousand years ago it was a different cool rock for the magic glowing stone. Like a geode from a national park gift shop for the soul stone. He realized that he may have zoned out a little. 

The quinjet hovered above the city and the avengers got ready to jump out. Flyers automatically paired up with non-fliers. Nebula stayed in the cockpit to man the jet while Carol paired herself up with Natasha. Rhodey had Rocket snarling on his shoulder with a gun as big as he was. 

One by one, the pairs of avengers leaped out of the quinjet. Except for Captain America, who didn’t need anyone to jump with, he didn’t even have a parachute. From what Peter knew about Steve, that was completely normal. 

Peter put his arm safely around Shuri’s waist and jumped out. Shuri whooped like she was on a rollercoaster as if they weren’t going into battle with a resurrected intergalactic warlord. It’s not like he hasn’t taken her web-slinging before, in much safer circumstances. 

The city was smoldering and civilians were running as far away as they could. Tripping on debris on the way. Peter spotted people stuck in a crumbling building and as if they had a neurological connection, he and Shuri went to work. 

There was a reason they were paired up so often. They were an extremely fluid team that was constantly on the same page. They never had to tell each other what to do, they just knew what they were doing. Okay, they weren’t perfect but they had worked together for years and they knew each other pretty well. Shuri usually depended on Peter to catch her when she fell and he usually did. 

This was why when Peter threw Shuri into the window of the building, she didn’t swear at him. With both of his hands free and Shuri in the building with the trapped people, he was able to make a large net with his webs. Shuri helped the family jump into the webbing for Peter to escort to the ground, to run as far away from the carnage as fast as they could. 

They carried on like this, staying away from the main fight and helping everyone that needed to be helped until a flash of light caught Peter’s attention. He and Shuri were on a building only a few buildings away from where the flash came from. 

It was him. It was Thanos. Below him was Steve, bloody and bruised and broken. He looked dead but Peter hoped otherwise. The glowing green gem hovered in between the mad titan’s massive fingers. One stone down… five to go. Peter shuttered at the thought. The time stone was one of the worst ones for him to get first. Well, any of them would be terrible for him to have but Time was a really bad start. 

The purple Hitler alien grinned smugly and sent the black order out to find the rest of the stones. He did so, very dramatically. 

“We need to split up,” Peter said urgently.

“That’s what I was going to suggest. We’ve already been risking it with two infinity stone so close together. I wouldn’t be surprised if that asshole can smell them like a dog.” She hissed. She took a precious moment that they could’ve spent running by giving him an urgent kiss. “For luck?” she suggested as she jumped off of the roof. Peter rolled his eyes but started web-slinging the opposite way. He could already tell that he would need that good luck. 

For the next half hour, everything was so chaotic that Peter wasn’t sure he could perceive it all. He was pretty sure that he pulled someone from under the debris of a collapsed building, he saved a kid from space Voldemorts telepathic attacks that were missing whatever avenger he was currently after. 

One by one, Thanos collected the stones, whether through his minions or himself. He took down each avenger, one at a time. If they had a stone or not. They lost Space, Reality, Mind, and Power. Peter became the last Avenger with an infinity stone. He became the last avenger standing. 

When he saw the yellow flash of light, he knew Shuri was caught and he stopped whatever he was doing. He cried out a few choice expletives, Hoping that the bastard had only taken the stone and not her life. 

Peter was the last one left. If Captain Marvel couldn’t kick this guys ass, there was no way that he could. Everyone was down except for him. That was a lot of pressure. Not many things could distract him from what was happening in front of him but something managed. 

There was a burning pain through his wrist, where he hid the soul stone. It didn’t distract him long, he could ignore it for a minute. But he had to do something. He was the only one that could do something. 

So he stepped out into the light and let his nanite mask retract. He wanted his face to show. He wanted to breathe the burning air and he wanted to show Thanos that he wasn’t afraid. This was odd because he had been scared to death of Thanos for half a decade, to a point where he had panic attacks over it, but now, all he felt was rage. A hot burning rage that ignited his veins. 

He snuck around the broken city in complete silence. His plan could only work if he had the element of surprise. He couldn’t go against all of the black order and Thanos at once. After an eternity of obsessively controlling his breathing and every movement he made, he was in position. He was right behind Thanos. 

He took a breath. A moment to collect his thoughts before shit went down and he was going to get hurt. In… and out... In … and out. He lept into action. 

In a flash, he flipped over the titan and grabbed blindly at the gems already in the gauntlet. Good news, he managed to get one. Bad news, it was the power stone and Thanos grabbed him by the throat before he was able to get away. His arm burned with the violet energy as Thanos inspected him with a chuckle that only a bad guy could utter. 

“They gave a child the soul stone?” 

“I know I look young but come on, I don’t look that young.” He wheezed and wasted what little breath he had. His arm still burned but it was fading, it was as if the soul stone and the power stone were canceling each other out.

“It is impressive how long you were able to evade us, but my will is inevitable, the fight is done now. Give me the stones or I will rip them from your corpse.” The titan said calmly as if he was actually giving Peter the choice and not threatening to murder him.  

“I don’t think I will.” Peter rasped. “Jesus Christ, if you let me breathe I might be able to actually talk to you… is this normally how negotiations work with you?” Peter noticed his fist holding the power stone and in the same hand as the soul stone was starting to heat up. Not burning destructively like it was before, but with power that was starting to course through him. 

Thanos tightened his grip and raised Peter to the sky, cutting off his air and displaying him thousands of feet in the air. That’s when he started to hear a distantly familiar noise. Like a sparkler on the fourth of July multiplied by a million. He could see golden sparks out of the corners of his eyes. Thanos’s expression tightened but he didn’t react to the portals that Peter knew were starting to appear on top of buildings around him.

“Kid?” A painfully familiar voice yelled from somewhere behind him. He was starting to blackout, his lungs begged painfully for air but he couldn’t even gasp. “Let go of him!” 

Peter smiled in between dry gasping like a fish out of water. He saw his fist glowing the orange of the soul stone with a fiery intensity. He closed his eyes and reached out to the soul stone. He finally understood. The little glowing rock was alive. The Soul was the most alive thing in the universe. And it was just as angry as Peter was. 

Peter’s vision went white. Not because Thanos had successfully choked him to death, but because of the blast. The energy from the soul stone in contact with the power stone caused a concentrated white-hot explosion that didn’t even affect Peter. He wasn’t blown back, he just landed on the roof of the building as Thanos and the black order all around him were blown away with ease. 

He frantically turned around, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Tony but his spider-sense went off before he could see his long lost mentor. He jumped off the skyscraper before a blast of energy could catch him off guard. 

The soul stone led him to the fallen avengers which were all thankfully, not dead. Peter reached out his hand and the cloudy orange energy lazily floated into their bodies like fog. Wounds faded and gasps of breath echoed from around them. Once Peter knew they were okay, he left. 

He swung up to a vacant rooftop and took his first full look at the reinforcements. There were at least four armies, the Wakandan army led by T’Challa, The Asgardian Army led by Valkarie, a mess of aliens behind the resurrected guardians of the galaxy and a few hundred wizards in matching robes, led by Doctor Strange. That wasn’t even including all of the undusted avengers and other heroes that stood at the front lines. 

Then, Peter saw a glint of red fly out of the corner of his eye and smiled as he turned his head towards it. Moments later, Tony landed in a fresh bleeding-edge suit, his helmet melted back faster than Peter thought that it could. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark. It’s been a little while.” Peter was staying cool for now but he was so close to crying. Tony looked exactly like he did before, maybe a little smaller but that was probably on Peter’s side. He did grow a few inches over the years. 

“Peter? Is that really you? You look so… mature.” The man joked and raised his eyebrow. 

“I better be, It’s been five years after all... You have been gone for a hot second.” Peter grinned, just glad to see Tony alive and in front of him. He could hear Tony’s heartbeat and it was the most beautiful sound. 

“Five years? That’s why you’re so tall.” Peter laughed at Tony’s reaction and couldn’t restrict himself any longer, he hugged his old man. 

“I missed you… you don’t even know…” It took a moment but Tony hugged back, just as tightly. 

“Thank god someone did, That strange guy seemed rather annoyed that I was with them on Titan.” 

“Wait, shit,” Peter pulled back from the hug, “We’re in the middle of a fight. Hugs later okay, the big bad guy still has four singularities that are super powerful by themselves.” 

“Yeah, that sucks. Want a piggyback ride to the middle of it?” Tony offered as his helmet folded back on.  

“Sure.” Peter shrugged. Moments later, he stood on Iron Mans back like he was a magic carpet. Moments later he dove off to confront Thanos again. This time, he was aware of the power that he held. 

The only thing life really needed was a soul, and Peter had the essence of the soul in his hand. No time, no reality, no mind would change the fact that he was in control of life. That’s why it was the only stone that needed a sacrifice, that’s why it required the ultimate sacrifice. Because it was more powerful than the power gem. It was alive and it was angry. It had a will and a connection to every living thing. Including Thanos. 

Thanos, in all his strength and intelligence, was not immune to the soul stones rage. No time, no space, no reality, no mind could save him. 

It was almost disappointing how easy it was. So anticlimactic. The raging energy ate through the titan like he was paper in a flame. The armor didn’t matter, the stones didn’t matter. In moments, he was gone. After Thanos was defeated, the black order was taken down easily. 

It was over. It was finally over. Everything was back to normal. 

***

Okay, maybe not back to normal but families were reunited, friends were back from the dead and every other problem seemed pretty minuscule. That’s why, after everyone had a nap, the Avengers had a massive party at the compound. 

Everyone’s families were invited, May was there, Carol joyfully hung out with her cat goose, Maria, Monica, and Nick Fury, Sam Wilsons mom was there, she even took the time to make cookies, the Wakandan royal family was there and literally hundreds more people. Everyone was glad to be alive and there was an incredible amount of catching up that needed to be done. 

Both T’Challa, May, and Tony were pretty stunned to see Shuri and Peter together but after a moment of thought, it really made sense. 

Rocket was crying as he hugged a tree teenager and denied the crying bit. He also seemed happy that the rest of his friends were alive, except Nebula’s sister but most of his friends were undusted. 

Thor was still kind of glum but a few conversations with Professor Hulk and Valkarie got him laughing heartily. His family may be gone but he still had his friends. 

Peter reunited with Ned and MJ, which was weird at first because he was older than them, and MJ didn’t know that he was Spider-Man, she suspected but she didn’t really know. It didn’t take long for them to realize that Peter was still Peter even though he was a little taller now. He was still the same nerd who had to refrain from giving away Star Wars spoilers from movies and TV shows they didn’t know existed. 

It wasn’t all good though, while Ned and MJ took advantage of being around every superhero they had ever idolized, May lowkey started flirting with Carol, and Tony was being hogged by Pepper and Happy, Peter stook in a corner, still trying to accept that everything was fixed. 

Even though everyone was back now, he still felt odd. He guessed that everything didn’t just suddenly resolve after everyone was brought back to life. The snap didn’t erase what had already happened. Peter had still spent five years separated from all of his friends and family. He had spent so much time mourning only to get everyone back years later. Those feelings didn’t just disappear. 

It felt like a dream that they were all back. His mind sending him a reminder of what they looked and sounded like but he knew they were real. He could hear their heartbeats and laughs across the room. They were alive and Peter was so happy, they missed so much. 

Peter had changed while they were gone, he was still Peter, he was just more traumatized and more withdrawn. He had grown but he was still the same. He still liked to hang upside down to nap and he was still bad at cooking but not baking. He was just taller and more in tune with his powers and diagnosed with a panic disorder. 

In the long run, those changes wouldn’t matter, at least not to people who truly cared. It would just take them a few weeks to get back into the flow of normal life with the people they thought they lost. 

It was like half of the universe was Captain America-ed for five years where literally everything changed. Earth became part of the universe, known to other planets as a complete powerhouse instead of an easy steal for some galactic empire. There were more humans in space than ever before and the snap affected everything. Ecosystems, culture, interplanetary and international relations, governmental control, and practically every aspect of normal human life was changed forever. 

Peter was shaken out of his thoughts with Shuri handing him a plate full of deserts. He immediately bit into a cookie. 

“Something on your mind?” She asked as she stole the cookie from his hand. He didn’t even react. 

“Yeah, I know everything’s all fixed and everyone is back, but I don’t know, it feels weird.” He shrugged and grabbed another treat from the plate, knowing that the cookie was lost. 

“I know, a lot happened in five years. We already mourned them and cried for them, and poof, they’re back. It’s not bad it’s just, weird.” She nodded. 

“I just don’t feel like the same person that they all knew. Like for them, it’s been five seconds and for us, it’s been five years.” 

“Does it matter? You are you. No matter your age or what you’ve been through. People change and grow and they just have to get used to who you are now.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t turn back time to be sixteen again, I definitely don’t even want to. I like the me that I am now, but it’s not the same as my friends and family know. Whatever, this is a party, not therapy.” 

“That is true, it is time to avoid our problems like there’s no tomorrow!” 

And they did. 

***

It was three in the morning and Peter was still awake. Not because he wasn’t tired, he definitely was, but because he was afraid of what would come when he closed his eyes. Instead of sleeping, he was in Tony’s lab. He had spent so much time there during the five years of missing his mentor. 

Working always helped, it kept him focused. It was calming and it came naturally for him. He played music in the background that was everything from comedy bands to musicals to modern rock and classic rock. It was so much easier to avoid his problems than deal with them. 

“Hey Friday, turn down the music, I need to talk to you.” He said while he was pacing and not working on anything at all. 

“Of course. What do you want to talk about?” The AI replied cheerfully. She seemed a lot happier since Tony returned. 

“I think it’s time to change your primary user back to Tony. He’s alive again so the ‘EDITH’ protocol should be reset. That also means to give back the trust and all that. I can’t rely on my inheritance anyway…” He rambled. 

“I’m sorry Peter but I cannot do that. Boss locked the ‘Old Man’ protocol for his retirement. He wants to keep ‘EDITH’ in place.” 

“I mean he’s not dead so why would he keep it?” 

“It’s getting a little late kid,” Tony spoke from behind Peter. He turned to the man and shrugged. 

“Not a kid. I’m old enough to drink but it doesn’t even do anything so that sucks.” 

“Believe me, that’s a good thing. You don’t even get hangovers?” 

“No, I can’t even get high dude. Weed is useless.” He sighed. Tony laughed. 

“You should seriously go to bed though it’s been a pretty long day.” 

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Peter pouted. 

“Poor baby.” Tony practically dragged Peter out of the workshop, it had been a pretty long day. 

“I’m a little too tall to be a baby.” Peter yawned. 

“You’re always going to be my baby,” Tony said surprisingly fondly. 

“I’m taller than you.” 

“Not emotionally,” Tony noted.  Peter snorted in response as they wandered to his bedroom. In the five years of living there, it had barely changed. There were still three Star Wars posters on the wall and the desk was still a mess. The only thing that really changed was the comforter on the queen-sized bed. It had a little flying Iron Man pattern on it and little arc reactors. It used to be a solid scarlet. 

“I love you, you know that right? I didn’t get to tell you before and I never want the opportunity to slip away ever again. You’ve been like a dad to me and I could never ask for anyone better. Shit, don’t tell Ben that…” Peter embraced Tony before he left for the night. Tony’s hand instinctually combed comfortingly through his kid’s hair. 

“I love you too kid. It’s been rough for you lately but it’s okay now. You saved the universe, not many people can say that.”

“I know right, what are the perks of that? Do I get free food a McDonald’s or something? I mean Jesus got several holidays for saving mankind in some indefinable way, will my birthday become like a day off of school or something?” Peter joked as he stepped back. 

“Now that’s an idea… who do you contact for making a holiday…” 

“Okay no, don’t do that. Don’t you dare.” Peter said in a serious tone. 

“Fine, good night Spider-Jesus.” Tony started to head back to his own room with Pepper. 

“I’m not the one that came back from the dead, whatever. Good night Iron Jesus.” He sighed and flopped into bed. He was out like a light in moments. Even if he had a nightmare, he would always wake up to something better than any dream he could conjure. And that was enough.  

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 21/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3343 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thanks goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan wakes up alone.

His head is squashed into his pillow, mouth hanging open with drool drying at the corner of his lips, hair matted atop his head. His body feels weighed down, heavy on the mattress. The burn in his chest has faded to a simmer that sparks when his ribs expand around an inhale.

The air grates at his throat. So does the groan Dan lets out when it hurts.

He manages to roll onto his back so he can orient himself. Phil’s pillow is still sitting there, bright and blue and such a contrast to the dreary grays covering the rest of Dan’s room. On the nightstand, there’s a bright yellow post-it scribbled with black that Dan’s fairly certain is a note.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He shifts towards the edge of the mattress, arms aching in their attempt to move his weight, until he’s sitting in front of Phil’s pillow. It hurts his shoulder, but he leans over and plucks the post-it from its spot. Phil’s messiest handwriting is scrawled across it in black sharpie.  

I had to go to work :( I called Taylor to make sure you’re okay so she should be here somewhere. I hope you’re feeling better.

The last few words are tiny, wedged into the corner of the paper. Above that, there’s a smudge of ink that looks almost like it was meant to be a heart.

Dan tries to tell himself it’s nothing, that Phil just pressed the marker to the paper for a moment too long, but his smile still grows wider.

He stares at the note for a really long time.

---

It takes Dan a while to drag himself out of bed.

His legs are still shaky under his weight and there’s a dull ache in the back of his neck that makes it hard to hold his head steady. He finds a pair of pyjama bottoms and struggles to pull them on so that he’s not in just his pants, but his chest still stings when it’s touched.

Besides, Taylor’s seen him shirtless before.

Pressing one hand to the wall for support, he leaves his bedroom, taking slow, steady steps into the lounge. He sees Taylor sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. Her hair’s thrown back into a high ponytail and she’s hunched over a book he can hardly see, a pen perched in one hand.

She was supposed to be at uni today. Dan swallows against the guilt that comes with the realization.

He manages to stumble halfway to the sofa before she notices him. Her pen clatters against the table as she bounces to her feet, and before he can take another step, she’s dipping under his arm and draping it over her shoulder.

“You could have, I don’t know, called out or something.”

Dan huffs out a laugh. Something twinges in his chest. “I was fine to walk, you know.”

“Phil said you almost fainted.”

“Yesterday. Then I got IV fluids and slept,” he says. They’ve reached the sofa by then, and Dan drops onto the cushions, lets his weight sink into the soft blanket laid over them. “You know my blood pressure does that sometimes, Tay. And then it recovers.”

Taylor shrugs. She drops back onto the floor without a word, and starts fidgeting with her pen. Dan counts how many times she clicks it.

There’s thirteen clicks before she speaks.

“Phil made it sound like you were dying or something,” she says. “I figured it was pretty bad.”

“Oh,” says Dan. “It wasn’t. That bad, I mean.”

He turns his head against the sofa, presses his nose to the blanket Phil got him. When his eyes drift closed, it’s to the image of Phil’s face last night, eyes gleaming with tears, staring at Dan attached a machine by so many wires. It’s to the phantom feeling of Phil’s goodnight kiss dusting across his hair.

“He was worried?” he hears himself ask.

Taylor huffs. “That’s an understatement,” she says. “He didn’t want to leave. I’m pretty sure he was late to work, actually. He just kept going around the house making sure everything was okay. There’s a smoothie for you in the fridge, by the way.”

“He made me a smoothie?”

Taylor hums. There’s a grin drawing at the corners of her mouth, happiness reaching her eyes. She looks good. She looks healthy.

Healthier than she has since Dan’s known her, at least.

Dan smiles back at her. He lets his gaze drift to the textbook that lies open, and it drops.

“More bio?”

“Yeah,” says Taylor. She sets her pen down again, but her head stays dipped towards the book of notes Dan couldn’t even try to understand. “You know how I’m seeing a counselor?”

It’s a whisper, too shy for the girl who would barge into his dorm when he was half-naked to do her homework and keep him company.

Dan forces himself to nod. “Yeah.”

“Well she thinks I should switch courses,” says Taylor. “I don’t know if I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh.” Dan swallows. His chest feels tight again, locked with uncertainty. It shouldn’t be a surprise, he thinks. But Taylor never talked about it, not of her own volition.

Then again, there were a lot of things Taylor didn’t do for herself. Things she couldn’t do for herself.

“I think you should, if it would make you happy,” says Dan.

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees her shoulders sag with relief.

---

They sit in silence for most of the day. Morning was already bleeding into afternoon when Dan woke up, and even now, with the day’s brightest sun peaking out from beneath the blanket curtain, he can’t muster energy to do much more than stare vaguely at the TV.

His vision goes out of focus every time there’s a flurry of movement on screen. Dan’s not even sure which movie it is that Taylor put on.

It’s not very good. At least, the bits his brain can pick up on aren’t very good.

He looks away. His neck feels weak and his head bobs a bit when he leans forward, but his gaze settles on Taylor. She’s still sitting on the floor, still reading her biology textbook.

Dan wonders how her brain can possibly be absorbing any of that.

“Taylor?”

She looks up, twisting so she’s facing him. Her eyes look a little hazy, but not nearly as much as they used to. Like maybe the prospect of leaving the sciences behind has reinvigorated her.

Not that the prospect of dropping out had done anything of the sort for–

“Dan?”

He blinks. Taylor’s still staring at him, brows furrowed in concern.

“Geez,” she says. “I thought you were gonna faint on me.”

Dan frowns. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

It’s starting to sound petulant to his own ears, but then his mind flashes back to one of the times he laid in the hospital sobbing as his chest seemed to want to cave in. Lightheadedness, though it makes anxiety curl tight in his gut, is nothing in comparison.

Taylor’s just staring at him now, and Dan wonders when he started feeling the need to explain himself to her.

“Really,” he repeats. There’s a pause as fingers catch at the edge of the blanket and he mumbles: “Did Phil really seem that worried?”

Her eyes go a little somber at that, and her shoulders a little tense. Dan’s hand wraps tighter around the fleece, thumb drifting over tiny furs in the fabric. He reminds himself that Phil bought it for him, tried to make his new home comfortable in the tiny ways he knew how at the time, in all the ways he’s learning to help.

There’s still a smoothie in the fridge for him. One that Phil left there.

“Honestly?” says Taylor, and Dan nods. “I think he was catastrophizing.”

“Oh,” says Dan. His chest feels tight again, because Dan knows what that means. He’s been there. Sometimes, in the darkness of nights where his body aches too much for his mind to drift off to sleep, he still ends up there.

Taylor, he knows, has been there, too.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t say it,” she says. “It just kinda seemed like he was scared that if he left you, he would, you know, lose you.”

A lump wells in Dan’s throat. He swallows against it. All he manages in response is another quiet: “Oh.”

Taylor stares at him for a long moment after that, then shrugs one shoulder and turns back to her book.

“I could be wrong,” she says. “I don’t know him all that well.”

Dan shakes his head. He draws the blanket around himself, just a corner of fleece pulled pitifully over his chest because he can’t be bothered to stand and free the fabric from under his weight. Taylor’s not watching to see his eyes slip closed.

She wasn’t there to see the look on Phil’s face when Dan was hooked up to the ECG.

“I think you’re right,” he says.

Taylor drops her pen, turning to look at him again. “You do?”

“Yeah,” says Dan. “I just– There’s one thing that bugged me.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Part of him doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to place Phil anywhere near the doubts that lurk in the back of Dan’s mind. But the memory of the ECG fades into one from before, from back at the flat, Dan’s head still spinning and chest aching and Phil trying to help.

“Well?”

Something’s stinging behind Dan’s eyes, and he hates that he knows exactly why.

“He didn’t wanna go to A&E,” he says. “Like he seemed to get that it was serious, but he wanted to wait and see and I don’t know it just reminded me of–”

He clamps his mouth shut, but Taylor knows. She knows too much, he thinks, about the little things that linger, heavy, on his shoulders, about the memories he can’t entirely erase.

“Your parents?”

It’s a whisper, one they both know is true. Dan nods anyway, guilt twisting painfully in his gut.

She reaches up, rests a hand on his knee. Her eyes have gone soft, her gaze tripping over where Dan’s clutching the blanket too tightly, like a child.

“He’s not like your parents,” says Taylor. “You know that.”

Dan nods, because he does. He knows it so much it hurts, more than the lingering pressure against his ribs and the ache blooming at the back of his head, to doubt it.

Taylor squeezes his knee. “You okay?”

He’s not sure. But then again, Dan’s never sure when people ask him that.

He shrugs, and mumbles: “Yeah.”

---

Dan falls asleep to the sound of a boring film and the turning pages of Taylor’s textbook.

He wakes up to the TV gone silent, different voices drifting past his ears. His mind’s still hazy with fatigue, every thought a little blurry around the edges, mingling with the lingering vividness of some dream about college he doesn’t particularly care about.

He cares about the voices much more.

“Dan and I were talking,” says one. Taylor, he realizes a second later than he probably should. She must not be sitting on the lounge floor anymore because she sounds farther away.

He considers cracking his eyes open to check, but that takes effort.

“He said you didn’t wanna go to A&E,” she continues.

Dan’s stomach twists. If sleep wasn’t still rooted so heavily in his bones he would let them know he’s awake now just so she’d stop talking. In the same brilliance as a dream, Dan can picture Phil fidgeting, reaching up to comb his fringe out of his eyes like he always does.

He wonders if Taylor would notice that, too.

“He said that?” says the other voice, and Dan already knew it would be Phil but something shudders down his spine at the confirmation.

Taylor’s actually telling him about this.

There’s a hum, then silence. Dan wishes he could see. The dread has settled into a morbid curiosity now that he’s a little more awake, a little more aware, so he listens.

“Yeah,” says Phil. “I guess I was a little hesitant.”

“Hesitant?” says Taylor. “Or anxious?”

Dan has to count to keep his breath from catching. Four seconds to inhale and eight to exhale, once, twice, and a third time because his chest feels tight with knowledge he’s not supposed to have.

Knowledge he doesn’t have, he reminds himself. Phil still hasn’t responded.

Dan thinks that might be answer enough.

“I don’t mean to assume,” says Taylor. “I just have a bit of experience with that stuff. You can tell me if I’m wrong.”

There’s more silence. Phil still isn’t saying anything and Dan wonders if he’s staring at Taylor all wide-eyed and nervous like Dan did when she first asked him if he was ill. Or if he’s staring at the table, twisting his hand and letting his fringe cover his eyes the way Dan knows Phil does.

“Does Dan know?”

His breath does catch this time. And then he doesn’t breathe, too scared either of them noticed.

It’s not a yes, but it’s definitely not a denial either.

They must not have. There’s the quiet scratch of the chair against the floor, and a steady tapping Dan thinks must be someone’s foot. One of them, probably Phil, takes a deep breath, and Dan’s reassured enough that he does the same, easing some of the ache burning between his ribs.

“Dan has enough to worry about,” says Phil. “Besides, it’s mostly a resolved issue.”

And that’s it, a confirmation that shudders painfully through Dan’s chest.

“You should tell him,” says Taylor. “He’d want to know.”

Dan swallows. It sounds loud to his own ears, but no one else seems to hear it. His fingers twitch by the blanket still draped over his chest. He wants to pull it even tighter around himself.

He wants to wrap it around Phil and make sure he knows he can tell Dan things, too.

They don’t say another word after that.

Dan counts the seconds ticking by in his head until he thinks it’s been long enough that he can pretend to wake up.

---

Taylor stays for dinner.

Phil orders a pizza that they share as Dan sips at another smoothie. Taylor tells him about possibly changing her course and Phil offers advice far better than Dan could ever come up with. They laugh about how terrible they are at science. Dan joins in on that.

His chest aches afterwards. He’s not entirely sure it’s from the laughter.

When the pizza box is mostly empty and leftovers are being shoved into the fridge, Taylor tells them she should be heading out. She shoves her books into a backpack Dan didn’t realize she’d brought and thanks them for the food and the smile on her face looks real, looks happy.

She hugs Dan goodbye, the distant kind that doesn’t put any pressure against his ribs.

“Feel better,” she says. “And remember that he’s good for you.”

Dan watches her hug Phil afterwards, the tighter kind that has her standing on her toes instead of bending down. She says something against Phil’s shoulder, so quietly Dan can’t make out the words.

“Good luck with school,” Phil says in response.

Taylor laughs as she pulls away. “Thank you,” she says.

She looks like she means it.

Phil might be good for her, too, Dan thinks.

He wonders if either of them are good for Phil.

---

They sit on the sofa again that night.

It’s not even a conscious thing anymore when Dan presses himself against Phil’s side, letting his head drop to rest on Phil’s shoulder. Fingers thread into his hair and rub gentle patterns against his head and Dan stares at the TV screen, at whatever show’s playing now, but his vision can’t focus.

Neither can his brain.

The blanket is draped over both of them now, tucked in against Dan’s side and Phil’s thigh. Beneath it, Dan reaches over to rest his hand on Phil’s knee.

There was a time when that was the only part of Dan that Phil would touch. It seems like so long ago now.

“Can I ask you something?”

Phil looks away from the screen. His eyes look a little hazy. A soft smile curls at the corner of his mouth and makes Dan’s chest go warm.

“Of course,” he says.

Dan squeezes his knee. “How are you?” he says. His voice feels thick in his throat and breaks into a whisper. “I feel like last night was new for you and I just– Yeah. How are you?”

He watches Phil’s brows furrow, feeling something tighten in his stomach at the sight. White tears flash into his mind, a pale face and uncertain frown and Phil’s fingers gripping the hospital bed like he was even more unsteady than Dan had felt.

Dan wonders if his chest had ached, too. If something different had rooted itself between Phil’s ribs that night, took his breath the way pain stole Dan’s.

“I should be asking you that,” says Phil.

His fingers have gone still in Dan’s hair, his smile a little faded.

“I’m used to it, though,” says Dan. “You’re not, right? It was new for you?”

His hand tightens at the back of Dan’s neck. It sends a shot of pain down Dan’s spine, blooming across the back of his head, but he forces himself not to wince. He wants to hear what Phil has to say. He wants to listen, for once.

Phil deserves a friend that will listen,

“Yeah, I guess it was new,” says Phil. “But that doesn’t matter–”

“It matters to me.”

Phil’s eyes go wide and Dan wants to says of course it matters to me, you idiot, you’ve done more for me than anyone ever has, but it feels like too much. It all feels like too much, because Phil’s fingers move in his hair again so he’s cradling the back of Dan’s head.

Dan’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

But Phil just leans in closer and dusts a gentle kiss to Dan’s head.

Again.

He pulls away like it’s nothing, and tugs Dan back against his chest like he belongs there.

It feels like he does.

God, for the first time in so long it feels like he belongs somewhere.

“It was new for me, okay?” says Phil. “And maybe a little scary. Hospitals aren’t exactly my strong suit, and I don’t– It’s scary to see someone you care about attached to machines like that, even if they’re used to it. But I’m fine. I’d go there again tonight if you needed to.”

He sucks in a deep breath when he stops talking. Dan’s pressed so close to him, he can see, can feel the small stutter of his ribs.

“You would?” he asks.

Phil huffs out a laugh that makes no noise, but rumbles through his chest, echoes in Dan’s. “Of course I would,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Maybe it’s supposed to be.

Except no one else has ever been willing to do it before.

“You needed it,” says Phil. “I wanna help you when you need things.”

Dan smiles. His hand is still on Phil’s knee and Phil’s is still in his hair. He watches Phil’s chest rise and fall with a breath and forces himself to mirror it, past the pressure in his chest that burns bright and brilliant and new.

He’s used to a lot of things.

This, Dan realizes, isn’t one of them.

Maybe because, this time, something about it feels good.

He turns his head, hides his face against Phil’s shoulder so he can’t see the TV or the curtains or the silhouette of his hand on Phil’s leg through the blanket they’re sharing.

“I wanna help you when you need things, too,” he mumbles, pressing the words against Phil’s skin.

[athyrabunlord]

Daydream [VI] Hanamaru & Ruby

Reminder: This is based off of Daydream Warrior and this fanart I did Warning: Profanity, violence and sex. Ships: You>Chika>Kanan>Riko>?; with mentions of YouMari & KanaMari, and implied DiaYoshi & Maruby Words: 2,823 [concept doodle]

[I. Mari] [II. Chika] [III. Yohane] [IV. Kanan] [V. Dia] [VI. Hanamaru & Ruby] [VII. You] [VIII. Riko] [IX. ???]

VI. Hanamaru & Ruby

“But I want to go back” “To that day, the day we met” “My one wish goes ungranted”

“You’re not asleep, are you?”

You’s arm remained draped over her closed eyes. She felt the weight of someone sitting down beside her head as well as the pleasant floral scent that always seemed to accompany the speaker. She refused to budge from where she was sprawled on her back across the bench with her legs dangling over the edge.

A quiet sigh, though there was a hint of exasperated fondness. “Still, don’t sleep here in the open, you might get sick.”

You’s lips twitched in humor. “Isn’t there a saying that says bakas don’t get sick?”

She grinned behind her arm when the newcomer playfully ruffled her hair. “Don’t call yourself a baka, silly.”

“Hey! You’re messing up my hair!”

“It’s already messy to begin with though?”

“How mean,” You growled and sat up abruptly, batting the hand away from her head. She chuckled at the startled squeal and laughed even more so when the other girl punched her arm. “That’s weak, y’know.”

Another punch, this time more forceful, though nothing compared to the fist fights she was used to. Even then, she rubbed at her abused arm and whined. “Ow~! I’m gonna have a bruise tomorrow.”

“Baka…”

“Ah, so I really am a baka?”

Okay, she deserved that pinch, but her bandaged cheek was still sore from the brawl yesterday and she couldn’t suppress the urge to flinch. The same hand then gently caressed the injured area, as if apologizing for inflicting further pain. She closed her eyes briefly to relish the sensation before opening her eyes and turning to face her companion at last.

“Hey.”

“Hey you.” Amber eyes were filled with concern as the burgundy-haired girl lightly brushed her thumb over the bandage. “Why do you always get into fights-?”

“Now now, I don’t start them. Trouble comes looking for me, not the other way around,” You smiled wryly as she slouched in her seat. “They’re not that bad, and overall it’s good exercise, Riko-chan.”

“No, it’s not. One of these days you’ll get really hurt, and I don’t want that.” Riko said sternly, her fingers curling near You’s cheek as if threatening to pinch it again.

You backed away and pouted. “I know I know. Geez, you and Chika-chan won’t ever stop nagging at me, will you? Be proud, I stopped the fight before it got too bad, and came here to rest.”

“I see. Good, there’s improvement at least.”

Airily, Riko straightened and pulled out a familiar sketchbook from her bag. She ignored You’s questioning gaze and began to doodle the scenery. You’s blue eyes swept over the park, noting the few people strolling along the path, a kid playing with his dog over there, some flying their kites beyond the pond, and an old couple seated at a nearby bench and simply enjoying the nice weather. Everything seemed so picturesque, the tranquil atmosphere so good that it almost felt fake, especially compared to the frequent fights she’s gotten herself involved in.

Nevertheless, this wasn’t bad. This wasn’t bad at all. She could get used to such peace.

She listened to the quiet scratching sounds of the pencil as Riko sketched, smiling at the occasional pauses when the latter wasn’t pleased with the lighting or the composition.

“You’re not mad me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Aha, you are mad at me,” You peered at her friend and scooted closer. In response, Riko scooted away and resumed drawing like she wasn’t even here. Pouting again, You repeated her action and received the same reaction. The cycle continued until Riko was barely seated at the edge of the bench.

Huffing, she set down her sketchbook and scowled at the grinning You. “What?”

“Finally made you look at me.”

Riko raised an eyebrow and exhaled deeply. “Look, I’m not mad at you. Like I said, I’m just worried. Stop getting into fights so often. Chika-chan’s worried, Kanan-chan too.”

You rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself. Kanan should know that better than either of you.”

“Just promise us… promise me, okay?”

It was really difficult to say no, not under such pair of piercing, pretty eyes. You shrugged, holding her arms akimbo. “Alright! I’ll try to stay out of trouble. In exchange though, I wanna see this!”

Before Riko could react, You snatched the sketchbook out of her lap and flipped through the pages. She hummed in appreciation at the detailed drawings, some still life and some of animals. The recent pages, however, were filled with portraits of a ponytailed girl. Jogging, stretching, napping, drinking a bottle of water, or just smiling at the viewer.

Snickering, You wasn’t surprised to see Riko’s face turning beet red. “Does Kanan know?”

“Of course, but that doesn’t make this any less embarrassing. Can I have it back already?”

Taking pity on the blushing girl, You held out the sketchbook and chuckled again when Riko hugged it protectively against her chest. Silence fell upon them for a while, long enough for You to shuffle uncertainly. Was that too much teasing?

Just as she was about to apologize, Riko spoke up in a muffled voice. “Do you believe in true love, You-chan?”

For some reason, the question stung her more than any physical injury ever did. She immediately thought of a mikan-haired girl and her beautiful smile. This thought alone pained her just as much as it made her happy. Self-conscious, she scratched the back of her hair and mumbled. “… yeah, I do.”

Riko giggled at her response. The soft sound tickled inside her heart, yet she didn’t feel insulted or annoyed.

“Why do you ask anyway? You’re the happy couple, not me.”

“Just curious, that’s all.”

“Riko-chan…”

“It’s true, I just wanted to know your thoughts.”

You folded her arms, trying to read the soft smile on Riko’s visage. Was that bliss? Would she look like that too, if Chika were to accept her feelings? But that wouldn’t ever be possible, would it? After all, Chika loved someone else, someone who was also her friend.

And that person happened to be Riko’s girlfriend as well.

“Okay, now that you know, what’re you going to do?”

Riko turned away and looked into the sky, not smiling but not frowning either. Her whispered reply drifted with the breeze, so quiescent that You almost didn’t catch it.

“I’m going to set things right.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Don’t fall asleep here, you’ll get sick.”

You grunted but did not move to acknowledge the speaker. Her arm was draped over her face, shielding her closed eyes from the sunlight as she remained sprawled on her back across the bench. Her mind was a mess, chaotic even long after she had left the hospital. She’s wandered back to the park and found herself reminiscing her time with Riko.

Truth be told, she missed chatting with Riko. She didn’t remember what happened after that, though she did recall avoiding her since that puzzling conversation.

Why though?

You gritted her teeth and turned to her side, resting her arm against the cool and rough surface of the bench’s backrest. Ah, she didn’t want to be prodded about her feelings for Chika or talk about love, as subtle as Riko had been. Sometimes, You admired how Chika and Riko remained good friends under such circumstances, while she and Kanan…

Deep exhale. She clenched her fist and tried to ignore the throbbing pain from her wounds. That Dia may have cleaned and bandaged them, but her words had torn open something more painful. Perhaps she should go back to Chika now, as she promised she would. She couldn’t find her phone, which was prolly broken and still back at Chika’s place, and that was the excuse she kept telling herself to delay facing Chika again.

Again, she recalled Riko’s soft smile when the latter spoke of true love. How could Matsuura fucking Kanan betray her? Dragged Chika into this?

Someone to share your joy and pain, someone to talk to… someone to hug.

Only Mari understood You. She didn’t want to see either Chika or Riko. She wanted to see Mari at this moment, desperately so. In spite of whatever Mari had with Kanan, You still wanted to be with her. It wasn’t just about screwing each other senseless, or just having someone period. No, it wasn’t something as paltry as sex.

It was so much more than that, You was certain of it.

Her thoughts were rudely jostled out of her mind when petite hands pushed her further along the bench to make room. You’s legs dangled awkwardly over the edge while her face was uncomfortably squashed between her arm and the backrest. Growling in annoyance, she sat up and glared down at the short brunette and her pigtailed friend.

“What the fuck?”

“Language please,” Hanamaru was unfazed, her thick novel open in her lap. She didn’t even glance in You’s direction. “You were in my seat, so I moved you.”

You pulled back her fist, fully intending to at least punch the spot beside the girl’s shoulder to scare her. She stopped in mid-motion however, when her glare found Ruby’s green eyes. They were unnerving, emotionless and severe.

It was the same way Dia looked at her, back in the hospital.

Deep breath. In and out. In and out. You clenched her eyes shut and slouched in her seat. The tense silence was intermittently interrupted by the rustling sound of Hanamaru flipping the pages of her book. She should just leave and save herself from this inexplicable stress, but her pride refused to give in. Why should she get out of the way? She was here first!

“… there are so many other benches available, why this one?” You looked around the park, noting the lack of passersby, empty benches and the dried up pond.

“I always read my book with Ruby-chan here, and I don’t intend to change that,” Hanamaru’s gaze remained fixated on the novel’s small print. Ruby appeared to be reading over her friend’s shoulder as well.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“Not as much as you, You-san.”

“Ha! You think you know me?” She angrily recalled their encounter days ago, also here at the park. “What, you want me to wake up? Is that it?”

The brunette shrugged, her voice flat with nonchalance. It was clear that she didn’t give a fuck. “Awake, asleep, daydreaming, does that matter? You remain the same no matter what. Why do I even try?”

Again, You was seized by the violent urge to hurt the smaller girl. Not out of desire to cause her pain, but rather to solicit some sort of emotion out of her and her friend. Any other girls would have fled or screamed in fear if You were to glare at them like this, but not these two. It wasn’t as if You enjoyed terrifying younger girls, but such reaction would have been normal at least.

Hanamaru and Ruby’s lack of expected response was unsettling.

You covered her face and chuckled sardonically. Did she just wish for normality? What a fucking joke! She thrived in chaos. Only in bloody fistfights did she feel alive. Peace? What peace? She will never know peace.

It was not meant for her. Fact.

“What’s that book? Is it really that interesting?”

“Oh it is. Riko-san recommended it to us. We would like to finish it.”

You pursed her lips, unsurprised by their acquaintance of the artist. They came to the park often enough, they might have even bonded over common interests. Literature was a form of art too. Riko used to mention her friend Dia preferring classic literature, while her other friend enjoyed fantasy and in particularly the occult.

Right. Yohane and Riko were good friends, and that was how she came to know the eccentric gothic girl.

“Where’s your friend?”

Neither Hanamaru nor Ruby answered her.

“I was looking for her.”

Hanamaru turned a page, her expression unreadable as able. “Then keep looking.”

“Smartass,” You rubbed her chin. “Odd, I swore you used to speak in an odd accent or dialect of some sort, at least around her. Yohane-chan I mean.”

“Is that so?” There was an indiscernible tremor in her voice.

“Yup. Well, I don’t give a shit how you speak, just pointing it out.”

Silence again.

“How about you?” She shifted her attention to the pigtailed girl. “Say something. You mute or what?”

Ruby blinked and stared at her with those disturbingly blank eyes again. Her lips remained sealed.

“You are mute then.”

Ruby returned her gaze back to the book.

“No seriously, I was looking for your friend. She was talking to me but then she disappeared out of the blue-”

The book was slammed shut so abruptly that it made a cringe-worthy thud. There was something ugly and abhorrent in Hanamaru’s brown eyes. It was fleeting, but the intensity of such emotion had You tense defensively.

“Dia-san is with Yoshiko-chan.”

Ruby started trembling so Hanamaru gently held her hands, the gesture so drastically different than her vicious glare towards the older girl.

“Yo…shiko?” You was distinctly aware of her own heart pounding within her ribcage, like a trapped beast frantically trying to break free. Yohane… Yoshiko… Tsushima Yoshiko?

“Yoshiko-chan is still in a coma,” Hanamaru whispered darkly. “So perhaps you’ve been hallucinating, or you just have a sick sense of humor. Whatever it is, please stop it. It’s just us left now, Ruby-chan and I. The moment you even attempt to hurt Ruby-chan, I swear you will be begging for death the moment I’m done with you.”

Such savage words sounded so uncharacteristic and outlandish from a petite girl, let alone someone like Hanamaru. Yohane’s friend was usually smiling, playfully berating the gothic girl’s antics and cuddling Ruby.

That Hanamaru would never hurt a fly. The brunette here though would follow through with her threat, word for word.

You felt sick.

Back at the warehouse, back in the hallways of the hospital, and countless other times, she has been talking to thin air? But Yohane had replied to her. Or was it her own conscience, taking the form of the girl she considered trustworthy?

“Onee-chan is wholly devoted to Yoshiko-chan now.”

Both Hanamaru and You’s eyes widened as they looked at Ruby, whose expression was serene and somehow that sent a chill down You’s limbs.

“I loved her, you know? Yoshiko-chan. But I’ve been useless and I’m scared of facing her again,” Ruby was smiling. “Maru-chan too. Maru-chan loved Onee-chan, ne?”

Hanamaru cringed, her carefully controlled expression crumbling to that of pain. “That’s-”

“It’s okay. I know. That’s from before. We have each other now and that’s all that matters,” Ruby held up the brunette’s hand and interlaced their fingers, the gesture full of tenderness that it inexplicably frightened You even more. “Even then, I still wish we could go back, back to the way everything used to be.”

“That’s the one wish I cannot help you with, Ruby-chan,” Hanamaru pulled her hand away, her eyes churning with raw emotions. “Like what Kanan-chan said, it’s just a nightmare, one that none of us can ever wake up from.”

Ruby nodded slowly, her lips pressed in a thin line while her expression returned to that unnerving, vacant one like before.

It took a moment for You to realize she was covered in cold sweat. She wiped at her damp brow with her forearm and almost tripped in her haste to stand up.

“I-I’m going to g-go see Riko-chan. She… She can help me, yeah. She always has.”

Hanamaru stared at her coolly and gestured at the trees on the other side of the field. “We just went to see her. She’s over there.”

You staggered away as fast as her failing legs could bring her. She knew there was a hidden entrance to the park in that direction. She didn’t usually take this path, as it was covered with undergrowth which made it annoying to walk through. However she used to be familiar with the area, as it granted its visitors privacy and a natural veil of filtered lights from the canopy tops. Riko loved sketching here.

And this is where I…

She stumbled out of the woods and found the small gate that faced the intersection of a busy street. Gasping for breaths, she stood still and stared at the ponytailed girl crouched beside the dilapidated fence.

Kanan was holding a bouquet of roses, tears sliding down her cheeks and raining upon a withered wreath against the corner. She gingerly placed the bouquet beside a photo frame, her lips moving with whispered words.

You found it excruciating to breathe, her heart aching like someone had clenched it tight in their grip.

Kanan stood up listlessly and looked at You with dead eyes.

“I’m going to set things right.”

[logan-are-you-okay]

Anti’s Backstory part 5

Nurse: “Sir, I need you to calm down so we can check what’s wrong.”

Jack: “No! I want my Dr!”

Nurse: “Then who’s your doctor then?”

Jack: “You just kicked him out of here when I asked! I don’t trust any of you fuckers!”

Jack then starts pulling on his brown hair. The pain was so intense that he keepings trying to hurt himself in other places so he can focus on something less mild.

Nurse: “Sir. You need to take a deep breath so we can put in your IV.”

Jack: “Fuck you!”

He doesn’t mean to be rude, that isn’t the kind of person that he is. But when he is basically feels like he’s getting his leg pulled off, that can cause a little manners to change.

Somehow the nurse... with ten other nurses are able to get Jack’s IV into his arm where the release a drug to help him with the pain so it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Once he’s finally able to calm down he looks at the nurse how was talking to him.

Jack: “Sorry... I didn’t mean to swear.”

He the proceeds to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Nurse: “It happens all the time. The Dr will come in soon to see what is the problem.

Jack: “Thank you.”

Even though his leg still hurt like hell, he did want to calm down. Acting like that wasn’t something That he liked to do. Even if it was just from the pain.

***

Schneeplstein keeps pacing around in the waiting room. Jacks only been back there for a couple hours, but it feels like an eternity. It was absolute torture to not know what was going on. Why would they just leave him to think of all the bad possibilities that could be happening? Randomly a nurse from the front desk walks over to Schneeplstein.

Nurse: “You’ve been here for quite awhile. Do you want anything to drink or eat?”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Not really. I just want to know what’s going on so my heart can stop having heart palpitations.”

Nurse raises her eyebrow. She didn’t know if he was joking or not, but that was really weird to just randomly say.

Nurse: “Heart Palpitation?”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Skipping heart beats. I basically said it because my hearts going time million miles an hour, so it feels like it’s skipping beats.”

Nurse: “Oh, Okay. Is there anyone you need me to check on to see if they’re in stable condition?”

Schneeplstein’s eyes light up. If she could do that, why the hell wouldn’t they just come out and say that he’s fine. God, this hospital needs better protocols.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Sean McLoughlin.” (I DONT KNOW HOW TO SPELL JACKS LAST NAME)

The nurse goes back to the front desk and types in Jack’s name. Surprisingly, he’s been able to see visitors for the past hour.

Nurse: “He’s stable, you can go back and see him. Room 24-A.”

Without a second thought Schneeplstein runs through the automatic doors to the room the nurse said. He didn’t even say thank you, he was to worried about Jack.

***

Once he gets inside the room, he sees a nurse changing out the IV fluid while Jack was asleep. At least he was able to calm down. Schneeplstein then goes over and sits down in a chair next to Jack’s medical bed. The new nurse notices that he just came in and recognize him almost instantly.

Nurse: “You said you where in the middle of getting your License right?”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Uh... yeah, Something on those lines, sure.”

Nurse: “Well his broken leg was worse than we thought. There’s a certain medical term that you wouldn’t have learned yet. When the leg broke it ruptured a vein and the blood started to clot and run up to his chest. That was the stinging pain that he felt that went to his spine. Also the bone wasn’t fix back into its original place when it was attempted to reset it. Which confused his brain and heart which sent blood to his lungs.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “What the fuck!? How on earth does that happen. He was fine until he tried walking around!”

Nurse: “It takes a while for the syptomes to accrue.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Is that why he’s wearing a breathing Mask?”

The nurse nods and then leaves after finishing changing Jack’s IV fluid. Schneeplstein then looks over Jack who looks like he’s having a nightmare. To bad they can’t help with that part. He sighs to himself, and decides to grab his phone and take a picture of Jack. Knowing that he had blood in his lungs, means that he’s going to be stuck here for quite awhile. Schneeplstein then uploads the photo to Jack’s twitter and tells them briefly of what happen acting as if he was Jack, and that a friend took the picture while he slept.

Almost instantly people start freaking out and wishing that he’ll get better. That’s one thing Schneeplstein loved about Jack’s community that he created. All the love and support, them never thinking he was just doing it for popularity. Schneep then looks over at the clock hanging on the wall.

7:48 AM.

Wow, time passed a lot faster than he has expected. Since Jack’s asleep there’s no point in him being awake. So he props himself against the chairs and falls asleep.

***

Jack jumps awake from the nightmare he was having. It felt so real, and it didn’t help that the breathing mask felt like it was suffocating him. He makes an attempt to take it off, but Schneeplstein stops him from doing so.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Don’t take it off Jack! You need it to help you breathe!”

Jack: “I can breathe just fine Schneep, I don’t need this to help me.”

Schneeplstein then makes a very stern look at Jack, which prompts him to keep the mask on.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “I know you made a video about your broken leg, but I posted a picture on twitter saying it. You scared the living daylights out of me you know.”

Jack: “I didn’t CHOOSE to break my leg you know.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Whatever, but lots of people are wishing you to get better.”

Jack starts smiling. He hasn’t ever been really Hurt while doing YouTube, so having people send ‘get well’ stuff was amazing. Even all of Twitter was filled with getting better fanwork. It was amazing.

Suddenly a Doctor walks in... they think? He wasn’t wearing the usual uniform that the other doctors were wearing. He had on a long polo shirt, with scruffy gray hair. He then walks over to Jack and takes of the air mask. Instantly earning him an angry Schneeplstein to stand up.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Hey!”

The Doctor?: “He doesn’t need it anymore, he’s able to breathe fine now.”

Schneeplstein quickly looks over at Jack to make sure he can breathe alright, which thankfully he can. He then looks over at the so called doctor. Schneep May not be licensed, but he knows that, that would not be acceptable.

The possible doctor then sits on the bed next to Jack, which instantly raised some concerns. Doctors where NOT suppose to do that. Jack has a pretty good bullshit detector, and this man was setting it off like wild fire. But he still wanted to be nice.

Jack: “So... what brings you in Doctor?”

Defiantly a doctor that doesn’t look suspicious at ALL: “I just wanted to warn you, not to be as crazy next time you decided to make woopy.”

What the fuck!? Who the hell was this man to assume such a thing, he probably doesn’t know a thing about what happened so he just assumed!? This made Dr. Schneeplstein’s blood boil!

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Excuse me!? How dare you come in here and assume such a thing! We where not having sex Mr. He’s basically my brother and we’re not gay!”

Jack gets startled in surprise. He has never in his life seen Schneeplstein so mad at someone, he was the most down to earth person out of any of them.

Jack: “Woah, Schneep calm down a little bit.”

Not going to lie, Jack didn’t like how the so called doctor assumed. Maybe it’s because Schneep didn’t have a shirt on, or maybe because they where both guys. It doesn’t matter, but Jack still didn’t like the looks of this doctor.

The doctor: “It’s just common sense to me. But, we would like to give you something for the pain you might be experiencing.”

The doctor turns around to pull something out of his pocket.

Jack: “But.... I’m really not feeling any pain right now?”

The doctor then turns back around carrying a injecting kneedle filled with... a glowing green liquid!

Jack: “Oh hell no! Keep that away from me!”

Jack practically throws himself off of the bed away from the doctor. Pulling out his IV from his arm and the heart monitor which made it sound like he flatlined.

Thankfully Schneeplstein caught Jack in his fit of escape so he didn’t hurt his leg anymore. Even though he barley caught his arms. Even though it sent a sting down Jack’s entire body when hisbleg barely hit the floor.

The doctor: “What? It’s just going to help with the pain.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Jack what on earth are you doing!?”

Jack might have had very little sleep last night, but he was still able to put two-two together. Even though it was decades ago, this man looked very Similar to what Anti described in his journal. The gray shaggy hair and age range! Also the glowing green liquid isn’t something just to randomly had. Even jack matched the serial kidnappers victims al except the age range. Maybe it was his son who wanted to replicate his father’s legacy?

Jack: “I don’t want to be anywhere near this psycho!”

Even though Schneeplstein didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t want to be anywhere near this dude either.

The doctor rolls his eyes and leaves the room. However as he leaves, he drops a bar code out of his pocket and doesn’t even notice. But, Jack did. Schneeplstein sets Jack back into the medical bed and reattaches everything to where it’s suppose to be and grabs the bar code off the ground. He then inspects it, but he notices Jack becoming relatively antsy as he does.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Why are you so excited?”

Jack: “Can I see that real quick?”

Schneeplstein shrugs his shoulders and hands it over to Jack who quickly takes a picture of the bar code and it takes him to some weird website. Schneeplstein looks over Jack’s shoulder and gasps at what the first thing that pops up.

Jack: “What the fuck?”

The first that that appears is a picture of Jack from when he dyed his hair back to its original brown color. The whole website was in a green and black, and there was descriptions of him all over. ‘Age, 27. Hair, Brown. Eye Color, Blue.’ There was very personal stuff on him that he didn’t expect to notice. However one thing stood out to him the most. ‘Resembles subject 748-YB. The one subject who was succefulky able to perform all tests on, yet to far of an extreme to which he died and couldn’t reconnect. Tests have yet to be conducted.’

Normally this would be weird on its own, but after reading Anti’s journal, it’s pretty obvious that subject 748-YB was Anti.

(Doesn’t really have much of Anti, but I’m setting up for something)

[therunningpa]

New job & night shift novella

So I’ve been at a new job the past 6 weeks. I’m still a hospitalist, but I’ve moved to night shift. It’s a long story for another time, but basically I was getting burned out and it was either change shifts or move to a different department altogether. Because I love IM so much I am desperately clinging to it for the time being. In my current role, I only do new admissions and consults.

Since I only post now, like, once a year I figured I might as well write a nice long story for you guys! Because also, when have I kept things short, ever?

So, here you go, a narrative of my day (night?).

I leave my house, clutching my tote of Campbell’s Double Noodle soup cans, rice crackers, and Gatorade. I kiss my husband, tell him I love him, and remind him to please finish cleaning the kitchen for me. He needs a lot of reminding. I need a lot of therapy. We’ve had a lot of therapy. It’s been a year sober for him and the anniversary has been hard, bringing back the guilt big time. It’s been more down days than usual the past month and as I leave the house I can only hope I won’t get any liver patients or alcoholics tonight.

I pull in to the hospital, badge in through various doors, end up in the office. The day shift is coming to a close. “Hey!” my coworkers greet me, “Feeling better?”

“Tons! Not a hundred percent but good enough for active duty.”

My terrible med seeking external ED dump patient from earlier this week had given me her norovirus. I’d spent the previous night out sick, puking and near-syncopizing. (FYI- use the bleach wipes next time!!)

I check in with the three physicians I’m working with that night. One, a seasoned night shifter, a quiet man I dub “The Machine” because of his deftness and ease at admitting patients. One, a seasoned nocturnist, another quiet and confident man who could run a thousand codes without screaming “fuck!” not even once. The third, an exceedingly nice new residency graduate who recently started with us and is probably reconsidering the job after his first week on nights. They have a lot of patients coming from outlying facilities, but no one arrived yet.

I sit around for an hour and a half, check emails, clear my inbox of the previous day’s results and check up on a few of those patients, eat a cup of noodles, rub my belly, think about how I shouldn’t have had coffee, then, all at once, I have 3 admissions I’m called to see. Yes, it’s true, they really all do come at once.

I triage them, and go see first an unfortunate lady who is bleeding and clotting. Or rather, likely to bleed. She has a genetic disorder predisposing her to clots and bleeding, and has come in with chest pain. The chest CT showed a pulmonary embolism, one in each lung. I’d hoped they’d be subsegmental, but they weren’t. I meet with her, spend a long time talking. I tell her I’ll call the hematologist and get back to her. I put out a page.

I jump up to the orthopedics floor to see my next patient, a 73 year old lady with COPD and osteoporosis who fell down the stairs at home and probably broke her sacrum. She’s straightforward enough, other than saying she’s intolerant to everything IV opioid except fentanyl. Which she’s not going to get outside of the ED. I write for oxycodone and IV ketorolac and pray her pending labs show normal renal function.

The hematologist pages me while I’m writing patient 2′s note. He recommends a heparin drip, so it can be turned off quickly if patient 1 starts to bleed. He also says he has no idea what to do with her after that, as far as a long term plan. I text my attending and let him know the plan for tonight. While I’m finishing my note, he texts me back an SOS that patient 1 is refusing heparin because she’s afraid of bleeding.

I go back to the ED, I print out UpToDate, visit the poor lady with the PEs again. I talk about risks and benefits, types of heparin. She has some cognitive impairments from a stroke, but she gets it enough that she has capacity. She still declines the heparin, wants us to “watch her” overnight in the hospital though. I check in with bed control, ask for an IMCU bed since she’s refusing blood thinners, and am told there are no ICU beds left. She’ll have to go to the regular floor.

My third patient is a prisoner with history of peptic ulcers and GI bleed coming in with worsening anemia. Actually, he never shows up from the outside hospital because of some officer conflict. His name gets handed off to the next shift.

Fourth patient shows up in the IMCU, from an outside hospital. The notes he comes with are scanty. Acute on chronic hyponatremia, ?dementia. Hypotensive. Weak. I hope he can give me some history. When I walk in he tells me he’s in a hotel in a different state and doesn’t remember how he got here. He denies any symptoms or concerns. It’s 11 pm, but I dial his elderly wife and bless her, she’s up, and gives me the full scoop. He ends up with a slew of labs, head CT, cardiac echocardiogram.

Fifth patient was not supposed to be admitted. Just discharged 2 days ago with COPD flare, end stage COPD on home oxygen. I read the ED notes in the chart, indicating the family demanded the patient be admitted because they are unhappy and that we are being investigated for discharging her too soon, or was it the nursing home was being investigated for not taking care of her the past 2 days? Or both? The discharge summary from my PA colleague indicates the patient refused hospice the last stay. Awww nawwww. I go and see her. It’s late and at least that means the angry family has gone away. I sit with the patient, she’s very anxious, I’ve taken care of her before. I listen for a long time, answer questions, sometimes the same question over and over. She eventually admits her memory ain’t so good anymore. She then marvels “you’ve asked me more questions than anyone else has today”. I hope that’s a good thing. I go through her extensive workup and again conclude that “I am so sorry, but what you have is not fixable. I think we need to focus on trying to get your symptoms better, but we can’t cure you”. She agrees to at least have a palliative care consult. She grumbles about her bad nursing home experience and says her family called to have the bed held for the following day. I waggle my eyebrows at her “You know, if you don’t hold the bed they’ll give it up and then you’ll have to be here through the weekend and then we can see if your preferred nursing home has a spot now, But, you didn’t hear that from me!” She beams. Somewhere, a social worker has rolled over in their grave and pledges to haunt me in my dreams tonight.

I run up to my office again and eat some more noodles, drink Gatorade, rub my gastroparetic-feeling tummy, and finish up my notes just as one of the physicians strides in with a cardiology consult for a patient who just had a STEMI, now in the coronary ICU. They were found to have multivessel coronary artery disease, received a stent. “Should be easy” he says, “Cardiology has done everything!”.

Except, they haven’t. Patient is from outside our system. Needs an entire medical record update. I also notice his blood sugar is > 300 and there’s no insulin ordered. I add “Type 2 Diabetes” to his problem list. I go in and see him, expecting him to be asleep at 1:30 in the morning, but he is wide awake and surrounded by family. He’s a good soul, we have a long talk about diabetes. His wife has a lot of cardiac questions and try to answer as able. His nurse pops in. “His blood pressure is greater than 150 and they want him under that post cath. There’s no medications ordered”. I step out, sigh. Honestly, I have no idea what cardiology does or does not want for an antihypertensive in their post cath patient. I have a sneaking suspicion it also varies widely by the cardiologist. I wish they would order this shit on their people already. I’m just here for the diabeet-us. Gah! 

“What do they usually do for the post cath protocol?” I wonder out loud.

“How about some PO metropolol?” a nurse asks.

I make a face “Really? They do that?”

The nurse looks horrified “Um, yeah, all MIs should be getting that!”

I shake my head “No, I know that, that’s not what I meant, I just mean it’s not going to act rapidly and it’s not going to do much, I mean maybe IV metoprolol but-”

She looks further horrified “No, they never do IV!”

I wanted to say “but I would never give that”, finishing my thought, but instead I shrug and give up. “I’ll ask the attending.” 

I don’t work in the ICUs that often, and I especially don’t know the night crew being new at this job. It’s true what they say, sometimes you need to earn your stripes with some ICU staff, especially if you’re a PA. Also, goddammit cardiology, order your antihypertensives! And beta blockers! And statins! (Also, I love you my cardiology people out there, please don’t take my 2 AM thoughts too seriously to heart, ok?)

I trudge back to my office, finish writing notes and checking labs and imaging that have come back. The demented hyponatremic guy does not have a brain bleed. The COPD flare bounce back has a normal procalcitonin. The untreated PE has normal blood pressures. Broken sacrum indeed does have normal renal function. I order new labs for the day crew. I report out to my docs. Around 3:30 AM I hang up my coat, collect my soup and Gatorade cans to recycle, and stumble out the cold wintry parking garage. I cast a few glances, good, no creepers trolling about, get in my car, and drive home.

I drive through the industrial part of the city and through spotlights and fog I see that the operations are already going at this ungodly hour. Backstreet Boys is playing on the radio. I pull into the back alley outside my house. I tentatively feel my way through the backyard, trying not to fall on my ass on the ice over our sidewalk, like I did the other night. I slip inside, and am completely delighted to see that not only has the kitchen been cleaned but there’s a loaf of homemade banana bread sitting out, steaming a little still. I hear a soft pitter-patter and my puppy steals down the stairwell to greet me. She wiggles from head to toe and jumps on me, playfully stealing my lanyard of keys and running away, shaking them. I took her home one day from a rescue this past summer, pretty much against my husband’s will, and I secretly believe she at least 75% the reason his depression lifted. He now agrees. I let her out to pee, then tread upstairs and wash my face and put on my pajamas, kiss my sleeping husband. I’m too wired to sleep though, maybe because I spent the last day and a half sleeping off the norovirus, so I go back downstairs, eat some banana bread, and start to write.

[flowerfan2]

Winds of Change - Ch. 8/16

Stucky, 46k total, A03. Post CACW.  This fic is fully written, and will post 3-4 times a week. Read from the beginning here.

Bucky’s still got some healing to do after the doctors in Wakanda rouse him from sleep and make sure there are no more deadly triggers lurking in his brain.  He decides it should happen where he can have some peace and quiet, as well as a little distance from Steve’s overwhelming presence.  When he sees an ad for a “Winter Caretaker” he takes the job, but it turns out to be not so peaceful after all.

Or, how Bucky realized that while he still needs to heal, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him and Steve to do it together.

Chapter 8

There’s a heavy weight on Bucky’s legs, and a tremor of fear runs through him as Bucky tries to move his arms and can’t.

“Bucky?  Bucky, it’s okay.  You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Bucky squints his eyes open and sees Steve’s face in front of his own, blue eyes warm and steady. Steve’s sitting on his thighs, one hand holding down his right arm.  Bucky looks around - he’s in bed, back in the room at the safe house where he started off the day.

Bucky tries to move again, and Steve takes his hand, shaking his head.  “Please hold still, Buck, you’re hurt.”  He can flex his right arm, but when he tries to move his left… nothing.

“What happened?”

“You got hit,” Steve says, his eyes fixed on Bucky’s own.  “Right after you took out all the turbines with that crazy stunt.”

Bucky can’t help wanting to grin, although even his face feels tired.  “It worked, didn’t it?”  He takes a deep breath and winces, starting to feel the pain in his chest. “You gonna tell me why you’re sitting on me?  Because you’re not exactly a lightweight anymore.”

Steve looks down, biting his lip.  “We weren’t sure what condition you’d be in when you woke up, if you’d be in shock, or…”

“You were worried I’d wake up as the Winter Soldier.”  Bucky can’t really deny the logic of this, and his stomach clenches in shame.

 Steve looks at him sadly. “Not really, but… we just didn’t know. I’m sorry.  I thought at least this would be better than restraining you.”

 For that at least, he should be grateful.  “No, Steve, you were right.  You were completely right.”  

 “And then there’s the bullet near your heart.”

 Bucky blinks, trying to process this additional piece of disturbing information.  He looks down at his chest, which is bare except for the white bandage covering a spot where his metal arm connects to his chest.

 “Um, what?”

 Steve presses his eyes shut, then opens them again.  “Sorry. My bedside manner isn’t too great right now, I’m…” he trails off.  Bucky studies Steve, sees the circles under his eyes, the worry clear on his face.

 “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.  I’ll be okay.”  Bucky tries to reassure him, wishing he sounded more confident.  “Hey, come on, fill me in.  How did it end?  Rest of the team all right?”

 Steve nods.  “Yeah.  We all got out without a scratch, thanks to you taking out every one of the battle turbines.  Natasha’s still at the base doing cleanup with Clint and some other guys Coulson sent over.  All the Hydra goons are accounted for.  They’re going to dismantle the turbines and make sure there aren’t any more lurking around.”

 “Good.  That’s good.”  Bucky sighs, wincing as pain shoots through his chest again.  His head doesn’t feel too good either.

 Steve shifts.  “Guess I can get off you now.  Just, don’t move, all right?”  

 But Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve, possibly a little too hard, and Steve stills.  “You can stay.”  

 It’s a little ridiculous, Steve crouching over Bucky, but Steve doesn’t even question him, just sits lightly back down on Bucky’s thighs.  “Okay.”

 Bucky breaths out a little sigh of relief, and relaxes under Steve’s weight.  But the drag of his left arm shoots a flash of pain through his chest, and he’s got to know.  “So what’s the story with my arm?”

 “Tony and Bruce say the neural connections got messed up.  But they think they can fix it.”

 Bucky’s head pounds harder. “They think they can fix it?  They’re not sure?”

 “Tony called T’Challa’s docs right away, wanted one of them to fly out here.  He figured that’s what you’d want. But T’Challa doesn’t want his people to leave Wakanda.  He did offer to send a plane for you, fly you back there for the surgery.  But if we do that, it’s going to be at least sixteen hours before they can get started.”

 Sixteen hours seems like a long time.  “I take it you don’t think it’s a good idea to wait?”

 “Bruce is worried about it. There could be permanent nerve damage if the pressure on the nerves isn’t relieved soon.  He also doesn’t like how close the bullet is to your…” Steve looks up, as if he’s got an invisible notepad, “I don’t know, some important part of the heart muscle.  Guess they’re probably all important.”  Steve rubs the back of his neck.  “And he thinks it might not be safe to fly, with the changes in pressure and all the movement.  He can explain better, but no, he doesn’t think you should wait.”  

 Bucky doesn’t know what to say.  The idea of letting strangers cut him open is not particularly appealing, especially strangers who he not so long ago tried to kill.  Tony’s been nice and all, but accepting a fancy gun from him is a lot different than letting him get near his heart with a scalpel.

 “Tony and Bruce got the schematics of your new arm from T’Challa.  They’ve been studying them for the past three hours.”  Steve touches Bucky’s face, holds his gaze.  “You can trust them, Bucky.  They’re not going to hurt you.”

 “Worse comes to worse, Bruce will fish the bullet out of your chest with his delicate fingers, and I blow it when it comes to your arm,” Tony says, coming into the room.  Bucky wonders how much of the conversation he heard.

 “But at least then we can take you back to Wakanda without risking your life,” Steve says, his voice low and tight.  Bucky doesn’t have to ask Steve what he thinks he should do – it’s as clear as the concern in his eyes.

 “Give us a chance, Barnes,” Tony says.  “I fucked it up.  Let me fix it.”

 “What do you mean, you fucked it up?”

 Bucky’s expecting Tony to say he hadn’t done enough in the fight last night, had missed some critical shot that would have taken out the Hydra agent that shot him, but that’s not the direction Tony’s headed.  

 “The bullet should never have touched you.  But it found its way in at the edge of your gear, entered your body right at the place where the vibranium is attached to your chest.  It’s my fault.”

 “Tony,” Steve says, “that doesn’t make it your fault.”  

 Tony shrugs.  He’s going for casual, but Bucky can tell he’s upset.  “Should have anticipated it.  The armor wasn’t good enough.”

 “I liked it,” Bucky says, trying to catch Tony’s eyes.  Bucky hadn’t missed the fact that the gear Tony gave him still left his metal arm completely uncovered, and he liked it that way.  The arm itself didn’t need any protection, and he kind of enjoyed having it visible when he was fighting.  For all the trouble it gave him, it was damn intimidating in a fight.  It had never occurred to Bucky that it left him vulnerable.

 “Anyway, long story short, you got hurt.  But Bruce and I can help, if you let us.”  Tony’s dark eyes are serious.  “What do you say?”

 Bucky stares at Tony. He’s so much like his father, sometimes. Other times, not so much.

 Bucky thinks this is one of those other times, as Tony whips off his t-shirt and points to the deep, round scar in the middle of his own chest.

 “I’ve got some personal experience with having a machine connected to my body.  A cybernetic arm’s not much different.  Wakanda used better materials than your old arm, improved the neural connections, increased the arm’s responsiveness and finessed the structure.  But it’s not magic, Barnes.  It’s just science.  Bruce and I can handle it.”

 Bucky feels Steve squeeze his hand, and he pushes his panic away and tries to focus.  He supposes it doesn’t much matter, really.  It’s just an arm, he’s lost worse.  If Tony can’t fix it, he’ll manage without it.  If Tony decides to let the knife slip, to finish off the monster who tried to kill him, who killed his parents… well, it’s out of his control.

 “Okay, fine,” Bucky says, closing his eyes.  “Do it.” He feels Steve climb off him, and immediately misses his touch, until he reminds himself he doesn’t need it.  He doesn’t need anyone.

 He can hear Bruce come into the room and talk to Tony, feels a needle slide into his arm.  Bruce is talking to him, but he stops listening, just nods when it seems necessary.  Gonna have to knock him out, they don’t have the right kind of equipment to keep him still if it’s not general anesthesia.  Risk of cardiac arrest, risk of brain damage, risk of paralysis.  It’s a goddamn buffet of risk, not that it matters.

 “Bucky,” Steve’s voice is insistent. “Bucky, hey, look at me.”

 He opens his eyes and sees Steve looking intently at him.  He turns his head away to avoid his gaze, but he can’t go far, and Steve crouches down and puts his fingers gently on Bucky’s cheek.

 “Bucky, you’re gonna be okay.  I’ll be right here, all right?  I’m not going anywhere.  I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

 He doesn’t feel okay, and Steve isn’t helping.  It’s too hard to let go, to not care, with Steve looking at him like that.  He closes his eyes.  

 “Bucky, you’re gonna be all right,” Steve repeats insistently.  He’s leaning close to Bucky’s face, and Bucky grabs on to Steve’s shirt with his hand, the iv in his arm twinging painfully.  He wants to be all right, but it never seems to work out that way for him.  Steve strokes his hair, presses their cheeks together.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

 “I’m scared,” Bucky breathes out, and Steve holds him tighter, rubs his nose against Bucky’s skin.

 “I know, pal.  I’m scared too.”

 Steve has to stand up, then, as Bruce peels the bandage off Bucky’s chest, but he stays close, keeps his hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder.  Tony’s carrying in tools which would look right at home in an automotive shop.  Bucky thinks about what’s going to happen, and starts to shiver.  He presses his eyes closed; it might be better if he doesn’t see anything else.

 “Hey, Bucky,” Steve starts again, stroking a finger along Bucky’s cheek.  “You ever been to Aquinnah?”

 Bucky blinks his eyes back open, confused.

 “It’s at the westernmost point here on the island.  There’s a lighthouse up on a cliff.  It’s gorgeous there.”

 “A lighthouse?”  Bucky stutters out.  He has no idea why Steve is talking about lighthouses.  Maybe the anesthesia has already taken hold, and he’s dreaming.

 “Yeah.  We should go there tonight.  See the sunset – the view is amazing.  Apparently the place is packed in the summer.  When the sun goes down, people come from all over to see it.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his own, rubs his thumb over the thin skin of his wrist.  

 “We can get dinner too,” Steve goes on, undeterred by Bucky’s lack of response.  “The restaurant there is pretty casual, really just a fancy snack bar.  But their fish and chips is the best I’ve ever had.”

 “It’s the batter,” Bruce says, wheeling a tray of surgical instruments into the room.  Bucky drags his eyes up from the sharp objects and sees Bruce looking softly back at him.  “Comes out crisp on the outside, but tender on the inside.”  

 “You’re gonna love it, Buck. The colors on the water as the sun goes down… it’s really something.”  Steve strokes his hair again, and Bucky wants to memorize the feeling of his touch, keep it forever.  Hold on to it, even if he doesn’t wake up right, if the anesthesia resets his brain or steals his memories, if any of the possibilities that haunt his nightmares come to pass.

 “I don’t know why we’re talking about sunsets,” Bucky whispers to Steve.  But his chest feels warm, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the bullet currently making a home there.

 “I’m asking you out on a date, dummy,” Steve whispers back, his breath tickling Bucky’s neck.  “What do you say?  Don’t leave a guy hanging.”

 Bucky tries to focus on Steve, but Bruce has come up close to him, ready to strap an oxygen mask over his face.  Bucky thinks for a moment that he can’t do it, he can’t let them do this to him, put him to sleep and cut him open and god knows what else.  But then Steve gives his hand a squeeze and draws Bucky’s attention back to the blue oceans of his eyes.  Bucky imagines sitting with him on a rocky cliff, leaning together against the chill of the wind, no one there but the two of them.  It’s hard to want things.  It means he has to care.  He has to try.  But Bucky thinks it will be worth it.

 So Bucky takes a deep breath and tries to calm the fears swirling in his mind.  He musters what little faith he has in the world and smiles at Steve.  He can do this.

 “It’s a date.”

[artificialqueens]

Cradle Part 3 (Thorgy x Violet) by Vanguard

I saw a fic where another author’s name was Pixie so if I have to change my name just look up artificial Pixie to find my blog (can’t remember if it’s theArtificialPixie or just ArtificialPixie) and lemme know. I do not mind changing my name/blog at all! I would feel horrid if I took someone else’s name!

The queens are mostly referred to by their stage names with a smattering of boy names in the mix. Pronouns are he/him or they them for Violet and any other Enby friends unless they are in drag. IF you are wondering, my preferred pronouns are they/them but if you forget, I’m pretty forgiving. Everyone makes mistakes. LOL keep that in mind when you read this.

Thoughts are in apostrophes, for example ‘This reader feedback makes my day!’ Pixie thought happily. (hint, hint, hint!)

Part 3

CW: Blood, Violence, Distress and all that good shit

Thorgy opened his eyes blearily and blinked a few times, everything was unfocused. Someone was holding his hand but let go quickly.

“Hey sleepyhead…”

‘What the fuck? Why is Acid with me in my room and why is my head pounding?’ Thorgy thought, trying to remember what he had done last night but it was a big blur. Probably drank too much he surmised. He really should remember though. Everything, including his vision, was blurry.

“Thorgeles, I have your glasses here.” Acid said in a low gentle voice instead of his usual rough bark.

“That’s why I can’t see!” Thorgy exclaimed dramatically with a little giggle as he put on his glasses.

His eyes widened as he looked around a hospital room where he was laying in a bed, IV in one arm, blood pressure cuff on the other and wearing an ugly blue gown.

“Wha…?” Thorgy felt his body for any broken bones, why was he here? “What happened?” Thorgy questioned Acid confusedly, still looking around for clues as to why he was here.

Acid inhaled and gravely said “Shane…” uh oh boy names are for serious shit. “There was an accident last night…” Acid broke off again.

“oh! That’s probably why I can’t remember anything!” Thorgy exclaimed, sitting up straight in the bed and then growing serious again, “what happened to me? Is everyone else ok? Am I going to be ok?” Thorgy’s brows knitted together with concern.

“Okay,” Acid sighed, his bottom lip quivering. “First I have a question.”

“Ask away!” Thorgy said, leaning back on the bed. His head was paining him greatly and he wondered if he had hit it off of something during the accident. His eyes were still darting around the room as if there might be a clue somewhere.

“Shane, focus!” Acid begged, the use of his boy name AGAIN meant something serious so he nodded and tried to concentrate despite the banging and clanging of his head. “Are you and Violet together?”

Thorgy instantly felt a twinge of anger at Katya for telling when he thought they had an understanding that he wouldn’t. “Yes we are, did Katya tell you?” He whined, annoyed. “We have been for awhile, please don’t tell anyone.”

“Katya didn’t tell me.”

“Well then, how did you know?”

“ Your reaction last night. You don’t remember anything?” Acid asked, dreading having to tell Thorgy what had happened if he couldn’t remember.

Thorgy tried to focus past his sore brain and flashes of memory flickered through his head but he couldn’t put them together right away.

Flashes of blood, someone’s terrified screaming, red fabric. It made no sense. Someone fell, the image of someone falling through air. ‘It couldn’t been me though,’ Thorgy thought. He saw the person who fell, it wasn’t him so who was falling?

Memories tickled his brain but evaded capture. He just could not put the pieces back together, it was like a puzzle he bought at a yard sale that was missing half of the pieces.

Acid looked at Thorgy as he was deep in thought, he didn’t know whether he should continue to let him remember or just explain it.

Thorgy bent over himself, with his head in his hands as he let out a groan. Acid heard “My head hurts so bad” mumbled from near his knees.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?”

Thorgy didn’t really respond in words but continued to hold his head and grind his teeth together. Acid was feeling very worried. Acid jogged out to the nurses desk where he got the attention of a nurse who was writing in a file.

“Hey hi, I think my friend needs help. Room 231. Please, as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be there in one minute ok hun?”

“Thank you, he’s really suffering.” Acid said and walked back to Thorgy’s room, halfway there he heard the most pitiful keening cry he had ever heard. He was surprised when he walked into the room and found it was Thorgy weeping uncontrollably.

Acid ran up to Thorgy who had either sunk down willingly or had fallen onto the floor, hands up to his head. He had ripped out his IV and there was an alarmingly large trail of blood down his arm that had dripped onto the floor.  Acid put his hand on Thorgy’s shoulder and he jumped. He looked up at Acid and then back down. He hugged his knees up to his chest and put his head down on them, still holding the sides like his brains might escape his ears if he didn’t. Still wailing which Acid knew it had to be hurting poor Thorgy’s brain.

“I re..rem…ember what ha…happened t..t..to Vi.” Thorgy sobbed out. His head hurt so fucking bad. He remembered most of it, Violet’s face as she fell, her scream, he remembered not being able to move when it happened and wanting to just pull Violet into his arms and not being able to. But, that was all he remembered. That didn’t explain why HE was in the hospital.

“Why am..am I in he..re? Where is Vi..Violet?” He pleaded, stopping every few words to take in a ragged breath.

“I’ll explain it,” Acid said calmly, “AFTER you get back in bed. Did you fall?”

Thorgy nodded, crying too hard to talk.

“Oh my God Shane, what the fuck were you thinking?!” Acid said as he put his hands out to help Thorgy up but his foot slipped in the gruesome puddle of blood. Acid basically had to pick up Thorgy and help him sit on the side of the bed. He laid down and curled into a ball. Acid grabbed up a bunch of scratchy, thin, hospital tissues and pressed them to Thorgy’s bleeding arm.

Thorgy’s crying was losing force and he had gone from wailing loudly to crying silently his shoulders shaking, taking in large gulps of air and staring straight ahead at the wall despondently. He wanted to be with Violet, his heart craved them, he was panicked at the thought that they were hurt and all alone. He hoped Katya was with them.

The nurse came in, scandalized that Thorgy had removed his IV but looking concerned at his grimace while holding his head.

“How bad is your pain, out of 10.”

Thorgy reluctantly removed his hands from his head to hold up all 10 fingers, still to upset to talk. His hands returned to his head and he put his head down.

The pain in his heart was way worse. It was about 1000 out of 10. How could he have let down Violet so badly? He felt numb with disappointment in himself.

He jumped when he felt a prick in his hand as the nurse put in a new IV. “Now DON’T pull this one out.” She chastised him firmly, “I will be right back.”

Thorgy felt the numbness he was feeling wash out of him. He felt rage replacing it. “I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO BE HERE!” He yelled at her as she was about to leave, completely uncharacteristic for his usually mild mannered personality. He started wailing again, bringing his hands up to his face. Occaisionally shouting things like “I SHOULDN’T BE HERE” “i SHOULD BE WITH THEM” and “THEY ARE ALL ALONE HERE!”

“I know sir, I know. Let’s get you better and then you can go to your loved one. You will be NO help to them if you leave and you are still ill.” The nurse said in a loud whisper. He had to quiet down to hear her, she must have repeated it at least 10 times and when he finally heard it all, he nodded resignedly. “We will get you feeling better as SOON as possible, I promise. I will be right back but I NEED you to calm down so we don’t have a repeat of last night. Ok sir?”

Thorgy shared a look with Acid, whose eyes looked sad and then nodded mutely and she left the room. Acid sat down again beside him and put his hand on Thorgy’s shoulder.

“What happened last night? What does she mean Jamin? Tell me everything, I need to know EVERYTHING!”

Acid felt his stomach tighten, he had dreaded this inevitable conversation.

Acid tried to figure out how to to fill Thorgy in on what happened without really telling him how bad it got or what he did. Acid remembered every single vivid detail.

The paramedics were getting Violet on a stretcher, she had a collar around her neck and a loose bandage on her thigh with the bone still sickly sticking out.

Thorgy was holding onto him in a death grip with his frozen, shaking hands and sobbing so a paramedic came to reassure him and see if he was hurt, by then Violet was gone to be loaded in the ambulance.

The paramedic knelt down by Thorgy who was pale and sweaty, he couldn’t seem to get enough air, Acid surmised that it was because he had been crying so hard. A paramedic looked into Thorgy’s eyes and took his pulse and blood pressure then called for a second ambulance.

Acid thought it was a bit of an over exaggeration at first but Thorgy seemed to decline in front of his very eyes.

Thorgy didn’t fight when they put him in the ambulance and Acid jumped up to sit beside him, growing increasingly concerned. The paramedic was reassuring Thorgy as he pulled an oxygen mask onto his face and Acid had reached forward to hold his hand. Thorgy became more and more confused and dazed until he couldn’t answer their questions like what day is it? What city are we in? Then Thorgy suddenly went lax and Acid let go of him to allow the paramedic enough space to work.

They arrived at the hospital a minute later and a swarm of people descended upon Thorgy.

Acid was relieved when they let him stay in a corner of the room out of the way instead of making him wait outside. The only time they closed the curtain was when they changed him into a gown. Acid didn’t bother to tell them he had seen every inch of Thorgy’s body, kissed every inch of it too.

When they opened the curtain, they had hooked Thorgy up to a myriad of wires that Acid didn’t know what they did but he hoped they would help Thorgy.

One of the nurses started an IV. The words shock, rapid heart rate and low blood pressure flew around the room while they worked to stabilize Thorgy. Acid bit down on his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

Thorgy started to stir, “Hello Sir!” A nurse said loudly, “You’re in the hospital but we are gonna take good care of you.” She talked to him like he was a 4 year old and Acid wrinkled his nose in disgust at the patronizing tone.

Thorgy sat bolt upright, “Where is Violet? Where is Jason Dardo? I DON’T NEED ALL OF THIS!! WHERE IS JASON?” He bellowed in the nurse’s face as he started ripping wires off himself. Acid was taken aback by the look of madness in his friend’s normally mild mannered face, his eyes were wide, as he was bellowing. Spittle flying everywhere from the vehemency of his shout.

“Sir, please calm down.” A burly male nurse came over, punting the other nurse back behind him as if Thorgy might punch her, which Acid thought was kinda overreacting.

Then Thorgy actually did take a swing at him! 6 medical people tackled and restrained him as he tried to thrash out of their hold. He was screaming obscenities, and looking possessed. Acid was petrified. What the fuck was happening? One of them bellowed something to a nurse in the corner who got out a stupidly big needle that one of the people jabbed into Thorgy’s arm. He thrashed for a few minutes slowly winding down like a toy with a drained battery, his eyes rolled back and he lay still.

Acid wiped a tear off his cheek roughly, hoping they wouldn’t see. The petite nurse Thorgy yelled at did see and Acid cursed in his mind as she came over. She patted Acid’s arm. “He’s going to be ok sir, we just didn’t want him to hurt himself or anyone else. He is in shock, it sometimes causes anger.”

“Is he going to be in trouble for trying to hit that guy?” Acid said, biting his lip, his tooth clanging off of his lip ring. Getting in trouble with the law could make travelling difficult and that was the majority of their profession.

Acid was worried about more monumental things like would Violet be ok? Would Thorgy as well? But if he thought of those things, he would fall completely apart or his brain would implode so small inconsequential shit would have to be thought about.

“No, no he won’t, don’t worry. He wasn’t aware of what he was doing.”

Acid let out a big breath of air, “Thank God!”

Acid shifted his eyes past the nurse to Thorgy, someone had reattached the wires and Thorgy was laying there, totally out, makeup smeared across his face by tears and his own frantic hands.

His ex laying unconscious in a hospital bed was breaking his heart. He liked to say he didn’t have a heart but Thorgy had found it and encouraged him use it. He couldn’t wall it away with brick and mortar again.

“Can I wash his face off?” Acid asked awkwardly.

“Sure you can! If you want to. Or I can do it if you’d rather.”

“No, no! I don’t mind.”

She went to the cupboard and got a washcloth, wetting it at the sink and handing Acid the steaming cloth. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, it’s most likely that he won’t wake up til tomorrow. The doctor will probably admit him for observation for the night.”

“Oh ok.” Acid said dumbly as the nurse left.

Acid walked up to his bedside and whispered “Oh Shane, what have you done to yourself?” He let the tears come then, hot trails down his cheeks They were splashing onto Thorgy as he gently removed the smeared makeup. Occasionally he went to wring the cloth and he would come back and look at Thorgy again and feel like someone was stabbing him in his heart with a rusty icepick.

When he finished, he looked around surreptitiously and then caressed Thorgy’s cheek and kissed him on the lips softly.

“I WILL win you back Shane, I promise you.” Acid whispered, straightening up quickly as the nurse came back in.

“So I was right, we are going to keep him overnight since he lost consciousness and we need to monitor his blood pressure because it dropped pretty low as well as his psychotic break. We just want to make sure he’s ok.”

“Psychotic break?” Acid croaked out. It seemed like such a harsh term for his gentle friend.

“Yes but he will most likely be back to himself tomorrow.”

“Do you have any news about his…” Acid paused as it hurt him to say it, “boyfriend Jason Dardo?”

“No news yet, I have been looking since he got so upset about him and there hasn’t been new information. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault.”

2 nurses came in and told Acid to follow them as they took Thorgy’s gurney to the second floor. The worst was when they slid him onto the bed, his head flopped backwards like a newborn baby’s, his leg fell out of the sheet they were transferring him on so Acid lifted it up so it wouldn’t be under him. Thorgy just slept on.

They all left and the nurse said she would be back in a moment. Thorgy was just in his short blue gown so Acid covered him up and kissed his forehead and then pulled up a chair by the bed. He reached through the bars of the bed guard and grabbed Thorgy’s hand. He knew he shouldn’t but, he just wanted to be close to him.

Acid eventually fell asleep, sitting upright and he never let go of Thorgy’s hand. He woke up when the nurses came in and at one point he got an update about Vi.

“Earth to Acid, come in Acid.” Thorgy said, looking at the deep-in-thought queen. ”Please Jamin, just tell me?” Thorgy pleaded, removing his hands from his head and putting his hand over Acid’s. It was the first time Thorgy had touched him without him initiating it, like the hug last night, since their breakup and it made him shiver.

Thorgy pulled his hand away like he had touched an open flame and returned them to his head. He knew he needed space from Acid and Acid needed space from him but it seemed like the only way to fully get his attention. He still loved Acid and of course Acid still loved him, he could see it in the way the usually brusque queen’s eyes softened when he looked toward him.

“So when Violet had her accident, you were really upset of course. You were crying so hard it was hard for you to talk, when the ambulance got there you were starting to look ill. You were sweaty and pale and so a paramedic came to check you out, they said your heart rate was really high and your blood pressure was low and you couldn’t catch your breath, then you…” Acid paused for a moment to think of the words to use.

“Then I did WHAT Jamin? Just tell me!”

The nurse came in and Thorgy wanted to tell her to get out so he could find out what Acid was hesitant to tell him, it must be bad. He managed to keep his composure while she gave him some medication, which seemed to take effect in a minute or two while she checked his vitals. He lowered his hands, finally. His brain no longer felt like it was going to explode.

“I will be back to check on you.” The nurse said and then nodded her head towards a breakfast tray as she was leaving. “Try to eat something please.”

Thorgy waited til she left and then turned towards Jamin again. “So what happened?”

“Ok so in the ambulance you were getting more and more confused then you actually passed out just before we got here. once you woke up at the hospital, you got very angry and you tried to punch one of the nurses.”

“Oh my God! Shit! I don’t even remember that happening! Am I in trouble?”

“No not at all, they said you were in shock and not responsible for your actions.”

“Oh good! I still feel bad though. I can’t believe I did that!”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he moved out of the way so you didn’t actually hit him. Then a bunch of people jumped on you and knocked you out so you didn’t hurt yourself. Or them!” Acid said wryly

“That’s why my body hurts. I’ve never been tackled before! Well I am glad I didn’t hurt anyone!” Thorgy took in a deep breath to ask the question that had been on his mind since he woke up but had been sidetracked by his head hurting. “What have you heard about Jason?”

Acid thought telling Thorgy what happened to him was hard. How the fuck could even start to tell him about Violet?