#mini ren was in my bag the entire time and it was so comforting even if i couldnt hold him kjsdnfkn my eyes have been Opened. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pilot-boi · 5 years ago

Text

Coffee Cup Woes

Jaune's history tutor is really pretty. Like REALLY pretty. Like way out of his league pretty. And he liked her, a lot. Liked her liked her. Head over heels for her. Pyrrha's history student was a delight. His smile lit up her darkest days, and he was sweet and kinder than anyone she'd ever met. She liked him, a lot.

They were perfect for each other, but sadly, both of them were idiots, and were too scared to make the first move.

Sometimes people needed a little push. Luckily their friends were more than up for the job.

Sometimes complementary mini muffins are the only comfort in this cold dark world.

AO3 LINK

“But what if she doesn’t like me?” Jaune lamented, stopping and sitting at their table instead of working like he should have been.

“Don’t worry, she likes you,” Ren reassured him, jotting down something from his text book.

“But how do you know that?”

“I read her diary,” Nora shrugged, popping one of the complementary mini muffins into her mouth.

“You what?!” Jaune squaked, and winced when his tone drew the curious stares of nearby patrons. “You what?” he repeated, in an outraged whisper. “Why?”

“Well, she left it on her dresser when she went to track practice,” Nora explained to Jaune’s dumbfounded expression. “And Ren wasn’t around to stop me.” She said this like that explained everything, but it mostly just left Jaune gaping like a fish out of water.

“I am about ninety percent of Nora’s impulse control,” Ren reminded him, and plucked a mini muffin out of her hands without looking up from his book. “And no more muffins unless you don’t want to get pancakes for dinner.”

“Yes, Ren,” Nora sighed on reflex.”

“Nora, you can’t just read your roommate’s diary!” Jaune spluttered, flapping his arms about in an excellent impression of a drowning goose.

“In my defense, I didn’t know it was her diary at first. I thought it was just a very formal handwritten book.”

“The words “Dear Diary” didn’t clue you in at all?” Jaune asked, making quotes in the air with his fingers.

“She didn’t write “Dear Diary,” Nora retorted, copying his quotes with exaggerated gestures, “she just wrote the date. Besides, I don’t think she’ll get mad about me reading it.”

“Of course she won’t!” Jaune seethed as loudly as he could without drawing stares again. “She’s like the nicest, sweetest, forgivingest person who ever existed! You could pour boiling hot soup in her lap and she’d probably apologize.”

He slumped down in his chair and put his face in his arms. “I’ve really got it bad, don’t I?” he mumbled.

“You sure do, Jauney!” Nora said happily, ruffling his hair fondly.

“Shut up, Nora,” he grumbled, beating away her hands and fixing his unruly hair as best he could.

“I don’t think “forgivingest” is a word,” Ren commented.

“You also shut up,” Jaune muttered, his voice muffled behind his arms. “You aren’t helping.”

“But anyway, the morality of diary read aside, she definitely likes you,” Nora concluded, eyeing the mini muffins and wondering if the threat of no pancakes was worth the risk.

“But does she really?” Jaune asked, rolling his head to the side so he could gaze up at her with a truly pathetic expression on his face. “Like, girls don’t like me, Nora,” he explained, straightening up.

“What about Ruby?”

“She’s different,” Jaune said, waving away Ren’s comment. “I’ve known Ruby since forever, she’s like my sister.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you really need more of those,” Nora muttered, rolling her eyes.

Jaune plowed on like he hadn’t even heard her, and with how tunnel-visioned he was, maybe he really hadn’t heard her.

“No like, like me like me, ya know?” Jaune clarified, but not really. “I barely even get to the friend stage with most people, let alone with girls. I don’t think a girl has ever has a crush on me in all eighteen years of my life.”

He was running out of momentum, which was good, because she’d known him to rant for hours if you let him get a full head of steam. “So I need you to be totally, absolutely sure,” he was saying when she checked back into the conversation, “because I really like her, and just...ya know...I hope she likes me,” he concluded rather lamely, stealing one of the mini muffins Nora had been eyeing and stuffing it in his mouth.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Ren asked, glancing up at his friend.

“Shush, I’m on break or something,” Jaune mumbled around a mouthful of muffin. “Neptune’ll cover for me.”

“I don’t know how many times we have to tell you before you get it,” Nora grumbled. “She’s into you! Why don’t you see it?!” she fumed, miming strangling him.

“But does-?”

“Yes! Yes she does!” Nora interrupted him, throwing her hands up in the air. “I read what she said about you, and if I have to read one more sentence about your cute butt and floofy hair, I think I might vomit.”

“You didn’t have to read the original sentences, to be fair,” Ren pointed out, pulling a different, and somehow larger, reference book out of his bag.

“Shush you.”

“She thinks it’s floofy?” Jaune asked, touching the messy curls and blushing with delight. “That- that’s a good thing, right?” he asked, looking unsure.

“I give up,” Nora announced, “You’re hopeless, and I give up.” Then she stood and marched dramatically away, already texting furiously to somebody.

“You think she’s serious about that?” Jaune asked his friend out of the corner of his mouth as he watched the red head push her way through the throng of exhausted students.

“I’ve never known Nora to be serious about anything,” Ren assured him, checking his phone when it buzzed with texts, undoubtedly from Nora. “She’ll be back soon enough, once you stop acting like an idiot.”

“Hey!” That’s not fair,” Jaune pouted.

“It’s true though, you’re being an idiot about this,” Ren argued, glancing in the direction of the door when the bell indicated that someone new entered the already crowded coffee shop.

“Now come on, that’s not even remotely true,” Jaune scoffed, and deflated a little under Ren’s skeptical look. “Okay, it’s not entirely true, but-”

Ren fixed him with a piercing look from through his glasses. Jaune could only hold his intense gaze for a few moments before he was forced to look away. “Jaune,” Ren started, face and voice softening, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that she cares for you?”

Jaune looked like he was trying to collapse in on himself. “Because...she’s just so fantastic,” he mumbled, not meeting Ren’s gaze, “And I’m just sort of...not, ya know?”

“Have we ever lied to you before?” Ren asked, closing his books.

“I- what?” Jaune looked more taken aback by the sudden topic change than anything else.

“Answer the question, please.”

“I mean, no I don’t think you have,” Jaune answered, looking confused. “But why are you asking?”

“I’m asking, because if we haven’t lied to you before, then why would we start now?” Ren explained, glancing up at someone over Jaune’s shoulder and waving them over.

“So believe us when we say that she does like you,” Ren reassured him, standing and packing up his things. He patted Jaune on the shoulder, breaking him out of his shock.

“I’ve got to go and make sure Nora hasn’t decided to break anything in the five minutes I wasn’t there to stop her,” Ren said, beckoning the same person over again. “Besides, I believe there’s something you need to talk about.”

“Talk about with who?” Jaune asked, turning around and blushing right to the roots of his hair at the sight of the person Ren was talking with. “Oh hey, Pyrrha!” he said in a much higher pitched tone of voice.

“I assume you got Nora’s text?” Ren asked, a little too knowingly.

“I- yes,” she said, glancing at Jaune before focusing on Ren. “She said you needed to speak with me?”

“Actually, it’s Jaune who need to speak with you,” Ren clarified, glancing at his phone. “You can take my seat, I’m leaving anyway.” Hopefully Jaune could handle this by himself.

Jaune could not handle this by himself.

His face was bright red, and he knew it. Curse you Ren and Nora for obviously setting him up with this impromptu and definitely not-casual meeting. He had to tell her, he was going to tell her. But as soon as she sat down, Pyrrha flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder, and smiled shyly just at him. And he forgot how to speak in complete sentences.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, smiling softly. Her eyes were twinkling like emeralds, and she was actually sitting there and speaking to him. Pyrrha Nikos was sitting and talking to him over coffee.

Sure they’d spoken before in class, but this was different. They weren’t talking about history and the social implications of whatever, they were talking about potential emotions and stuff.

Or at least they would be if Jaune could stop staring at her.

Thunderstruck: so are they talking??!?

Dad: I did my part. They’re at least sitting at the table together.

Thunderstruck: mission “get these two idiots to make out” is a go!

Literal Child: Ice Queen, are you in position?

Mom: I don’t understand why I have to be the one to do this.

Goldilocks: because youre the only one of us who drinks that much coffee while you study

Mr. Kitty Cat Meow Face: She’s right you know

Goldilocks: thanks babe <3

Mom: And what is the point of code names if they are only getting typed in a group text?

Literal Child: LESS TEXTING MORE WATCHING!!

Literal Child: And it’s not a real mission without code names!!

Ocean Man: Remind me why Jaune gets to take off work but I don’t

Monkey King: because youre the only one we could get who could cover for lover boy during this whole schtick

Ocean Man: Thanks dude I always knew you’d have my back

Mr. Kitty Cat Meow Face: Shouldn't you be working and not texting us

Ocean Man: Shut

“Jaune?” Pyrrha prompted, now looking concerned by his silence.

He couldn’t say anything. It was like he’d swallowed a golf ball. Why couldn’t he say anything?!

Mom: Oh no.

Thunderstruck: what? WHAT??!

Mom: That blonde dolt is too love struck to speak.

Literal Child: you’re kidding

Literal Child: you’re kidding right??

Ocean Man: Nah, I can confirm that he’s just sitting there

Goldilocks: oh come on lover boy pull it together

Dad: We did think that this was a possibility. He does have a tendency to freeze up.

Mr. Kitty Cat Meow Face: Wait if we saw this coming then why did we leave this up to Jaune

Monkey King: it was basically the only option

Thunderstruck: believe me, she’s not much better than him

Mom: Wait hold on, shut up, I think they’re saying something.

“Are you feeling okay, Jaune?” Pyrrha asked, concern clearly rising in her face.

Come on, pull yourself together. You have to say something. Can’t just keep sitting here silence! Say something, anything! Anything but just sitting there staring at her like an idiot. And it was this thought that finally had Jaune creaking open his jaw and blurting out the first words that came to mind.

“Nora read your diary,” he all but yelled, still sitting as straight as a board, and bright red in the face.

Mom: Oh for fuck’s sake, you idiot.

Ocean Man: Mission failed, we’ll get ‘em next time

Literal Child: Ice Queen report!! what happened??

Mom: He just told her that Nora read her diary.

Thunderstruck: new mission operative: don’t let him die from embarrassment

Thunderstruck: i want to kill him first

#rwby #mine #my writing #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #arkos #coffee shop rwby

169 notes · View notes

jadekitty777 · 5 years ago

Text

Sick Leave

Whoops. I did it again. (I played with your heart. Got lost in this Fair Game).

Rating: K+

Pairing: Clover/Qrow

Words: 3,000

Summary: When Qrow fails to show up for work one morning, Clover goes to investigate why and finds himself taking care of a more personal mission.

Ao3 Link: Sick Leave

“Alright, first up: the west wall in Mantle is showing signs of weakening. Who wants Grimm patrol duty on that? We need a team of two.” Clover called.

“Oh! Me, me, me!” As usual, Ruby was the first to bounce in her seat, swinging her arm around. Despite the many long weeks of duty, her enthusiasm hadn’t ebbed at all.

“I’ll go with her.” Jaune offered next, sipping on his coffee.

He nodded, turning back to the board and assigning their names to the job. “Next up is another haul of dust to Amity. Team of five.” He glanced back, about to volunteer himself and Qrow.

And realized the man’s seat was empty. It wasn’t entirely unusual; the older huntsman sometimes slept in and trudged in halfway through. He instead assigned Nora, Ren, Weiss, Harriet and Marrow as they volunteered. He tasked out the most pressing three search and destroy missions to Penny, Yang and Blake, and Elm and Vine.

Checked the seat once again – still empty. “Has anyone seen Qrow?”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off?” Nora offered.

The missing man’s nieces shared a glance, before the younger pulled out her scroll and said, “I’ll call him.” A moment later, she placed it to her ear, only to frown. “It’s going straight to voicemail.”

Yang frowned, before rolling her eyes. “Well. He got to three months at least.” When her little sister glared her way, she added, “What? You know that’s what he did.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe he broke his phone.”

“Yeah, when he dropped it in his drink at the bar.”

“Alright, that’s enough ladies.” Clover intervened before this could become a full-blown family dispute. “I’ll go check on him. The rest of you start your missions. That’s an order.”

No one rose argument, the room clearing out quickly. Ruby was the only one to hang back, looking at him. “Will you message me? Just so I can know if he’s okay?”

It was most obvious in her eyes how young of a huntress she was. So openly concerned and honest – something an enemy would eventually take advantage of. He’d have to teach her the finer points of a poker face somewhere down the line. “Of course, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

She nodded, doing her best to smile before she followed after Jaune.

Clover headed out the opposite way, back towards the housing area, unable to get the sisters’ argument out of his head. He had remembered what Qrow had said last week, about having given up drinking. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it. But it seemed the other man had stretched the truth a bit – he wasn’t a former alcoholic, but a recovering one.

That… complicated things.

At least now he understood the root of Lieutenant Winter’s disdain for the seasoned huntsman. He had used to believe it was jealousy that made her sneer whenever Qrow’s name was uttered. After all, what trainee didn’t hear at least a few stories of the infamous STRQ who both held the record as the only team to win the Vytal Festival Championship Two bi-annual seasons in a row and still held the record for most completed field missions while still in school of all the Kingdoms’ academies? He certainly had, and had used those stories as a personal benchmark to overcome – he’d even been excessively proud when he and his team managed to quickly subdue Qrow when the man had first entered Atlas (though he’d never tell him that). Now he had to wonder if the only reason he’d won that fight that day was because Qrow was in the throes of withdrawal and not at the top of his game.

However, the more prominent question was, if the girls were indeed right and the other Huntsman has gone back to drinking, what could he do about it?

It didn’t take long to get to Qrow’s floor. One elevator ride and one left turn down the hall and he was at his door, giving it three hard raps.

When a minute passed without response, he repeated the action, harder and louder. “Qrow, it’s me!”

Nothing.

Clover frowned, suspicion shifting to worry. Even if he had gotten completely smashed last night, he wouldn’t be unresponsive. Something was wrong.

He pulled out his scroll, and though it was a bit unethical to use his high security access this way, he reasoned it away that he was just making sure the other was okay. He pulled up the mainframe for the dormitory doors and disengaged the lock, hearing it click. He pulled it open, stepping inside. It was standard issue, with a small kitchenette and living space and a short hallway that lead to the bed and bathroom. There were signs of it being lived in. A pair of dressed shoes haphazardly strewn under the coffee table. A half-full glass of water by the sink. A hand towel hanging over the edge of the counter. Bags of nonperishable foods left atop the mini-fridge.

But no Qrow.

Knowing there was only one place he could be, he headed down the hall, knocking on the bedroom door. “Qrow, you in there? It’s Clover.”

This, finally, yielded an answer. A somewhat unintelligible “Hold on!”, and then some shuffling, before the door was opening a few inches. Watery red eyes squinted out at him. “What?” He croaked, voice raspier than usual.

“You missed mission assigning and – you look awful.” He looked him over, taking in his overly gaunt and pale complexion and the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders. Felt relieved when he realized this had to be a natural sickness. Though rare for Huntsman, cold shock wasn’t an uncommon issue foreigners faced when traveling to Atlas, especially those daring to venture out into the tundra. The new environment combined with the brutal temperatures chipped away at even the strongest immune systems, often leading to some rather unpleasant sicknesses.

“Feel it too.” Qrow used the side of the door to prop himself. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Of course.” He replied.

The other just nodded, not even bothering to shut the door as he trudged back to his bed and cocooned himself into the comforter.

Though it felt a little taboo, Clover invited himself in, walking over to his bedside. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Water?”

“Sleep.” He grumbled.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. Qrow was stubborn even in the best of situations; he couldn’t say he was surprised to learn he was an uncooperative ass when sick. But two could play it that game.

He reached out, placing his fingertips on the other’s forehead.

“Whachu doing, go ‘way!” Qrow whined, burying his face further into the blankets and out of Clover’s reach.

It was fine though, he got what he needed. “You’re burning up.”

“What a revelation. Who woulda thought the ill guy would have a fever?” His snark earned him a coughing fit.

Clover decided not to respond to it. “Have you taken anything?”

“Painkillers.”

“When?”

“Last night. Can you go away now?”

“Anything for the cough?” An annoyed groan was his only answer. “That’s a no. Alright then.”

He turned, heading for the bathroom. No protests came, Qrow either too sick or too tired to do so. As luck would have it, the bottle of medicine he was hoping to find was right on the counter and next to another half-full glass of water (seemed someone had a bad habit). He dumped what was left of the water, refilled it and shook out two pills, before returning to the other room.

Red-eyes glared up at him, but Qrow looked so miserable it made him appear more like an upset puppy than a true threat. “If I drink that will you finally leave?”

“Yes.” Clover promised.

He unearthed himself from the blankets, took the proffered medicine and then handed the glass back before curling back up into his nest.

“Good night.” He offered him, getting only a hum in return. He left the water by Qrow’s bedside in case he needed it, before he walked out and shut the door.

Then shut the second door as he left the suite. As he head down the hall, he mentally ticked off what he had back at his place that he could bring back here. After all, he’d promised he’d leave – he just never said for how long. Qrow would need something for that congestion of his, maybe the cough just in case, and some tea and soup would do wonders too.

Midway through his list, he remembered his other promise, and pulled out his scroll.

Not hungover. Just sick. He typed out.

Ruby’s reply was almost immediate. Oh no! Is he going to be okay? Should I come back?

Clover smiled. He really hoped Qrow knew what a great niece he had. He’ll be fine, but I’m putting us on sick leave for a few days.

The next text came rather slow for the speedster. ‘Us?’

He’ll have a speedier recovery with me around. Good luck and all. He wrote back. Never mind it wasn’t true – his semblance didn’t have that much pull with fate.

Oh, I guess that makes sense! Let him know I’ll come see him after work.

He guaranteed he would, before switching over to the Huntsman Missions app to update his and Qrow’s statuses. He knew the general would question it as soon as he saw it. Hopefully Clover could make the argument that Qrow was just too important an asset to leave unattended. In his weakened state, he wouldn’t be able to fight off any of Salem’s forces, so a ward to watch over him was the optimal option.

Yeah, that… sounded convincing, right?

As it turned out, it did sound convincing. In a ‘I totally know what you are doing but won’t give you a hard time because you’re one of my best operatives’ kind of way.

As Clover stirred the warming soup in the pot, General Ironwood’s sly canter as he said, “Qrow sure is fortunate to have such a loyal co-worker” continued to ring in his ears. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised his boss had picked up on it; he hadn’t exactly been subtle with his flirting. What baffled him was his complacency. He’d gotten on the case of far younger and less reserved cadets for similar behavior, so why was he getting a pass?

Perhaps it was not the nature of the relationship, but the person involved? Was it because the general’s view of Qrow being a good friend made him more willing to look the other way?

“It’s boiling over.”

He jumped out of his thoughts, glancing at where Qrow was standing, still holding the blanket around himself like a lifeline, then down at the pot which was indeed on the verge of overflowing. He flipped off the burner and removed it off the heat. “Thanks.”

The other man eyed him. “You stayed.”

He wanted to say ‘Of course I stayed. I like you, you oblivious Dodo!’ but he wasn’t exactly ready for that amount of honesty yet. Knowing how insecure Qrow was, he doubted he was ready either. So instead, he said, “Just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Whether it was the medicine, the extra sleep or both, he seemed much less ornery as he said, “Thanks. Not used to people taking care of me.”

That was a tidbit of information that screamed ‘tread carefully’. “No one at all?”

“Wouldn’t say that. My sister and I looked out for each other, once upon a time. And Tai and Summer were mother hens; that got annoying real fast.” He rubbed his eyes as if the reminder was giving him a headache. “But where I grew up it was a ‘in it for yourself’ mentality.”

There was a lot to unpack from that statement, and one Clover was not willing to press on today, much less when Qrow was ill. Instead he poured half the soup in a bowl and announced, “Well, guess you can add me to the list. And, you know what they say, three is common. Four is lucky.”

“That was the most poorly executed clover joke I’ve ever heard.”

“It was truly clever; you’re just too sick-minded to know it.” He ascertained. “Now take a seat and eat your soup.”

“Yes sir.” Qrow gave a mock salute, before plopping down into one of the chairs at the small dining table where the soup, a spoon, more water and three different types of medicine was set before him. He eyed them, mumbling, “You running a pharmacy?”

“Legally, no. I’ve got a table at the black market though.”

At least that joke awarded him a small laugh.

Qrow ate at a pace that would have driven Harriet insane, but he managed to finish the bowl, though he declined seconds. Clover set the rest of the soup away for later and cleaned up the dishes, all the while watching as the other man shuffled the few feet to the couch to curl up on it as he watched some old program. He didn’t recognize it, and it was old enough it wasn’t in color, but from the rather rambunctious laugh track, it had to be a comedy.

When he came over to set a mug of steaming tea down on the table, he finally got a chance to ask. “What is this?”

“You’ve never seen Lady in Red?” Qrow craned his head back to look at him. “What era are you from?”

“I’m only seven years younger than you.” He refuted.

“And yet you missed a classic.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Maybe you’re not so lucky after all.”

He chuckled at that. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“No. But I have a feeling if I tell you that you can go, you’ll just come check on me in a few hours, won’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He sighed, overly-exasperatedly by a nonexistent dilemma. “Then I guess you might as well stick around. Get some culture while you’re at it.” He shifted his legs, freeing up the last cushion on the couch.

Clover was not such a fool that he wouldn’t accept that offer.

That was how he spent his afternoon, binge-watching an old show and running commentary with the man beside him. It was a peculiar change of pace. He wasn’t used to such lazy days – but spending it with someone made it infinitely better. Granted, Qrow drifted off somewhere between episodes 5 and 6. (Clover would tell no one about the many times he snuck glances at him as he slept or how he found the man’s light snoring endearing.)

Thankfully, the program was entertaining enough to enjoy even in the silence. So much so that, before he knew it, the sun had fallen and Qrow was stirred back awake by a knock on the door as an actual lady in red came to visit.

The next few days went similarly. Clover would wake up early to scan over progress reports and assign missions to the teams, before heading off to make breakfast for Qrow and sit in and watch old reruns all morning with him. They tended to start off quiet, but as the meds kicked in, the elder showed signs of more energy and alertness. It waned sometime after their small break for lunch and then it was back on the couch for more. Ultimately, he tended to drift off, sometimes until evening when his nieces came to visit and play a few rounds of video games while Clover would make dinner for all of them.

Yang was also intent on invading her uncle’s bed space with a new stuffed animal every night. Clover imagined it was meant to mildly annoy him – but considering he caught Qrow making the llama tap dance with the gorilla one morning, he didn’t think it was working.

The whole affair felt so unusually domestic. The way he figured most of the citizens of Atlas and Mantle lived; but not a huntsman like himself.

And though he knew it couldn’t last, for just a little while, he allowed himself to enjoy the rare coziness and warmth of it all.

Qrow’s fever finally broke by day four.

Clover left his status on sick leave, but changed his own back to active.

“A nest of Grimm are collecting back in the sewers. Which two-” Clover read off dully.

“Me!” Ruby sang as expected.

“I would be thrilled to accompany her.” Penny chipped in.

He nodded tapping them in. His eyes scanned the next one, yet another dust supply run. He withheld a sigh. He never thought coming back to work would be so difficult. “Next up, we’ve got another transport going to Amity.”

“Sign us up.”

That voice had him snapping out of his stupor. He looked up, seeing Qrow lumbering in.

“Sure you’re up for that?” Yang asked.

He waved her off. “I got it. Can’t be letting you brats do all the work.” He glanced his way. “Well? Any objections?”

Suddenly, hours spent driving through the endless tundra didn’t sound so boring. “None at all.”

He changed Qrow’s status and put down their names. The rest of the missions were assigned quickly and the teams broke off with their respective partners to get ready for the day ahead.

As everyone filed out, Clover joined his own teammate’s side. “I know the runs are usually pretty unexciting, but you really sure you can handle things if it turns south?”

“Pff, oh yeah. I’m pretty much back to 100%. That’s not why I chose that mission though.” He told him.

“Oh?”

“See, the Lady in Red’s two-part season finale airs at 6 tonight.” Qrow’s expression was utterly unashamed. “That’s the only mission that I’m guaranteed to get back on time.”

He snorted. “That’s awful.”

A shrug. “Well hey, if you bring some popcorn over, you’re welcome to watch it with me.”

For the first time that morning, Clover felt his energy flood back in, his usual smile pulling back at the edges of his mouth. Perhaps he’d just taken a medicine of a different kind. But the side effect was it made him do possibly foolish things as he responded with, “It’s a date.”

It must have been the luckiest day of his life, because Qrow smiled back.

#Clover Ebi #qrow branwen #fair game #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

76 notes · View notes

elopez7228 · 4 years ago

Text

Scenic Route 8/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After finishing her cheese burger, (No, please, no more refills) Rey called Jessica. She had to lie about the details of her setbacks and the circumstances that had led her to haul a dog on a 3,500 kilometer road trip. She explained that she had loaned a car and was improvising from there. Yes, she was doing better. Yes, morale was high for now. No, she hadn’t run into any guns or cowboys (yet), but she had seen buffalos (from afar) and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Alright, she would send pictures.

Placing the phone in front of her, she smiled as innocently as possible at the front camera and hit “send” on the photo.

Everything was fine on Betterton Street according to Jessica. Finn and Poe had been talking the talk, they apparently spent an entire afternoon discussing Rey-drunk-in-the-street and Ben-the-tall-dark-mystery-man. They unanimously wanted to know: who was this guy and what was the nature of their relationship ?

Rey rolled her eyes. He wasn’t anyone in particular. He was a random fellow from Denver who was both attractive and repulsive, but in his defense they had started off on the wrong foot, that’s all.

“No, Jess, I didn’t sleep with him. But if you think it’s hilarious that Finn believes I did, go ahead and have fun with it. You can tell him that I spent a night of passion with Ben Solo, rockstar and lead singer of KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN. That way he’ll realize that I don’t miss him and that I’m doing just fine without him. And if he gets jealous—even better. Ask him how he thought I felt when I imagined him in bed with Poe.”

She ended the call there.

She finished her fries, covering the top of her glass with her palm to stop the waitress from refilling it again (had they gone mad here?) as she scrolled through her phone lazily. She was feeling nice and comfy in this 50s style greasy spoon—with its abundance of zinc, black and white tiled floors and red and pink neon signs. There was WiFi and air conditioning, and she balked at the idea of returning to her oven of a car.

Her finger traced over the selfie she had just taken. Her cheeks were rosy and her eye bags less prominent, how many days had she managed without crying? In the background sat a tall blonde woman in a buzz cut, looking straight in her direction.

Photobomb, Rey thought glumly. But the woman’s piercing blue gaze was locked onto the camera, as if by design. As if they were both looking at the same thing. Rey turned around to see if she was still there. She wasn’t.

A family of four were helping themselves to a small basket of nuggets. At the counter, a lone diner in jeans and a tank top sipped on a drink.

Shrugging, she pocketed her phone and tapped her palms against her thighs to get BB8’s attention. BB was also taking advantage of the air conditioning as she layed stretched out underneath the table. She got up clumsily once Rey gently tugged on her collar.

It was time to hit the road again, they could manage a few hundred kilometers by nightfall. The vast land sprawled in front of Rey’s eyes once more, set to the particular rock rhythm of Kylo & the Knights. Little by little, their surroundings transformed into the desert. Yellow earth littered with spiny shrubs and cacti.

She passed Rock Springs at 2:30 PM, taken by the frankly apocalyptic view.

Columns of smoke billowed overhead, likely from mines or factories. Rusted trucks rolled by. It was a sprawling urban hellscape straight out of Mad Max. The empty mountain side inspired a certain sort of fantasy—it gave new meaning to “the hills have eyes”.

A few more kilometers to the west and she would have hit Utah. But Rey deviated to the north. As she approached the crest of the hill, she was stupefied. She had stumbled upon Eden Valley, surrounded by forest and freshwater rivers. Rey was slack-jawed. She hadn’t seen this much green since she left England. The feeling was almost spiritual and she could feel her eyes watering.

A few hours later, after two bathroom breaks for the dog and a mini-walk, they crossed city limits into Jackson Hole. It was a ski resort town. Nestled at the foot of the green slopes, the town was the perfect summertime spot for hiking tours, hunters, and weary Yellowstone travelers. The hotels were pricey and the food was mediocre at best but it didn’t seem to matter.

She obtained a camping spot just outside the city at Curtis Canyon Campground. BB8 wandered as Rey set up the tent and her mattress for the night. Having unloaded the bulk of her belongings from the car, she was finally able to notice an inscription on the mat lining the boot: “MILLENIUM FALCON”. She smiled. Didn’t all pilots give their baby a name? This old hunk of junk had just won her over.

And so Rey piloted the re-baptized Millennium Falcon into the city in search of dinner. She parked the car in the heart of town, taking a selfie in front of a massive wooden archway decorated solely with deer antlers, then made her way into a noisy yet poorly-lit bar.

Seated at the counter, she ordered a light beer and a Caesar salad while she texted Jessica. She attached the selfie she snapped in the adjoining room.

And then she saw the shadow. What the hell?

She zoomed in on her screen, heart pounding. A blurry silhouette stood a few meters behind her—the same woman with cropped blonde hair.

No way, I must be seeing things.

Rey looked up from her phone and scanned her surroundings. Any second now, she would see the mysterious woman in the room. But she didn’t.

I must be imagining all this.

But the doubt crept in. She did her best to bottle the anxiety, to think of something else. But the question remained—who was this woman? Was this just a coincidence? After all, she had followed the typical route from Denver to Yellowstone and Penny’s Diner had been pretty much exactly in the middle of the way...other travelers could have stopped there for lunch too, it was totally plausible.

She scarfed down her salad, still deep in though. A woman offered to buy her a drink but she politely declined.

Afterwards, she placed some cash on the bar-top and thanked the bartender. Her heart was pounding again as she went out onto the street, there was a gut feeling she just couldn’t shake. She turned the corner to get to the car and—

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

A tall woman, the same one with the short blonde hair, was leaning over her car door and tugging at the handle. She jumped at Rey’s tone, scrambling away.

Rey felt icy beads of sweat slide down her spine. She hadn’t been imagining anything, she knew something was off. So much for coincidence. Furious, she marched over to the woman and raised her voice even more:

"Are you trying to break into my car? I'm going to call the police!"

The woman held her hands up in the universal gesture of innocence. "Well excuse me, I just thought it was mine. There's no need to make a big deal," she said simply.

" Really ? You also happen to have a dingy 1977 Oldsmobile with handpainted brown paneling on the front? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Screaming like a fury helped Rey cover up her insecurity. Why was this woman following her? What was she up to?

BB8 was barking furiously at the woman too, and Rey noted to congratulate her later. She had caught on very quickly.

The woman rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, turning the corner and disappearing into the street. Rey followed her, red-faced, before deciding to let her go.

She reconsidered calling the police as she held her phone once more. Who would believe her story? Some girl from Britain being chased by a mystery woman for 800 kilometers, a futile attempt to steal a car that didn't leave a scratch? They would surely laugh at her. She was wasting time. She had to move on by herself.

All those who bore witness to this altercation in the town square quickly turned away. They avoided the seething girl with the English accent and hastily took their leave.

Rey, heart racing and temples pulsing, bent down to pet BB8 in praise. BB was still in attack mode--growling and baring her teeth.

"Bravo, BB8. You did it, you protected me, good girl. That's a good girl,"

BB yelped and licked her nose.

"Come on, let's go. But first, I'll have to buy you a treat."

Google indicated there was an Albertson's grocery store that closed at midnight on Buffalo Way. There, she bought fried chicken bites for BB8 and cookies for herself. For breakfast...and dessert. Okay, she bought two packets of them. It was high time for some comfort food.

Something on the bulletin board just outside the store (boasting public service announcements and local yard sales) caught Rey's eye. It was a flyer that she read twice to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN

WEST TOUR

A sticker on the flyer displayed upcoming show dates at Jackson Hole.

The Mangy Moose, July 5th

She grimaced. She was driving around randomly in an area that was roughly 10 million kilometers squared, populated by about 325 million people. But she kept running into the same man in one small town or another. It was infuriating.

It was the third of July. She decided not to linger around Jackson Hole, she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the blonde madwoman. Too bad for the concert.

It's not like she wanted to go anyway, she didn't want to run into Ben Solo again at all. Nor did she want to see the look on his face when he saw her out in public again.

Who are you trying to convince?

She waved away the pesky whispering voice in her head. It was time to go to bed.

On the way back to camp, she fed BB the fried chicken bites. She took down her tent and instead set up her sleeping gear in the back of the car. She didn't have as much legroom, but at least no one would be able to get away with breaking in unannounced.

Her phone was at eight percent battery. She had to recharge immediately. There was no way she would spend the night alone in a camp with no phone. She wouldn't live to see the day.

She slipped into her jacket and left BB8 to guard mothership-Millenium-Falcon while she headed to the camp entrance. Everything was closed, with the exception of an ill-lit vending machine. She found an outlet and sat on the floor to wait for her phone to finish charging. She was there for at least half an hour.

She couldn't stop thinking about why anyone would want that car. What was so special about it?

Her fingers trembled as she dialed Leia Skywalker--if anyone would know it would be her.

970-571-3350

There was no dial tone. Just a robotic voice informing her that the phone number you have dialed is not available . Rey was immediately taken aback. What the hell? She had certainly dialed this number before.

She tried again. Same number, same error message.

Her hands became unsteady. Unavailable? She had called that number barely a couple days ago. She had met Leia Skywalker in the flesh--ate with her and slept at her house. What did this mean? Was Leia using a burner phone to keep in touch with Rose, was this deliberate? But to what end?

The long-term implications of such machinations were beyond Rey, who was already battling anxious thoughts. What was it, what did they want?

Suddenly, she remembered the existence of Luke Skywalker. She had his number too, it was literally engraved into the dog's collar tag.

She dialed it shakily.

909-667-5721

The phone number you have dialed is not available.

Rey let out a scream and threw her phone down. It clattered against the damp floor.

She got up, heart racing and head pounding. Her breath was short and her hands were freezing.

Who could she talk to? Jessica?

Apart from worrying the living daylights out of her, there was nothing to be done. Rey had Leia's physical address since she had texted it to Jessica, but what was she going to do with it? Call the police to report the car? Tell them about the cute dog and the impressive change of number? It was ridiculous. No one would be able to help.

What were her other options?

She had to take the dog to the address in San Francisco, an address she hoped still existed, because the corresponding telephone number was clearly garbage.

Could she back out? She still had to get to San Francisco by the 15th. How was she supposed to change plans if she didn't have plans in the first place? She had mentioned Yellowstone to Leia but not much else.

Abandon the dog? No, the poor animal had no way to fend for herself. Abandon the car? She could hardly continue on foot. She looked down.

Her phone case had been partially damaged due to the fall.

She bent down gingerly to pick it up. Examining it to make sure that the phone itself was intact, she noticed a slip of paper sticking out between the case and the phone itself. Her eyes widened as she pulled it out with her fingertips. She turned it over to read the back:

Ben

970-663-8876

#reylo #fanfiction #scenic route #modern AU

7 notes · View notes

whumpmeamadeus-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Untouchable (Persona 5 Whump)

Non shippy fic of Iwai helpiing with Ren, who has gotten himself in a spot of trouble. From my fic ‘Vignettes of Comfort” on Ao3! (Trans-Akira, Guns, Threats, hurt, comfort, stabbing mention)

“Just stay under the radar, kid,” Iwai muttered, leaning against the cluttered desk in the back of his shop.

Ren looked him over; man, if he was 20 years older. Even 10. Damn. He banished those thoughts from his mind and tossed his hair from his eyes. “I pretty much live under the radar.”

That chuckle, more like a chainsaw revving than a laugh. “Good way to go through life, if you can. Now go on, get outta here. Ain’t got time to waste on a kid like you.”

“See you soon, then.” With a saucy salute, Ren bid Iwai farewell and left Untouchable. He was feeling pretty confident about his evening, knowing it had went well and that he was getting even more of a discount. Morgana, safely in his bag, chatted his ear off the entire way through Shibuya.

All in all, this had been a pretty good night.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Honestly, at first Iwai had been annoyed by that skinny little nobody coming through and taking up his time with weird requests for things kids should never have been interested in. But he never heard of the kid doing anything illegal with what he bought. At least, nothing he got caught doing.

Iwai also knew, now, that the things Amamiya Ren bought from him were being used to a standard even he couldn’t complain about.

Kaoru would be jazzed to know about that.

Iwai finished up his work and went home. It was a simple night at home with Kaoru, something he didn’t get to enjoy as much as he should. But he was going to make more of an effort. He thought about seeing if maybe he couldn’t get Ren to hang out with Kaoru a little, take him to the batting cages or SOMETHING. They were only a couple years apart and Ren was a good kid; more importantly, he was a kid with a spine and a sense of justice. Kaoru was doing just fine, but maybe spending some time with a kid a few years older, who really seemed to have a handle on himself, would be good. He’d make a point to bring it up the next time Ren came by.

When a week later, he hadn’t seen the kid, he didn’t think about it. Sometimes he wouldn’t show up for weeks on end. What was Iwai gonna do about it? A kid was a kid.

A week and a half, and nothing. Iwai didn’t even pass by him on Central Street, which he had done before. Normally, he wouldn’t worry; it wasn’t any business of his what Ren got up to.

But something was gnawing at him. He tried to ignore it, and was doing a pretty steady job.

Half a week later - two in total since the last time he had seen Ren, if one was counting, which he certainly wasn’t - Iwai was doing some light dusting just to keep his mind off of things. Their shit country. That Shido guy everyone seemed to be all up in arms about (which he didn’t understand, the guy looked like a tool who collected toy skulls and made stupid sexist videos on the Internet). Kaoru was suffering in English, which Iwai was no good in either. Maybe, a little bit, he was worried about Ren.

He turned his back on the door and knelt to get something out of sight. Of course, the moment he did that, he heard the door open; always happened that way, didn’t it? “Just a minute.”

“Dad!?”

Kaoru’s concerned voice jolted him, and Iwai stood straight up. His son was still in his uniform, with his school bag, like everything was normal.

But he was also supporting Ren, who looked tired, almost gaunt, with faded, yellowing bruises under vibrantly coloured new ones running up and down his bare arms, and on his neck. Then Ren looked up and met his gaze; the blackened, swollen state of his eye was magnified through those gigantic glasses.

“How in the hell is THIS flyin’ under the radar?” Iwai grumbled, internally panicked that his old family had come after them after all.

“Well,” Ren said dryly, “I didn’t start the fight, if that helps.”

“Shut up.”

Iwai and Kaoru helped Ren get to the back room, where he all but collapsed onto the closest surface. Immediately, Iwai dragged Kaoru back out into the store. “Tell me what happened.”

Kaoru watched him go over and lock the door before clearing his throat. “I just went to the diner and he was there with like four empty coffee mugs in front of him, covered in bruises just like now. Except I only saw his face, his sleeves were rolled down.”

That was why Ren had looked especially odd to him - usually the kid was wearing a jacket, whether is was his uniform or something else. Iwai shook his head and lit a cigarette despite the look Kaoru gave him, the look that said You told me you were gonna quit months ago. “He say anything to you?”

“About what happened to him? No, I just asked if he needed help, he said no. I told him too bad and that if he didn’t come with me I was just going to call you anyways.”

“Good kid,” Iwai said. He was proud of his son for doing the right thing. “Listen, I got it from here - why don’t you get back to the diner and get started on your homework?”

Kaoru didn’t seem to like it, but listened - especially when he was given Iwai’s wallet. Iwai let him out of the store, then pulled down the grate before locking the door again. He didn’t necessarily want to send Kaoru out there again, if this kid had been hurt because of some ancient BS, but thought it might be easier to get Ren to talk if Kaoru was out of the way. He’d make it to the diner just fine; Iwai hadn’t raised an idiot, after all.

His more pressing concern was finding out what, exactly, had happened to Ren.

He got a bottle of water from under the desk, and a first aid kit, then moved into the back room. Ren was sitting exactly where they had left him, but with his eyes closed and head now leaned back against the wall. He was holding onto his phone, but it was dark. Iwai announced his presence with a sigh. Ren cracked open the eye with the least amount of damage. “Where’s Kaoru?”

“What happened to you?”

“That’s how you answer a question?” Ren asked, with that edge that Iwai liked, that reminded him of himself. “I just...got in something I shouldn’t have.”

Iwai took a drag from his cigarette and looked Ren up and down. He looked much smaller without that jacket. Maybe Iwai had been mistaken in thinking he was old for his age; this kid was hardly more than an ankle-biter. “No shit. But what?”

“It wasn’t anything like what you got into, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just got my ass handed to me last week, then again this week.”

They had what felt to Iwai like a battle of wills. With the kid so beat up, Iwai knew he was destined to throw the match and did so spectacularly, with a hefty sigh and a rolling of the eyes so hard that he thought he saw the top of his own skull. “Fine. Have your secrets.”

He leaned over to reach into a mini-fridge and pulled out a cold pack from the small tray that served as a freezer. “Put this on over your eye,” he said, pushing it into Ren’s hands. He didn’t take his eyes off of the kid until the gel pack was over the worst of the bruising. Then Iwai flipped open the first aid kit. After everything he had been through, he made sure to keep the thing pretty well stocked; not that there was much he could do for bruising. He found a cream for it, and tossed that to Ren as well.

“...I think I’m bleeding, too,” Akira said, and for the first time, Iwai thought he heard a hint of weakness in that voice.

He didn’t show that, however, and just nodded as he grabbed a package of gauze and medical tape, as well as bandaids, from the first aid kit. Iwai hoped this wasn’t bad enough that Ren would have to go to the hospital, because he would be a real hypocrite to his own ways if he dragged the kid there for this. He took a stack of napkins from some take-out meal or another and doused it in water from the bottle. “Lemme see.”

Ren hesitated, one hand playing with his dirty collar. Iwai just gave him a stern look. “Remember who I am, kid - I’ve patched up worse wounds than whatever you’ve gotten yourself into.”

With a sigh, Ren stood and turned around. Iwai swore under his breath; there was a gash in his shirt, and blood trickling through to stain the white, red. Ren slowly unbuttoned his shirt but instead of dropping it, just pulled it up to rest underneath his armpits. Iwai didn’t question it, just looked over the cut that stretched, thin but not too long, over the left side of his lower back; it was clearly a switchblade. He’d know the cut anywhere.

“Not too bad,” he said. “Surface wound, won’t need stitches.”

“I can clean it up,” Ren said, and Iwai was going to fight him on it before realizing that there were any number of reasons this kid wouldn’t want to be touched after a scrape like whatever he had gotten into. So he just gave the napkins to Ren and gave him verbal cues to wipe the cut clean. It took a little folding and maneuvering, but Ren eventually got the gauze positioned and relented, letting Iwai tape it down.

He let Ren do the bruises, too, and turned around to look through the first aid kit again, half to look for any ibuprofen and half to give Ren some semblance of privacy. There was a bottle in there, and the expiration date was still a year away. Perfect. Only when Ren said he was done did Iwai turn back to him, bottle in hand. Ren had his shirt pulled back down now, and was holding the cold pack to his neck. “...thanks.”

“Sure thing. I was an idiot kid getting into fights once, too.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” Ren said, and this time he sounded very serious. His eyes were hard, and Iwai held up a hand, palm upward, a man asking for more of an answer than that. “It wasn’t. I was jumped last week, and when I didn’t have enough cash on me, they beat me and said they’d be back.”

Anger bubbled up in Iwai’s gut; who the hell would do that to a kid? At least it didn’t sound like anything Iwai’s past had dragged them into. “And then?”

“Well I saw them all around. Think they knew where I lived. Saw them in my neighborhood. Outside of school even.” He shrugged. “Got cocky, figured they’d forget about me, or I could...persuade them otherwise.”

Iwai had wondered about that part; this kid was a Phantom Thief, after all. How’d this happen to someone like him?

“But things got away from me, and I couldn’t. They caught up to me, and...well. Here we are.. I didn’t have what they wanted, they got me, pulled a knife. Barely got out of there.”

Ren was trying to keep his cool, but Iwai could see the way his hands were shaking. Just a little. With a sigh, Iwai leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest. “You know who they were?”

“Just some low-level wannabe gang, I think. If I knew their names, I could…” Ren shook his head, then drained the rest of the water left in that bottle despite its tepid temperature. “But I don’t, so I need to figure out what to do next.”

“What you need to do is sit there and let me think,” Iwai said. He knew how to deal with up-shots who wanted more than they were worth. Because this wasn’t going to go down this way; these assholes weren’t going to harass this kid any longer. Iwai’s fingers just barely brushed the tattoo on his neck. “You wanna end this once and for all?”

Ren looked at him, then said ‘no,’ quietly. Then again. “No, you don’t have to get involved.”

“Kid,” Iwai said, leaning forward and looking him in the eye. “It’s too late for that

“I’m in.”

Ren let Iwai take him home that night, accepting a ride in the back of a surprisingly clean and sporty car with Kaoru. No one was in Leblanc, and he heard Boss in the back. Moving he quickly, he called out that he was back and darted upstairs. Morgana, asleep under the bed with just his tail poking out, didn’t stir. Good thing Futaba had him today and worn him out; she had really taken a shine to that cat.

When he sat on the bed he did so quietly, not wanting to wake Morgana. He unbuttoned his shirt and looked down over his bruised stomach. The worst of it, however, something Iwai was never going to see, was under his binder. Usually he slept with it on, but with this bruising...Ryuji would kick his ass worse than this if he knew Ren was pushing himself with that thing. Of all the people who knew - which was only about five people, in the whole world - who knew that he was trans, Ryuji took it the most seriously. He had done all of the reading, searched online, learned everything he could. For Ren.

So it was with Ryuji in mind that Ren struggled out of his binder and abandoned it on the bed. It should be washed, but he couldn’t even think about that until he was covered. His chest was covered in bruises, and once it was no longer compressed the pain blossomed outward from there. First, Ren took a shaky breath and palmed the cream Iwai had given him. Yes, he should put this on, but...well, unless he was putting the binder on, Ren didn’t let his hands near his chest. It was too much for him. Later, maybe. He pulled out his pajama shirt and yanked it on, then his grey hoodie over that. What could he say? He was feeling vulnerable. Ren climbed under the covers and pulled his phone close to him. The minute he touched it, the device buzzed. A text from Iwai.

‘Keep an eye out kid. Come by the shop if you see those dicks.’

Ren would have chuckled at the wording alone - exactly how Iwai spoke - but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t feel much like laughing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two nights later, Ren was feeling shaky after a shift at the Beef Bowl Shop. All night long, he had spotted the men who were after him for something as trivial as money. Ren had money, he didn’t have to worry about that. This was the principal of the thing. He thought that, if he could get them talking he find out at least one name, he could take them down where he was stronger - Mementos. Then they wouldn’t be bothering anyone else, either.

Honestly, he wouldn’t have been worried if it was just one of them that he had spotted. One guy, he thought he could handle.

But there had been three separate guys out there through the course of the night, including the one who had cut him. Now, Ren did not consider himself a coward in any sense of the word. But this?

Well. It made him uneasy enough to send a text to Iwai. It was simple, just ‘3 @ the Beef Bowl Shop,’ because he didn’t know how else to ask for assistance other than simply telling him the facts. This would be different, he told himself, if so many people were not relying on him.

His boss had dismissed him 10 minutes before he sent the text. Only 5 minutes after he sent it did he hear a knock to the employee part of the building. One of his co-workers stuck her head in. “Uhm, Amamiya? A guy who says he’s your uncle is here?”

Then he really could have laughed. The man even came up with an excuse. He thanked his co-worker and went out to the main dining room. Sure enough, Iwai was there, leaning against the window and looking bored while a few of the customers looked on, worried.

“Thank for coming to get me, Uncle Munehisa,” he teased, his voice light despite the reason Iwai had come.

“Shut your mouth, kid,” Iwai said, but Ren saw the chuckle playing at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”

The moment they were outside, Iwai looked both ways down the street. “When was the last time you saw one of them?”

Ren started to move across the street, towards the alley that led to Untouchable, keeping an eye out as well. None of them seemed to be in the immediate area; maybe he had been hasty. But he did feel a little more secure with Iwai at his side. “Last two passed by maybe ten minutes ago.”

“We’ll just get to Untouchable and work from there, alright?”

“Alright.”

It was simple, really. Just get into the store and leave from there. Ren followed Iwai across the street and down the alley. He glanced at the Velvet Room; Justine did not meet his gaze. At least if things ever got too crazy, he could jump in there. Not ideal, but doable. Iwai pulled out his keys and opened the door to Untouchable. He held it open. “Get in.”

Ren moved past him, and the impending sense of danger did not come quickly enough.

A sharp pain in his back, over where he had been cut before, and he was sent reeling forward into the store. His vision swam as his head bounced with the impact of his knees on the floor. But Iwai’s grunt of pain hurt way more than that. He hoped that Iwai would stay away as Ren pushed through the pain and turned around. There were two guys on Iwai, who looked calm and collected as he slammed his fist into a jaw. Ren would have chuckled if the guy who had pushed him did not drop to the floor and push him back, to the ground, with his arm on Akira’s neck.

He had just been too distracted with Iwai to move quickly enough. With all of his might, Ren pushed against the man holding him down; the silky shirt, leopard print, slid around under his grasp. That STUPID shirt - Akira knew it well.

This was the man with the knife. Ren knew that before he even brought it out. “You think your ex-yakuza sugar daddy can save you? Too late for that - we got you.”

Ren thought about all of the bruises on him. He thought about how a group like this would never involve the police, so he shouldn’t be at any risk if he retaliated. He thought about his friends, waiting for him to lead them. And he thought about how Iwai was over there, fighting for him.

It became absolutely effortless to take his fist and drive it into that stupid leopard-spotted stomach. Ren was able to get the man off of him, but his main goal was to get the knife out of reach. Never mind that he was in a store full of replica weapons, many with blades triple the size of the knife - THAT was the one that had dug into his back, and the owner seemed pretty fond of it.

He yanked himself up using the counter, while the guy was still on the ground, and Ren made a quick decision to drive his shoe into his head. Not enough to seriously hurt him, just keep him down. Ren was still feeling winded from being knocked to the ground, and wished more than anything that he had the same skills in the real world as he did in the Metaverse - there, he could get knocked down a hundred times and get back a hundred and one. Here, he was just tired, his gun a model in his pocket, and Arsene felt a world away. But Ren was still strong, and after his arrest had a better hold on his rash behaviour. He no longer acted so quickly under stress, thought his actions out more.

Today, that action was to lower himself back to the ground and grab the man’s wrist. Ren twisted his wrist around until he had no choice but to drop the knife, then snatched it away. His instinct was to toss it across the store, but that was stupid. So he folded the thing and stored it in his pocket before jumping over leopard print, who was still moaning on the ground, and joining Iwai.

Who was doing very well. One of the guys was on the ground just outside of the shop, looking dazed, and Iwai was wrestling the other one to the ground.

“It make you a big man, huh? Threatenin’ kids?” Iwai growled, and Ren didn’t think he knew he was being watched. “Trash like you makes me sick.”

Then he moved his hands in a quick, expert way that Ren did not think he could ever duplicate, and the other guy dropped, too. He was still alive, coughing once he hit the ground, but looked down for the count. Ren moved over to the door, glancing behind him; leopard print was still down, too.

“Thanks,” he said, watching Iwai heave. It must have been some effort for him, and there was a pang in Ren’s heart for his own father, who would have thrown him to the wolves rather than fight for him. But then Iwai was on him, holding his face in those rough hands.

He turned Ren’s head gently every which way, then looked over the rest of his body. “They get you?”

“Not really,” he said. “I got pushed down and he came at me, but I’m alright.”

Iwai sighed and looked at the men on the ground outside. “Let’s get the other one out here and leave ‘em. They’ll wake up dazed but they should be fine.”

Ren nodded, even though at this point he didn’t care if they were fine or not. He helped Iwai move one out of the doorway, closer the first guy Iwai had taken down. That one was sporting a huge bruise to his temple. “What did you do to that guy?”

“...taught him a lesson,” Iwai said. He rolled one shoulder as they straightened up. “Listen kid, I’m gonna make sure punks like these don’t bother you again, you hear -”

A silencer on a gun does not silence it. A normal silencer takes the sound of a gunshot down 14.3-43 decibels, meaning that any shot is plenty audible. Of course, once a gun is shot, even if it is heard, there is hardly any time for a potential victim to move. That is not, usually, the main purpose of a silencer. A silencer is stop a sound from spreading, not to stop a potential victim from hearing it.

So when the man in the leopard print shirt, now on his feet, aimed his silenced gun at Ren and shot, both Ren and Iwai heard the blast. Already in the act of turning, Ren knew that the bullet was meant for him. He knew that it had left the barrel. And he knew that he could not drop to the ground or avoid it.

All of these realizations came to him in a nanosecond. One second, there was a bang; the next second there was pain shooting through his arm and he was on the ground. His ears were ringing, his arm was hot and wet.

And then, there was nothing but Iwai.

When he heard that gunshot, a million things ran through Iwai’s head. He was not going to let Kaoru be left behind again. He was not going to let everything he worked for fall to pieces. He was not going to let this punk end things for him. He was not going to let them hurt Ren ever again.

Then the kid dropped to the ground and Iwai’s world spun out of control. He wasted absolutely no time. The man in that idiot shirt aimed at him, but Iwai was quicker. Dropping low, Iwai closed the distance between them in four long steps, coat flapping out behind him. One second he was outside, across the alley; the next second he was under the guy, in front of him, and Iwai’s already bloody fist, knuckles threatening to bust open, sent his head snapping back in a powerful uppercut. The young guy went down, and he dropped the gun. Pathetic; he really was just the worst kind of guy. Before anything else, Iwai picked up the gun.

The butt of the handle against a thick cranium made sure this asshole wouldn’t be standing again for quite some time.

He dropped the gun into one of his pockets and flexed out his fingers as he stood and turned. Had it really ended so quickly? It seemed ridiculous. But that didn’t truly matter at the moment. What mattered was getting to Ren.

Thankfully, when Iwai got to the kid he was sitting up, leaning against the wall, clutching at his bloody arm. He was pale, though, rocking back and forth a little. Iwai knelt at his side and tilted his face up, bloody hand leaving a mark on Ren’s chin. His eyes were wide and the pupils were dilated, but his face was calm. His nostrils flared as he struggled to breath, though.

Luckily, Iwai was always calm under pressure. “Come on, if you’re gonna have a panic attack you’re not gonna do it out here. But before I can move you, you gotta tell me - did he get your arm?”

Ren nodded; at least he still seemed to possess enough of his senses to nod. He pulled his hand away, palm bloody, and Iwai was able to get a good look at his arm. It was an instant relief to see through the torn shirt that the bullet had not gone through him, only grazed him. The wound wasn’t deep at all, just kissing his flesh enough to bleed heavily. But Iwai was well-trained - he could tell at a glance that the bullet was long gone and had not gotten close to any arteries. “Good,” he muttered. “That’s good.”

“It’s...good I got shot?” Ren asked, and Iwai couldn’t even begin to fathom what sort of thoughts and feelings were behind the laugh that leaked from his lips.

Not what Iwai had meant, though. He gave Ren a look as he tore the rest of the sleeve away and tied it around the wound. Just temporary. “Well, it DOES mean you scared this guy enough or took a big enough gouge out of his pride that he thought he had to use a gun to get you down.”

That, of all things, made Ren smile. Cocky kid.

Iwai hid their attackers behind the old worn-out bikes in front of his shop. Once the store was cleared out and Iwai made sure that no one was coming to check out that sound of that shot, he brought Ren inside and made him sit behind the register. The kid was still a little shaky and Iwai was pretty sure that once he had time to process what just happened, he would probably be a mess. For the second time in a week, he got out the first aid kit. “Before you came along I used this thing maybe once a year. Gonna charge you for a new one if you start using up all my supplies.”

“Sorry,” Ren said, fingers prodding near the wound. “Next time I’ll get shot somewhere else.”

“Good thinking. Alright, let me see it.”

He untied the sleeve and let it drop the to the ground. The bleeding had staunched a little, which was good. But still…” You want me to take you to a hospital?”

“No,” Ren, said, suddenly on edge. “No, no...too many questions at a hospital.”

The similarity to something Iwai himself had said to a friend, a long time ago - a lifetime ago - was almost enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He turned the sound into a laugh. “How many secrets can a kid your age have?”

“One for every year, it feels like.” Ren let him clean the wound and blood around it the best he could. “If we go to a hospital, they’ll know a bullet wound, they’ll call the cops, and if the cops find out I was near real weapons...let’s just say, probation turns to jail time real quick.”

Iwai’s eyebrows shot up so quickly that they nearly disappeared under his hat. “You? Holy shit, Ren. You’re a wild ride.”

Iwai worked steadily to do what he could for the wound. The responsible adult in him screamed ‘Take the kid to a hospital!' The wild part of him, from long ago, told him that this kid was going places. But it was the yakuza part of him that took over, the part that said you never rat out a brother, you help him on his terms, you don’t break his trust. He got Ren’s arm as clean as he could, then doused the wound in something green and anti-septic. Ren hissed at that and tensed, but otherwise took it well. The wound, once it was clean, was in even better shape than he thought before. No stitches, just a jagged cut that might mean a scar later. But Iwai saw thick scars on the Ren’s arms and wrists already, and had a feeling that adding one more wasn’t going to be the end of his world.

He took care to wrap the wound gently enough to avoid pain, but tightly enough that the last of the gauze-like bandages from his kit would be able to do their job. Iwai sealed the end with an X of white medical tape then looked into his eyes. “You’re gonna be fine, kid.”

“Yeah, Akira said. “Fine.”

But Iwai saw that look in his eyes. There was a storm brewing inside that kid, and Iwai was going to keep him there until it was over. Iwai left out the back way of the store and got them dinner, called Kaoru and sent dinner home to him as well. Maybe the time alone would jump-start the freak out this kid was bound to have. It didn’t matter how tough you were, or whatever other shit you had been through in your life.

No one reacts well the first time they get shot. Iwai himself had thrown up and slept for 24 hours.

He sat with Ren as they ate, pretty quiet, meals the same shade of blue-grey in the dim lights on the shop. At first, he thought Ren was eating with his right arm at his side because of the pain. But when Iwai moved around to grab some napkins, he could see that Ren was holding something clenched in his hand.

“What ya got there?”

Ren looked down, not even seeming to realize that he was holding something. “Oh.” He gingerly put it on the counter. A folding knife. “Leopard print had it. He cut me with it last time, too.”

Iwai shook his head, and was about to respond when Ren’s hand formed a fist on the counter. “He could have killed me.”

There was no answer for that.

“He could have killed me over something as stupid as money. He could have come after you, or Kaoru, or any of my friends, for money.” Ren dropped his gaze to look at his knees. “Holy shit, I was stupid to think it would go away on it’s own. I’m usually not that fu-”

“Don’t start that,” Iwai said. “If you’re gonna freak out, if you’re gonna throw up, if you’re gonna cry, fine. But don’t start holding all that responsibility for other people’s shitty choices on your shoulders. If you start doing that, you never stop.”

He thought of Tsuda and took a breath. “So what’s it gonna be?”

Ren looked at him, then leaned back in his chair and put his hand over his eyes. “This is so stupid. I use all sorts of weapons every day as a Phantom g-goddamn Thief, and one gunshot wound gets me like this?”

His voice was thick with tears, and Iwai was honestly relieved. Better to let out whatever bullshit was going on inside then hold onto it until it destroyed him. He sat by and let Ren cry, let him hide behind his hand. That was all that there was left for Iwai to do, anyways.

But when Ren leaned forward and put his head between his knees, Iwai knew that some dam had burst and everything his kid - Phantom Thief, under probation - was holding on to was ready to come out. He didn’t want to disturb him, didn’t want Ren to think that he had to contain himself, but Iwai couldn’t let this kid suffer alone.

“Hey,” he said, sliding out of his seat. When Ren looked up, Iwai took his protective earmuffs off and slid the hat off. He placed the hat on Ren’s head, brim pulled down low over his eyes. The earmuffs, he readjusted a little bit and clamped over Ren’s ears. They blocked out all sounds and would leave Ren with some semblance of privacy.

Iwai stepped back, but suddenly a hand was holding his jacket. Ren was looking down now, but he had the hem of Iwai’s jacket in a vice grip. He pushed himself forward and the wheeled chair propelled him just a couple inches. Iwai was wary, but let the kid throw his arms around him. Iwai didn’t think he had been this close to anyone in a long time, but he wasn’t about to push him away. Ren buried his face in Iwai’s stomach, arms tight around his middle. He was crying in a way Iwai hadn’t in years, but he remembered the feeling. Helpless. Hopeless. Vulnerable.

The shittiest feeling in the world. Iwai put his hand on the back of Ren’s head and let him cry it out. Tomorrow, when it was light out, when this all seemed grey and distant, when Ren was safe in school or at home...Iwai was going to make sure that he didn’t have to worry about those thugs ever again. He hated guys like that, who had huge egos and lost it when they popped, who took on only people they thought they could beat, who took advantage of people. They deserved to be knocked down a peg, and Iwai would make sure it happened.

He still had connections, after all.

#persona 5 #whump #munehisa iwai #ren amamiya #whump fic

20 notes · View notes