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shyficwriter · 3 years ago

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Temporary Home: Chapter 6

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: Peter works on cracking your shell and Rocket just still doesn't like you. Oh, and Fury pays a surprise visit and you accidentally poison Yondu- Oops!

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I think I knew from the moment I read this post I knew I needed to include something like it in this fic, especially knowing one of my readers had also suggested somewhere that they thought it'd be cool to see how the Guardians reacted to Terran food lol

Word Count: 5,617

You came back inside through the back door more than half an hour later, having decided to run a quick coat of stain over the bed frame pieces. The sooner you applied the stain, the sooner it would dry, the sooner you could apply the varnish. Not that you were in a hurry or anything... You just got excited over having a project, that's all. You totally weren't stalling on going back in the house, or anything.

Peter was sitting in the kitchen with Gamora. The others had seemingly all dispersed by now.

Peter looked slightly disappointed. "Saved you some cookies."

You were slightly taken back in surprise. "Oh, you didn't need to."

"You bought them, I wasn't just not going to save you a couple." Peter said with an odd look. "Anyway, thought you said you were coming back?"

You grimaced slightly and accepted a biscuit from the package in Peter's outstretched hand. "I did come back... I just got caught up with something."

Peter eyed you for a moment, as if he were considering something. He tilted his head, a slight smirk forming. "Are you shy or something?"

You blinked at him. "What? No-"

"Kinda seems like you are. I mean, before you avoided us because you were all cranky and hated us, but you don't seem nearly as cranky today. Heck you even seemed to almost like us today. So the only reason I can see for you to still be avoiding us is that you're shy."

Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, but after a moment's thought, almost seemed to agree with him and turned her expression to you. She didn't think he really believed you were shy. Rather, she figured he was accusing you of being shy to make you come clean about the real problem. He did similar stuff like this all the time to trick Rocket into talking when something was bothering him. She often wondered where he learned it from, until she witnessed Yondu doing the same to Peter one day after he and Kraglin joined their group.

You shook your head at them. "No. That's absurd."

Peter nudged Gamora in the arm. "That's cute. I think she's shy."

"I'm not shy. That's dumb. My line of work doesn't exactly mix with shy." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Methinks you protest too much," Peter teased in a sing-song voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning to Gamora. "Is he always like this?"

Gamora half smiled. "Yes... but he might stop if you told us why you keep avoiding everyone."

You sigh. "Look, it's just going to take some time. I'm not trying to avoid anyone, well, not anymore. Just... being around and interacting with a bunch of people is just... not something I'm used to."

"So you are shy." Peter said, his grin almost smug, but mostly teasing.

You sigh in Gamora's direction and she grins sympathetically. "I'm sorry about him."

Before you could respond again you heard a knock at the door.

You looked towards the sound in confusion at who it might be, because you never got visitors. However, you quickly switched to alarm when you realized you had a house full of aliens and no idea who was at the front door. You look out the kitchen window, but you couldn't see a vehicle.

They knocked again.

You turned back to Peter and Gamora. Preferably you'd want to tell them to get everyone to the cellar, but you were concerned on time and knew the curtain was open on the front door window and didn't want to risk whoever it was seeing a bunch of figures fleeing to behind the staircase to the cellar door. You directed Peter to go upstairs and make sure whoever was up there stayed and remained quiet, while you directed Gamora to head into the sitting room, close the door, and do the same while you checked the front door.

Another knock.

You looked at the window of the front door. It was the type of glass where it distorted finer features of subjects, but even with that obstacle, whoever was there seemed to be purposefully standing to the side so they couldn't be seen.

Once Peter and Gamora were out of sight you kept a hand on the knob and tentatively asked, "Who is it?" You eyed the small table by the door where you kept one of your issued guns well hidden. Just in case.

"Fury and Agent Hill. May we come in?" His tone was slightly sarcastic on the second line.

Dammit Fury. You rip the door open. "You ever heard of calling first?"

"No." Fury said flatly, then more sarcastically, "Nice to see you too." He looked around as he entered, seemingly expecting the house to be teeming with more life than it currently seemed. "Where are your charges?"

"I wasn't expecting company. I hid them," you say almost irritably, walking to open the sitting room door, telling those inside that it was alright, it was just Fury. You walk over to the stairs and look up to see Peter peering over the railing and nod to him in a gesture that meant that he and anyone else up there should come downstairs.

When you turn back to Fury he was smiling.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course it was a test, and you complain as much. "Everything's a test with you, isn't it?"

"Not everything," he said. "You should have been expecting us for a weekly check-in."

"You neglected to mention that," you said, slightly embarrassed because you honestly should have expected check-ins even without being told.

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind." Fury said with a wry smile. He knew full well he didn't mention it.

You roll your eyes. "Nothing slips your mind," you confronted, turning now to Maria. She only offered a smile back that clearly said, 'Perhaps if you hadn't been so cranky last time...'

Peter came down the stairs with Mantis, Rocket, and Groot and everyone filed into the sitting room. You caught sight of Kraglin and Rocket again and still had to cover you mouth to fight from laughing before you turned away and tried to keep your face serious. This, of course was much to Kraglin's chagrin and Rocket's annoyance. Yondu noticed and gave Kraglin another strange look, which Kraglin only responded with a shake of his head and an expression that read, 'Please, don't ask.'

Fury spoke when everyone was settled. "This is just a routine check-in. So far your situation has not changed. As expected, NOVA is still trying to make negotiations on your behalf. We're just here to see how everyone is settling in, make sure there are no concerns or problems we need to know about."

"I got a concern," Rocket spoke up.

"If this is about the crib, we don't want to hear it." Maria replied semi-sternly.

Rocket deflated slightly before saying, "I have another concern."

Fury looked unamused, but before he could ask Rocket to elaborate, Rocket was already going into about how you were a dick and how you tossed him outside like a rag doll.

"You were attacking him," you said angrily, gesturing to Kraglin. "Was I just supposed to let you?" Of course the little shit would try to make you look bad to your boss while leaving out the part he played in the situation.

Rocket went on to say that you just had it in for him, and Mantis, who wanted to both try and calm the situation and also defend you, shyly spoke up and said, "Maybe she would like you better if you hadn't tried to poison her?"

Fury and Maria exchanged looks, hers a mix of startled surprise, Fury's one of surprised concern. Surely if there had been an attempt on your life from one of these people, you would have reported it. They turned back, Maria saying, "Excuse me?"

However, she was drowned out by Rocket saying, "That was after!" as if that were a valid defense. "And she wouldn't have died!"

"Yeah, she would have just shit herself half to death. So much better." Peter said sarcastically.

"Why do you care? She bit you!"

This earned raised eyebrows from Fury and Agent Hill. You purposely didn't meet their gaze, embarrassed.

Peter, who felt guilty at the way Rocket was doing you, then stood up for you, "In her defense I did almost break her nose." He caught the expressions of Fury and Agent Hill and added, "We were drunk, it was all just a misunderstanding," as an explanation before realizing he wasn't exactly helping either.

There was more bickering, mostly Rocket saying how much of a dick you were, and others scolding back that Rocket had been the one to start it, then he brought up how instead of helping untangle him and Kraglin you just laughed your ass off, and then others said more things that weren't really helping and everyone was talking over each other while Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassed frustration and you rubbed a hand down your face.

"Enough!" Fury said firmly, breaking up the squabbling. "We are not here to listen to petty grievances." He gave the group a stern look. "First off," he looked directly at Rocket, "do not try to poison my agent again. We can just as easily put you in a cell for the duration of your stay on Earth, but I think you'd agree this is a much better venue."

Rocket grumbled something about how'd he'd just escape, but Fury ignored him.

Fury looked at you. "And you- Do try and refrain from getting into fights with your charges." He nodded towards Peter to indicated he specifically meant drunken fights and biting. His tone was as if he was incredulously scolding a child who didn't normally do naughty things, but had suddenly decided to moon traffic. He actually hadn't expected to hear of this behavior from you. You were one of his best agents. He had the humorous thought that this group's dysfunction might be contagious.

You look down and nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now does anyone have any real concerns? Is everyone healthy? Anyone gotten sick? Are the food rations sustaining?"

Peter spoke up, afraid that Rocket would start in again. "We're all fine here. Don't listen to Rocket, he's just cranky and still adjusting. She's been a good host."

Fury grinned slightly as he looked at you. "I'd take that as a glowing review, seeing as it came from the man you apparently bit."

You felt your face grow warm and you didn't meet his gaze. You had a feeling he wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

Mantis spoke up again, now excitedly. "Oh yes! She's been very kind! She gave me this bear!"

Oh geez. Of course she'd bring up the bear. You covered your face for a moment and wondered if she ever put the thing down.

Fury looked at the stuffed toy in amusement. He could tell it wasn't new. It was in nice condition, but worn more than what would happen with a week's worth of use. Meaning, he felt you likely hadn't gone out to buy it, he had a feeling that it more than likely came from inside the house, which, if his suspicions were correct...

"Nice to see you're making friends." he said with humor in his voice, only briefly meeting your gaze before you broke it again.

Fury kept the rest of the visit brief, asking a few more questions before he clapped his hands together and said. "Alright, I believe we're done here. If nobody has any further questions, we'll be seeing you all next week. You know how to contact us if there are any problems-" he turned and gave a pointed look at Rocket, clarifying, "any real problems."

"Same time?" you ask.

"We'll see," replied Fury, turning with Maria towards the door when no one spoke up with any further concerns.

You frowned. Clearly he intended to make the next visit a 'surprise' as well. You probably shouldn't be surprised, but you didn't exactly like the anxiety attack he gave you with this 'surprise visit,' and you weren't looking forward to another one.

Rocket watched Fury and Agent Hill as they left, biting his tongue. He considered shouting out after him that you wanted to put them in chains, but of course he knew that him simply seeing the chains wouldn't be enough proof. If he called you out now, you'd probably just make something up, or maybe you had them hidden so if anyone went to look they wouldn't find them.

No. He couldn't say anything yet. He was going to bide his time. He had a suspicion he might find answers in the attic. Why else would you have told Groot there were monsters up there to keep him out, if there wasn't something you were trying to hide?

He only needed to find time to get up there when no one would notice.

At the door Fury pushed a button on his key fob and his vehicle shimmered into place as the cloaking disengaged. You looked unamused and both Fury and Maria nodded in goodbye as they departed.

You shook your head with a sigh and closed the door.

***

"I think that went well," Maria said as she buckled in. "No one's been killed yet."

Fury let half a chuckle and just looked at her before driving away.

***

Some time after Fury had left and everyone had supper you decided to treat yourself to some reading. You decided to curl up on the armchair, something you hadn't done since the Guardians first arrived. This was because you wanted to, definitely not to prove to Peter, who was sitting with Yondu at the table, that you weren't too shy to stay in the same room with other people without coercion.

You were sat curled in the armchair reading a horror novel when Kraglin walked into the room, catching your attention. Of course, when you saw it was him you were unable to hold back your snickers, though you tried to hide them behind your book.

Kraglin's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not that funny!" he groaned.

Yondu, who was growing more curious and amused asks, "What's so 'not funny' that she laughs every time she sees yer face, boy?"

Kraglin gives him a pitiful look, but before he can open his mouth to again beg him not to ask Peter answers for him, retailing the whole embarrassing story while giggling, to Yondu's delight as he starts laughing right along with Peter once he gets to the part about Rocket getting tied to Kraglin's butt.

This, of course, makes you laugh harder, and you're now shaking behind your book.

Kraglin looks like he wants to die before his expression switches to mischievous. Sure, you said you weren't ticklish the other day when Mantis was trying to make you laugh, but he was sure that was obviously a lie. He also knew from dealing with a bratty Peter through the years just how to teach you a lesson. Kraglin approaches you. "You think that's funny? I've give ya something to laugh at, brat!" he says, lunging for one of your feet and scribbling his fingers over the bottom.

This lasts all of half a second before you let out a high squeak, which is then followed by an "OOF!" by Kraglin when your other foot connects with his ribcage.

"Ow! You kick hard!" Kraglin whined, rubbing his ribs where you had just donkey-kicked him.

You blushed slightly, peering over your book. "Yeah, well... I suppose it's in your best interest if you don't try that again." You try to sound intimidating, but it comes out sounding more squeaky than you'd have liked.

"Yeah, no shit." Kraglin replied, still rubbing his ribs as he walked over to sit on the far end of the couch, as if afraid to sit too close to you now.

You muttered into your book, "I'm not even ticklish."

Kraglin just rolled his eyes at you, picking up the remote to turn on the television.

Peter and Yondu just kept laughing.

***

The next morning the novelty of having encountered Kraglin and Rocket tangled up had mostly worn off. Mostly. You didn't burst out laughing every time you saw them anymore, but Kraglin was still slightly annoyed that you still couldn't glance at him without cracking a smile. If you had just been happy to see him he wouldn't have minded, but because he knew it was only a result of yesterday's incident, it was slightly embarrassing.

However, it did make him feel a little better to tease you and Peter for jumping when the toaster popped.

You were buttering your toast when Yondu pulled a jar from the pantry. "What're these?" He hadn't tried much Terran food yet, aside from the few times you had cooked and when Peter beckoned him to try something, and today he was feeling adventurous. Might as well. He had the feeling they were going to be here awhile.

You look over to see him already opening the jar of pickled jalapeños and your eyes widen slightly. "Those are jalapeños. I recommend trying one if you haven't eaten them before, they're hot."

"They ain't hot, the jar's cool?" Yondu said, spearing three slices of jalapeño on a fork. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it. It was only Terran food, after all. What's the worst that could happen?

Seeing the oncoming tragedy that was more than likely about to happen in his mouth you tensed, "No, that's not what-"

Too late. He already ate them.

It was maybe five seconds before his mistake hit him. To his credit, he swallowed, but he also immediately closed the jar. "What the hell!?" he said, looking at you as he tried to suck air into his mouth to cool it down. "What the hell are these things?! My damn mouth is on fire!" He wasn't panicking, to your relief, but he also wasn't happy.

Peter laughed at him. He had thought he remembered jalapeños from when he was a kid, his grandpa would put them in his tacos. However, he didn't try to further warn Yondu with you, wanting to see what would happen. He wasn't disappointed even seeing Yondu glare at him for laughing as he sucked air through his teeth and wiped his now running nose on his sleeve.

You look at Yondu half-apologetically. "I tried to warn you! I told you they were hot- I mean spicy, that's why your mouth burns. Um... here..." You pull down a glass and pour him some milk. "This will help."

He eyed it. "What is it?" He thought it looked like the same white liquid Peter and Kraglin would pour into what Peter called cereal, but he had never bothered to ask them what it was.

"Milk." you answered, getting a very strange look from him in return, a mix of 'What the fuck?!' and near disgust.

Peter spoke up from the table. "It's from a cow. It ain't hers, dude. It's fine."

Your eyes widen, scandalized, as you look to Peter. "Excuse me?"

He looks at you apologetically. "Sorry, I know this is normal here, but uh, on most other planets... you won't really find 'milk' ...unless you're uh, feeding a baby."

A high, "Hmmm..." is all you respond, not sure what else to say to the implication that the blue man thought you were somehow offering him your milk. Your eyes were still wide and you could feel your face growing warm at the uncomfortable information but you still offered out the glass, setting it on the counter between you. "Well this is all I have to offer for the burning. Otherwise you're going to have to wait it out." You cross your arms over your chest self-consciously.

Yondu looked like he was considering for a moment, before hesitantly reaching out to take the glass.

"Drink it slow, it will help with the burning." You then add, mildly scolding. "Next time listen."

He grumbled, but took the glass and sat down at the table next to Kraglin to drink it. Kraglin covered his mouth with his fist, trying not to laugh and looking like he wanted to say something, but Yondu glared at him, grumbling. "Not a word."

Kraglin managed to giggle out a, "Yes, sir." before returning his attention to his cereal, a new food Peter introduced to him a couple days ago that actually wasn't half bad.

Everything was fine for about half an hour or so. You finished your toast and had some juice, and the guys had finished their food as well and the four of you sat in the kitchen talking. Well, they were talking, you were mostly sitting and listening, mostly just making an effort to sit for more than five minutes so Peter would stop giving you that look that said, "Ha, knew you were shy," that he had recently taken to giving you.

Then Yondu suddenly bent slightly and held his stomach with a stifled grunt.

You raised an eyebrow, as did the other two. "You ok?" you asked, seeing his pained expression.

Yondu glared then tensed again, grunting out a "Dammit." before pushing his chair back and making his way quickly from the kitchen without another word.

The three of you shared confused glances.

Then you heard the bathroom door loudly close, and not too long after that began to hear loud noises of the... smelly variety.

Peter half-stifled a laugh, saying. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, I guess."

You could hear the sound of the toilet flush a bit later, but Yondu didn't return. Instead you started to hear the "smelly" noises again, followed by muffled cursing.

Gamora entered the kitchen, holding her nose. You knew that wasn't a good sign regarding the smell of your hallway, and you were only grateful it hadn't made it into the kitchen yet, though you were now less than eager to leave and risk facing it.

"Is he alright?" she asked Peter.

"He'll be fine." Peter laughed in response, receiving a look from Gamora as she sat next to him, no doubt seeking a reprieve from the odor.

A few minutes passed and he still remained in the jacks, but the smell had its own travel plans.

"Oh hell," you choke out, seemingly the first one of the four of you (aside from Gamora from before) the smell decided to assault. You motioned to Peter. "You- windows- help- please? Now?" you say, gagging as you stood and made your way to open the closest window.

"Right behind you!" Peter said, standing and quickly making to open any window in the kitchen he could find. Kraglin stood with Gamora and they left the kitchen, stating that they were going to open the windows in the sitting room and see if that might help. You could hear gagging from the hallway when they left the kitchen. Peter made his way further down the room and gagged as he opened the back door, a cloud of stink having unfortunately pooled down that way as it was the end closest to the bathroom.

He braved the stink just long enough to shout, "Damn, man! What did you eat!?" He only got a, "Oh, grow up!" in response from Yondu from behind the bathroom door.

You exited the kitchen from the other end to open the front door, coughing as your fears were confirmed and the smell was much worse outside the kitchen. You wondered if you should open the upstairs windows as well.

This thought was confirmed when you could hear the sounds of Mantis gagging at the top of the stairs and Drax asking if an animal had died in the house, then going on to confirm it wasn't Rocket as he was with him and Rocket indignantly yelling, "Hey!"

You made your way upstairs, Peter taking your lead and following to open the windows upstairs to help air the house out.

Yondu had only just exited the bathroom when you came downstairs, not looking too pleased. However, he only made it about a meter outside the door before wincing as a cramp told him he wasn't actually finished and spinning on his heels to return to the toilet.

Now Peter actually seemed mildly concerned. "Dude, you ok in there?" he called from a 'safe' distance from the door, as if anywhere was safe from the smell anymore.

There was only more embarrassing noises in response to Peter's question.

"Yondu?" Peter called out.

"Leave me alone, boy! Can't ya see I'm a little busy at the moment?!"

"I can definitely smell it!" Peter shouted back.

"I'm gonna head outside," you choke out, looking at Gamora. "Care to join?" It was less of an invitation and more of a hint. If you value air, maybe get out of the house.

"Way ahead of you dorks!" Rocket called as he ran out the front door with Groot clinging to his back, gagging.

Everyone else followed out the front door, not willing to risk walking toward the back.

"Fresh air!" Peter cried out once he was outside in such a funny way you couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head despite sharing the same sentiments.

After a couple moments of taking in the fresh air, you decided to walk around back. While you were out here you might as well fix the swing.

"Where you going?" Drax asked after you.

Before you could answer, Peter replied in teasing voice, "She's running away 'cause she's shy." Gamora elbowed him and told him to quit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't turn back, flipping him the bird. "I am not. Knock it off."

"Then you won't mind if we join you then, huh?"

You shrugged as you continued walking. "I don't care what you do." you say flippantly, turning the corner of the house.

Peter grinned mischievously. "Oh! So you won't care if I do this?" He jogged after you and all the others heard was a squeaky yip that likely came from you, Peter crying "Ow!" and you responding with, "Then quit that!"

Drax called out, "Mister Fury said no fighting!" as the rest of them followed after the two of you.

"Then Gamora, please come get your child!" is what response came from around the wall.

Drax gave a confused look to Gamora. "Does she really think Quill could be your child?"

Gamora shook her head. "No, Drax. She's just insulting Peter for acting like a child."

You glared at Peter as he rubbed his arm.

"Did you really need to punch so hard?" he asked, laughter in his voice despite the pain.

"Don't startle me next time." You warn, crossing your arms and turning back to keep walking.

Peter smirked. "Oh sure. 'Startle.' Looked a lot more to me like that tickled."

You look back to him with a glare.

Peter held up his hands in a defensive gesture and laughed, and you saw the others rounding the corner and decided to just walk away and let him live for now. Definitely wasn't because you were slightly worried he might try to prove his theory in front of all the others.

You unlocked the shed, grabbed the items you needed from where you had placed them on the workbench the previous day, and shut the shed door and locked it back up all before the others really got near. You hadn't told anyone about the bed frame yet and you didn't intend to, at least not until it was finished.

You dropped the chains by the old swing and walked back towards the shed to grab the ladder leaning against the back wall so that you could cut the old rope away from the large eye hooks drilled into the branch that had been embedded in the tree so long they were now a permanent fixture.

On your way back with the ladder Kraglin asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Fixing the swing," you say, not looking at him as you set up the ladder.

You grab the two lengths of chains and start to ascend the ladder when he speaks again. "Would ya like some help with that? Those chains look heavy."

They weren't. Well, they were heavy enough to support a person, but not heavy enough, or you weak enough, that you couldn't hoist them up the ladder. "I think I can manage," you say, slightly irritated. Last thing you wanted was some "Let the man do the lifting" crap.

"It's just that-"

You look sharply at him, "Just what?"

"Nothin' ma'am." His voice cracked as he spoke and you turned back to carrying the chains back up the ladder.

Rocket, who kept an eye on you the moment he saw the chains, but tried not to make a show of it, came over and stood next to Kraglin, Mantis following close behind.

"Are you fixing the swing?" Mantis asks shyly.

"Yep." you say, clipping one chain to the eye-hook with a locking carabiner.

"I'm sorry I broke it."

You don't look down, reaching up to attach the other chain as you say, "Already told you, wasn't your fault. The rope was old. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so if she breaks something you'll replace it." Rocket said bitterly.

You climb down the ladder and look at him in annoyance. "There's a difference between the rope snapping on her, and you almost throwing the remote through the TV screen during a tantrum."

"I was not throwing a tantrum!" Rocket said indignantly.

"Close enough. Fighting with Peter over it, better?"

Rocket doesn't answer, just crosses his arms and glares at you before taking off. Truthfully, he was less mad about that and more surprised that he saw the chains were being used to fix the swing instead of being used to tie him or his team up. But this didn't mean you still weren't a dick. Just because he was wrong about this one thing, didn't mean he was wrong about you probably hiding some dark plans or something. He just had to find it. He certainly wasn't grasping at straws or anything just 'cause he didn't like you...

You reach down and pick up the wooden seat of the swing. You cut off the rope still attached to the eye hooks running through the board and repeat the same process to attach the chain as you had above.

When you were finished to turned to Mantis and said, "Wanna try it out?"

She giggled excitedly and nodded before hopping on the swing.

You smile and pick up the scraps of rope you had thankfully tossed out of swing-range and noticed Kraglin was gone. So was your ladder.

You turned to see him returning it back to where you had gotten it from and you called after him, "You didn't need to do that!"

He replied back with, "I know!"

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the shed to toss the scraps in the rubbish bin, wondering how long it might take for the house to be inhabitable again.

Gamora and Peter watched as you had finished repairing the swing and smiled. Peter internally noted that you seemed to have a soft spot for Mantis. Of all of them, her and Groot always seemed to get your softer side, even when it was obvious you were trying not to make it obvious. He grinned, sure that there were some advantages to be had from that.

By the time you had met back up with the rest Yondu could be seen exiting the house from the back door and walking towards the group, no doubt also seeking refuge from the smell.

Peter grinned cheekily and asked, "Everything come out ok?"

Yondu just glared at him before grumpily turning to you. "I think that milk stuff ya gave me went bad."

Peter spoke up, "Inside of you, maybe. Kraglin and I ate it and we're fine."

Kraglin nodded in agreement, saying he felt fine. He then suggested that maybe it was those spicy things he ate that didn't agree with him.

Your eyes widened and you crossed your arms nervously. You remembered how Rocket had attempted to poison you with the xanti-berries, and think you just realized what happened. You had accidentally actually did what Rocket had tried to do to you, to Yondu. You wince and say, "I'm sorry."

Noticing your change in expression, Yondu asks, "What?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, "I didn't even think that the milk might make you sick."

Yondu made a grouchy face but said, "Whatever. Guess I know now."

Rocket, who had been listening in not too far off came up and said, "So when I try to do it to her, I'm an asshole, but when she actually poisons him, everything's just dandy!?"

You narrow your eyes but before you can spout off Yondu speaks up irritably. "If I didn't even know it would happen, how the hell is she supposed to know, Rat?"

"Yeah, she was only tryin' to help him." added Kraglin. "Ain't her fault."

Rocket huffed and skulked away. "Whatever," he said, waving you all off, "Screw you all."

"Ignore him." Peter said, annoyance clear in his voice, and changed the subject to something less likely to piss everyone off.

Eventually you all were able to re-enter the house again without gagging.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #nick fury #peter quill #rocket raccoon #kraglin obfonteri #drax the destroyer #gamora #groot #mantis #surprise #earth is space australia

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years ago

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Delusional (Ch.1)

Okay, so this is something that won't be for everyone. It's a trope that me and my friends got into while RPing so this was born. I think this will be one of those fics that I'll only continue if there's enough interest. Let me know what you think!

Tony had been pissed when his parents told him that his mother was pregnant. He had no idea what possessed them to think having another kid was a good idea when they could barely pay attention to the one they already had, and he even said that. It ended up turning into an argument between him and Howard and Tony gave them both the cold shoulder for the entirety of Maria's pregnancy. Whether it was because of her age or possibly because of Tony's ongoing silent treatment stressing her out, his mother went into labor a month early. Tony couldn't even bring himself to visit his parents or the new baby at the hospital, but they eventually came home with his new baby brother that he almost considered ignoring completely.

But then he realized that would make him exactly like Howard.

So when his parents went gallivanting off to some party one day, leaving their preemie baby in the hands of the maid, Tony finally decided to properly meet his brother. A seventeen year age difference wasn't unheard of, but it still felt weird to walk into the nursery with the knowledge that the baby inside was a sibling. He decided he would make sure the baby was still alive and then go back to his bedroom to study for his physics final, but when he approached the crib the baby was sleeping in...he softened.

His baby brother slept peacefully on his back with his arms stretched out on both sides of his head and every so often snuffled in his sleep. He wasn't covered with a blanket and he vaguely recalled hearing that he shouldn't be at his age, but he was at least dressed warmly in tiny blue footie pajamas. He had wisps of dark hair that looked like they would be soft to the touch and Tony was tempted to reach out and see but he refrained. He didn't want to disturb the baby.

Tony had been so focused on ignoring Howard that he had to wrack his brain for his brother's name, which he knew his mother had told him. He was pretty sure he had been studying at the time and was only half listening, but it eventually came to him.

Scott.

Scott Harris Stark.

It was barely seconds later that the baby started to fuss and Tony looked around a little lost before finally giving in and leaning down to scoop him up. Tony was a goner after that. Scott's hair was just as soft as it looked and Tony was worried he could break his brother if he so much as sneezed. It didn't stop him from taking over most of the responsibilities of caring for Scott from that moment on though. Tony did his research, watched his mother, and even asked the maid for advice, but soon he was changing diapers. He fed Scott, stayed up for hours on end when he was colicky or sick, dressed him, played with him…

Tony was determined to make sure Scott had the love and attention he was deprived of. At least Maria tried with both of them.

But when Scott was just under a year old, tragedy struck. Both their parents died in a car accident on the way to a party, leaving Tony alone with his infant brother. Fortunately he was freshly eighteen so he could have legal guardianship over Scott and Tony had Rhodey and Obadiah for support and help with the company he now had control over. Scott always came first though. Tony made sure he had a decent childhood despite the fact that he easily got sick, and the adorable smiles he got in return were well worth it as Scott grew up.

So was the boy's first word. Dad. Tony never corrected him since he did raise Scott, and his brother never knew their parents. So as far as Scott knew, Tony was his father and Tony made sure to hide away the truth. As far as he was concerned, the lie wasn't hurting Scott and it was partly true in a sense.

He didn't expect it to be easy and it wasn't. Because Scott was born premature, he had special needs in the form of allergies (both food and environmental), asthma, and he even got sick constantly. Most days found Scott in Tony's room because the boy whined whenever Tony tried to put him in his own room, and he was terrified Scott would stop breathing in the middle of the night. Scott slept in Tony's bed until well into his grade school years when he finally started to grow out of his need to be near his father. Tony was still nervous and checked on Scott before he went to bed and at least once in the middle of the night when he woke up.

When Tony first found out Scott was allergic to peanuts, he was a wreck. He threatened the doctors to help his kid when he heard Scott wheezing for breath, and when the boy was finally recovering, he demanded they do whatever they had to do to check for any allergies he might have had. Tony didn't think he could handle seeing Scott as sick as he was again. The wheezing, the hives, the overall misery his little boy had been in…

It turned out Scott was severely allergic to all types of nuts. Peanuts, cashews, almonds, walnuts...if it was a nut, Scott couldn't have it. That was easy enough to plan meals around but then there was also shellfish, sesame, parsley, and pineapple. Whenever they went out to eat, Tony scrutinized every ingredient on the menu if it was available, and if it wasn't, he demanded to talk to the chefs. Fortunately once he learned what food Scott could have, it became second nature.

Tony always made sure to carry an inhaler and epipen with him, had extras held for Scott at school, and more in the boy's backpack. He taught Scott as early as possible what he couldn't eat because it would make him very sick and for the most part, things went well enough. There was only one incident at school when Scott unknowingly ate something he wasn't supposed to, but he was quickly treated with one of his pens and sent to the hospital. Scott was quick to bounce back from that since the school staff had been prepared, so the only constant issue was his asthma.

Scott never let it slow him down and Tony swore he was going to either go gray at 25 or suffer heart failure. The little boy was constantly climbing everything, and Tony once had to pull him off the bookcase that he managed to climb up to the fifth shelf. The fifth shelf. Rhodey had his fair share of retrieving Scott from high places whenever he visited too.

Before Tony knew it, Scott had grown into a young man with a talent for hacking and engineering and had a penchant for tacos, oranges, and lollipops. He helped Tony with a lot of his projects but absolutely refused to help with anything related to weapons. Scott never liked violence and always hated that Stark Industries was solely based on weapons making. Tony never faulted him for it.

"Scott, have you seen my--?" Tony stops mid sentence when he looks over at the young man and finds him at his computers with his feet kicked up on a small part of the desk, dozing with a lollipop in his mouth. "Oh, that's safe."

He walks over and takes the lollipop out of Scott's mouth and he jolts awake. "Hey! I was eating that!" Scott complains.

"Yeah, you were very proactive about it. I didn't raise you for 21 years so you could choke and die because you fell asleep with candy in your mouth." Tony rolls his eyes and sticks the candy back in Scott's mouth before he could protest. "Now have you seen that little screwdriver you like to steal?"

"You had it last, and I've been busy updating Jarvis's code." Scott answers.

"I saw that. I guess you're so good you can do it in your sleep."

"It was uploading!" Scott drops his feet to the ground with an annoyed huff. "And I told you I wouldn't help you with your stupid weapons. That includes finding misplaced tools."

"Fine, fine."

Tony tries fixing the cow lick in Scott's hair and rolls his eyes when it only floofs back into place. He learned very early on that his kid's hair was untameable but that didn't stop Tony from trying. Hair gel, pomade, hair spray...none of it could contain and style Scott's hair. The cow lick worked for him though so Tony wasn't too obsessed with trying to find something to keep it in place.

"Well while you wait for your new code to upload, why don't you make me a sandwich?" Tony says. "I gotta get the Jericho prototype finished tonight."

Scott frowns. "Why do they want you to fly all the way out to Afghanistan? What's wrong with how you usually sell this stuff?"

"It's just for a couple of days volpino. Now where's my tuna sandwich?" Tony asks.

"Probably in the fridge. It's deconstructed." Scott says as he leaves the lab.

"Oh, haha. Funny. I like mine constructed so get on it. Chop chop."

Tony smirks when he hears Scott mumble something under his breath along the lines "slave driver", but with no heat. Things had gotten easier as Scott got older but he never really grew out of his physical problems. He still had his food and environmental allergies, his asthma, and even his tendency to get sick, but that had mostly been remedied when Tony moved them to Malibu. The warm weather helped with that and Scott didn't get sick nearly as often as he did in New York, and that had been a huge relief for the both of them. Tony only wished he had thought of it sooner.

When Scott comes back with the sandwich and sets it nearby for Tony, the man looks up at him and rolls his eyes when he finds the younger man drinking out of a juice box. "You know you can have beer now right?"

"Juice is better." Scott says. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"You'll probably still be asleep. Even if I leave late." Tony grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. "So try not to blow up the lab while I'm gone." He adds around his mouthful.

"That's no fun." Scott says sarcastically. "Pepper called by the way. She said she has some paperwork for you to look at before you leave."

Tony groans. "Tell her I'm not home."

"It'll be true in a few hours anyway."

"Don't underestimate Pepper. She'll be waiting on the tarmac for me to look at those papers if she has to." Tony grumbles and then looks up at Scott with a suspicious smile that makes his son narrow his eyes at him. "You're 21. Maybe it's time to start giving you some responsibility with the company."

"I do. It's called making sure my dad doesn't blow himself up because he writes codes when he's half asleep. How are we still alive?"

"Rhodey and Happy." Tony replies dryly before whapping Scott upside the head. "Don't sass me."

Scott rubs the back of his head as he walks back over to his personal workstation to check on the progress of the code. When he had shown an interest in engineering and computers, Tony had immediately set up Scott's own work area with age appropriate equipment that he either replaced or updated as Scott got older. He was good at it too. Tony couldn't count the number of times he got calls from the FBI asking him to get Scott to stop leaving them viruses with laughing cat videos or something. They were always harmless and easily fixed, so Tony's response was to tell them to update their security so Scott couldn't get in.

Apparently they had yet to find a way to keep Scott out and Tony wasn't about to take away one of his son's very few joys in life. As long as it all stayed harmless, Tony would look the other way. He knew Scott was very capable of hacking into pretty much anything, and he was glad his kid was a pacifist. Because Scott was definitely very capable of getting his hands on nuke codes.

Tony actually wouldn't be surprised if Scott had already gone in and changed them.

Some whirring pulls Tony out of his thoughts and he looks over at the kitchenette to find DUM-E making smoothies again. A quick glance told him that there was at least peanut butter and almond milk in it so it wasn't safe for baby boy consumption.

"Hey! Are you trying to kill your little brother with that?" Tony asks and DUM-E beeps sadly when the blender goes off. "You know he can't have nuts!"

"There goes my social life." Scott says and Tony makes a face.

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Says the man whose one night stands I had to chase away."

Tony laughs. "To be fair, it was funny to see them get creeped out when you just stood in the kitchen and stared at them while drinking your juice box."

"...yeah. That was pretty fun." Scott admits.

"Sir, Miss Potts is on her way down." JARVIS says and Tony groans.

"Ugh the dreaded secretary with her paperwork."

There's a few beeps before the lab door hisses open and then the sound of heels clicking across the linoleum.

"Tony-"

"I know," he sighs. "Paperwork. Give it to Scott."

Pepper places the small stack next to his arm. "He's too busy making sure you don't blow yourself up."

"You know I had to teach him how to do that right?"

"And now he's better than you." Pepper says and Scott cackles.

"Ouch. My pride." Tony clutches at his chest in mock hurt.

"Please just look at this and sign. It won't even take you ten minutes." Pepper sighs.

"I trust you."

"Nice try."

#tony stark #scott lang #pepper potts

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

Text

Date Nights (5/5)

Read on Ao3.

Alex wakes up on Christmas morning at 4 am, unable to fall back asleep due to a mixture of nerves and excitement. Sliding out of bed slowly, he tucks the duvet around Michael and pulls on sweatpants as quietly as possible before heading into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

While the coffee maker works, he plugs in the Christmas tree and the garland over the mantle, admiring the twinkling lights and carefully chosen ornaments. For Christmas this year, they’d gathered with their friends and family early and exchanged ornaments. Liz’s gift had been a cowboy alien, glow in the dark and bearing no resemblance at all to Michael. Rosa’s had been a beautiful glass bulb she’d hand-painted with the cosmos. Kyle’s a simple wood-carved Merry Christmas. Rosa had gotten a hold of it and painted it with various iconography of the holidays - lights, Santa hats, and reindeer faces.

Max’s had been a collection of simple red Christmas bells, their jingle light and tinkling whenever either of them accidentally bumped into the tree. Isobel’s expensive and crystal - a star with swirls that reminded everyone of the console tech in Michael’s bunker. Maria had given them a giant, purple eggplant ornament as a joke, but they’d still hung it on the tree anyway. Smiling fondly every time their eyes landed on it. She’d followed the joke with a gorgeous, brightly-beaded patchwork that she said reminded her of how she felt when their love bled over into her sight - colorful, lacking definition, and like the calm that only comes after the storm.

Michael and Alex had chosen the rest themselves. A mixture of whimsy and classic Christmas. It was hodgepodge and lacked any real thematic structure, but it was also beautiful, filled with love, and theirs.

Back in the kitchen, Alex hops up on the corner of the counter and sips at his coffee. He had planned to let Michael sleep in for once, to cook him breakfast and spend the rest of the day either in bed or wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Keeping his gift for Michael a secret until sunset. But that’s not going to happen. He’s too keyed up. Too anxious to wait.

Pouring a second cup, he heads into the bedroom and sets the coffee on Michael’s nightstand. He finishes getting dressed so that it’s less likely Michael will be able to seduce him back into bed, and then gently shakes him awake. It’s not even 5 am yet so he’s not surprised when Michael mildly panics at being woken up while it’s still dark outside. ‘What’s wrong?’ He reaches out to palm at Alex, needing to make sure he’s okay.

‘Nothing’s wrong, but I need you to wake up.’

Michael’s eyes crack open and he blinks away the sleep before responding. ‘What? Why? We were going to sleep in.’ His voice is soft and groggy.

Alex grabs the coffee and hands it to him, hoping the warm drink will lure him into a sitting position. ‘I know, but I’m too excited to wait. I want to give you your Christmas present right now.’

It works. Michael sits up to sip his coffee and stare at Alex skeptically. ‘You’re making me nervous. You’ve got that look Isobel gets when she’s about to do something she loves but everyone else hates.’

‘Wow, Guerin. And to think I was going to scramble eggs while you showered.’

‘I’m much rather you join me. Eggs can wait.’ He slides his hand very suggestively up Alex’s thigh but gets his hand lightly slapped before he can do any real damage.

‘Nope. I’m not letting you get me naked. Not yet anyway. Now, go get ready.’

‘Okay. Now I’m definitely worried. When have you ever turned down sex? I can’t recall a single time.’ Alex swats his ass as he heads toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Michael pads into the kitchen where Alex hands him a bowl of scrambled eggs smothered with melted cheese and freshly chopped chives. ‘Eat fast.’ Alex’s own bowl is already half empty.

He only takes a couple of careful bites. Not because the eggs aren’t good - they’re great. It’s just that Alex is not the big gesture type, and Michael’s not great at receiving gifts of any kind, large or small.

‘Alex?’ He doesn’t know how to ask what he’s about to ask.

‘Hmm?’ He’s finished his breakfast. Sitting on the counter, phone in hand. Probably texting all their friends Merry Christmas.

Michael takes a steadying breath. ‘This isn’t...I mean, this gift isn’t...a proposal, right?’ The thing is he’s racked his brain two days trying to figure out what Alex has been so anxious about. Two days of his brain circling back to this conclusion every time. A proposal. Some giant gesture. Something so unlike Alex.

And to be honest, the idea of marrying Alex isn’t what makes him nervous. It’s the idea that Alex is only doing this because he thinks that’s what Michael wants him to do or needs him to do or some reason equally as unsatisfying. Because Alex’s meticulous, risk assessing brain cannot possibly think getting engaged so soon is a good idea.

The look on Alex’s face is hard to read. He’s tucked his phone back into his pocket and his lips have thinned like he’s trying to smile but forgot how. When he finally speaks his voice is low. Undeniably sad. ‘No, Michael. It’s not a proposal. Not really. But I guess you could say it’s not not a proposal.’

Alex slides gingerly off the counter, landing on his left foot and unable to meet Michael’s eye. That’s when he knows he’s messed up.

‘I didn’t mean anything by that. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you aren’t ready for yet.’

‘You still doubt me. That’s fair.’ He rinses his bowl in the sink, keeping his back turned. ‘Well, it’s a good thing I hadn’t planned to propose then. Maybe we should just head to the Pony instead. Help Maria set up the charity lunch.’ There’s a tremble in his voice that Michael hates.

Alex starts to walk past him, but Michael grabs his elbow, spinning him back around. ‘Hey. Hey, hey, hey. I don’t doubt that you want this as much as I do. But I do think you’d ignore your own feelings to put mine first. I want us to be on the same page. That’s all.’

Tears burn at the corner of Alex’s eyes. Michael reaches his hand up to brush them away, but Alex takes several steps back, swiping at them with the back of his hands. ‘You’re right. I don’t make big gestures. They terrify me. This terrifies me - that I did this thing without your permission. So I’ve been a nervous wreck for weeks. Worried that you would say no or laugh or something else you would never do but that my brain wouldn’t shut up about. And now, I’m pretty sure I messed up. Let’s just forget about it and go help Maria.’

He leaves the kitchen, grabbing his coat off the dining room table. Michael doesn’t move until he hears the front door open and close. The door slams shut hard enough that the windows rattle over Alex’s keyboard, and Michael’s knuckles whiten as he grips the countertop.

This scene an all too familiar memory. Emotions high and Alex skittering away.

Taking a deep breath, he tells himself no. This is different. They are different.

Alex hasn’t run away. He’s just outside waiting, getting some fresh air and calming down. Clearing his head. Because that’s what they do now. They take breaks when needed, but there’s no running.

Michael stuffs his feet inside his boots and drops his hat on his head, coat in his hand. He finds Alex exactly where he expects to, huddled inside his Explorer and the engine already running. When he opens the passenger side door, Alex even manages a weak smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘No sorrys.’ He buckles his seatbelt and reaches across to squeeze Alex’s thigh. ‘We have plenty of time to help Maria. I want my gift.’

Alex nods but doesn’t move to leave. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, biding his time. Michael settles back in his seat to wait.

‘Promise me something.’ His fingers stop their tapping.

‘Anything.’

He shifts toward Michael as best he can with his seatbelt fastened. ‘If you don’t like the gift for any reason whatsoever, you’ll tell me.’

There’s no running and there’s no lying. ‘I promise.’

The drive out to wherever they’re going is quiet. Christmas music plays faintly through the speakers, but neither of them says anything. Michael’s not a fan of the tension between them, but the lack of anger or sharp words proves -- at least to him -- that they’ve really accomplished something by working hard to get to this softer place.

He watches Alex out of the corner of his eye. Eyes fixed on the road ahead and mind whirling. Every so often he takes a measured breath, loudly exhaling. The most obvious sign that he’s been back in therapy for a couple of months now. Michael aches to climb into his lap and soothe away all his worries, all his fears. But until he knows what this gift is, he knows he can’t.

About half a mile from Foster’s Ranch, Alex pulls the car off the road, coming to a sudden stop at the chained gates of the old Ellison property. Michael watches him climb out of the car and walk a few feet onto the ranch, ignoring the half-dozen no trespassing signs.

Worried that he’s about to have a panic attack, Michael follows him. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and studying his face. Nothing seems wrong, his breathing even. ‘You alright?’

‘Yeah. What do you know about Ellison’s Ranch?’ His eyes dart back to the locked gate.

It’s a strange question, but maybe he needs a distraction. Michael’s happy to comply. ‘Uh, Old Man Ellison was a bigger dick than Foster. Died earlier this year. No family so the property was supposed to go for auction. About a hundred acres, give or take.’ He shrugs.

‘Hundred and one.’

‘What?’

Alex motions to the wide open expanse ahead of them. ‘One hundred and one acres exactly. Homestead property, used by the Ellison’s for horse breeding mostly.’

‘Okay.’ Michael’s not sure where he’s headed with any of this. ‘Ellison hated trespassers.’ He points back to the signs. ‘His ghost is likely to murder us if we stand here too long.’ He laughs at his own joke knowing how much Alex hates even the mention of ghosts.

But Alex just keeps staring straight into the distance. ‘We’re not trespassing.’

‘Signs beg to differ. We should just keep going, Alex. There’s nothing out here but dirt.’ He turns to head back to the Explorer, hoping Alex will do the same.

‘I bought this place at auction last month. Signed the final papers Wednesday morning. We’re not trespassing. It’s ours. Merry Christmas, Guerin.’

Michael stops dead in his tracks, spins slowly around. Alex’s hands are now in his pockets, shoulders tense. ‘What?’ He rejoins him, wrapping his fingers around Alex’s bicep. ‘You had this kind of money?’

‘No.’ He risks a quick glance at Michael and then back out toward the mountains. ‘It’s the money from my dad’s estate.’

‘Your dad left you his estate?’ That’s the wildest thing he’s said all morning.

Alex snorts. ‘Fuck, no. He didn’t leave me anything. Left almost everything to Clay, a bit to Greg. His weapons collection to Flint. Nothing to me.’

That checks out. Entirely expected. But rage boils just beneath the surface of Michael’s skin anyway. Alex is and always has been the best of them. And even if he is biased, that’s still the truth. ‘Then how?’

‘The auction notice was in the paper one morning when I was having breakfast with Greg. We talked about it. I mentioned how perfect the acreage was -- meant more for residential living than farming or ranching. Mentioned wanting something like this for me and you.’ He smiles, a real one this time. Full-bodied and bright. ‘A week later they wired me the money. Greg wanted nothing to do with dad’s legacy, and Clay wanted nothing to do with any of us, really.’

Michael gawks at him. Mouth agape and eyes wide. ‘It was enough?’

Alex nods. ‘For the property, yeah. Razing that old farmhouse and building a home of our own? That’s going to be up to us.’

‘A home of our own?’ He knows he sounds like an idiot. Repeating Alex’s simple words back at him. But that’s the best he’s got at the moment.

‘I thought maybe we could design a space that works for both of us. A space adaptable to my mobility needs, roomy enough to have friends stay whenever they want. A home meant for a family with a couple of kids.’ He pauses, lets that sink in. ‘A dog or two. Maybe some chickens and goats out back. Horses, even. Since there are already stables.’

Michael steps behind him, pressing his chest into Alex’s back and wrapping his arms firmly around his waist. ‘Keep going.’

‘A workshop for you. One that’s not buried in the ground. Where the sun shines on your face and the stars guide you at night. A soundproof studio for me so I don’t bother anyone trying to sleep. And anything else, Michael. Anything else you want.’ His voice falters the tiniest bit, low and strained with emotion. Another measured breath. ‘It’s too much. Right?’

Yes.

But the thing is, Michael can see everything Alex described. The house, the workshop, the studio. Even the goddamn horses. And all of that is nice. Perfect. The best dream imaginable. But what sells him is the mention of kids. Their kids. Their kids growing up here. Safe and loved. Chasing after chickens and crying over skint knees. Michael holding his little girl’s hand as she wobbles down the steps desperate to run after the dog while Alex follows with their son in his arms.

Suddenly, his mother’s words come to him, unbidden from where he’d locked them away. The words he’d kept for himself. Don’t be afraid to fight for your own happiness, my love. How easily she’d seen through him and known exactly what he needed to hear.

So, he fights.

‘Yes.’ He whispers the words directly into Alex’s ear. ‘But we’ve always been too much. Me and you. Why stop now?’

Michael kisses down Alex’s neck and holds him tighter while the sun climbs higher overhead, illuminating the desert morning stretching out around them. Cars pass behind them on the highway and somewhere in the distance, a rooster crows. He replays the scene in his head again -- their little girl tumbling down the stairs, Alex snuggling their son into giggles.

Alex has made him this promise, and now it’s his turn.

‘Hey, Alex.’

‘Hmm?’ Michael knows he’s lost in his own daydream. Perhaps the exact same one.

‘Marry me.’

#malex #malex fic #christmas fic #all done #not sure if there will be more #no promises but you can beg #lol

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disaster-fruit · 4 years ago

Note

could you tell us more about the brarg family au with the 3 babies and trans luci?

I definitely can! This au has been living rent free in my head since i started that drawing and I was actually sketching more stuff for the AU right before I got this ask so- I definitely can ramble more about it

This was supposed to be just a collection of a few hcs and now it’s a multi-pages word document the size of a fanfic so – Im really sorry.

I didn’t think a lot about their backstories tbh, though I have it in my mind that Luciano transition in his late teens and that he and martin either met after that or knew each other before luciano came out, lost all contact, and then met again after (and you can blame oxiosas fic for that yeah im not even subtle)

But I imagine them having some sort of meet cute and kinda progressing really fast in their relationship without realizing – yk, its just a fling, no big deal, yeah ive met his parents, yes I basically spend every weekend in his apartment, yeah I have a spare key now, ops I guess we’re adopting dogs and plants together- oh I think we’re married. Yeah. We’re married.

Ok but for real Luci does the proper proposal-with-a-ring-and-knelt-down-on-a-special-day thing and Martin is just bright red saying yes over and over again

It is Afonso (port) the first to be all WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN like… the night of their wedding.

They live in a house in a not too big city with two dogs, one cat, one parrot and all the birds that Luciano feeds and names that aren’t actually theirs. Still, they choose the house with two spare rooms because they always talked about having two kids.

In this AU they can buy a nice house and don’t have to worry about money and can raise kids like the world isn’t ending.

I think right after they got married they got in line for adoption. However, everything indicated that it would take a long long time so they started talking about the possibility of trying to have a biological kid. I think luci was the one to suggest it when he noticed martin had been thinking about it but not saying anything for a while.

Lots of boring doctor visits and confused doctors looking at luciano and trying to process it like the dumb cishets they are. Boring exams and all that, but everything is on track eventually, luci pauses his hrt and keeps his jockstrap on the drawer and they’re googling the best positions for fertility on those weird cishet sites and doing it like bunnies etc etc

Getting pregnant the natural way after years of testosterone is not the easiest thing in the world, so it takes a while. But eventually it works.

Both of them are kinda freaking out with this whole first pregnancy thing. Martin is the ultimate protective husband, and spends way too much time on the internet finding out what luciano can and can’t eat, what exercises he should do, and going to every single doctor visit. He’s very committed to it.

Luciano has to drink non-alcoholic beer and hates life. There’s a single teardrop shed every time he buys it. And drinks a lot of lemonade like it’s the same as caipirinha. Poor guy. Martin doesn’t help on that, life isn’t fair, he buys his own beer.

But he also has to drive absurd lengths to find the weirdest fruit or make the most hideous, blasphemous pizza toppings because Luciano is constantly craving absurd shit. But poor baby actually really NEEDS that chicken M&M pizza at 8am.

They’re super proud daddies though, and both their instagrams at this point are just baby belly pictures. Luci had top surgery on this au on my hc so also. Lots of shirtless pics. He looks like an old uncle with a beer belly and he’s PROUD. Just. Baby bellies all over.

Martin picks the entire baby layette. Because of course he does.

Their baby shower is a huge deal though. Their dads are there, Antonio brings an entire trunk filled with diapers and tells everyone how many tincho used to need when he was a baby, Afonso is cooking for everyone and talking about how he’s gonna be a grandfather (!!!). Iracema (pindorama) is scolding Luci about his bad habits while also quietly being a super proud grandma. Zola (angola) bought toys because she knows that’s what kids actually like, Samero (Mozão) keeps asking if they installed all the necessary security stuff in their house – we will, chill, we still have some months to go – Vera (Tomé) is teasing Simão (Timor) about him no longer being the family baby, Fatima (g.bissau) is another one who bought a huge amount of diapers, Rosinha (cabo verde) is taking pictures of everyone and everything, Sebas and Dani are discussing if the kid should speak Portuguese or Spanish, Maria brought a huge pink plushy as a gift, it’s quite a party.

Once they’re late in the pregnancy, Luciano mostly spends his time on Martin’s oversized t-shirts asking for foot rubs and not getting much sleep because the baby keeps moving. Martin on the other hand is a little nervous about being a dad, but absolutely loves feeling the little kicks and talking to the baby all the time, except when its 3am and he wants to sleep but Luci cant because of it so he just does his best to keep him company. He mostly ends up falling asleep on his chest though and doesn’t help much

I wrote all of this but I still don’t have a name for the girl lol Anyway, she’s finally born, and if martin was overprotective when Luciano was pregnant, he’s ten times more with his baby girl. Tbh theyre both kinda going crazy with this whole parenting thing, both are overprotective, tired, and have no idea what theyre doing.

Zola and Sebastian are the girl’s godparents. Sebastian isn’t very good with kids so when he takes care of his niece he either puts on a tv show and lets her eat whatever crap she wants, or relies on Daniel to do the actual taking care, since he is good with kids.

Luciano and Martin are very much neurotic first-timers and have all this schedule of what their girl can eat and when and when she has to sleep etc etc.

When Zola takes care of her, she just ignores it and does it her way. She helped raised Luci since he was a baby anyway, he survived just fine and even married and reproduced, she knows what to do better than both the dumbasses, and they never even find out.

Afonso on the other had follows everything when he’s with his granddaughter, determined to be a better grandfather than he was a father, and the baby loves him so he’s doing a good job.

They’re a very cute family yes yes

She grows up well and happy, a bit shy maybe but very smart and sweet, loves the dogs and her aunts and uncles and granddads (afonso more than antonio though)

By the way, Iracema is soft like butter with her granddaughter.

When she’s about four or five years old they start talking about having a second one, considering the age difference and all. So back to doctors, Luci stops the hrt again and they go back to trying, but again it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do it naturally after years of hrt.

But god listens to the prayers of such good catholic family, and right after they start thinking about a second child, they receive the news they will finally get to adopt a baby.

Luciano is the one to receive the news, he’s working at home when the social worker comes to tell him they can finally adopt. He’s extremely happy, he hugs the poor lady and is barely able to concentrate as she explains the paperwork that is left and the details of it because he can’t stop smiling.

He immediately texts martin saying something like “CALL ME RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TALK” and it’s in happy caps but martin understands it wrong and thinks someone is dying or dead but then his phone is what dies so he gets home as fast as he can thinking all the worst scenarios just to find luciano jumping on him with a smile for ear to ear. It’s such a shock he takes a while to react but when he does you have two idiots so happy they can’t function.

It’s another girl, she has big brown eyes like her sister and it’s a few months old.

They quickly reassemble the crib and paint the second room to get everything ready in time to take her home, and the next week or so it’s nothing but all the family visiting to meet their new baby.

Since they managed to adopt, they decided to stop trying to have another kid. Luciano goes back to the doctor do some routine exams so that he can go back to testosterone and the doctor just awkwardly explains that, well, that won’t be exactly possible. Not for the next eight months, at least.

He’s quite shocked at that, and takes him a while to tell martin. They just got a new baby and do they even have space to raise three kids? Eventually it just escapes from him and martin is shocked as well, but ultimately both of them are just worried about their place being too small, and once they relax about that they can’t shut up about having another baby on the way to anyone.

Still, it’s not easy to manage, martin is just as worried as he was with their eldest, except that this time he’s simultaneously worried about their new baby and about Luci’s pregnancy. Poor dude needs a break asap. So he’s trying to do most of the work of caring for a little baby to spare luciano from the stress, while also taking care of him as well as he did the other time.

Luci is more chill about being pregnant, he’s done this before, he’s fine. He’s even a little too chill about it, as shown in the art, he still wants to carry their kid on his shoulder and having a few sips of martin’s beer is no big deal and honestly he’s fine, he can help with the baby, and Tincho just needs to relax and it will all be fine.

Again, poor tincho needs a break.

Some things don’t change though. Them being super proud daddies who do nothing but take pictures of their kids and Luci’s belly every chance they get. And they’re really happy and excited to have their house full and this big family.

Just a good cute family AU where nothing bad ever happens thank you very much. Yet it took me almost 2k words to say it. I have no self control and I’m very sorry. However, if anyone has their own hcs to add about this whole au, I will be more than happy to hear and talk about this AU even more than I’ve already done.

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pastelwitchling · 5 years ago

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Alex heard the truck pull up to his driveway, Buffy pawing at the door, urging to be let out to greet the newcomer. Alex pulled the curtain back enough to see who it was. Michael.

He ducked his head and sighed. Here we go, he thought. He didn’t know when the sight of the cowboy induced resignation and dread in him, and part of him wanted to cry for it, but he didn’t know how Michael would receive that, and after everything that had transpired the past few months – Max’s death, finding out about Maria and Michael, his father lying useless in a coma – he didn’t know how much more disappointment he could take.

“I’m coming, girl,” he said to Buffy, grabbing his crutch off the wall where it had been leaning, and, without throwing a jacket over his pale-blue t-shirt, he opened the door, and his beagle went running out.

She barked excitedly, and Alex took a deep breath, bracing himself before he stepped out as well.

Michael and Alex nearly walked into each other as the cowboy had seemingly ignored Buffy barking at his feet altogether in favor of rushing to the airman’s front door. Michael reached out his hands to steady Alex, and while his touch might have once excited the airman, left electricity shooting up and down his body, and had him yearning for more, to be closer, Michael’s hands on him now only reminded him of Maria, reminded him that Maria had touched those hands, had pulled Michael in close to her. It made Alex sick.

He flinched away, and Michael let go, hurt flashing in his expression for a split second before it was gone.

“Sorry,” Alex murmured. “I just… don’t like being touched.”

Michael glanced at him, then away. It was mostly the truth. Alex wasn’t a huge fan of physical contact, unless it was by someone he trusted wasn’t going to hurt him. That used to be five people. Then it became three, and before Alex knew it, there was no one. Michael seemed to realize that he was not someone Alex trusted anymore.

“Kyle gave me this,” Michael said as he held up a red file in his hand, some of the venom when he spoke to Alex – as if he was talking to someone he wasn’t particularly fond of – returned to his voice. Alex liked to pretend Michael didn’t mean to do it, that it was how he spoke to everyone, but sometimes it was like the cowboy was watching him, waiting for his reaction, to be sure he hurt Alex in some way.

“Couldn’t give me this yourself?”

Alex caught his gaze steadily, already weary from this conversation. When did that happen? When did just talking to Michael exhaust him? “You don’t care, Guerin. What’re you here for?”

Michael seemed momentarily startled before an expression Alex was all too familiar with – rage – took over his beautiful features, and he shoved the file against Alex’s chest, its corner digging into Alex’s neck.

Michael kept his hand on the file, and on the airman’s chest. “Where the hell did you get this? I thought your enlistment period was over already. If you broke the law to get this information, Private –”

“I didn’t break anything,” Alex said, trying not to think of the concern in Michael’s eyes. He wasn’t worried for Alex’s safety. He was just worried he would get dragged into an investigation if Alex was caught. “I have access to this stuff. And I’m careful. I won’t get caught, don’t worry.”

“Access?” he asked, realization dawning in his eyes. “How? How, Alex?”

Alex sighed. “I extended my enlistment period, okay?”

“Extended by how much?” Michael grit out.

He rubbed his face. “Four years. I – look, Guerin, it’s fine –”

“You reenlisted? Alex,” Michael moved back, but Alex covered the cowboy’s hand on his chest with his own to keep him in place. To keep him close, a voice in the back of his mind confessed.

“Why? Why would you do something so stupid –”

“If I left Roswell,” Alex cut him off, and the cowboy turned silent, “and I asked you to come with me… would you?”

Michael’s eyes were glassy as he glared at Alex, and when he said nothing, Alex told himself that it was okay, that he hadn’t expected Michael to ever say yes. But, nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink into his stomach, his own eyes burning. He clenched his jaw.

“That’s why,” he said quietly. “Michael, you can’t even look at me anymore without hating me. You can’t stop blaming me for what happened, so if this fixes things,” he shrugged, “then I’m going to do it.”

“Alex…” Michael shook his head. For a moment, just a moment, he looked like he wanted to hold Alex, like he wanted to kiss him, to comfort him. Then he seemed to snap out of his haze, and Alex felt dread growing in his chest.

“Your family killed my mom, Alex, they took her away from me. Nothing can fix that!”

“I know,” Alex said desperately. He had promised himself he wouldn’t fight to keep Michael near him, but having him so close now pushed him over that edge of hope. “And I know what that feels like, to lose your mom because of Jesse Manes, but I –”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” he snapped, a tear rolling down his cheek. “My mom and I were separated because of them, she didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me anymore…”

Michael trailed off, his eyes widening with what he’d said. Alex couldn’t help his own shock. Slowly, he released his hold on Michael’s hand and stepped back.

“No,” Michael started to say as Alex turned towards the cabin door. Buffy was whimpering at Alex’s side as if even she could sense his distress. “No, wait, I-I didn’t mean that, I didn’t –”

But Alex couldn’t hear him anymore. She didn’t leave me because she didn’t want me anymore. And the way he had said it, as if it was obvious that was why Alex’s mother had left, as if it was obvious why anyone would leave him; she didn’t want him. No one did, Alex realized. Maria and Liz didn’t care for his friendship, Kyle only really needed his help, and Michael… Michael…

“Alex,” he tried again, and this time Alex could hear the panic in his voice. It was only because he was afraid Alex would stop helping him if he was upset. But he wasn’t upset. How could he be? No one wanted him; he’d always known that. He just supposed he never expected Michael to be the one to confirm it.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Alex said numbly, “even if you’re angry.”

“I’m sorry –”

“No, you’re not.”

“Alex.”

Michael’s voice was desperate, scared even. Alex’s heart ached for him even though he knew it shouldn’t. He sighed, letting Buffy into the cabin before he turned at the threshold. He was so tired.

“It’s okay. Okay? Please, just… leave.”

“Alex –” Michael tried, but Alex had already shut the door. It wasn’t until several moments later that Michael’s footsteps sounded walking away, the engine of a truck turned on, and he was gone.

Alex had been frozen to the spot, and only until he was sure Michael wouldn’t be knocking again did he fall to the ground against the door. Buffy nuzzled his arm, trying to get him to cheer up.

Alex didn’t think there’d be any cheering up today. Maybe tomorrow.

***

It’s been a weekend. If any of you didn’t know, chapter seven of the Malex Viking au is up now on ao3! We’ve one more chapter to go.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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skinsharpenedteeth · 4 years ago

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Truth or Dare - Halloween fic

Hey there! Here’s a Kinktober prompt fill and the prequel to a College AU 5+1 I’m planning. I guess it’s a little unkind to Maria? I don’t know. I don’t hate Maria, but I could live without her character. No body is dating anyone in this, so it’s not that kind of Maria unkind. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it! Definite smut after the cut.

Kinktober prompts filled: Nipples/petting, Costumes, Getting Caught, Body Modification Words Count: 7.5k AO3

It was nearly midnight on Halloween and Alex was *over* frat/sorority mating rituals. The first half of the party had been drunker-by-the-minute sorority girls offering to help him experiment with his sexuality in case he ‘wasn’t sure’ that he was really, really gay and the second half had been bro’s approaching him after their girls had whispered about him to test if he was really, really gay. Once the herd had been assured he was super duper gay and not willing to perform party tricks to prove it, he’d been left blissfully alone. Well, sort of blissfully. Alex was bored out of his skull. He’d been leaning against a hallway wall for the better half of an hour sipping rum and coke and people watching.

Maria had drug him here under the false pretense of introducing him to someone from her Algebra class only to have them mysteriously not show up. Now she was holed up in a corner dressed like a vintage playboy bunny and talking to some curly haired dude bro dressed as a caveman while Alex drank alone and stared lasers through them. He could be working on homework or picking up a shift at the 24/7 diner right now…or sleeping! The dude bro would catch his eye every so often and give him frank, curious up-and-downs, until finally he seemed to say something to Maria about it because she turned and looked at Alex, rolling her eyes. Oh, hell no. A few minutes more of close conversation between them and with a put-upon sigh, Alex watched Maria make her way over to him.

“You’re being creepy,” she announced, sipping her drink casually as she mirrored his position and leaned against the wall to face him. Alex rolled his eyes and proceeded to scowl at her.

“Well, it is a Halloween party,” he deflected, sipping his own drink and cringing inwardly at the idea that Curly Caveman might think he was a Creepy Gay.

“Yeah, but you’re a pirate on the look out for some booty, not a ghoul. Go find someone to talk to or to not talk to. I should have this,” she indicated Curly Caveman with a backward jerk of her head, “finished within an hour or two and then we can go back to the dorm.”

Curly Caveman was walking over to them and Alex tried to ignore how little the animal print loin cloth covered of him. Alex tried not to memorize every inch of him, but his brain was not cooperating. Maria, while being self-centered and completely unreliable, had excellent taste in boy toys. Curly Caveman slid up next to them and eyed them both with a cautious smile. He turned to Alex and gave his costume a good once over.

“Dread Pirate Roberts?” Curly asked, smiling appreciatively.

“At your service,” Alex flirted. He couldn’t help it. Technically Maria had called dibs, but she could literally fuck anyone at this garbage fire of a party and he wanted to have a little fun too.

“Alex, this is Michael. He belongs to Alpha Alpha Beta. We have Composition together. Michael, this is Alex, my best friend since junior high,” Maria introduced them. They did the head nod acknowledgment thing at each other and then awkward silence descended on the group.

“Hey, why don’t we go upstairs? Michael has a room here. Maybe we could play a game or something? It’s just so loud down here and I’d love to be able to get to know you better” Maria suggested, a mischievous glint in her eye as trailed a finger down Curly’s naked torso. Curly Caveman—Michael‐‐ looked consideringly at the crowd around them and nodded.

“Lead the way,” Alex commanded, waving them towards the stairs across the room. He thought he saw Michael look between himself and Maria and take a bolstering inhalation before turning and starting for the stairs. Alex had an excellent view of his ass and thighs as he started climbing the stairs ahead of him. What he could do with those wrapped around his waist….

“Ow!” Alex exclaimed after a sharp elbow found a soft spot on his ribs. He looked sharply at Maria who was glaring at him.

“I see that look in your eye! He’s mine, Alex. He’s obviously straight. We’re going to drink a little, play a game or something and then you’re going to excuse yourself for twenty minutes so I can get to know him better alone. Deal?” Maria whispered insistently. Alex gave her a sharp look in return.

“Maybe. Maybe you should excuse yourself in twenty minutes and I’ll get to know him better. You owe me for dragging me to this God forsaken hetero garbage fire so if you’re not laid in the next half hour, you’re taking me back to the dorm and then you can come back or whatever on your own. Tonight was not cool of you,” Alex retorted. They’d stopped at the top of the stairs and now Michael was at the end of the hall standing in front of an open doorway watching at them curiously.

“Like you would’ve done anything else with your night, Mr. Responsible. You’re twenty and in college, this is what you’re supposed to do with your weekends in case you forgot!” Maria whisper yelled at him even as she smiled charmingly at Michael down the hallway.

“You guys still want to hang up here?” he asked, looking uncertainly between them. Alex watched Maria put back on her flirty girl face and saunter over to him. Alex rolled his eyes as he saw the extra hip she put in her walk as she approached Michael’s room. He wanted to cut her bunny tail off and stuff it down her throat for putting him through this. Sighing, he followed and nearly jumped out of his skin as Michael put a hand on his lower back to help usher him into the bedroom. He caught Michael’s eye over his shoulder and nearly died at the shy little smile and wink he gave him.

“Come on in, darlin’. Hope the floor is okay? My roommate is pretty territorial about his bed and stuff,” Michael explained, not breaking eye contact with Alex for a long moment before turning back to Maria. Well, well, well…

They gathered in a circle on the carpet with their drinks. Alex reached up and pulled off his mask and head scarf, throwing it next to himself before taking a long swig of his drink. Then he went ahead and took off his leather gloves. Michael was watching him from across the circle and he pointed to his boots in clear question on if it’d be okay for him to take them off. Alex figured he might as well get comfortable. The rum and coke, though barely making him feel floaty and buzzed, had definitely made him feel hot in the close confines of the party downstairs and he was enjoying being able to shed some of his costume to help cool down.

“You guys want to play truth or dare?” Maria suggested, sitting on her hip with her body angled so if Michael wanted, he could get a very thorough view of her cleavage in the costume. Michael looked at her and smiled, glancing over her and then back to Alex. Alex swallowed at the heat in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure yet if it was for Maria or for him that the heat was there. The bedroom was lit only by a weak lamp on top of a desk by the window. It smelled like sweat and old laundry and cheap detergent…and rain. Not like mildew or wet cloth, but the smell of the air minutes before a deluge started. Alex took a deep breath and hummed an easy agreement to Maria’s plan, noting that Michael had waited on him before doing the same.

“So Michael….truth or dare?” Maria started, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. Michael smiled and his eyelids lowered as he flirted back.

“Truth,” Michael answered, glancing between the two of them. Alex smirked back at him for his answer and Maria looked slightly disappointed but shrugged it off.

“Okay. I’ll start off easy. How old were you when you lost your virginity?” she asked, sipping her drink and looking at him thoughtfully. He looked a little taken aback at the question and Alex jumped in quickly to save him.

“Wait, what are the rules? If we refuse a dare or truth or whatever, what are the consequences?” Alex interjected before Michael could answer. That stalled them for a moment and Michael gave him a grateful look as he took a nervous sip from his red Solo cup.

“Hm… How about if you refuse to answer a truth you have to do a shot? If you refuse a dare, you have to take off a piece of clothing?” Maria suggested, looking at Michael like a shark stalking a fish. Michael laughed and looked down at himself.

“I guess I better not refuse any dares for awhile then,” Michael replied with a smirk. She seemed to take that as a challenge and Alex groaned inwardly. Michael obviously didn’t know Maria very well if he thought she’d let him get away with that.

“So then… do we have anything with which to do shots?” Alex asked, looking around the room as if a bottle of liquor was just sitting conveniently on a shelf ready to go.

“Uh…” Michael stuttered for a second, looking blank before reaching under his bed and pulling out a mostly empty bottle of jalapeno vodka and looking sheepish as he offered it to them.

“Uhm, no. No, no, no. My mom owns a bar and absolutely not,” Maria said, waving her arms and shaking her head for emphasis.

“It’s not that bad,” Michael protested, laughing at her.

“Yeah, I’d be happy to drink it and I don’t plan on backing down from a challenge. If you don’t like it, you could go grab something from downstairs?” Alex suggested, trying to look innocently over at her while also thinking about having Michael to himself for a few minutes.

“Ugh, fine. We’ll finish this off and then maybe get something else,” she conceded, grabbing the bottle and putting it in the middle of their circle. “So Michael, as you were saying….”

“Uh, what was the question again?” he asked, leaning back onto his hands and looking much more relaxed than earlier. He wasn’t a super hairy guy, but Alex wanted to run his fingers through the dark hair on his chest and stomach. Leaning back put his body at a very good angle for ogling.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” Maria prompted, looking expectant.

“13,” he answered shortly, not seeming to want to elaborate. Alex wondered what the story was there.

“Very precocious,” Maria commented, smirking and looking over Michael’s body lasciviously. He gave her a somewhat brittle smile in return.

“Okay. Alex,” Michael said, switching his attention from Maria’s eye-fucking stare to look at Alex directly. Alex hummed in acknowledgement and set down his drink. “Truth or dare?”

“I dare you to French kiss Maria.”

“Gross,” Alex replied tonelessly to which Maria let out an indignant yelp. “Sorry, Maria. I love you, but I’ve got a lot of clothes to go before I have to start giving in to stuff I don’t want to do.”

Alex immediately lifted his black, blousy pirate shirt up and off his body, tossing it next to him where he’d thrown his mask, head kerchief, and gloves. Michael was watching him, an appreciative grin on his face as he looked over Alex’s bare torso. Alex wasn’t as buff as Michael, but he’d spent too long living in a military household and competing on the swim team to be considered scrawny,so he knew he didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.

“Oh wow, you have your nipples pierced?” Michael exclaimed, leaning forward on his hands and knees so he could look closer at Alex’s chest. Alex grinned knowingly over at Maria as he leaned forward and stuck out his chest to let Michael look at the silver bar bells through his nipples. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, mouthing the words “he’s straight!” at him over Michael’s shoulder. Alex mouthed a sardonic “O-K” at her before turning his attention back at Michael whose hand was hovering inches from his chest.

“Can I touch one?” Michael asked, a little breathless and obviously fascinated. He hadn’t seemed to notice the silent conversation Alex and Maria had conducted over his head.

“Sure, you can,” Alex all but purred. Michael pressed his hand to Alex’s chest, the space between his thumb and forefinger framing one of Alex’s nipples. Slowly, he slid his thumb under the bar, not quite touching it, but gauging Alex’s reaction. Alex bit his lip, holding it between his teeth as he stared at Michael’s inspection of his body modification. Then he was pulling his fingers together, pinching the end of the bar and pulling the bar gently away from Alex’s body. Alex sucked in a breath, but held down any other sound, teeth pressing harder into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Michael let the bar go and fall back against Alex’s chest before dragging his thumb down over the center of his nipple. Alex had to shift at that because this was starting to feel way too good to stay innocent.

“Wow, are your nipples like super sensitive now or were they always sensitive?” Michael asked, looking up at him through his eyelashes. His thumb was still sweeping over Alex’s nipple and it was driving him a little bit insane. Michael definitely knew the effect he was having on Alex.

“They, uh… they’re actually a little less sensitive now, but they’re still pretty sensitive in general,” Alex breathed, trying to keep from pushing into Michael’s touch with Maria staring daggers at him.

“Yeah, when Alex was in junior high his nips were so pointy. You’d always see them through his shirts and it became a thing that people would tweak his nipples in the halls between class. He would get so embarrassed,” Maria offered, obviously feeling ignored and malicious. Alex turned to her with a controlled blank expression and blinked at her, completely embarrassed she’d bring up that little bit of his personal history to someone he’d just met. He knew he was blushing but refused to acknowledge it and give her the satisfaction.

“That must’ve sucked. I was fat in junior high. Kids that age are the fucking worst,” Michael offered, sitting back on his side of the circle, also blushing slightly. He gave Alex a small smile of understanding and Alex melted a little bit inside.

“I did fine in junior high,” Maria replied, sipping her drink. Alex felt a flash of anger roll through him at her comment and decided it might be time to get a little petty. She had done ‘fine’ her whole life.

“Truth or dare, Maria,” he asked, noting that his voice was a little tight.

“Dare,” she replied, smiling like she knew he was going to try and embarrass her back if she chose truth.

“I dare you to lick every doorknob out in the hallway. Every. Single. One,” he dared, watching her face scrunch up in disgust.

“Ugh, gross,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at the doorway and considering it.

“Feeling chicken?” Alex taunted, watching her over his drink which was starting to run a little low. He knew Maria couldn’t stand backing down to a challenge like that.

“No! Fuck you. Michael, do you have mouthwash?” she asked even as she stood up, adjusting her bodysuit. Michael laughed and nodded before getting up himself. Alex followed after Michael offered him a hand and helped pull him up from the ground. They followed her to the doorway to watch her complete the dare. She stomped across the hall in her ridiculous black heals and immediately bent over to lick the doorknob. She shrieked in disgust and then went down to the next one. There were seven doors on one side of the house and six on the other. Alex felt Michael rumbling chuckle behind him as he pressed part of his chest against Alex’s back while they hung out the doorway watching. Alex felt a tentative hand press against his lower back and when he didn’t startle or remove it, he felt Michael’s hand smooth over to his hip and then up until his nimble fingers sedately started playing with his nipple piercing.

“You’re playing with fire,” Alex warned him in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to Maria who was about halfway done with the doorknobs.

“Am I?” Michael responded; lips close enough to Alex’s ear for him to feel the slight heat of his breath. “Maybe I like it hot?”

Alex turned and gave him an accessing look, trying to figure out if he was serious or just being a cock tease. He decided to test the idea a little further and shifted his hip minutely, rubbing the swell of his ass over Michael’s loin cloth covered crotch.

“Want me help your make the bed rock, Flintstone?” Alex ask coquettishly. Michael snorted, but let his hand drift to rest on Alex’s large leather belt.

“Looting for some booty, Pirate?” Michael responded, bouncing his crotch off Alex’s ass playfully. Alex groaned at the joke but couldn’t deny that his stomach was tightening in response to their flirtations.

“That was terrible,” Alex laughed softly, looking over his shoulder affectionately at Michael’s grinning face.

“What was terrible?” Maria asked breathlessly as she tottered over to them from the last door to Michael’s. She looked a little unsteady after running around and bending over every few feet, but still cheerful.

“We’re exchanging puns,” Alex explained blandly, even as he felt Michael’s hand drop away from him and his body shift to let Maria back into the room. Alex tried not to feel so disappointed at the loss of contact, but he knew it was necessary. That thought didn’t calm his racing heart though. Alex sucked in a breath and straightened his spine before he turned back to the room. He could see Maria in the rooms Jack and Jill en suite bathroom already swishing mouthwash like her life depended on it. Thinking about the habits of frat dudes, Alex surmised it just might.

“We still playing or what?” he called from the door, shutting it behind him as he made his way back into the room. Maria held up a finger and spat the blue liquid from her mouth into the sink before coming back into the room and immediately picking up the jalapeno vodka and taking a large mouthful of it. Alex and Michael watched her with twin looks of impressed shock on their faces.

“That was by far the grossest shit I’ve ever done, but no one can say I’m a bitch that doesn’t follow the fuck through,” Maria announced after she’d swallowed the vodka. She took another long pull before recapping the bottle with an expansive sigh of relief. She looked down at the bottle in her hand for a moment before looking back at Alex and Michael. “This shit really is pretty good.”

“I told you!” Michael exclaimed, excited someone else agreed with him about the alcohol.

“You guys are nuts,” Alex said laughing.

“Alright, alright, alright. Settle in, let’s keep this going,” Maria announced, relatively elegantly slipping down into a cross legged sitting position on the floor while still holding the bottle in one hand. Michael and Alex followed suit and when they were settled Maria turned back to Alex.

“Truth or motherfucking dare, Alexo,” she challenged, eyes squinting menacingly. Alex wasn’t falling for it.

“Dare,” he chose, sitting back on his hands and watching her unfazed.

“I dare you to finish this bottle,” she announced, shaking the jalapeno vodka at him. He eyed it warily but judged that it maybe had a double shot worth of liquor left.

“Sure, hand it over. Does that mean you’re going to go get us another bottle of something else to finish the game with?” he asked, taking the bottle from her offered hand.

“Sure, but I have to see you drink that first,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She knew he hated the taste of jalapenos. He liked other peppers just fine, but jalapenos made his lips curl.

“Fine,” he agreed, unscrewing the top. He tilted his head back with the bottle and opened his throat, letting the liquid just slide down into him, barely touching his tongue before he was swallowing it. It was over in a second and he grimaced as he set down the bottle.

“Yuck. You guys are lying liars. That shit is disgusting,” he remarked, looking around for the trashcan. Maria was giggling at his discomfort, but Michael was staring at him with eyes a little wider and pupils a little bigger than they had been a moment ago.

“Your face is the best! Jesus, that was worth it,” Maria crowed next to Michael, laying her hand on his thigh in an ‘innocent’ attempt to steady herself after her fit of laughter. Michael grinned and laughed a little too, but his eyes didn’t leave Alex’s.

“Okay. I’ll go grab some booze. Don’t get bored without me,” she commanded, standing up and wiggling her hips at Michael as she sashayed out of the room. The door shut behind her and left Alex and Michael in relative silence.

“Michael, truth or dare,” Alex said quietly as soon as he was sure Maria wasn’t going to come right back. Michael stared at him with heat and knowing in his eyes, a smirk perking the corners of his mouth up.

“Dare,” he challenged, still smirking.

“Hm… I dare you to piss on your suitemate’s bed,” Alex dared, not really expecting Michael to do it. Michael full on smiled at him before standing up and taking a step closer to Alex. He ran his thumbs under the waist band on his loin cloth before pushing them down past his hips and letting them fall to his feet, leaving him gloriously nude and only a foot away rom Alex’s watering mouth. Alex looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a small, knowing smile on his face.

“I don’t have a death wish,” Michael answered, cocky grin still in place. Alex shifted to his knees in front of him, his hands landing on Michael’s thighs and rubbing up and down them as he stared up at Michael with blatant hunger in his eyes. Michael was half hard in front of him and getting harder. Alex was really hoping he was about to become a notch on this guy’s bedpost.

“Are you just fucking with me?” Alex asked softly when Michael grasped himself and started stroking his cock slowly right in front of Alex’s face. Alex almost went cross-eyed trying to watch his hand smoothing up and down over his thickening shaft.

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, hand slowing as he looked down at Alex seriously.

“This isn’t your gay experiment is it?” Did Alex really care if it was, he wondered? The way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight and the fact that he’d been unconsciously leaning closer to Michael’s naked body said ‘no’, but he wanted to know exactly what he was getting in to.

“Hell no. I’m bisexual. Practicing bisexual. Experienced bisexual. I know what I want,” he finished, reaching out his unoccupied hand and curling his fingers under Alex’s chin. “Which is definitely you if you’re up for it.”

“I’m up for it,” Alex agreed quickly, shuffling closer on his knees and shooing Michael’s hand away from his dick so Alex could grasp it, angling it towards his mouth where he immediately gave the underside of the shaft a long, thorough lick with his tongue before closing his lips around the head and sucking. He swirled his tongue around the crown, a full-body throb going through him at how turned on he was to be doing this.

“Oh shit,” Michael groaning, hand immediately resting on Alex’s shoulder for balance. Alex hummed and set to work with his tongue and lips, trying every trick he knew in an effort to drive Michael up the fucking wall. He pushed himself, relaxing his throat and taking Michael in deep over and over again as he stroked and gently tugged at his balls. He let his hand creep further back, massaging Michael’s perineum, before stroking a dry, questioning finger over his asshole. The noise Michael made was shockingly desperate and his hips jerked forward choking Alex for a moment.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Michael apologized above him as Alex came off him coughing and wiping at his eyes.

“It’s fine. I surprised you. Have you ever…?” Alex asked, petting Michael’s hole gently while his other hand slowly stroked him, Alex’s spit smoothing the way.

“Fuck, yes. Have you?” Michael asked, pushing back lightly against the pressure of Alex’s fingers.

“Only a couple times…. Do you want to?” Alex asked, feeling a little shy at the question. Michael nodded enthusiastically and backed away, walking over to his bedside table and opening the top drawer. He pulled out a condom and some lube which he tossed on his bed before turning back to Alex with a grin.

“Well, get up here!” he said, and Alex realized he’d been frozen in shock. This was not how he expected this night to turn out. Michael’s utter confidence and enthusiasm towards being fucked was… surprising. Hastily he stood up and approached Michael by the bed.

“I know this is a little backwards, but…” Michael started before cradling Alex’s head in his hands and rushing forward to kiss him. Alex responded immediately and with enthusiasm. He opened his mouth and almost swooned as he felt Michael’s tongue sweep over his, inviting him to respond. He did, following Michael’s lead, and his hands started wandering over the expanse of Michael’s skin at his disposal. He found himself trying to pull Michael closer, over and over, hands on his waist, his back, his ass, just trying to keep him close. Michael, for his part, was trying to get Alex’s belt and pants off, but Alex’s insistence on keeping them pressed together kept hampering his progress. Finally, Michael had to break their kiss to talk.

“If you don’t let me get your pants off, this isn’t going to end the way we want it to,” he said, breathlessly as Alex’s mouth simply moved from his mouth to his neck and was biting and sucking the flesh there. Alex came back to himself, nodding wordlessly and bringing his hips back far enough for Michael to finish the job of getting him naked. His mouth, however, he couldn’t convince to leave Michael’s skin. He felt his waist band loosen and the fabric of his pants and underwear drop to the ground. He kicked the offending garments backwards, not paying attention to where. Then Michael’s hands were sliding against his skin and pulling him back against his body.

“Fuck, you’re distracting,” Michael commented as he backed up until he could sit on the edge of the bed. Alex planted a knee on the mattress to follow him but was stopped by Michael’s tongue smoothing over a nipple and quickly being covered by his mouth. He hissed in pleasure and pushed his hand into Michael’s curls, cradling the back of his head and holding him steady. Michael hummed in pleasure and palmed Alex’s ass as he teased the tightened flesh.

“Bite it,” Alex gasped out, watching Michael’s mouth work on him. Michael met his eyes through his eye lashes and Alex saw the flash of white as his teeth grasped the flesh and pulled, letting the skin scrape achingly slowly as it was released. Alex cursed and his cock, which had been mostly ignored, gave a desperate throb at the pleasure-pain mix. Michael, spurred on by Alex’s reaction, immediately switched to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment. Alex grabbed himself and found he was leaking precome already from the attention. He smeared the sticky fluid around the head of his cock and stroked downward as Michael kept sucking and biting at his chest, making his nips puffy and swollen against his skin. He felt himself getting embarrassingly close to coming from just the feeling of Michael’s mouth on him.

“We gotta stop, fuck,” Alex said desperately, tightening his hand in Michael’s hair but not pulling. Michael stopped and looked up at him, confused. “No, not all of it. But I’m going to come if you keep doing that and we didn’t get that lube out for nothing.”

“You were about to come from just me playing with your nipples?” Michael asked in awe, looking like he’d like nothing but to dive back in and see that scenario play out.

“Yes, you’re very, very good with your mouth,” Alex huffed out the compliment with a laugh as he put his hands on Michael’s shoulders and pushed him playfully to lay back on the bed. Michael pulled himself back until he was laying on the mattress and beckoned Alex to follow him, spreading his legs immediately to allow Alex in between them. Alex leaned down to kiss him, hands smoothing down the sides of Michael’s ribs and waist, just enjoying touching him for a minute. When he came up for air, he reached over and grabbed the lube from beside Michael’s pillow. “You still sure?”

“Yes, fuck yes. Please and thank you,” Michael said with a grin. He flipped over and grabbed his pillow, jamming it under his hips before spreading his legs wider for Alex.

“Jesus, yes you are,” Alex mumbled to himself, turned on at how into this Michael seemed to be. He grabbed the condom and rolled it on before slicking up his fingers. He started slowly by rubbing small circles around Michael’s hole to spread the lube. He leaned forward and trailed kisses over Michael’s shoulder and back. He pressed inward with a finger and then backed off, trying to slowly work him open.

“Dude, I fingered myself in the shower like three hours ago. You can move a little faster than that,” Michael said over his shoulder. Alex’s brain stalled out on the image of Michael in the shower, wet and soapy with three fingers up his ass and his hand on his cock.

“Jesus,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Michael’s shoulder blade. He pushed a little harder with his finger and found that it did sink in quite easily. Michael gave out a soft moan at the feeling and Alex decided to press his luck. He withdrew his finger and came back with two, still pushing in easily but not so easily he wouldn’t need to stretch Michael a little more. “You can’t be real.”

Alex pumped his fingers in and out of Michael, scissoring them and twisting his wrist slowly. He withdrew and added lube before starting to press back in with three. He took this more slowly and Michael seemed to appreciate it. He was moaning more loudly, his body pushing back against the pressure of Alex’s fingers, the muscles in his back flexing and relaxing as he tried to chase his own pleasure against the pillow beneath him.

“You ready for me?” Alex asked after a particularly loud groan from Michael. Alex hoped so, he was still on edge from Michael’s mouth on his nipples and now the absolutely pornographic sound of Michael’s vocalizations as Alex pumped his fingers in and out of him.

“Yes! Get in me!” Michael directed, sounding almost frantic. Alex chuckled a little and withdrew his fingers before he shuffled his body forward on the bed. He positioned himself, rubbing the head of his cock through the mess of lube at Michael’s hole, before beginning the push inward. He took it slow, pushing in and retreating several times before he was able to press his hips flush against Michael’s cheeks. Alex let out a heavy breath, panting slightly as he tried to get through the initial bliss of being so tightly wrapped in another person. He leaned forward and settled his weight on his hands to either side of Michael’s ribs. Before he could ask if Michael was ready, Michael took the lead from him and started shifting his weight below him. After the first couple of times, his movements became surer and Alex found himself watching as he started to fuck himself back on Alex’s cock in precise, fluid movements. When he squeezed his rim as he pulled away, Alex let out a gasp and one of his hands went to Michael’s hip to steady himself.

“You’re just going to do all the work down there?” Alex asked breathlessly as he let Michael continue to work himself back and forth on Alex’s cock. Alex was utterly turned on by how desperate Michael seemed to get fucked, how ready he was to take what he wanted, and how fucking hot he looked doing it.

“You didn’t seem like you were going to get to it, so I thought I’d start without you,” Michael teased through a pleasure filled groan. Alex bent down and bit his shoulder lightly, making him moan again at the sharp feeling.

“Then I guess I’ll have to start doing my fair share,” he responded before drawing back onto his knees and grabbing Michael’s hips to pull him up as well. He started thrusting in a counter rhythm to Michael’s backward pushes, making their skin slap together loudly as he was buried over and over as deeply as possible. Michael was swearing softly under his breath, his hand under him working his cock to the feeling of Alex filling him so completely, his cock pushing over Michael’s prostate and winding him up.

“You feel so fucking good, Michael,” Alex groaned as he tried to stop himself from just rabbitting into the man below him. His body was a hot velvet clutch around Alex’s and he found himself getting lost in the heady feeling of it.

“Fuck, you’re ruining me,” Michael moaned beneath him sounding impossibly turned on and needy. Alex privately agreed that Michael was ruining him also. They were getting close, moaning getting louder and more frantic as their bodies chased each other’s movements. Michael was back on his stomach with Alex’s gripping his shoulder as he made sharp, pointed thrusts that had Michael white knuckling the sheets in ecstasy. The door suddenly banged open and startled both of them into freezing, bodies pressed tightly together as they looked to see who had broken in.

Maria was standing in the doorway with a bottle of rum and a mutinous expression on her pretty face. They stared at each for a long moment, Alex trying his damnedest not to move, but feeling like he’d probably start fucking Michael again soon if they didn’t end this stand-off. The feeling of Michael around him was almost too good to waste in a pointless conversation.

“Goddamnit, Alex,” Maria started, walking further into the room and slamming the bottle onto the desk at the end of Michael’s bed. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again!”

“Again?” Alex asked, wracking his brain, trying to remember to what she was referring. He was feeling a little dumb since most of the blood in his body was not centered in his upper half.

“Again?!” Michael asked incredulously, looking over his shoulder towards Alex and then back at Maria. The movement shifted him away and back onto Alex’s dick. It was only an inch, but it made Alex’s stomach muscle clench in an effort to stay still. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder in warning, earning him a small squeeze of Michael’s rim in retaliation.

“You remember Valenti?” Maria asked, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for his response.

“Kyle was going through an experimental phase. I was helping a bro out. Besides, you had no claim on him!” Alex defended himself, a little affronted she would bring up something so far back in their history now. That had been freshman year of high school and it was just a kiss.

“You knew I had a crush on him!” Maria exclaimed, stamping her foot angrily.

“Still not a claim. Besides, you ended up dating him like two weeks later and you thought he was boring! It’s not like you lost out in the long run,” Alex pointed out. Michael cleared his throat below him, the tightening of his abs doing wonderful things to the parts of him surrounding Alex.

“While this is fascinating and I would love to explore your competitive hooking up history, I would like to point out that Alex is actually inside my body right now. Right this minute he is deep, deep within me. And as much as I’m enjoying the feeling of being high cock warmer, I’d also like to come sometime tonight, so…. Can we finish this in like ten or fifteen minutes?” Michael asked, seeming a little blasé about having Maria stare at them while they were connected and in such a compromising position. With less alcohol or maybe if it had been someone else, Alex was sure he’d be dying of embarrassment and probably be in the bathroom trying to figure out an escape route, but he couldn’t fathom pulling out of Michael at that moment just to save a little face.

“More like twenty. Someone here took my head out of the game. It’s almost like I’m going to have to start over,” Alex joked, pushing his hips forward a little and earning himself a grunt and playful slap on the thigh from Michael.

“Not til she’s gone,” he teased back, looking oddly soft as he stuck his tongue out at Alex over his shoulder.

“Ugh, guys are the fucking worst. Alex, you’re the fucking worst. We’ll have words about this later and you can find another ride back to the dorms!” she yelled, grabbing the bottle of rum and storming out the door, furious that they’d started to ignore her.

After the door slammed shut there was silence.

“Well, that was awkward,” Alex commented. Michael pulled forward and off his dick, getting to his knees and turning around to face him. Alex held his breath waiting for his response. Was it too much? Had Michael decided the exchange was too awkward for them to keep going? God, Alex prayed not.

“She’s the one who took forever getting the rum. She could’ve joined in if she’d gotten here earlier,” Michael joked, wrapping his arms around Alex and beginning to kiss his neck and jaw.

“Gross. You may be bi, but I am super gay. I love her, but no. So much no,” Alex commented even as he tilted his head back to give Michael’s mouth more access on him.

“So much no?” Michael asked, biting at the prominent cord in his neck and letting one of his hands pinch and tug at one of Alex’s nipples.

“Fuck, yes. Yes to this,” Alex breathed, moaning and wrapping his arms around Michael, hand immediately going behind him to play with his stretched, slick hole. “But so much no to her.”

“Lay back for me, then and we’ll get back to where we were. I don’t stop for pedestrians,” Michael whispered against his skin as he pushed Alex’s hands away from him. Alex laid back on the bed and Michael straddled him immediately. He reached behind himself to hold Alex’s cock and line it up with his hole before lowering himself down.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Your cock is perfect,” Michael moaned, tilting his hips in a shallow grind against Alex. Alex whined at how good it felt, his hips rocking up in counter point to Michael’s. Michael’s hands came to rest on his chest, catching Alex’s attention before he said breathlessly, “Hold on, darlin’.”

Michael lifted his body and started a brutal pace with his hips. Alex almost couldn’t keep up, but he bent his knees to plant his feet so he could thrust up as best he could. He did hold on, his hands going to Michael’s hips and he bounced on Alex’s cock, his hand jacking himself over Alex with abandon. He looked so good chasing his own pleasure. He looked confident and lost in the sensations he was experiencing and Alex was mesmerized by the sight of it.

“Fuck, just like that. I’m going come,” Michael bit out, a high pitched whine pushed out of him as his cock started to spurt onto Alex’s chest and stomach, his ass clenching over Alex’s cock and wrenching an orgasm out of him at the same time. That had never happened to Alex before and it was almost too much for him.

When it was over, they collapsed against each other, breath heaving from their chests, bodies sweat soaked and sticky, ebbs of euphoria flowing through their muscles. Michael reached down while Alex was still recovering and, holding the condom, slipped his body off of Alex’s so he could lay down on the bed next to him, shoulders overlapping in the small twin.

“We should do that again,” Michael commented once he’d gotten his breath back. The tingling feeling that had taken over Alex’s body made him feel come drunk and dopey.

“Tonight?” Alex asked, wondering if he had the strength to have that good of sex for a second time in 24 hours. Weren’t there universal laws about that much pleasure in so short a time?

“Well, sure. But like, some other time too. Maybe after dinner or a movie or something,” Michael suggested. Alex felt his body go cold. He didn’t date. He was too fucking busy to date. He was working every possible odd job on campus to pay for school since his dad had cut him off for not following the family legacy. So he didn’t date. He didn’t do parties. This was such an anomaly for him to even be out tonight. He cringed at the necessity of what he was about to say, knowing it was going to ruin the afterglow of their activities.

“I can’t. I don’t date. This was fun, but it won’t happen again,” Alex explained, sitting up suddenly. He needed to go. He stripped the condom off and looked around the trash bin. Michael rolled to his side behind him and rubbed a hand over his back comfortingly.

“Are you not out? Cause I can be ‘just bro’s with you if it’s—” Michael started, but Alex cut him off. He’d finally remembered where the trash can was and tossed the condom into it.

“No, it’s not that. I’m absolutely out. Fuck closets. No, I just don’t have the time. It wouldn’t be fair. Look, it’s not a big thing. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime?” Alex said in a rush and tried to offer some unlikely run-in as a placation. He stood up and grabbed his pants from the floor, pulling on his underwear and then them quickly. He grabbed for his things off the floor without looking up at Michael. He could feel his silence like an oppressive weight on his skin and the judgement radiating from the bed didn’t help the claustrophobic feeling coming over him.

“So that’s it? Fuck ‘em and forget ‘em?” Michael asked in an angry, hurt tone. Alex turned and looked at him, anger starting to rise in him in response.

“Like you learned how to fuck like that being a monk? It’s a hook-up at a party, Michael! You don’t even know me,” Alex spat out, pulling his shirt out of the mass in his arms and pulling it on with angry jerky movements.

“I just thought there was a connection there, but ya know, you’re probably right. I’m probably just a cock-slut with dependency issues. Shit, and they say frat bros are fuck boys,” Michael mumbled the last bit under his breath as he too got out of bed. He headed over to his dresser and yanked out a pair of boxers, shoving his legs into them and then up his hips before facing Alex again. “Have a nice life, Alex.”

“You too,” Alex bit back, turning and leaving the room. He had to stop on the stairs to put on his boots, but he didn’t stop after that. He walked right out of the frat house and towards the dorms. It would be a long walk, but he wasn’t too worried about it. The longer he walked, the worse he felt about what had happened with Michael. He should’ve handled that better. Ruefully, he stopped and looked over his shoulder back towards the house and swore he could see someone standing in Michael’s window. Sighing, he turned and started walking again. It might’ve been nice, but it wasn’t to be. Alex reminded himself for the next two miles that he didn’t have room in his life for anything more, no matter how good the sex was or how addictive the smell of rain against his skins seemed to be.

#kinktober 2020 #malex #malex fic #rnm fic #roswell nm #college au #kinktober #alex manes #michael guerin

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drunklander · 5 years ago

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Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 506

STAY AT HOOOOOOOME!!!!!

Ok, now that that’s out of the way... I kind of liked this episode. Which surprised me. Because usually I find myself neutral at best. But, considering how much I’ve hated disliked the last few seasons, I guess that feeling mostly neutral means this season has been better? The bar is low, y’all.

Could 1000% still use more Claire though. And more Jamie and Claire. And yes I know I’m saying that in the recap for an episode where the two of them bang.

I said what I said.

The title card’s powder blocker thingy looks like a plague doctor mask. We should bring those back. I found a box that had a bunch of them in it in the closet at my office once. That was weird. Also, stay the fuck at home and 6′ away from people if you have to go out on a supply run or take a walk.

Ooo, a flashback! I miss Scotland.

“Whom do I address, sir?” “I am Samuel Torrington,” said the guy who is most def *not* Samuel Torrington.

I know I shouldn’t laugh because of what’s about to happen, but looool at the girl for stepping in the literal one spot of mud.

Well that was dumb. Why the fuck would you run in between your dad and the guy he’s clearly gonna shoot?

I mean, it’s super sad, I guess. But also hella dumb.

Ah, a lavender pillow. Yes, I know it’s from the book. But between this and the BJR stuff, it’s like, do they know other smells exist?

But yeah, guess I shouldn’t talk since I have lavender hand soap, lavender lotion, lavender tea and a lavender candle.

It’s the best smell.

Ok, I get why Murcasta can’t be endgame. That was a good decision. But including Innes BeCaUsE tHe BoOk is dumb af. They got to the right decision to break up Murcasta, but for the wrong fucking reason.

Like, seriously though, can we please take a moment to appreciate how dumb this is? Like, book!Innes is from Ardsmuir. He’s been part of the squad. He’s basically one of Jamie’s most trusted friends. And he marries Jocasta. Show!Innes is literally some dude we’ve never heard of until last week because the fucking writers were like oh, Jocasta has to marry someone named Duncan Innes. Guess we should make that happen, out of the blue, for no other reason. Lazy idiots...

Jocasta has better handwriting than I do and I can fucking see what I’m doing.

Also lol at her straight up ignoring Roger saying that Jemmy won’t take her money.

Cut to Jemmy crying about the fact that he is now a participant in chattel slavery. I feel you, Jem.

Oh, it’s a cold? Ok fine, but also the whole chattel slavery thing.

ADSOOOOO! Such a good lil floofer! Look how nice he is, bringing them that excellent bug! WHO’S A GOOD KITTY? YOUUU ARE!

I really like Claire’s necklace. Also Claire’s neck. Also Claire’s collarbones. Also Claire. Can we have more Claire please? And less manpain in general?

D’awww, Lord John Grey the awkward gay. GIVE HIM AN APPROPRIATE BOYFRIEND ALREADY, YOU COWARDS.

Tryon is such a fucking douche. So is Quincy Arbuckle.

Well, it might not prevent tumultuous and riotous assembly, but not hanging out in groups larger than 10 sounds like a greAT FUCKING IDEA RIGHT NOW.

STAY AT HOOOOOOOOOOOOME. (If you are able to, and if you have to go to work, WASH YOUR HAAAAAAAAAAAANDS.)

Fergus, Marsali and Bree standing around this room being disappointed with Roger is A Mood™.

Team Give Fergus and Marsali More to Do

Oh, you’ve never been comfortable in your big fancy mansion? Poor you. *plays the world’s smallest violin*

News spreads slowly in/from the backcountry except, apparently, Claire’s medical advice.

Claire Fraser said reproductive rights!!! *ups monthly donation to Planned Parenthood*

The casting for Wylie is fucking perfect. Like kudos to the casting folks again.

I cared more about the Regulator shit in the show than the book because Murtz, but all the “Oh it’s happening! JK, it’s not! JK, it is!” that they took from the book is making me care less about it. Just happen already or fuck off.

Yes, I know it’s gonna happen next week.

Roger shoveling shit makes me happy. Because it’s gross and I do not like Roger.

“You keep shoveling your shit.” -- The Fandom Bree

Wylie should be a caricature with how fucking terrible he is, but let’s be real. We've all run into a guy like that.

Oh, Claire’s rings.

I did some mental gymnastics years ago to try to wrap my brain around why Claire would still wear an emotionally abusive piece of shit’s Fred’s ring. And the fact that the books and the show are like nope, she just likes Fred, drives me up a fucking wall every time.

“He must have been quite the man to inspire such devotion after all these years.” “Nah, he was an asshole. A complete and utter piece of shit. And instead of going with that and all the complexities it brings, we continue to gaslight the audience that he was a Good Dude. Instead of using the ring as a symbol of something more than fucking Fred, we just keep on pretending he didn’t suck.”

I hate everyone involved with refusing to acknowledge how shitty Fred was.

There is literally only one smuggler in the Carolinas.

DO NOT GO WITH THE CREEPY MAN TO A SECOND LOCATION. CLAIRE, THIS IS BEING A WOMAN 101. NEVER GO WITH A CREEP TO A SECOND LOCATION.

“I get a biblical plague.” You get what you deserve, Rog.

Jamie, chill with the extra testosterone. Just punch the bro or something.

Also don’t fucking blame the victim, asshole.

Literalol at Bree showing the women her like stick and sheet fan thing and then cut to all the people with just little squares, barely doing anything.

“Don’t stop! Keep your fires going!” *everyone stops and just stares at the bugs*

Gonna go ahead and take this time to remind folks that’s it’s fucking gross to get married on a plantation. Don’t do that thing.

I know a guy who is like proud of the fact that he’s an asshole. He talks about it like it’s one of his defining traits. This scene with Wylie being like “buddy, I love my shitty reputation” reminds he of that guy. I cannot fucking stand that guy.

*ignores Claire’s feelings about Fred’s dumb ring and headcanons in my own reasons instead because I cannot even with this nonsense anymore*

Ah, the Lindsays like Roger now. I still do not like Roger.

I fucking love this whole Murcasta scene. Can we get one of these for Jamie and Claire? I miss them having big sweeping scenes that have time to breathe and unfold and all the good shit like Murcasta gets here.

The show keeps trying to deny it, but scenes like this are where it’s strongest. But it refuses to accept that this is its lane and keeps trying to go elsewhere.

I miss Jamie and Claire.

I miss the MacKenzies.

I wanna give Jocasta a hug. She’s still trash for enslaving people, though.

Maria Doyle Kennedy is a goddamn treasure. Seriously, her casting was the best choice the show made in years.

That and saving Murtz, of course.

So fucking glad they cut the creepy-ass foot thing.

Jamie, you’re drunk, but read the fucking room. Claire’s right. Just because she says shit from the future all the time doesn’t negate the fact that she’s right about you right now. Also, seriously? You’re taking *this* opportunity to call her out?

Buddy deserved that slap.

Look, I’m always down for the Frasers to fuck. More Fraser fucking, I say. But this is just another instance like their fight at Lallybroch where the fight itself is never actually resolved like it should be. They just fuck about it and magically everything is ok again. Le sigh.

Murcasta gets a big long scene with time to breathe and talk through everything and it’s riveting af. But Jamie and Claire never get that anymore and it pisses me off tbh.

Stop shoehorning in book lines! She can’t see shit through all the skirts and stuff!

I miss the Lallybroch ring. What did they ever end up doing with it? It’s floating around somewhere.

Bonnet is so evil to 11 about fucking everything that it makes him boring. We get it. You’re a bad guy. Do you also have a tiny dick or something that you’re overcompensating for?

Can we please wrap this Bonnet shit up this season? I swear if they drag it out as long as they do in the books I’m gonna be rull annoyed.

Ok so now the war is actually gonna for real happen and I’m like legit out of fucks to give about it because Murtz aside, they’ve done the “it’s coming, jk!” fake out too many times...

Can they try to hang Murtz instead? Because I swear spending half a season with emo!Roger is cruel and unusual punishment.

#*#outlander starz #outlander 5x06 #drunj!der yells about outlander

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: The Greatest Kingdom

Hello, glorious RWBY fandom! It’s that time of the year again. No, not the holidays. Rather, it’s the roughly twelve weeks where my Saturdays are lost to the void of churning out 4,000+ words of typo-laden analysis for our favorite web-series. Does that sound like a good time? If so, stick around and keep reading.

Now, those of you who joined us last year will recall that I took issue with numerous aspects of Volume Six. Many of you are capable of summarizing these aspects in great detail considering that the conversation never stopped on my blog between January 26th and, well, today. But for those of you who don’t otherwise suffer my metas or who might be joining us for the first time, here’s a very short guide to the stuff we’ve been chatting about the last few months:

Holy shit they really went all in on dragging Ozpin, huh?

Is the group part of a collective consciousness now? What happened to diverse thinking?

Should un-licensed teenagers steal military property and start grimm-drawing battles with national allies? No or double no?

We hate adults? Is that really a thing?

When will Oscar’s on-screen development come back from the war?

There are numerous, numerous other connected topics, from Rooster Teeth’s handling of physical assault all the way to theories regarding the relic’s potential influence and Jinn’s motives, but that’s the basic gist. Oh, and we now have a subset of the fandom who got big mad over fans headcanoning trans!Nora based on her new color scheme. ... So that’s where we’re starting this volume off.

Just so we’re all on the same page:

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Anyhoo, with that bare-bones context out of the way, let’s dive in.

We begin, as usual, with a shot of the shattered moon. Except this is the first volume where we know precisely what happened to it and all it may mean for humanity. It lends a certain amount of gravitas to our start. Now, rather than the more generic, “Ah. Right. That motif. Still a mystery, huh?” shots of the moon function as a quick reminder of the group’s new stakes. 99% of the time the focus is on Salem and our heroes’ attempts to keep this genocidal dictator from destroying and/or enslaving the entire world, but “The Lost Fable” set up that the true, end-game antagonists have always been the gods. Even if Salem is destroyed, they still exist as a continued threat to humanity. If they wish to use the gods to help them in their quest against Salem, they likewise risk their judgment. Having introduced them, that’s a tricky problem the show is going to have to solve before its end.

For now though we pan down to the Atlas military, numerous ships and lots of chatter over the radio setting up precisely how massive, organized, and deadly this army is. I would like to remind everyone that this is what the group deliberately decided to piss off by not merely stealing an airship, but unnecessarily attacking the head special operative of the Argus base. The fact that the military has grown more “aggressive” in Weiss’ absence has no bearing on her original knowledge that stealing/attacking this group would be a horrendous idea. She knew it. Qrow knew it. Everyone ignored that in favor of Jaune’s idiotic plan. I bring this up not to rub more salt in a long open wound, but to re-establish how the group is, thus far, unable to think ahead and accurately weigh the consequences of their actions. More on that later.

Their ship, Manta 5-1, is welcomed home and instructed to land so that a security team can debrief them. Whoops. Jaune, again in his infinite wisdom, reminds everyone that they achieved their goal of getting to Atlas. So now they just need to find some answers, yeah? Not quite. Weiss immediately points out that landing with a stolen ship means that security won’t let them anywhere near Ironwood… which, again, is something that holds true regardless of whether the military got more aggressive and their leader more dictator-y. This is not new information. Oddly enough, a group of teenagers with only one licensed huntsmen among them (considering that Maria is presumably still keeping a low profile) flying a stolen airship doesn’t exactly breed the sort of confidence that lets anyone---paranoid or not---approach a leader. These were all issues from the start that the group didn’t bother to consider in their haste to finish this mission.

“They might even take me back to my father,” Weiss says. Another concern that they’re only realizing now, yet one that the fandom latched onto immediately. Though mostly in the wrong way. It’s because Jacques is a threat that they should have found a more covert way into Atlas, or waited to hear from Ironwood, or just send Weiss herself with Cordovin’s blessing… Yes, much of the fandom got quite defensive at that suggestion, claiming that sending Weiss “alone” (she never would have been alone. Bird uncle. Fits into a suitcase grandma) was tantamount to handing her to Jacques wrapped up in a bow. Except, as is made perfectly clear here, it’s their illegal activity that endangers them. Which is more likely to get you sent off to daddy? Acting like a child by stealing military property and then getting caught? Or entering Atlas as a huntress with a special operative’s blessing, carrying instructions that you are to meet with Ironwood as soon as possible? To say the team dropped the ball on this one is an understatement.

Those, however, are all past options now far out of reach. Weiss decides then that she’ll simply call Winter and I absolutely adore Kara’s voice acting here. She managed to imbue so much into a single name, conveying Weiss’ realization, hope, and love for her sister in just two quick syllables. I feel like I got more insight into Weiss through that moment alone then the entirety of Volume Six. Only problem? Blake notices another feed where a recording of Winter emphasizes that anyone found breaking Atlas law will face punishment---something our group will be quite familiar with by the end of the episode---and Qrow decides that they probably shouldn’t go charging into Winter and Ironwood’s hands until they know more about the situation.

Which is the smartest decision we’ve seen in a while, considering that Ironwood’s own feed leaves little to the imagination. He continues to sport that beard, giving him more of a disheveled appearance compared to Volumes 1-3. His voice is as authoritative as ever and he literally towers high above all the people he’s supposedly protecting, keeping his distance from both the city and the airships that ‘govern’ it. A few moments earlier we got to see the startling contrast between the military life and the civilians’. Warm reds and browns give (in this case a literal) down-to-Earth feel and the neon signs are easy markers of a low-class neighborhood. You know the stereotyped kind: cheap food and cheaper entertainment. Compared to the whites and blues of the Atlas clouds, paralleling their elite (and thereby expensive) technology, the city below feels like a slum in comparison, reinforced by the dirty, drunk, and at times violent background characters that populate it.

As Maria says later, “A home in the clouds is as bright as it gets,” to which Nora responds, “Unless you’re the one having to look up at it,” something she’d be very familiar with as a child stealing bread in the otherwise plentiful looking Kuroyuri. There are contrasts in coloring, dialogue, as well as framing here. Compare Ironwood’s sky-high observation to Pietro’s existence as a black man, in a wheelchair, doing volunteer work in what’s established as a dump. He’s as “low” as he can possibly be and acknowledges that he prefers to actually be among the people, not standing literally or figuratively above them. Just in case the audience misses these cues, we get some rather ominous music on top of all that and fearful looks between Ruby and Yang.

Ironwood’s recording says that some people may view these as “uncertain times,” likewise contrasting Glynda’s recording in the very first episode, announcing that they live in an “extraordinary time of peace.” Whether there’s uncertainty or not, Ironwood promises that Atlas will remain “safe and strong,” even if the other Kingdoms have begun to falter. The speech has a very ‘Us vs. Them’ quality about it.

“He looks tired,” Ruby comments and I just need to chuck another fandom into the mix real quick because:

Under these circumstances, “tired” doesn’t just require the John Mulaney advice of, “Get some rest, tall child!” It’s a clear dig at the leader’s capabilities and even their mental faculties. “James… what have you been doing?” Qrow asks, thereby re-framing “tired” as the nice euphemism for “gone off the deep end.” It remains to be seen though precisely how much of Ironwood’s paranoia is literal paranoia in the sense that it’s illogical and undeserved, and how much of these changes are highly undesirable, but potentially justifiable decisions. After all, we as the audience know precisely how dangerous Salem and her crew are. We know why Beacon fell. We’re privy to the stakes in a way that the average, angry Atlas citizen is not. All Ironwood can do in the face of such odds is try to prepare for every eventuality… it just looks like he’s reached a point where those preparations have started infringing on basic human rights. It’s a very sad setup. A classic case of the wrong things done for the right reasons.

There’s a check-in from the radio tower, whoever’s in charge wondering why Manta 1-5 hasn’t gone towards their landing pad yet. Maria comments that the lady should take a hint and starts finding a different place to land. Which in hindsight is kind of funny because they obviously did take a hint… and then sent out a special team to deal with the implications of that hint.

As the group starts exploring we get a lovely shot demonstrating how much they stand out in this new environment.

Though there’s some color in the neon signs, the otherwise overwhelming brown/beige/black/red makes elements like Nora’s pink skirt and Weiss’ white hair stick out like sore thumbs. As we’ll see in a minute, there are obviously in-world difficulties with them passing as average citizens, but it’s also a signal to the audience that, for now at least, they’re really out of their depth. This is the “greatest kingdom” referenced in our title.

Maria is leading them to a friend of hers when a bot takes an interest in these obvious outsiders. It approaches Yang at the back of the group, takes an unexpected picture, and she responds by kicking it into the street where it sparks with damage before getting hit by a truck.

(Flashback to Ruby and Penny, anyone?)

Now, I’m honestly on the fence about this moment. You could make the case that they’re all traumatized fighters and responding to that flash was a logical, instinctual response. You can even argue that, just hours after taking her first faunus life, Yang is more than a little on edge—even though the premier doesn’t reference this incredibly significant event at all, outside of Blake’s quick realization that her blade is still broken. Both are valid and easily supported readings. However, I’m still hyper aware that this is Yang. The character who, for two volumes now, has been characterized very strongly by her, “attack first, ask questions later” attitude. Out of all the characters we could have seen instinctively attacking something that hadn’t actually done her any harm, choosing Yang holds the most weight. The story also lightly acknowledges that this was an extreme response, what with the group staring at her and Yang’s sheepish expression.

Whether it’s specifically in the context of trauma over the fight with Adam, or more broadly acknowledging Yang’s tendency to both assume and act on the worst in people, I hope this volume helps her manage these instincts. One talk with Tai about not punching through problems isn’t going to cut it. Especially when her forceful attitude has caused much of the internal conflict recently.

It’s after this that the group is accosted by a drunk man, functioning largely as exposition to explain what’s been going on in Atlas and why the people are so scared and angry about it. Pissed enough to get literally pissed, of the inebriated variety. Here then, we return to the “this group of teenagers is really bad at thinking ahead” issue that I mentioned earlier. Ruby is all ready to start a fight---referencing her newfound willingness to escalate situations that don’t necessitate escalation---and it’s Blake who holds her back, reminding Ruby that they can’t afford to cause a scene. Which is fantastic. Except they end up causing a scene anyway when the drunk calls Blake a “stupid faunus” and Weiss uses a glyph to chuck him into the trash.

Is seeing a racist asshole get his just desserts extremely satisfying? Absolutely and from a representation perspective I’m thrilled to see Rooster Teeth taking a hard stance in their story. From an in-world perspective though, that was an incredibly bad decision. We’ve been establishing since minute one of this premier that the group needs to be cautious. Blake herself, the victim here, just told Ruby not to endanger the whole group by defending her honor… and then Weiss swoops in to do it anyway. There are two priorities here, to your friends and to your mission, and the issue is that Team RWBY has a tendency to consistently prioritize the former, something that wouldn’t be an issue if this was still a low-key story about a group of students and not would-be, formal huntresses trying to save the world. The choice to attack rather than walking away---paralleling last volume’s final battle---speaks to their inability to think ahead and weigh their priorities. “It was worth it,” Weiss says, but is it? Now that you’ve caused the scene that you couldn’t afford? Now that this guy recognized your glyphs and you’ve blown your cover? I realize I’ll probably get heat for this, but there’s a difference between calling out micro-aggressions in everyday life and calling them out when you’re fugitives trying to keep an invaluable relic safe. It would have said more about the group’s maturity if Blake had succeeded in avoiding a scene and they expressed anger/sympathy among themselves that she had to put up with that shit. Throwing guys into dumpsters is satisfying as hell, but it’s not the action of a level-headed adult conducting a job.

Provided that the story actually acknowledges how young they are and that it’s expected they make such mistakes, we’re golden. As it is though, these issues are usually brushed aside. Later Maria says that Pietro “likes to keep a low profile. Something I’m coming to realize you know nothing about,” but it’s said in a joking, fond manner. This isn’t treated as an actual flaw and is therefore not set up as something for the team to work on. And that, right there, is the heart of the conflict between RWBYJNR and Ozpin. He’s a fine scalpel. They’re a sledgehammer. RWBY continually introduces threats that require a delicate touch---whether it’s the possibility of spies in your midst that force you to carefully monitor who has what information, or needing to move through a city without drawing attention to yourself---these battles require a certain level of strategy and without fail our heroes are characterized as people who can only solve their problems through direct, immediate violence. You don’t walk away from a fight. Ever. Be it Cordovin or a racist drunk. The more I see of their behavior, no matter the good intentions behind it, the more it makes sense to me that Ozpin lied and kept his secrets. Our heroes simply don’t have the patient, level-headed, forward-thinking personalities required to fight this kind of delicate war. Their talent lies in the hack-’em slash-’em situations.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. The group runs from the guards that show up after the drunk guy incident and they manage to make it to Pietro’s place. After some fun dialogue about whether he remembers Maria and the state of his shop, we get a potential explanation for Maria’s strange behavior on the train. Everyone remember this?

Obviously the camera focusing on Maria helps us, the audience, realize that she’s a character who will eventually become important to the story, but it’s also a bit coincidental that she’s hanging out near Team RWBY’s room. Especially when she inexplicably ends up on the back half of the train when everyone else was evacuated. It was clear at the time that she’d deliberately stayed back, but to what purpose no one was sure. Here, Maria gives a general answer about how she thought this group might have needed her guidance while fighting all those manticores… which is still an odd explanation to my mind. Because up until her confession leaving the farmhouse, Maria wants to keep that low-profile. She’s done with being the Grimm Reaper, so why get involved now? Especially when, with hired huntsmen to protect the train and a large group of teens with their own weapons, she probably would have assumed they were all in good hands? Even if it was just a fighter’s natural instinct to help, what would that guidance have looked like? Pretending to be a normal, formal huntress lending a hand where she can? Admitting she’s the Grimm Reaper? Is she still able to fight? There’s still the highly coincidental nature that Maria, the greatest huntress of a generation, just happened to be traveling the same route as and randomly became interested in the group involved with Salem, gods, and the relics.

To be clear, I’m not really arguing that there’s some big conspiracy surrounding Maria. Coincidences are common in all fiction because if things happened based on real-life probability, it would all be pretty boring. Rather, I’m simply pointing out that between losing her eyes as a young adult and coincidentally getting involved with Team RWBY now, we pretty much have no idea what Maria has been up to for most of her life. If the story wanted to establish some sort of betrayal/trickery/what-have-you, there’s room for it.

That would make me super sad though. I quite like Maria.

We learn more about Ironwood’s increasing paranoia, a hint that not everyone on the council is happy with his changes---that mysterious woman we keep seeing on the posters, perhaps?---and the acknowledgement that whoever helped bring down Atlas’ tech at Beacon has to be “Either a genius, or one of our own.” Probably both. Enter Watts, seen typing at a computer in our opening.

With all this info bearing down on them, a few characters like Jaune and Oscar start asking whether they can just leave and yes, please tackle that, because it’s a very important question. Right now the show has stalled the, “Will the group continue the fight against Salem and what’s their reasoning for doing so when they all think it’s pointless?” question by throwing up another roadblock with the relic. They got it to Atlas, but they’re not sure they can hand it off to Ironwood yet, which just leaves them twiddling their thumbs. That portion of the quest isn’t technically complete yet, putting off an answer as to whether and why they’ll go onto the next portion. We need to tackle the group’s new motivations though. Soon. I sincerely hope that when Ironwood announces he has a way of defeating Salem, we finally get the group challenging their own assertions that such attempts are fundamentally useless. We had a whole volume of, “Oh no. Oh god. Salem is immortal and all our work is for naught.” We need at least a little attention paid to the development of a new perspective to counteract that.

Before things can get too bleak though, Pietro recognizes Weiss as a Schnee. Yang, in a lovely moment of support, desperately tries to re-direct the conversation back to the council. Pietro then recognizes her arm, puts it all together to get Team RWBY, and drops the loaded comment, “My daughter has told me so much about you.”

Many fans saw it coming. Even more hoped for it. Honestly? I think that’s great. Too many shows nowadays rely on “twists” that don’t actually make sense, or even undermine the original setup. Those are frustrating beyond belief and feel like the authors are selling out good story for cheap, undesired shock value. The fandom saw Penny’s resurrection coming a mile away? Great! That just means Rooster Teeth did a good job of setting up that possibility and then following through on it.

I’ll talk more about Penny’s introduction in a moment, but first I just want to throw out that I legitimately enjoyed the fight scene. Good action and creative teamwork at times. I particularly liked Weiss and Ren working together to take down four grimm in as many seconds. Oscar likewise takes a grimm out with a very impressive strike… more impressive than I was expecting from him, honestly. Right now I suppose I’m just inclined to shrug that off with, “He and Ozpin are slowly merging, so he picks up stuff way faster than everyone else,” most notably Jaune. Also, I’ll be blunt. I wouldn’t touch canon-based rosegarden with a ten-foot pole. You know, because of all the issues like a massive age difference, two minor characters involved, questions of consent, the fact that Ruby was Ozpin’s student---pesky ethical concerns like that. AUs though? I think the ship is adorable. Provided that Oscar is fully his own person and there’s consent on both sides appropriate for whatever ages they currently are in your fic or fanart? Very nice. So, it’s for those fans that I point out an entirely coincidental parallel: Ruby saves Oscar from a grimm with a bullet in nearly the exact same manner that Blake saves Yang from a grimm with a bullet. Make of that what you will.

Back to Penny though. Overall, am I thrilled that she’s back? Absolutely. I actually spoke about this recently while answering an ask, expressing how much I’d enjoy this very scenario: having her consciousness saved and thus allowing for her resurrection. Do I think her new look is adorable? Yes, yes I do. “And yet,” you say, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, Clyde.” Yeah. Sadly there is. Because although I’m happy to have Penny, I wasn’t particularly taken with how they re-introduced her.

Simply put, there was far too much humor for what should have been a touching, emotional scene. With the exception of one moment where Ruby tries to voice the word “killed,” everyone treats Penny’s resurrection as a surprising, but not terribly notable event. Yang, Weiss, and Blake express a sort of long-suffering fondness as they comment on how wholesome this is. Pietro laughs at any shock over her “death” and shrugs about how yeah, it technically was. Whatever. Qrow takes the time to nonchalantly say that things are going better than he expected. Ruby is holding it all together with barely a blink. Penny herself is nothing but exuberance and funny dialogue. Maria cracks a joke about how she has no idea who this child is. Jaune goes, “Well, that was unexpected” as if Penny had showed up in Atlas when they all thought she was in Vacuo. That sort of surprise. The whole thing is treated flippantly with, “Never a dull moment.” Summarized, all this really isn’t the appropriate reaction to realizing a friend is no longer dead.

Yes, Ruby was the closest to Penny by far---we can’t expect everyone to get misty-eyed---but does everyone remember what her death was like? It was the turning point of the entire series, not just for the audience, but the characters as well. Penny was the first casualty of the Fall of Beacon and her death was appropriately gut wrenching. It was then shown across every TV turned to the Vytal Festival, the moment where the whole world watched their golden girl, Pyrrha, unintentionally murder a newcomer who turned out to be a robot. Moments later grimm start attacking and the safest place on Remnant is destroyed. Penny’s death heralded all that. The one time we see Ruby tackling the trauma of it all is when she speaks with Oscar and, notably, crumbles a bit when she instinctively uses Penny’s catch phrase.

What I had hoped for was the group grappling with the sudden, completely unexpected shock of getting one of two losses back; working through the knowledge that their lives have been defined by two friends’ death and now one of those has been retroactively erased. Perhaps we’ll see that in future episodes, but right now it feels like a disservice to the impact Penny’s death had on the characters and the story to treat this as such a comic, light-hearted moment. Let Penny tackle-hug Ruby and then let Ruby give her a much more sincere embrace. Let her cry. Have Yang put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, giving her a look that expresses how she understands what this means to her. Have Jaune looking away, devastated that Ruby miraculously got her friend back, but such an event is impossible for Pyrrha. Let him or Oscar or Ren or anyone seriously acknowledge that, holy shit, this is a joyous occasion we never expected to experience. We’ve spent months dealing with trauma and pessimism, now here’s Penny, reminding us that there’s still so much good in the world. Have someone acknowledge that sometimes the impossible happens (cough-defeatingSalem-cough). You can allow the moment to function as the momentous occasion it is and then lighten the mood by having Maria announce that she has no idea what’s going on.

This isn’t the first time Rooster Teeth has implemented comedy when they were better off sticking with drama. See: the choice to animate punching Ozpin last volume in an absurd, cartoon style. So yeah. Happy to have Penny back, but that first moment felt underwhelming, to say the least.

We then have an admittedly very cool shot—

— (semblance? Just awesome drama?) right before the group is taken out in seconds by Atlas’ elite. They’re… I don’t know how to spell their name yet. Is it something like Ace-Ops for elite special operations? Or Aesop like Aesop’s fables? Potentially both? Idk. The fandom will figure that out in the next day or so, if they haven’t already. What’s important though is that this group charges our team with stealing an airship, illegally entering the city with it, and starting an unauthorized fight in the streets. If I could just take one second to…

Ahem. I’m good. Seriously though, if I’m at all optimistic for Volume Seven it’s because the story is finally acknowledging that the group made some pretty massive mistakes last volume. Not that it looks like there will be much punishment attached to that. Between them meeting with Ironwood in the trailer and the Blah-Blah-Ops’ clear status as heroes this volume (they’re in the opening a bunch and seem to be working with RWBYJNR), I’m not yet convinced that this arrest will lead to anything other than getting precisely what they want: seeing Ironwood. To be clear, it’s not like I want the group languishing in jail for twelve episodes. That would be one hell of a boring volume. But rather, I’m interested in whether the story will continue to imply that Atlas is in the right for arresting them, or whether Episode Two will quickly turn that on its head and forcefully announce, as they did in Volume Six, that these actions are an egregious insult because we’re the protagonists. How dare you not let us do whatever we want?

Because the group was in the wrong here. It can be easy to miss considering that the rules they’re refusing to obey are tied up in a dictator-like society---aren’t we the heroes for ignoring and circumventing evil Ironwood’s laws?---but what they actually choose to do has far more of an impact on innocent civilians than it does on The Man. Like endangering all of Argus with your needless battle. Or, to a much smaller extent here, jumping into a fight when you’re not authorized to do that. Now, I actually don’t blame RWBYJNR for that one. They are huntsmen and it’s their job to protect the people. Going out to defeat grimm is 100% their thing. Rather, I’m talking about stuff like their commentary on Atlas’ defenses. When the fight starts we get, “I guess the city’s defenses aren’t doing much” and “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” It’s more of that, “Us huntsmen are the only true defenders of the world. Your attempts with robots would be funny if it weren’t so dangerous” attitude. It’s a certain level of arrogance. As we see just a minute later though, Ironwood’s setup works. Because the civilians all know to get indoors. Because he has Penny. The robots hold off the grimm until she arrives, defeating the rest with a speed and an ease that frankly doesn’t compare to what we saw the group accomplishing. She does from above what it took nine of them to manage, often (as we saw with Oscar and Yang) with great danger to them in the process. When they’re bound and accused of unauthorized fighting, it’s clear that they were, in fact, shouldering their way into a situation where they weren’t needed---and potentially causing trouble in the process. Rules exist for a reason. Are they always perfect? Far from it, but in the characterization folding over from Volume Six, the group has forgotten that most of the time rules are there for others’ safety. They have been thought out. This particular situation is easily defendable (of course they’re going to go fight grimm) and there were no consequences to the group jumping in when they weren’t allowed (like property damage or injured civilians), but this moment does function as a good representation of the overall problem. Just because there weren’t consequences for saying, “Screw your laws” this time doesn’t mean there won’t be in the future. Or that there hasn’t been in the past.

It likewise stands out to me that Qrow consistently tires to use his “I’m a licensed huntsmen” as a justification. He flashes it at the two goons on the train to get them to back off. He tires to use it to get past Cordovin. He now tells his captors that he has every right to fight and protect the people because of this card he carries. Qrow is well aware of how important the status of a huntsmen is in this world… yet he’s running around with eight fighters who don’t have that legal backing. I don’t think the show would ever go for my suggestion of another school arc so they could finish their training, but at the very least we should provide some sort of loop-hole for these characters. Have Ironwood provide special licenses based on their heroics at the Fall of Beacon and their work since. Because right now we have a world that’s continually emphasizing being a huntsmen as a job, something you earn the right to call yourself, yet 95% of our group doesn’t have that right in the eyes of their society. We know they’ve done great, secret work to protect the people. But the people only know that these are a bunch of teens with one year of formal training. So you really can’t blame any officials for going, “Sorry. We’re not in the habit of letting random people with weapons cross our borders. Or fight in our streets.” It’s like if a bunch of 14-18yos arrived at a crime scene with guns and demanded that they be let in on a case. No, we never graduated from an academy, but you should adhere to our demands anyway. The good intentions are there, but you need to iron out the formalities first.

Really, RWBY should just fix the whole license thing with a throw-away plot point if they’re not going to tackle it seriously, just so this isn’t an ethical issue anymore. I’d rather smooth it over soon since the story doesn’t seem interested in tackling whether a group with one year of formal training should be allowed that status. So just give it to them and let’s move on. They might still run into issues with Atlas, but at least the rest of the world won’t be expected to trust them purely on faith. Not everyone belongs to a small town terrorized by a geist, with four random teens as your only option for safety.

Which finally, as the doors close on our group with heavy heads, brings us to the opening. Some things to pay attention to:

1. We get a glimpse of that mysterious woman shown in numerous posters across the city.

(I’m likewise interested in the very long shot we got on this “show your teeth” graffiti.)

2. Watts and Tyrian are presented as primary antagonists. Interesting that Neo and Cinder aren’t there (not that I caught anyway), especially since we know they were heading to Atlas last volume as well. It makes me think that they’ll be the true threat at the end of the volume. Keeping things quiet, even in the intro, so we have no chance of guessing their plan.

3. The main conflict seems to be between Weiss and Winter, as opposed to Weiss and Jacques as many originally assumed. Those expressions don’t bode well.

4. We still see an image of Ironwood briefly flickering to Jacques though as an angry citizen throws a rock at it. Implying Jacques is secretly pulling the strings? James has simply become too much like him? We’ll have to see.

5. We get a shot of Oscar and Ironwood… training? Fighting? I’m inclined to say fighting based on his and Ozpin’s past difficulties, but that’s also up in the air.

6. The image of our staff…

…and 7. an absolutely massive cast this volume. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m concerned with RWBY’s insistence on continually introducing so many new characters, particularly characters who are important enough to warrant decent development. There simply isn’t time for them all.

(Although, is Maria in that shot? Wonder if she’ll leave the group now that she’s done her duty of helping Ruby out with her eyes.)

Which brings us to the end of the premier! Finally, I’d like to end with a personal note. As is quite obvious, I’m still watching and recapping RWBY, but I feel like I should be upfront about my overall lack of investment in the series right now. Chock it up to getting burned last volume, fading interest in a long-running show, just growing up and changing… I don’t claim to know precisely why I’m no longer jazzed about a new volume like I once was. But, if I perhaps appear overly critical of what I generally thought was a good—and honestly better than expected—premier? That’s probably why. The details just don’t cut it for me anymore. All caps, screaming excitement over Penny’s return or Qrow’s new outfit just doesn’t resonate much, which leaves me with a more critical perspective on the show overall. So if that’s something you’re interested in, stick around because, baring unforeseen circumstances, there will be more metas over the next three or so months. More invested in a flailing celebration of RWBY as a whole? You’re better off hitting up another blog.

Basically, you know that shot in Pietro’s?

Note the “Days since our last nonsense” sign combined with the defeated expressions. That’s what RWBY feels like to me these days. A lot of nonsense and limited enjoyment. Ah well. Maybe Volume Seven will prove me wrong and I’ll be re-invigorated by the end of the season!

Until then, ❤️️

Minor Things of Note

Maria refers to the group as “kids” in the airship and Penny as a “child.” Acknowledging last year’s debate, I stand by the argument that just because many (but not all) of the group have reached the age of maturity in our world doesn’t mean they’re on par with the adults they were so recently rejecting. There’s a reason why the very old Maria naturally uses “kid” and “child” and it doesn’t come off as weird.

I really like the design of Pietro’s chair. Giving him something that walks on four legs is both different and a nice nod to nature among all the tech. Also, kudos to the Pinocchio reference on his bookshelf in the form of a whale.

Nora remains as adorable as ever. I particularly liked her energy in Pietro’s and her high-key annoyance at Ren getting a jump on the fight. I’m interested in what we’ll be learning about her this volume.

Not sure I’m a fan of Rooster Teeth using these squeaky toy noises whenever the group is comically surprised by something. Comedy is great, we need it in this story, but sound effects like that are remnants (ha) of a tone we haven’t really seen since Volume 1. I think the show can still get away with exaggerated facial expressions---Nora in her excitement, Ruby laughing at Jaune’s Pumpkin Pete’s sweatshirt---but this feels a bit out of place now.

“Maybe Atlas isn’t as safe as we thought” and yet, astoundingly, no one is inclined to ask Ozpin to weigh in on this. Even now that they know he’s listening. I think I’ll start a tally. See how many episodes it takes to actually acknowledge, let alone act on, the primary conflict of Volume 6.

Image Credit

Personal screenshots from RWBY

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

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love light gleams

previous chapter | chapter two | next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen

words: 57,686

notes: it took my catholic-raised ass three months into writing this story to realize all of the goddamn religious implications i wrote into this story, and that realization was spurred because of the scene that gets introduced in this chapter, so, enjoy!

so, the sky is dark, but patton genuinely has no idea what time it is. god, he really hopes that the diner’s open. he could probably steal back to the inn and see what they’ve got leftover, or maybe get the cheapest thing on the menu at al’s pancake world, but. he’d really like to see virgil.

logan starts crying midway through the walk, so that means that patton has to steal inside the town’s gas station to check if he needs anything, but of course, he doesn’t, it’s his colic, and the reason patton doesn’t know what time it is is because he’d fallen asleep in the kitchen , somehow, without logan’s crying to wake him up for however long, so he’s probably held in the crying for a while, and—and it’s still upsetting, he knows that logan’s crying and it feels like he’s a bad dad because he can’t fix whatever’s wrong because something has to be wrong because logan’s crying, but he can’t fix it, he can only bounce logan and walk him along and hush him the best he can.

logan’s still crying—not screaming, but still crying—by the time he walks into the diner, so when he enters the diner he steals into the nearest empty booth in order to keep bouncing logan and rest his aching feet.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” patton chants to him. “shh shh shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, i wish i could fix whatever’s wrong—”

he keeps talking to logan, trying to keep his voice quiet so that he isn’t disrupting the other diners, and eventually logan quiets, staring at him with red, watery eyes, and patton blows out a slow sigh of relief, air streaming toward his bangs.

“okay,” patton whispers. “okay. are you feeling better now, little love? yeah?”

logan sniffles a little, makes a babyish kind of hiccuping noise, and patton adjusts his hold on logan so he can wipe the tears off his face, and then, with one hand, smear at his own face. god, he’s so tired. shouldn’t a nap have made him less tired?

“hey, what can i get—”

patton and the woman stare at each other for a few seconds. some of those seconds patton’s spending frantically searching through his brain to see if he’s forgetting that he’s met this woman before, or—

“i’m so sorry, but, um, are you new here?” patton says uncertainly.

“funny, i was gonna ask you the same thing,” the woman says, cocking out her hip. she looks familiar, with dark hair and blue eyes and ohh.

“wait, are you virgil’s sister?” patton asks.

“one of ‘em, yeah,” she says, and gestures. “i’d offer to shake your hand, but, ya know. baby holding takes priority. i’m technically winifred, because our parents hate us all, but i go by fred slash freddie. mostly freddie.”

“okay,” patton says. “freddie, hi, nice to meet you. um, i’m patton, this is logan.” he pauses, before he explains, “we moved here about a month ago.”

“ohh, that’d do it,” freddie says, sticking the pencil behind her ear. “i moved away—oh, i guess about a year ago now for work, so.”

“oh, what do you do?” patton asks, seizing on a socially acceptable way to do small-talk, but it’s as if those words are some kind of secret code that he’s shattered, because virgil bursts out of the kitchen, eyes wild, plonking the baby carrier on patton’s table as if to prove his point.

“ no feet on my tables or counters, no hands on my counters, do not do any backflips, frontflips, sideflips, or fancy acrobatic tricks i don’t know the names of, and no you can not show him your weird tricks that prove that mom and dad had your spine removed at birth—“

“—it’s called contortionism—”

“people are eating, that sh—stuff is gross,” virgil finishes.

“you aren’t the boss of me,” freddie says.

“no, but i’m the boss of here,” virgil says, and freddie blows a raspberry at him.

“sorry about her, patton,” virgil says, and now that they’re side-by-side, patton can see the whole sibling resemblance thing even clearer.

“oh, don’t be, i think she’s funny,” patton says.

“ha! see? i’m funny,” freddie says.

“why did you stick around here again?” virgil says.

“mom and dad were going to a museum’s diorama opening,” freddie says, and raises her eyebrows for emphasis. “a diorama opening, virgil. so if it’s between that and—”

“—not getting out of my hair?”

“spending time with my beloved baby broooo-theer,” she coos, and virgil ducks out from any of her attempts at a hug like getting his hand off a hot stove, and patton tries to stifle his laughter against his hand.

“just—go back to the counter, winifred jane, ” virgil huffs, and freddie curtsies and prances, dramatically, back toward the counter.

“so, she’s an ...acrobat?” patton guesses as he starts to situate logan in the carrier.

“acrobat, wannabe circus woman, dancer, stuntswoman on occasion, yeah,” virgil says wearily. “the dream’s cirque du soleil.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says. “i went to one of those shows once, a few years ago, it was—” a time he remembers fondly with his parents, which sends a stab of regret through his chest, makes him think of the papers that are practically burning a hole through logan’s diaper bag—“i mean, wow. that’d be a really interesting job. she seems like she’d be really good at it.”

“please don’t say that where she can hear you, her ego will grow three times too big.”

“grinch reference?”

virgil smiles, just a little, and patton clears his throat, digging around.

“um—i’m happy you came over, actually, i meant to drop this off yesterday but well, you know,” he says, and makes a vague hand gesture with one hand, digging in the bag with the other, before he presents it to virgil, flushing just a little.

he’s not the best knitter, but. it’s the best he can do really. and it doesn’t feel like even a fraction of enough, in terms of a gift for virgil, but—virgil’s face does something at the sight of it.

“it’s a scarf,” patton elaborates, because, well, to be fully honest, it’s kind of difficult to tell. “um, for your birthday. so. happy late birthday. again.”

“oh,” virgil says. “patton, that’s—that’s really cool, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“this was seriously the least i could do,” patton says firmly.

“well,” virgil says, and picks it up carefully, ignoring the bit at the end that patton didn’t knot very well and is therefore unraveling as they speak, “thanks. hey, it’s purple!”

“well,” patton says. “yeah. it, um. it’s your favorite color. isn’t it?”

virgil then unfolds it.

“oh, you—you don’t have to wear it right now,” patton says.

“no, i love it,” virgil says stubbornly, carefully winding it around his neck. he smiles a little, touching it gently, as if to ensure it won’t unravel anymore. “thanks. no one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“oh,” patton says, perking up a little. “well, um, you’re welcome!”

“it’s nice and warm,” virgil says, and readies his notepad. “do you want—?”

“oh! um, one more thing,” patton says. “i had—well, part of the reason i couldn’t drop it off is because i had lunch with maria yesterday, as, like, a check-in kind of thing,” and to drop off the papers that will definitely be like in the top three of major life-changing decisions i’ve made this year , “and apparently christmas pay is first come, first serve, and since i’m the most recent hire, i, uh. i guess logan and i are coming to your family christmas? if that’s still okay?”

“of course that’s still okay,” virgil says firmly. “that’s great. um, i will let you know that freddie will also be there, so if you want a get out of jail free card now, i can pretend you never told me—”

patton laughs, even as he swats at virgil. “she’s your sister.”

“yeah, i know,” virgil says. “which is why i’m offering you the get out of jail free card.”

“i dunno, it seems like it’ll be kinda fun,” patton says. “i’m an only child, so. siblings are kind of a mystery to me.”

“god, i wish that were me,” virgil mutters under his breath.

“it’ll be fun!” patton says. “you called your sister by her full name, am i gonna hear you get middle-named by your parents, at some point?”

( god, virgil hopes not; he’d panicked a couple weeks ago when patton had been talking about names, said that his “oh, my confirmation name was thomas” and patton had gotten so excited about him and logan and virgil being “middle name twins! or, triplets, i guess!! that’s so cool!!” and virgil had said “HAHA YEAH HOW COOL IS THAT” all while dedicating himself even more to locking down his full name so no one will hear it, because god virgil wishes his name was virgil thomas!)

“uh, maybe,” and then, “what do you want for dinner?”

oh, so it’s dinner time, patton thinks. he’d been a little nervous he’d slept straight through the night, almost to the dawn. according to the stuff he’s been reading, that probably won’t happen for another month and a half, and for it to happen regularly until logan hits six months.

“hot cocoa/coffee,” he starts, and virgil groans, and logan makes a babyish noise, as if to support patton, and patton decides to resort to using the baby to get him caffeine.

it’s worked before, and patton’s banking on it working again.

(it does.)

⁂

it takes patton slightly embarrassingly too long to tune in to the abnormal thing on his schedule, the next morning.

it’s probably because patton got about an hour of sleep in snatches, between trying to calm logan and when he was lying on his back, staring sleeplessly at the cracked ceiling of the poolhouse, turning the emancipation situation over and over and over in his head.

because on one hand, he fills out the emancipation form. which is the logical thing to do, at this point—sixteen-year-olds can file for emancipation and teen parents have an even better chance of getting approved, especially since he has a job and a place to live. he fills out the emancipation form, he stops feeling the urge to look over his shoulder all the time, no more fear of his parents sending a detective after him to try to find him or anything—honestly, he’s surprised they didn’t file a missing persons report. he knows they haven’t, he’s been checking.

but he files for emancipation. and then what? his parents would hate him. any chance patton might have at forgiveness gets slimmer and slimmer by the day, like a rope fraying, a rope he’s clinging to despite the fact that he’s got a pretty decent foothold in the mountain that he’s climbing, and filing for emancipation would be like taking out an axe and chopping the rope so with one misstep he’d start free-falling. emily and richard sanders are proud people. patton filing for emancipation would be like a slap in the face.

and then what? they’d be furious with him. they might never, ever forgive him. they might never even talk to him again.

and on the other hand, if he doesn’t—then that means that that looming threat of being dragged back home still hangs heavy over his head. and then what? he’d be locked up in his room, for the next two years, at least? thrown back into chilton? sent right back to his life before, before he’d gotten a taste of a world being free of being emily and richard sanders’ child first and the continuation of the sanders line second and any anything about himself third, of being expected to go to an ivy league and be a house spouse and join a thousand societies and go to a hundred balls and luncheons and meetings a year and just, what? be a pretty bird, in a gilded cage, and miss any chance of seeing logan through these baby years and his childhood? maybe even be forced to give logan away, or make him be kept at his parents’, be logan’s older “brother.” he doesn’t even know what they’d do to him—and that would be the nice option.

but. but, if he doesn’t... his parents might forgive him for running away. oh, not immediately, of course not. but there’d be a hell of a lot better chance of them forgiving him if he doesn’t actively turn away.

yeah. so. patton’s lost a lot of sleep he’s got a lot on his mind. he missed something atypical on his schedule. he’s tuned into it just in time.

so, he manages to tidy up the last room before his lunch break a bit quicker than usual, and, after being waylaid by changing logan, manages to slide into the kitchen.

“sorry,” patton pants. “am i—am i late?”

“you’re early, actually,” cindy says, and patton blows out a slow breath of relief, trying not to clutch the stitch in his side.

“good! good, i was worried i’d be late. um—how do holiday parties usually go around here?”

“oh, they’re pretty casual here,” cindy says. “eat some snacks, drink some drinks—well, you’ll be having soda, i guess—play some music, you know. casual. maybe a game, if someone gets too into it, but it’ll be charades or some other party game like that.”

“uh-huh,” patton says, whose experience with christmas parties are mostly his parents formal events with the really good apple tarts and really terrible small talk, “casual, okay. i can do that.”

“and probably,” they say, with a wry smile, “a round of pass-the-baby, but that’s pretty normal around here now.”

“well, as long as everyone washes their hands, i’ll be fine with that,” patton says, already moving to remove the baby carrier (and logan in the baby carrier) from his chest.

“since they’re coming into my kitchen, they better be,” cindy says.

their coworkers start gradually filtering into the kitchen over the course of the next few minutes; patton hands logan over to rafael, as he makes the first claim and is the first to finish washing his hands to cindy’s satisfaction. patton’s kind of glad, because he can chit-chat pretty easily with rafael; he usually ends up hovering nervously the whole time anyone else is holding logan, so this at least gives him an excuse other than looking like a hysterical, overprotective nervous nelly.

"so,” patton says, “do you have any plans for the holidays?”

it turns out raf’s wife is jewish, so they’re celebrating hanukkah already (”it’s not as major a holiday as, like, rosh hashanah or yom kippur, but she loves latkes, so i’m going to eat potatoes for the whole holiday, which is the opposite of a problem”) so they’re already in the middle of their holiday celebration.

and then hector wants to hold logan, so patton starts talking to hector—he’s going to see his daughter and his granddaughters, and he hands logan back in time to dig out photos and proudly show them off (which frankly is the exact kind of dad and, oh god, potential grandpa he wants to be) chattering patton’s ear off about how little ana is so smart, reading already, and sofia might only be a bit older than logan but she’s already a strong one, nearly broke his finger with how strong she was holding it last time.

and then logan starts fussing, so patton takes him and ducks into the nearest unoccupied room to check on him, and when he walks out—

“oh! excuse me,” patton says, before he realizes who he’s talking to.

“not a problem at all,” meredith says warmly. “oh, hello, logan!”

“can you say hello?” patton prompts, even though he knows it’s about eleven months until logan will start using basic words like hello or bye-bye, but he doesn’t so much as babble.

patton smiles apologetically, but she laughs.

“he’s a newborn, i don’t expect any of that yet,” she says reassuringly. “i heard from virgil that we can expect to see you at the family christmas?”

“oh, yes,” patton says, shifting logan in his arms. “turns out holiday pay is a first come, first serve thing, which i probably should have expected. thank you again, so much, for inviting me, by the way,” he adds hastily—he can hear his mother lecturing him about rudeness now, and then even the thought of his mom makes him sad—and she smiles.

“well, it’s just nice to meet a friend of virgil’s after,” she says, hesitates, and continues, “well, it’s just nice to meet one of virgil’s friends.”

that’s a strange way to put it. look, patton knows he’s practically sleepwalking, but that’s a strange way to put it, right?

“well, it’s nice of you to have us,” patton says.

“oh, my, what do we have here?” maria asks, as she comes down the hall. “patton, i hope she’s not corrupting you.”

“maria,” meredith says warmly.

“no, no, not at all,” patton says. “um, i was just thanking her for inviting me to the family christmas.”

maria smiles at meredith, putting a hand on patton’s shoulder. “well, how nice! i hate to steal patton from you, meredith, it’s just that if my employees don’t have a baby in the room i fear they’ll riot. honestly, they’ve been the best-behaved they’ve been in years when there’s a baby to be held.”

“why do you think mark and i kept having them?” meredith says dryly.

“we should get coffee, sometime, before you leave for the holiday,” maria says.

they exchange a look that’s a bit too loaded for patton’s exhausted, sad brain to unparse right now.

“so lovely to see you back in town!” maria says, patting patton’s shoulder, which he takes as his cue to go.

“coffee, maria, really, i know where to find you,” meredith, and adds, “i’ll see you three later!”

“bye, mrs. danes!” patton calls.

“it’s meredith—”

“oh, mer, i’ve been trying to break him of his manners for a month,” he can hear maria say as he edges back into the kitchen, “i wish you luck with it.”

he enters the kitchen, and someone is at his side.

“i’ve washed my hands,” pauline says stiffly, and patton grins.

“pauline, would you like to hold the baby?”

“if you insist,” she says, as if she does not immediately cuddle logan close to her as soon as patton puts him in her arms, logan’s chubby fists opening and closing as he reaches for the fine silver chain that supports the modest, everpresent cross that hangs from pauline’s neck.

there’s the soft ting-ting-ting, and patton turns his attention to maria, who’s holding a glass and spoon aloft.

"i’d say i’ll keep it short, but all of you know much better than that,” maria says cheerfully, to a chorus of chuckles. “now! it’s been a wonderful year so far, and i have high hopes that it will continue to be a wonderful year when i leave you all to fend for yourselves after tomorrow. and to ensue in our yearly tradition—”

“our yearly what?” patton says in an undertone to pauline, but pauline’s handing logan back and everyone’s getting up and standing in a circle, so patton hastens to follow.

“now,” meredith says, “we’ll start with cara, and move down the line.”

with a rush of aww s and chuckles, cara walks into the center of the circle with a bowed head and flushing cheeks.

what’s happening? patton would ask, except everyone so clearly knows what’s happening already, so he just sinks a little further back into the round to see what—

“cara,” pauline says, “you are a great speaker. you have a natural ability to best explain to guests any plans thoroughly and articulately, all while answering any questions before they can be asked.”

“aw, thanks, pauline,” cara mumbles, face still bright red.

“cara,” rafael says, “you can solve problems for me in ten minutes that would take me six weeks to figure out.”

oh, patton realizes. it’s a compliment train.

“cara,” maria says warmly, “i know that when i leave for the day, or i’m not there, i am leaving the inn in spectacular, capable hands, and i know that any inn you decide to work in once you’re done with your degree will be just about the luckiest inn in the world.”

and round and round they go, until they get to patton, who says, “cara, you really helped me settle in here, and i always know that when i walk by the front desk i’ll be greeted with a kind word and a smile. you’ve been so gentle with logan, which sets me at ease faster than anything when someone holds logan. you’ve given me a lot of comfort and i really hope you have a lovely holiday with even half the tenderness you’ve shown him, because you really deserve it.”

“oh,” cara says, a little choked up, “thanks, patton.”

“and let’s give it up for cara, everyone!” maria says, and everyone applauds.

hector, rafael, cindy, maria, more and more, every employee of the inn has their time in the center of the circle. patton tries his hardest to impress on each and every one of them how welcome he feels, how grateful he is for them helping them, and he knows it’s not enough, not even close to enough, but the looks on their faces at least make patton feel like he’s at least started to pay them back somehow, and then—

“last of our new hires but certainly not least,” maria says warmly, “patton.”

patton’s face feels like it’s on fire, and he tightens his hold on logan as he steps cautiously into the center of the circle.

“you parent us so effectively, and we’re older than you. logan’s going to turn out so well with you there to teach him everything—you are such a mixture of a teddy bear and a papa bear and i love it!”

“patton, you always try to build everyone up and you’re always so supportive of everything anyone does—you’re encouraging, and you always make an effort to reach out and compliment someone, which really means a lot to me when i’m having a rough time.”

“patton, you always try your hardest to do the right thing, and whether it’s as big as raising that beautiful baby of yours or as small as messing up a customer’s bed, you will always, always strive to make it better than it was before.”

“you are such a nurturing, loving, caring friend, and you are already an amazing father. logan is going to be so lucky to grow up with a dad as kind, understanding, and supportive as you.”

“patton, you always try to greet everyone with a smile and you are such a ray of sunshine to absolutely everyone you meet, it’s incredible. you are just such a... such a good person, like, disney levels of good, it’s almost like birds should do your hair every morning.”

around and around and around it goes, and when it gets to maria she steps forward, face creased with concern, and that’s when patton realizes he’s crying.

“sorry,” he gasps out, and sniffs, loudly, wiping under his eyes with his sleeve. “sorry, sorry, i’m sorry—“

“oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry,” maria says. “if this is too much—“

“no,” patton says, and tries for a wobbly smile. “sorry, um, it’s—it’s hormones, i think, i’m okay, i’m just—” he swallows, and forges on. “i’m just really grateful for how kind and welcoming everyone has been, and everyone—everyone’s been so nice to me, and i just—” don’t deserve this, i don’t deserve this, why are you being so nice to me? i’m me, you shouldn’t be so nice to me, “ thank you.”

maria gently wraps an arm around his shoulders. “do you think you can handle one more?”

patton, sniffling, nods, smearing his sleeve under his eyes again.

“you have been,” she says, “a spectacular new hire. you’ve been a great employee, you’ve caught up well with your training, you clearly get along well with your coworkers—“

a rush of agreeing noises pour forth, and patton sobs, just a little, and maria squeezes him around the shoulders.

“—you have been so kind and welcoming. guests take notice, and we have taken notice, and patton—you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, as long as you need. i think that you are a remarkable young man who is working through a variety of unfortunate circumstances, but you face them admirably with a level of strength that i marvel at every day. even with everything that has happened to you, you have not let that affect you, and you remain to be one of the most unique, shining rays of kindness that i have ever met. you are gentle, and sweet, and a good father, and a good boy, who i would be privileged to watch grow into a good man. you are welcome here, and you are loved. more than you know.”

he’s trying to look at maria, but her face is blurring up and he can feel his face crumpling up, and there’s something lodged in his throat that won’t let him say “thank you” in anything louder than a rasp.

“yeah, we love you, patton,” rafael says warmly, as maria draws him in for a hug.

“we love you, patton!” cindy.

“te amo como un hijo!” hector.

patton buries his face in maria’s shoulder, just for a second, trying to get it together enough to thank them, to try to communicate how much it means to him, how much he loves it here, and how much of that is due to the people.

whatever he says, he knows it won’t be enough.

it won’t ever be enough.

but, patton thinks, as maria squeezes his shoulder and murmurs “truly, we do,” in his ear, maybe it can be a start.

⁂

patton doesn’t even know what day it is, really, but cara had been put under instructions re: making patton go for walks and eat something other than inn leftovers, so she’s shooed him out of the front room for dinner. taking logan on a walk and getting some fresh air sounds like a great idea, until—

“oh, shoot,” patton says in an undertone, as soon as he feels the familiar plop! of a cold drop on his head, and immediately places a protective hand over logan’s head as he rushes for safety under the nearest building’s eaves.

and not a moment too soon—it seems like as soon as he gets safely under the roof, that weird precipitation that’s somewhere between rain and snow pours upon the sidewalk, and patton directs a stream of air toward his bangs.

right. he’s stuck here, then, at the...

oh.

he’s at the church.

he’s seen the church, of course; it’s within eyesight of the diner, near the center of town, so of course he’s seen it. he knows that the priest and the rabbi share the space, since the town is so tiny it can’t really justify two separate places of worship, so all of them shared the historical building. it’s pretty, and big, but nothing like the stone behemoth that his parents usually attended—this is white, with a big black door and a steeple, just big enough that it would hold a congregation.

he hasn’t been to this one. he hasn’t been to a church in a while, actually. well, he’d gone before he’d told his parents about pregnancy, trying to win them over before he had to dump life-changing news on them, too, but prior to that had been them inviting over reverend boatwright to talk to patton about the gift of his “virtue” and that had gone over with about the grace and subtlety of a lead balloon. he hadn’t been to church in a long time, really. ever since, well—ever since he realized he was a he.

his feelings toward church have skewed toward complicated since then.

patton chews at his lip. on one hand, it’s the middle of the day, but on the other, it’s in the middle of the christmas season, which meant that there might be a service, which he really doesn’t want to interrupt. he can peek in and see if it’s busy, he figures. that’d be a good compromise.

still keeping his hand over logan’s head, in case of any stray raindrops, he slowly ascends the stairs and reaches the big black door, which has two signs on it. patton squints, adjusting his glasses to read them—one details the jewish services, the other christian. both say all are welcome.

apparently, there isn’t much going on right now, but they’ve got something happening soon.

patton takes his chances. he takes a deep breath. he eases open the door as quietly as he can.

no one’s in the opening section of the church. it feels strangely anticlimactic.

patton cautiously removes logan from his chest, adjusting so that he’ll cradle logan in his arms instead, and settles carefully on one of the benches that’s relatively out of the way.

“all right, love, we’ve got some time to kill,” patton says. “how’s your day been?”

logan babbles at him, and babbles even more, culminating in waving his arms around and a smile, and patton makes a shocked face.

“goodness, you did all that?! where was i, for all this?”

logan pulls a face at him, scrunching up his nose, as if to say silly daddy, and patton laughs.

“yeah, you’re right, i’m sure,” patton says, and surveys his surroundings. it’s decorated, but not in the way he’d expect; cloths of gold and silver descend from the ceiling, like streamers, almost, a christmas tree in a corner, menorahs gleaming proudly in the windowsills, a manger tucked away in an alcove, poinsettias overflowing from anything that might have been an empty space. it’s warm in here, really—warmer than patton would expect.

logan babbles more— pay attention to me! — and patton obligingly turns his attention back to him, tickling logan’s belly, feeling his heart swell up as logan smiles again.

god, patton had had no idea he could love someone so much.

patton leans to kiss logan on the forehead, before he asks, “tummy time, d’you think?”

logan doesn’t really respond. which is fair, he’s a baby.

“tummy time it is,” patton says, and carefully adjusts so that he’s lying on the bench, legs awkwardly splayed and spilling over the edges so that he can stay balanced, and carefully eases logan onto his chest, on his stomach. he is kind of worried that logan isn’t getting enough time on his stomach, since patton carries him around so much and then when patton’s sleeping he’s in the crib, so he’s trying to do it more and more. the trouble is, it’s difficult to do that when his job has him on his feet so much.

logan thumps his fist on patton’s chest, and patton tries not to wince, before logan settles in place.

“there we go,” patton says. honestly, he’s not very comfortable at all, but, well. as long as logan is, that’s what matters. “how about that, huh?”

logan settles, and so does patton.

it’s been a fairly calm day. even though the holidays mean that there’s a lot of people flocking to sideshire to see relatives, everyone’s so frequently out of their rooms that it’s been easy for him to steal into rooms and tidy them up. a lot of employees are taking leave for their holiday plans, maria included, but it seems to even out.

really, patton’s kind of at a loss—he isn’t sure if this is a holiday thing, or if it means he’s getting used to the way things go here. on one hand, he’s happy about that. he likes it here, he wants to stay here, and it’s a good sign that he’s settling. on the other...

well, he’s settling here. not back with his mom and dad. thoughts of going back to school at chilton are starting to seem strange, foreign; why would he need to learn geometry proofs? that isn’t going to help him take care of his baby.

patton lets out a sigh, watching logan rise and fall on his chest, and fixes his eyes on the ceiling.

he’s spent his nights since he got the papers biting his nails down to the quick and worrying about this. he won’t worry about it now.

he won’t.

honestly, if he wasn’t so uncomfortable on this bench, he’d be close to falling asleep. the sound of the rain pattering on the roof and pavement, the warmth of the room, the gentle twinkling lights strung about the room—there’s something inherently calming about it.

of course, that’s when logan starts crying.

“oh, honey,” he says, dismayed, sitting up carefully, “oh, oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

he doesn’t need a diaper change, and, after a quick sojourn to the bathroom (god, patton loves the prolific presence of unisex, family restrooms in sideshire, no gender strangeness about going into the one that usually has a changing table and no lack of a changing table when he goes into the one for the gender he is) logan isn’t hungry, which means it’s probably colic, which means that patton has to, mostly, wait it out.

patton mumble-sings “blue christmas” as he walks laps around the church’s reception area, bouncing logan as he goes, and then “rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,” then “joy to the world,” then “twelve days of christmas.” none of them really help, and patton keeps darting nervous glances toward the church, hoping that the crying baby isn’t disturbing whatever might be going on in there, and—

“oh, i don’t think i know you,” and patton turns, flustered, patting logan on the back.

“i—no, i’m new in town,” patton says. “i’m so sorry, usually i’d take him outside, but with the rain—“

“no, no,” the reverend says—and he has to be a priest or a reverend, he’s wearing the clerical collar—and gestures. “just david and i here, decorating the main space. is it colic?”

patton huffs a breath toward his bangs, trying to get his curls out of his eyes. “yeah, how’d you know?”

he smiles. “lucky guess. how old is he?”

“about seven weeks.”

“i’ve seen babies for baptisms for years. may i—?”

“oh!” patton says, even more flustered. “um, of course, sure, just—”

pattno carefully hands over logan, and, with a practiced, professional flip that still makes patton jolt forward, heart in his throat, hands up as if to catch logan if he dropped him, the priest positions logan so that he’s on his stomach, his head still pillowed by the priest’s elbow, body balanced along his arm, and, with several firm pats to logan’s back, logan hiccups and falls silent.

“i,” patton says, “how did you—how did you just do that?”

“colic carry,” the priest says, lifting logan slightly, as if in demonstration. “uncommon trick, and really it doesn’t usually work this quickly, but. still useful.”

“oh,” patton says, breathless. “i—thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he says. “your name...?”

“oh!” patton says, shaking himself. “right, i’m sorry—i’m patton, i moved here about a month ago.”

“archie skinner,” he says.

“nice to meet you,” patton says. “would you mind, um. showing me how to hold him like that?”

the priest smiles, and shows patton how to position his arm, before he gently transfers logan back to him, and patton adjusts to this new, unfamiliar, frankly miraculous way to hold him.

“forgive me for asking, but are you religious?” archie asks. “i don’t think i’ve seen you, but of course you might be more familiar with david—“

“i,” patton begins, and huffs a breath. “to be fully honest, that’s a good question.”

“oh?”

“i used to go to church a lot more when i was younger,” patton explains. “but then i, um, well. at my parents’ church, they didn’t seem very pleased that i was... well, like i am.”

archie frowns. “i’m sorry you had that experience.”

“yeah, well,” patton says, and shrugs, mindful of how he’s carrying logan. “it is what it is, i guess.”

“well, i’d invite you to sit in, if you like,” archie says, “except for the next few hours, we’ll be doing reconciliation.”

patton frowns. “i thought that was an easter thing?”

“traditionally, yes,” archie says. “however, some parishioners prefer a more frequent opportunity, so we do it once every three months or so.”

patton absorbs this, and archie gestures.

“well. if you and—?”

“logan.”

“—logan would like to come in, we certainly won’t make you sit out here to wait out the rain.”

“thank you,” patton says, and he follows him into the (church? temple?) worship space.

there is a man with a yarmulke in a corner—david barans, the rabbi, patton guesses—who’s making sure that a gold cloth stays affixed, as archie disappears into the confessional.

eventually, david leaves too, and patton slowly relaxes back into the pew as people slowly filter in.

he falls back into the sort of lull he’d been in before—the rain, the soft piano music in the background, the low, flickering light of the candles, logan falling asleep and staying asleep when patton cautiously eases back onto the pew and sets logan on his chest for pseudo-tummy-time, cradling logan’s head—and startles a little when someone sits beside him.

“i didn’t know you were catholic,” pauline comments, and patton rubs at his eyes.

“mostly on a technicality,” patton says. “went to church growing up, that kind of thing.”

pauline nods. “well. reverend skinner has good sermons each week, if you’d like to join.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and shrugs. “weekend hours, you know.”

“yes,” pauline says. “i do.”

a long pause.

pauline’s an older lady, with hair that’s a strange shade between blonde and gray, and an ever-present cross around her neck. she almost always wears twinsets, sweaters and slacks, skirtsuits that remind him of his mom, tights that never have runs in them, sensible, neutral-colored heels. her hair’s cropped close to her head. it’s curling a little, just at the edges, probably from the stray drops of rain that had gotten to her, despite the umbrella folded up in her left hand.

“are you going to penance?”

“oh—i, um, i just got caught up in the rain and i ran for cover, ‘cause, you know,” patton says, lifting logan ever so slightly.

“hm,” pauline says. “well, you might think about it. i’ve found that penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it may be difficult, but when i walk out of the church, i feel... lighter. it might give you some form of closure. perhaps it would help.”

patton sits, silent, not quite able to meet her eyes. yeah, patton, starting to cry because people were too nice to you at the christmas party was a great move.

“i know you’ve had quite a year,” she says. “acknowledging that may help you move forward, in anticipation of the new year. but either way,” pauline says, and offers her hand. “though it’s not mass... may peace be with you.”

patton smiles, and shakes her hand. “peace be with you.”

“i hope that for you,” pauline says. “genuinely. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.”

patton folds his lip under his teeth and swallows. “thank you,” he croaks. “that’s—that’s very nice, pauline. i appreciate it.”

pauline nods, and she stands, smoothing her hands down her skirt, before she moves to where the line has dwindled to one person for reconciliation.

penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it might give you some form of closure. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.

patton blows out a slow breath. “all right,” he says under his breath. “what could it hurt?”

and so, after pauline enters the reconciliation confessional, patton stands and slowly moves toward the line.

when she exits to see him there, she looks startled, only for a moment, before she offers him a rare smile.

“i’ll be praying for you,” she says.

“thank you,” patton says softly, and he slowly enters the confessional, settling in the seat, shifting logan just slightly.

patton takes one deep breath, two, before he admits, “it’s been a while since i’ve done this, i can’t remember—”

“forgive me father, for i have sinned,” archie prompts gently.

“right, right,” patton says, and swallows, swiping his free hand along his jeans to get rid of the sweat, then swapping his hold on logan so he can do the same for the other. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. it’s been... i think two and a half years since my last confession.”

“may god the father of all mercies help you make a good confession,” the priest says formally.

patton swallows, hard, eyes suddenly stinging.

“um, i’ve. i’ve lied,” he says. “to my parents, teachers, and friends. about who i am, what was happening to me. if i was happy or sad. if i’d done the work that was asked of me. about where i am, and what my plans were. are. i was—i am— deceitful and secretive.”

no response. patton guesses he’s just supposed to keep going, then.

“i’ve been angry,” he says, and suddenly it’s difficult to look at logan, and the guilt that comes from saying all of this out loud, and how is he supposed to feel lighter? “about—about the way others treated me, and i know i’m supposed to turn the other cheek, but i—i didn’t, sometimes, and i spoke in words of anger or hurt, but it doesn’t take away the fact that it was mean.

“i’ve been sad,” patton says, “and ungrateful, and i didn’t properly cherish what i had, what i could have. i’ve been prideful, and greedy, and lustful, and wrathful, and envious. it feels like i’m making my way down the list of the deadly seven, so. there’s that.

“i’ve drank—alcohol, i mean—and i’ve drank too much, a few times, and i can’t remember all the stuff i’ve done then but it was probably pretty bad. i’m not sure if that’s a sin, but it feels like it should be, especially since i’m not of age.”

he chews his lip, and says, “i’ve snuck out of the house, and lied about where i was, and shut out my parents for asking where i was. sometimes, i’d just... disappear. sneak out of the window, or wait until they were asleep, but i’d just sneak out of the house. i’m sure i’ve worried them terribly.”

“i’ve been...” he says, and his voice cracks. “i’ve been a terrible son. i’ve lied to my parents. i’ve been cruel to them. i ran away from home without a word, and there’s only been one phone call to tell that i’m not dead, which feels like i’m being unthoughtful at the least. i’ve caused them so much worry, and pain, and i’m stuck in the middle of a choice that will either hurt me and my son, or hurt them even more, and i—i don’t know if it’s a sin, choosing to hurt them, but it feels like it should be. and i—i don’t know what to do?”

a beat, and then patton adds, “oh, i guess i had premarital sex, too. um, that’s a sin,” he says, with a sobbing kind of laugh, swiping his fingers under his eyes. “i don’t know if having a child outside of marriage is a sin, but it probably is, ‘cause of the whole sex thing, so add that one on there. i’ve done a lot of bad things over the past couple years, but i think i covered the big ones and i wouldn’t want to keep you for hours.”

“that’s quite a list,” archie says, and patton gulps.

“yeah.”

“it must have weighed on you quite heavily.”

“yeah,” patton says, and a sob escapes him, involuntarily. “it—yeah.”

“and you are truly seeking repentance?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i think i—yeah.”

“well,” archie says. “i’m afraid my advice mostly follows on what you’ve been doing, which is changing your ways—you’re making a living, you’re caring for your son.”

patton blinks, sniffling. “isn’t the advice usually to pray my rosary five times, or something?”

“well, if you feel it’ll help, you can certainly do that too, i’m sure mary wouldn’t be opposed,” archie says reasonably. “but repentance —true repentance, in my mind—is a marked, vested interest in change. i certainly think that you’re doing that.”

“i’m changing,” patton says wearily. “trust me, i’m changing. to say the least.”

“quite,” archie says. “and... i suppose the rosaries and stopping by more church services couldn’t hurt, wouldn’t you say?”

patton manages a giggle—a snotty, gross one, but a giggle. “sure. i’ll say some rosaries.”

“all right,” archie says. “do you remember the act of contrition? i can walk you through it, if you like.”

so archie walks him through it, before he says, “god, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the holy spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. through the ministry of the church, may god give you pardon and peace. and i absolve you from your sins in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit.”

“amen,” patton says.

“now,” archie says. “go forth, and go in peace.”

patton hesitates, before he says, “thank you” and quickly scuttles out of the confessional.

he’s re-strapping logan to his chest out front, listening keenly for the rain, by the time archie re-emerges from the church.

“oh!” patton says, “um—“

archie holds up a hand, and says, “if you prefer, i can stick very firmly to the whole ‘confessionals are private’ aspect of it.”

patton blows out a slow breath of relief. “yes, i’d appreciate it.”

he makes sure that logan’s secure in the carrier, and archie nods at him.

“well,” he says, “you’d certainly be welcome at our christmas mass, if you like.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and admits, “i’m spending christmas with the danes’, so i’m not really sure of my schedule.”

“oh, they’re fine people,” archie says. “have a nice day, and a merry christmas.”

“you too, reverend,” patton says, and opens the black door, about to step out into the square, before—

“patton?”

“yes?” patton asks, turning around.

archie smiles thinly, before he says, “you do realize that who you’ve been offering to pray to—well, mary was an unwed teenage parent too, you know.”

patton’s lip quirks. he runs a hand over logan’s downy hair.

“huh,” he says thoughtfully. “you know, i guess she was.”

⁂

“hey. hope you didn’t get caught in the rain.”

“no, no,” patton says, and tilts his head. “well—i did, a bit, but i managed to steal away into the church so we didn’t get too drenched.”

“oh, that’s—good,” virgil says, and similarly tilts his head. “i didn’t know you were—?”

“raised catholic,” patton says. “i like church better here, i think. it seems less—”

“homophobic slash transphobic, yeah,” virgil says dryly. “archie’s nice, he and david stop in here sometimes.”

“that’s good,” patton says. “how’s, um, the family being in town going?”

“good enough, i guess,” virgil says, scratching at his temple with the eraser-end of his pencil. “um—they’re over there.”

patton glances to where he’s gesturing to see freddie, meredith, mark, and three people he doesn’t know in a booth.

“esther and silas,” virgil elaborates. “they’re twins, second and third oldest. oh, and essie’s fiancée annabelle, too, she’s the one in pink. wyatt’s coming sometime tomorrow morning, he’s oldest.”

“the surgeon?”

“the surgeon,” virgil confirms.

“should i go over and introduce myself?” patton asks uncertainly.

“mom and dad will take care of that for you,” virgil says. “can i put in your order?”

“pasta with marinara and parmesan cheese?” patton asks.

“side salad too?”

“sure, side salad too. and—“

“don’t say it,” he says, trying not to sigh.

“c’mon, please,” patton begs. “i need caffeine, c’mon, look at that face. look at that little baby face—“

“don’t bring the baby into this—“

“i have to bring the baby into this, he’s why i need it to stay awake to make sure i can take care of him, virgil, and you want him taken care of, don’t you?” patton wheedles. virgil hesitates. wavers. sighs.

“you’re on a limit, you hear me?”

“‘course,” patton says happily.

“i mean it,” he says sternly.

“uh-huh, sure,” patton says.

“i’m serious.”

“of course you are,” patton says, and he must do a better job of looking less gloaty that time, because virgil sighs and notes it and heads back to the kitchen.

and, true to virgil’s word, meredith gets up and then gestures for everyone else to get up, and patton hastily waves at her, trying to get her not to, because really he’s just one person (well, one person and one very tiny person, who is easily carried) and that’s six people, so he quickly cuts across the diner before they can move to get up.

“hi,” patton says.

“hi!” meredith says cheerfully. “this is our son, silas—“

silas, who looks the most like virgil of any of the siblings patton has seen so far, nods his head in a little jerk of acknowledgment.

“—our daughter, esther—“

“essie,” she corrects, in a voice that’s bright and cheerful, and patton likes her immediately.

“—and esther’s fiancée annabelle,” meredith finishes.

annabelle, whose hair is pulled back into twin puffs, smiles at him, her white teeth a contrast against her perfectly smooth, dark skin.

“nice to meet you,” she says.

“nice to meet you too,” patton says. “um—i’m patton, this is my son, logan.”

my son. still so new, so wonderful to say.

“would you like to have dinner with us?” meredith asks.

“oh!” patton says. “well, i mean—you don’t have to, i know it’s probably family time, and—”

“nonsense!” meredith says. “plenty of space, you’re joining us for christmas, the proximity to a baby—“

“please distract them,” essie says, jokingly, “dad keeps asking about wedding plans and i think he’s the only one who cares about napkin colors.”

“details are important,” mark says.

“not when the wedding’s still nearly two years away, they don’t,” annabelle quips.

“i—okay,” patton says, and so they end up pulling an extra chair at the table and mark basically immediately lays claim to holding logan first.

virgil exits from the kitchen, looks confused, before he lays eyes on patton and strides over.

“your caffeine, which again you know is limited,” virgil scolds.

patton’s about to say something teasing, like you’re not the boss of me or something, but a voice cuts in.

“surely he’s old enough to decide if he wants caffeine if he has a baby,” the brother—silas—says, and patton falters, fingers withdrawing from the mug. there’s just—something. in his tone. that reminds him of withdrawing into a corner at chilton. which isn’t—it’s stupid, it’s his tone, it’s not like he’s said anything especially hurtful, but—

“ silas matthew,” mark says.

“what, he does,” silas says.

“yeah, he does, but he’s my friend and i don’t want him overdosing on caffeine, si,” virgil says, and silas scowls.

patton tries to come up with something to say, fails, and ends up shifting in his seat as virgil and his brother glare daggers at each other, before virgil double-checks that everyone’s drink is okay and going back to the kitchen.

he’s my friend.

well—of course, patton had thought that virgil was his friend, he’d said when they met, hadn’t he, i’ll be your person, but he just kind of figured that virgil was being nice and helpful, but—

he’s my friend.

no one other than christopher has voluntarily called patton their friend since he came out. (and even christopher was pretty leery about doing that in public.)

patton directs his smile into his mug of hot cocoa/coffee.

the conversation moves on swiftly. annabelle ends up prodding essie into telling a story from work, and she’s apparently a coding analyst (seriously, the array of jobs in this family???) and has a horrific coworker. really, it’s mostly annabelle venting about how essie gets taken advantage of at work, and essie going “well, i wouldn’t say” and annabelle going “no, you deserve better,” and the only time essie really indulges in the venting is when it comes to the way the coworker treats other coworkers.

honestly? patton can admire a partner sticking up for their partner. he’d like to have a partner like that one day.

oh, great. and now he’s thinking of christopher, and that distinct, bittersweet but way more bitter than sweet ending, and his “what are you going to do?” and patton doesn’t know what he’s going to do and now he’s gotta redirect his train of thought now .

“hey, pat, watch out, hot plate,” virgil says, and patton lets out a sigh of relief that he hopes isn’t too noticeable. “plus, salad.”

“thanks, v.”

“aaand parmesan,” he says, setting the little adorable bowl with the little adorable spoon that the diner uses to give out things like parmesan.

“it looks great,” patton says truthfully, and, after virgil withdraws, patton folds his hands in his lap.

it takes a couple minutes for meredith to glance sidelong at hm.

“are you not hungry, patton, sweetheart?” meredith asks, and oh no, now everyone is looking at him, and—and patton, sweetheart, the same way he says logan, sweetheart, is that just a parent thing or?

“oh, no i am, but—“ patton says, ruffled, “but, i, um, it—the way i was raised, you wait until everyone has gotten their food before you start eating, or else it’s—or else you’re being rude. so.”

“what planet are you from?” silas asks, and sure, said by anyone else, it could be a joke, but—but it’s that tone again, and—

“silas,” essie hisses.

“ what, i know you’re thinking it too—“

“look, i—maybe a little, before i met patton, but look at him, he seems perfectly nice, he’s been nothing but polite, he doesn’t seem anything like—”

“kids,” meredith says, clipped, and both fall silent. patton swallows.

“you can eat,” meredith says gently. “really, eat. even the best pasta never tastes very good cold. i promise we won’t think you’re rude.”

patton chews his lip for a few seconds, but everyone is staring at him still, and just to make them stop he picks up his fork and starts mixing up the salad, so the dressing’s more easily dispersed, and taking a bite.

(if he eats his salad first, it’s almost like he’s the only person who ordered something during the salad and soup course, and that—that isn’t rude, refusing to eat that would mean that a waiter wouldn’t come to clear it away and everyone would have to wait longer for their food, so eating that quickly was polite, so there!)

he manages to make eating his salad last until everyone else’s food gets there, and so, cringing only slightly, licks off his fork and uses the same one to eat his pasta. when he’d first asked for an extra fork, virgil had asked if his had fallen on the ground, and he said, “no, you just forgot to give me a salad fork,” and virgil had laughed for about ten seconds before saying “oh, you’re serious?”

he can practically feel his etiquette teacher entering death throes at the faintest whiff of what he’s doing right now—well, if everything else patton had already done wouldn’t have killed her first.

he digs into his pasta a moment after meredith takes a bite out of her french dip.

everyone eats slowly; patton stays mostly quiet, listening as attentively as he can, as they reminisce about family times past, laughing at jokes when he understands them, passing condiments when necessary.

so he listens and learns things. it turns out annabelle’s a pediatric nurse, and silas installs and repairs electrical power lines. esther’s food-themed nickname is pumpkin and silas’ is peanut, and meredith and mark spend a solid minute attempting to debate one for annabelle, now that she’s just about part of the family. apparently, the danes’ do a big breakfast-for-dinner thing on christmas, which sounds delicious, frankly, and patton should not be sad about the slim-to-none chance of them having something apple-tart-adjacent being snatched away, it was absurd to even privately hope for it anyway. it turns out that that tone wasn’t just a silas thing, wasn’t just how silas talked, it’s just how silas talks when he talks to patton ; he seems quiet, like virgil, and patton guesses virgil’s dad, which is fine, of course, it’s more than fine, but—but what did patton do? he didn’t say anything mean to him, he wasn’t rude, he was just—he’s just patton.

well. it’s not like silas is the first person to dislike patton just because of who he is. and it’s not like people usually tell him the reasons why, other than the transphobic ones.

other than that—which really patton should have seen coming, honestly, he’s him, sideshire had been too good to be true, it’s almost a sign that patton hasn’t exited reality now that someone sees and acts like he's unlikeable again, a near-comforting return to earth—the dinner’s really nice. annabelle and esther are an adorable, lovely couple, and mark and meredith are welcoming, which he knew already, and even silas is kind of funny—a little like virgil, but virgil’s funnier than silas, and virgil’s much less acidic about it.

when patton moves to stretch his back, he can’t help but notice that the diner’s practically empty. it’s just them, and a few workers, and virgil at the register, punching some order or other in. the family starts drifting slowly out, and logan, of course, starts crying, so patton says his goodbyes and bears logan away to the bathroom to see if he needs anything.

it turns out he’s hungry, and patton hates the prickle of unease he feels in his stomach, every time. he’d read books, articles, and so many talked about the joy of feeding your baby, and the joyful bonding with your baby, and yes, there are parts of it patton likes—the way logan seems to reach for him, relaxing in his arms, the opportunity to sit down alone with logan and just be with him, and to be sure that he’s well-fed and happy. that stuff, patton likes.

it’s all the rest of it—the technical, practical, actual stuff that tends to come with feeding logan—that patton really strongly heavily dislikes. which he feels terrible about, and then feels terrible that he feels terrible, and it’s this terrible, terrible cycle.

so patton tries his best to focus on the parts he likes, and not the aspects of dysphoria that nearly crush him, he tries, he really does, but it’s hard.

but he does it. and he breathes a sigh of relief when it’s all done, the way he always does, before he walks around and burps logan and makes sure they’re both all settled in and ready to present themselves to society, the routine ending parts that he uses to redirect his thoughts and not think about top dysphoria.

patton’s about to turn the corner to walk back into the diner, where silas is the only one left at the table, knotting his scarf around his neck, except—except there’s a shadowy figure looming at the door, and then the person walks in.

he’s never even seen this person before and frankly, there’s a lot to look at. sure, he doesn’t know everyone at sideshire, but complete and total strangers that he’s never even seen before have been rarer and rarer.

this man, he would have remembered.

though he doesn’t look very old, he’s got a strong white streak in his hair that patton isn’t entirely sure is dye. he has a mustache, too, one of the ones that an old-timey villain strapping some poor damsel to the train tracks would have, and bags under his eyes that might even rival virgil’s. but what really makes him stand out is the outfit.

he’s wearing a velvet-y looking tophat, black with a moldy green ribbon wound around the base of it, sitting jauntily slanted on his head, like it’s about to fall off. the ribbon matches his moldy green, velvety suit jacket that he’s wearing over a t-shirt that patton’s pretty sure says art thou nasty? in that old-timey, blackletter font that’s always in storybooks. he’s also wearing overalls, or maybe just really high-waisted pants with matching suspenders, patton can’t tell, with an eyewatering hawaiian-shirt type pattern in too-neon oranges and greens. and heeled boots, with a curled toe, the kinds elves are always shown wearing in santa’s workshop.

if his fashion sense is always like that, patton really would have remembered seeing him.

silas, on the other hand, looks like he definitely knows who this man is—he almost bares his teeth in a kind of snarl, which the man doesn’t notice.

“oh, virgil!” the man trills in a nasally, somewhat unpleasant voice, and virgil peeks in from the kitchen.

“remus, hey, man,” virgil says. “we’re closing up, so food’s probably out of the question, but i could get you some coffee or someth—“

“can’t a man see his old buddy, old chum?” the man—remus, patton guesses—says, with a twirl of his hand.

“i mean, i guess,” virgil says. “why... now, though?”

remus grins, and turns in his seat to wiggle his fingers at silas with a near-flirtatious wink. silas looks like he’s fuming.

“yeah,” virgil comments. “okay, i see your point.”

remus turns back in his chair, and, in the process, locks eyes with patton, who’s just—he doesn’t know why he isn’t walking out into the diner, but now they’re in the middle of a conversation and it would be awkward— and winks again, before turning his attention fully back to virgil.

“ anyway,” remus says. “today, i bring forth the news that pregnancy is, quite possibly, one of the most disgusting things to happen to the human body and i am enamored with the concept.”

“you’re telling me this on the day before christmas eve?” virgil says.

“seriously, i mean, think about it,” remus says. “your body thinks that thing is a parasite. you pee yourself a little when you even sneeze. your nose can just start bleeding out of nowhere, like you’re possessed or something! isn’t that awesome?”

“not for pregnant people, i’m sure,” virgil says.

“puking, rashes, random lines appearing all over your body, drooling and hemorrhoids and weird ankle swelling, and you can see the baby moving under your belly like it’s about to be a chestburster from alien, ” remus rattles off happily. “did you know that the whole start to giving birth is losing your mucus plug? that even sounds nasty!”

“man, rem, if only you could get pregnant to have all these joyous experiences,” virgil says, with the expression that makes it seem like he’s heard monologues like this before and that this is not, even in the slightest, a weird occurrence for this man.

“well, with my help, isadora is, and that’ll have to be good enough,” remus says.

patton’s never seen virgil’s jaw drop before. it’s kinda funny.

“i,” virgil says, and, clearly looking for something to say, mouth moving with words he’s trying to articulate, but he can only say “ what?”

remus tosses something like he’s throwing confetti, and patton recognizes the familiar filmy texture of a sonogram as it flutters through the air, landing on the counter with a crinkling noise as it folds on impact.

“it’ll be three months on the seventh, so she’s finally cleared off her threats of practicing very elaborate knife tricks on me so i can start telling people now,” remus says. “and i am telling everyone. everything. about pregnancy. it is so gross. it’s practically seven novels worth of gross. i can’t believe people just walk around pretending like it’s all pregnancy glow and gentle little kicks and slightly odd cravings, people can crave lead and babies can break ribs, you know?”

virgil slowly picks up the prints, paging through them, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“that is either going to be the weirdest baby on the face of the planet, or the most terrifyingly disciplined one, and i can’t figure out which idea freaks me out more,” he admits.

“yes, isadora thought the combination of our genes would be a gamble, but frankly it is a gamble i was very willing to make,” remus says.

“you’re having a baby,” virgil repeats, and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “holy shit, man, you’re having a kid. congratulations.”

remus grins. patton isn’t sure if that’s his “i’m very happy” smile or what, but he looks... just slightly deranged. maybe that’s just his face, though, patton shouldn’t be passing judgment.

“so. that’s what i wanted to tell you.”

“yeah, good thing you did,” virgil says. “wow. a kid .”

a pause, before virgil continues, “i feel like i should get you something—you want coffee, on the house? that’s about the most i can do right now, i don’t have champagne or anything.”

“with mayonnaise and orange soda, remember.”

patton nearly pukes. god, he hopes he means all of that separately.

“how could i possibly forget, you absolute freak of nature,” virgil says, and he sounds fond. “i’ll be right back.”

a brief pause as virgil vanishes into the kitchen.

“fuck you,” silas says.

“aw, honeyface, you say the nicest things,” remus says, “i know you’re straight, you know i’m gay, but even i have to draw a line at fucking the tedious big brothers of my friends. i mean, look at you. you’re just too vanilla for me, sweetiebear, you couldn’t handle all this without your mind melting out of your ears like jell-o with fruit inside.”

patton’s nose wrinkles at that mental picture. ick.

“you know what i mean, you psychopath,” silas says. “stay away from my brother.”

“oh, but he wants me here, si,” remus says.

“don’t call me that.”

“—i mean, at least i’m his friend, you couldn’t get along with virgil if your life depended on it,” remus says, almost amused. “doesn’t that just frustrate you, si? don’t you want to put those big, strong hands of yours around his neck and choke him, you get so angry?”

“shut up,” silas snarls.

“you can tell me to shut up all you like, but i never will,” remus says, grinning, and he definitely looks more than slightly deranged. “i know you’ve thought about it, si, you must have, or are you forgetting those times he’d show up to me with a bloody nose and i’d come up with a plan?”

“we were—we were fucking kids, that’s not—“

“oh, it’s not the same,” remus simpers. “it’s not the same, anymore, of course it’s not, you’re both big boys, i bet your brain has gone into those big boy scenarios. what do you think would work best?”

patton shrinks further and further behind the doorway, a mounting sense of horror growing with remus’ every word.

“knife, do you think? it’d be ironic if you killed him in his own diner, with his own knife. or maybe you just nudge him the wrong way and he trips on down the stairs and just a tiny little broken bone in exactly the right place, that’s all it would take. or—“

“i’m not killing my brother,” silas says. “i want you to stay the fuck away from him.”

“oh, of course not you’re not killing your brother, si,” remus says. “but i bet you want to kill me. that’d keep me away for a very... long... time , wouldn’t it?”

a silence looms, so great and so dense that even patton, who isn’t even involved in the conversation, feels like he’s being crushed under the weight of it. patton holds his breath, and clings to logan, praying that he doesn’t wake up and start crying and draw attention to where patton is hidden away, where he can see virgil emerging from the kitchen.

virgil pauses, a gently steaming to-go cup in his hand, and surveys the room, where silas stands with shaking fists and remus lounges indolently at the counter. he surveys them for one moment. two.

“sorry, remus,” virgil says quietly, breaking the silence, but not the tension. “i think you better go. but it’s, um. bottom of the pot, near-burned stuff. just like you like it.”

“right, right, closing and then yelling at your brother, i get it,” remus says, swiping the to-go cup and taking an experimental sip and sighing exaggeratedly. “you’re good to me, v. it’s absolutely horrific. merry christmas, happy hanukkah, jocund kwanzaa, mirthful yule, blithe saturnalia, all that jazz. i’ll sacrifice a goat for you.”

“even after all these years, i can never tell if you’re joking,” virgil says.

“and,” remus says, with a doff of his cap before he puts it on, just as crooked as before, “you never shall. ta-ta, honeyface, bye, shmoopsie-pudding, call me up if you ever want death via hookup!”

he jumps in the air, clicks his heels, and twirls his way out the door.

well , patton thinks. that’s certainly a first impression.

and there’s that silence again, before—

“what the fuck is he doing here.”

“you heard him, silas, he’s gonna have a kid,” virgil says, sounding exhausted. “he wanted to tell me.”

“does he come around often?”

“yeah, shocker, he comes to one of three places to eat in town sometimes,” virgil says. “leave it.”

“am i supposed to leave it when you start breaking windows at doose’s grocery again?” silas retorts, and patton blinks.

virgil’s jaw works, for a few seconds, before he says, “remus is my friend. did we do dumb shit? yeah, we did. is it any of your business? no, so—”

“it’s my business, you’re my brother,” silas snaps. “this was mom and dad’s diner, i’m not going to let you ruin it—“

“i’m not going to fucking ruin it, i’ve been running it just fine on my own—“

“—if you keep talking with him, you are going to ruin it, you ruin everything,” silas bites out.

virgil removes the towel on his shoulder and throws it down on the counter furiously. “i didn’t realize we were seven again, si—”

“don’t call me—”

“—i’m running the diner well, it’s going fine, and just because you’re bitter that i happen to like my job and you hate yours—”

“—you’re going to ruin it, like you ruined mom and dad when you were acting like you did with him—”

“i did not ruin mom and dad,” virgil says sharply. “do they seem ruined, to you?”

“—they were worried about you all the fucking time, because they knew when you’d get home you’d have some other shit that you got into because you just surround yourself with bad people—“

“—you included, apparently,” virgil mutters, not quite under his breath.

“and that kid that’s coming to christmas now?”

virgil tenses; patton draws back further into the shadows, praying and praying and praying that logan will stay asleep.

“what’s his fucking deal, then?” silas snaps. “how old is he, fifteen, and he’s got a baby? i mean, jesus christ, could he not stop to think for five seconds?”

patton swallows, hard, staring at his own feet.

“shut up, silas.”

“what, is he like, the teenage version of remus, now? god, poor kid. poor remus’ kid, seriously, there should be a ban on people like that procreating—“

“i said,” virgil says, looking angrier than patton’s ever seen him, “shut the fuck up, silas. he’s a good kid, he needs help, what kind of shit are you going through to push your issues with remus onto him ?”

“i mean, seriously,” silas says. “where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—“

“get the fuck out.”

silas stops. “what did you just say?”

“i said,” virgil says, “get the fuck out, silas.”

“you can’t do that,” silas says, “you aren’t the boss of me.”

“no, maybe not,” virgil says. “but i’m the boss of here. it’s my name on the building and the lease, so it’s pretty within my rights to tell you to get the fuck out.”

silas hesitates.

“do you need me to come out from behind here and throw you out?” virgil barks, and silas sneers, grabbing his coat and throwing it on, before walking out with a much angrier jangle of the bell, and the slam of the door.

virgil plants his hands flat on the counter and bows his head, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and letting it out. again. again.

“i know you’re there, patton,” he calls wearily, and patton flinches.

“i’m not mad at you,” virgil continues. “you can come out, it’s okay.”

patton chews his lip, before, sheepishly, he shuffles out into the diner.

“how much of that did you hear?”

patton chews his lip more, shifts his hold on logan. “...snippets.”

“all of it, then,” virgil says, and patton sighs.

“just from, um. the man—remus?—coming in.”

“okay, yeah, all of it,” virgil says, and rubs a hand over his eyes. “ shit. i was hoping si wouldn’t do that this year, i thought distance would help. i’m sorry he dragged you into it.”

“i mean, it’s—“ patton says, and he frowns. “i mean, it isn’t okay, but—“

“yeah, it’s not okay,” virgil says. “christ, i’m so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault,” patton says.

“i mean, seriously, him assuming stuff about your situation was so not okay, on so many levels, and i just—“

“it’s not your fault,” patton repeats, because he really doesn’t want to think about it.

“i just—“ virgil rubs a hand over his eyes. “ god. silas has always hated remus, and, i mean, the rest of my family didn’t like him but at least they were polite about it, and—”

“why?”

“why what?”

“why didn’t they like remus,” patton elaborates.

virgil hesitates, before he sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “it’s kind of a long story.”

“i mean,” patton says, and tugs over the baby carrier before he settles logan inside, “we’re friends, right? friends can tell each other long stories.”

virgil hesitates, surveying his face, before he sighs. “yeah, all right. you should probably know in case it comes up tomorrow slash on christmas, anyway.”

patton hops up onto the barstool, eager to leave the part of silas and virgil’s argument about him and his situation behind.

“uh, well,” virgil says. “god, okay. um. so, you know i have anxiety.”

“right.”

“i wasn’t—“ he sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “i wasn’t in the best place, i guess, i was... i was lashing out a lot, or isolating myself, and my parents are saints, you know, but i mean—i don’t blame them for kind of losing it with me, sometimes? they had five kids, and the diner, and me saying rude sh—stuff, right, the baby, sorry—me saying rude stuff and refusing to make peace and just ignoring them every day couldn’t have been easy, you know?

“so, to make a long story a little shorter, i ended up kind of... identifying with outsiders, you know? and there’s no bigger outsider in sideshire than remus duke, so that’s who i hung out with. he’s older than me, by a few years, but he never—i mean, he never held that over my head, like silas did sometimes, and i’d tell him things, and he never really seemed to judge me for it.

“he was... well, you saw him, you heard him. he’s a strange guy. and sure, sometimes the stuff remus would do would scare me, but—but he was a good guy, deep down, you know? he helped me. the whole, like, being an outsider thing, and then kind of waking up to everything that i could do that would be way worse than, say, running a diner, it helped, in a really weird way, but—but i did some stupid stuff.”

“you were like me,” patton realizes quietly.

“not exactly,” virgil hedges. “i walked the line of juvenile detention a lot more than you, tagging and graffiti and egging houses and that kind of thing, but—but yeah. i can sympathize with doing stuff that might not be the best for you when you’re a hurting teenager.”

there’s a pause, before virgil clears his throat and says, “anyway. it's not like silas and remus ever got along, but it got way worse after i became friends with him, i think silas got it into his head that remus was influencing me, or peer-pressuring me, or that i’m just a bad person instead of someone who made some mistakes, and he’s just held a grudge about it since. so.”

patton has the feeling he’s getting the shortest possible version of the story, with almost all the details cut out, but. he thinks he gets it.

“and now your family doesn’t like him because... because you did that stuff?”

“yeah, essentially,” virgil says. “or, well. they think i’ve grown up, and they think remus hasn’t.”

well—patton doesn’t think they’re wrong. goading silas while virgil’s outside of earshot didn’t seem like the most mature thing to do, but.

“i think i get it,” patton says. “i mean—you aren’t doing stupid stuff now, so. it’s not a crime to be friendly with someone.”

“yeah, exactly,” virgil says. “ exactly. remus is a good enough guy when you get to know him, when his kid’s born i could introduce you and logan, since i guess they’d be in the same grade, and i just— god , silas is such a word i can’t say in front of the baby sometimes, you know?”

patton nods, and it’s like it sets loose the floodgates. virgil rants about silas (”mom and dad say it’s because we’re both too alike, but god , the things he says sometimes i’d never even dream of saying to a person’s face, you know?”) and the various arguments they’ve had over the years, and how virgil gets along with his siblings, most of the time, but there’s just something about silas that’s always gotten under his skin, and vice versa, and silas had always been a bit more sporty than he had and so when virgil hit his growth spurt late it almost seemed like silas was disappointed they couldn’t get away with “childish rough-housing” anymore, and silas didn’t like his job, everyone in the family knew that, but seriously if it was getting this bad to the point where he’s being this mean (well, virgil said a different word, and then said, “sorry, right, the baby, sorry!”) then it may well have been worth it just to quit, even if there wasn’t a paycheck waiting for him, and virgil loves him because he’s his brother but if they weren’t brothers, virgil really doesn’t know how he’d feel about him, he really doesn’t, and—

“god, patton, i’m sorry,” virgil says. “i’m so sorry.”

patton blinks. “sorry for what?”

“well, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—“

“virgil, stop,” patton says quietly. “i mean—i’m kind of glad that you’re ranting like this.”

virgil stops. “you are?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i—i dunno, this might be weird, but everyone’s been treating me so nice. which isn’t bad, of course it isn’t, but hearing about someone else’s problems and being talked to about them, it—it makes me feel more like a person and less like a charity case, you know?”

virgil considers this.

“i don’t know, maybe it’s weird, and it’s just a me thing,” patton says quickly, looking off to the side, away from that contemplative gaze.

“no, no, i think i get it,” virgil says. “it’s... taking your mind off things. letting you focus on something else.”

patton lets out a breath of relief. “yeah. yeah, exactly.”

“and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of,” virgil says, and patton looks down, guilty, chewing his lip.

“what?” virgil says.

“i just—” patton chews his lip. “no, it’s not your problem. i should be able to handle it just fine.”

“i,” virgil begins, looking concerned, before he says, “you’re sure?”

“yeah, i’m—i’m sure,” patton says. he’s trying to figure out if he wants to be emancipated or not. that kind of shows that he should be independent, right? he shouldn’t go around putting all of his problems on other people. they’re his problems.

“okay,” virgil says. “just—this whole ranting to each other thing is a two-way street, you know.”

“one you haven’t crossed until tonight,” patton says, and leans to pick up logan. “no, it’ll be okay. i should probably get back to the inn anyways, it’s late.”

“do you want me to walk you back?”

“no, no, that’s okay,” patton says. “um. thanks for dinner and stuff tonight, and—and for the whole family christmas thing tomorrow. i’m looking forward to it.”

“well,” virgil says. “good. i’m glad. and i’ll try to have a word with silas about not being a jerk to you.”

“i appreciate it,” patton says, walking slowly back to the door. “um. night, v.”

“night, pat. night, logan,” he adds, and patton opens the door and lets it shut behind him.

where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—

god, patton, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—

and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of.

there is. there is a lot to keep his mind off of. he has a colicky infant. even with a paycheck, patton’s funds are rapidly depleting and he should have started paying attention to his finances sooner. he broke up with his boyfriend (?) his childhood best friend, the closest thing he thinks he’s ever had to love (he loved christopher, he loves him, and now—) he ran away. his emancipation. his parents’ reaction to both of those things. seeing his parents again. will he see his parents again? what’s he going to do about school? what’s he going to be about logan’s school? his body is an absolute nightmare of dysphoria—he can’t bind down his chest for at least four more months, if not longer, and he knows that feeding logan is supposed to be a time for bonding but patton can hardly bring himself to look most of the time, tries to do it in the dark when he can, and his bodyweight is all out of whack and his appetite comes and goes and he’s only just stopped bleeding and thank goodness it’s done now but god, no one had warned him that he’d be bleeding for so long after giving birth. he’s achy and exhausted and sometimes when logan starts crying and keeps crying in the middle of the night patton will cry right with him, sobbing even as he tries to bounce logan into calming down, and—

—and there’s a lot to keep his mind off of. but virgil—god, not for one second, not for one second was virgil one of the things he was worried about hurting him. he never would be. the rest of his life, though...

he wonders, bleakly, how many minutes of sleep he’ll get tonight between the colicky baby and the stomach-churning guilt.

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides #love light gleams

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