#my brother once said to his american friend that he just pegged me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scabopolis · 4 years ago

Text

the gift of gab, the gift of you

Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out.

This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except...you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer. You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.

Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul.

*** Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you

Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence.

Available on AO3. ***

Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed.

It’s just –

It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother.

Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —

“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.”

“That’s not talking.”

“It is by definition talking.”

“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”

“Mom, please don’t make me do this.”

“You said I could have anything I wanted as a souvenir.”

“What about a mug? I bought Grandma Ruth one with a big fat sheep on it.”

“Sounds lovely, sweetie, but no.”

“Mom.” Emma realizes that as a twenty-six year old woman it is probably unbecoming to whine, but her mother is being absolutely ridiculous. Where is her dad when she needs him to rescue her? All he requested was a bottle of whiskey. What a sensible person!

“No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to get your mother the one thing she asked for on this trip that’s okay. I won’t say one word about paying for this celebration trip, or paying for graduate school, or —”

“Shit, mom. Did you take a Guilt Trip 101 class or just Google how to?”

“Oh, this is natural talent. My present, please.”

“Fine.” There’s a group of bearded men, the ones she pegged as locals, tucked into one corner of the pub. They’re probably her best bet, but she just arrived last night, and the combination of jet lag and travel nerves make her feel not yet up for that. Which leaves the staff working the bar.

One of the two men she’s seen pouring pints and serving up food has gone missing. Besides, Emma wouldn’t trust herself in her sleep-deprived state to not say something utterly absurd to the blue-eyed, dark-haired, scruffy bartender. Probably a good thing he’s gone. Much safer is the other man working the bar – the one who refused to serve her Guinness but was very kind about it. While arguably attractive, he is a decidedly less intimidating sort of handsome. Unfortunately, he is in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the patrons, the two of them gesticulating to something happening with a football match on the screen. Which leaves the blonde haired woman currently polishing glasses.

Emma lightly clears her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?” When the woman turns to look at her, Emma smiles, and signals her over. She sets aside the pint glasses and tucks the polishing rag into her apron. Her mother, on the other end of the video call, is not satisfied.

“Did you say ma’am?”

“Mom,” Emma whispers.

“I said an Irish man, Emma Blanchard Nolan. Man.”

“No. You said person.”

“The man was implied.”

“Then you should have been more specific.”

“Ready for another?” the woman at the bar asks.

Emma looks down at her half-full pint. “Not quite.” She frowns. “And, uh, you’re not Irish, are you?”

“No. Canadian.”

“Ah. Okay.” Emma lowers her voice again and looks at her phone screen. Her mother remains unimpressed. “That’s foreign. Technically she’s a foreigner.”

The sternness of Mary-Margaret’s expression is evident even over the video call. “Emmaline —”

“Not my name, mother.”

“Emmaline Blanchard Nolan, you promised me.”

“I’ll find an Irish person tomorrow.” It’s about this time Emma realizes she’s rudely ignoring the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender. The one she asked to speak with. What’s more, the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender has been joined by the curly haired bartender. Both of whom peer at her with matching expressions of amused befuddlement. Emma removes her headphones and addresses the man. “You’re Irish, right?”

“Well, miss,” and the gentle brogue of his accent, even with those two short words, is quite evident, “you are in Ireland.”

“Excellent! Can you talk to my mom?” She detaches the headphones from her phone and turns the camera around to face the man and woman. “My mom wants to have a conversation with an Irish person.”

“Irish man,” her mother corrects.

“An Irish man. Out in the wild.” The bartenders stare at her, nonplussed. “It’s her souvenir.”

The woman presses her lips together – an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Well, uh, aye.” The man tugs at his ear. “I guess I could —” He’s interrupted from his stuttering by the return of the blue-eyed, stubbly bartender, hauling a new keg into the back of the bar.

“Actually,” the woman cuts in. “My husband,” she hip checks the curly-haired man, “needs to replace the keg.”

“I do?” he asks.

“He does?” This from tall, dark, and holy hell! also possesses an Irish accent.

“But Killian is in the middle—”

“Shh,” the blonde woman interrupts her husband.

“Yeah. Killian is—”

She goes on to shush the man Emma now knows to be Killian.

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispers over the video call, “there’s two of them.”

“What is happening?” Emma’s not sure which of the two men asked, this whole interaction spinning rather absurdly out of control.

“I don’t know,” Emma says.

The woman ignores all of them. “I’m Elsa, this is Liam, and that,” she points to Killian, frozen with a hand on the keg like he’s uncertain what to do, “is my very single, very Irish brother-in-law.” And all at once it becomes clear what Elsa’s intentions are. “Killian, can you come over here and help our lovely patron and her lovely mother?”

“Oh, Emma, Killian even sounds like an Irish name.”

“Mom!” Originally she found her mother’s request to be silly but harmless. The more people who become involved, however, the quicker it approaches mortifying. Emma watches as Elsa whispers something to her brother-in-law, likely explaining the unconventional request.

“I’m very friendly,” Mary-Margaret reassures anyone who might be listening.

“You are a flirt, is what you are,” Emma scolds. “And what would dad say if he found out about this?”

“He asked for whiskey. I asked for this.”

“Come on, lass. Don’t deprive me of a dashing rescue.” Killian leans across the bar, his hand reaching out for her phone. All that stubble and the blue-eyes and the accent are worse when directed directly at her. “Besides, your mum sounds like a woman after my own heart.”

“If you’re sure—?”

“Absolutely.”

To her abject horror, the moment she hands Killian the phone, he walks away with it in hand.

“As requested, milady,” he says to the screen, “one genuine Irish man.”

Her mother’s delighted giggle is embarrassing for all Americans everywhere but it seems to delight Killian. She can just makeout her mother’s question about where he grew up when he rounds the corner, out of her hearing.

“Where is he going?” Emma asks, craning her neck. “Where is he taking my phone?”

“If I know Killian, your mum is probably about to get the most thorough oral history of Irish pubs she could have asked for,” Liam says, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

“Oh. Okay.” She drums her fingertips on her glass. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.”

“Nonsense,” he waves her off. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in our pub since Seamus and Willy hosted their wedding reception here.” He jerks his chin towards the group of bearded men she noticed earlier, though which one is Seamus and which is Willy she can’t be certain.

After another fifteen minutes, Emma has finished her pint and Killian still has possession of her phone. He crossed through the room once, merrily chatting with her mother as he regaled her with the story of how he got the scar on his cheek.

Elsa is filling a series of pint glasses for a group of women standing at the bar, and Emma feels the need to apologize again. “This isn’t what I expected,” she explains.

“What’s that?” Elsa asks.

“I was kind of thinking, best case scenario, there’d be an exchange of hellos and that would be that.”

Elsa nods, hands the pints off to the women, and then fills one more. “Are you familiar with the legend of the Blarney stone?”

Emma nods. She has absolutely no intention of kissing the dang thing (her research indicates local teens do all manner of ungodly things to the stone, knowing that tourists intend to kiss it), but it’s on her list to go see.

“Well, Jones family legend —”

“I take it your husband and his brother are Jones’?”

“And me by marriage. Jones family legend has it that Killian must have been birthed upon the stone because never has there been a man more endowed with the gift of gab.” Elsa finishes pouring the pint and sets it in front of her.

“Oh, I didn’t order this.” Right at that moment, Liam returns to the bar and sets a turkey sandwich in front of her. “Or this,” Emma says.

“Knowing my brother, you might be here a while,” Liam explains.

“Gift of gab?”

He nods, pleased that the Jones family lore has reached her. “Gift of gab.”

Liam proves to be correct, which means Emma has ample time to get to know both Elsa and Liam. The two of them are freakishly adept at juggling bartending, interacting with their customers, and keeping up a steady flow of conversation with her. The highlight is hearing the full story of Seamus and Willy (she is able to identify them by their matching navy sweaters – sweaters which Willy apparently handknits for the both of them), two men who worked on the same fishing boat for decades before realizing they were in love.

“Once they sorted that bit out, they got married three weeks later,” Elsa says.

“So which one of them is the designated driver?” Emma asks.

“That whole lot lives down the street.” Liam raises his voice so the group can hear them. “And they do nothing but hassle me every day of my life!” The group all raise their pint glasses and cheer, indicating this kind of teasing is something central to the pub’s dynamic.

Killian returns from wherever it was he was busy flirting with her mother and sets her phone on the bartop. She looks down at the display only to find it blank.

“Uh, your mum had to run to the market, but she indicated she’ll call you later.”

“She didn’t even say goodbye? Unbelievable.” As Emma gears herself up for peak mom-annoyance, she gets a text message. “Speak of the devil.”

4:38 PM - Mom to Emma hubba hubba

“Ah, geez, mom,” she grumbles.

“What’d she say about me?” Killian asks.

“What makes you think that text was about you?”

“Because you have roses in your cheeks.” Emma frowns. She what? “You’re blushing,” Killian says.

“No I’m not.”

“It’s getting deeper, I’m afraid.” He takes away her empty pint glass. “Another?”

“Yes, please.”

He sets another pint of Murphy’s in front of her (Liam was the one to inform her that one drinks Murphy’s when one is in Cork). “Your mother is lovely.”

“Yeah, she’s something alright.” She sips the beer and licks the foam off her lip. “What were the two of you talking about for so long?”

“Oh, just having a chat. She wanted to know about the pub and how Elsa and Liam met.”

“The gift of gab.”

“Ah,” he says, “Elsa told you of that, then?”

“Like my mom didn’t tell you anything about me?”

“It was all good, Emma.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Why a conversation with an Irish man?” Emma frowns at Killian, not quite certain of what he’s asking. “For a souvenir. That’s truly all your mum wanted?”

“Oh, that. In between flirting, did she tell you anything about her and my dad?” Killian shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.”

As if waiting for his cue, Liam comes up behind Killian and slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “My dear little brother has time.”

“Younger brother,” Killian corrects.

“Shorter brother.” Liam bumps Killian towards the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you keep Emma company?”

“I have another three hours on my shift.”

“I think Elsa and I can handle it until Will arrives.”

“Liam.”

“Don’t make me fire you.”

“You can’t fire me. We’re co-owners.”

“Fine. Don’t make me quit.”

Killian rolls his eyes but slides out from under Liam’s arm. He crosses to the other side of the bar and sits beside Emma. “I’ll take a pint, then.” He raps his knuckles on the bartop. “And make it quick.”

Emma hides her smile in her pint glass. Both Liam and Elsa have been so lovely. There’s no reason to switch allegiances at this point. Regardless of how much she might be tempted by the stubbly-faced, blue-eyed flirty Irish man sitting beside her.

“Between the two of them and my mother,” Emma says.

“Yeah, not the most subtle lot.” Liam shoots Killian a glare as he sets the pint down to which Killian responds with the cheekiest grin Emma has ever seen. The interaction has older and baby brother written all over it. “So, your mom and Irishmen. Go.”

“Oh, that.” Unlike her mother, and even her father, Emma holds the details of her life close to her chest. She’s made the mistake in the past of sharing too much too fast. When people leave her, either by choice or circumstance, it physically pains her to know there are people out in the world with knowledge of her worries, fears and dreams. But maybe it’s the sandwich sitting warm in her stomach, or the jet lag, or simply the buzz of international travel, because she feels inclined to share at least a few details of her life with Killian.

“My mom and dad both took a gap year after high school and met while backpacking across Europe. They met at the Roman Colosseum, decided to match up their itineraries, and by the time they arrived in Budapest five months later they were in love and my mom was pregnant.”

“And they’ve been together ever since?”

“Almost 27 years.”

“That’s quite the story.”

She nods. “They cut their year of travel short, and went to live with my Grandma Ruth, my dad’s mom. They always talked about returning to Europe, finishing their trip at some point, but by the time I was old enough to leave behind with my grandma, dad was in vet school, mom was teaching, and they were running a wildlife rescue from the family farm. They kept making new plans to travel but they just kept getting pushed back and back and back. Until, one day, they decided to put all that money towards sending me on my first trip instead. So, as much as I fight every silly request she has of me, I would do anything if it made her smile.”

“Your mum and dad never made it to Ireland?”

“Nope.”

“Thus the strange request.”

“Well, it gave me a reason to chat with the lovely lass at the bar, so for that I’ll be forever grateful.”

Her Grandma Ruth, Aunt Ruby, and frankly everyone who knows her parents well, routinely comment on the resemblance between Emma and her dad. Apparently in temperament and affectation they are almost identical. But maybe she’s more like her mom than anyone knows because the conversation between her and Killian flows fast and easy. Easy enough that she barely notices when she and Killian finish their pints and Elsa slides new glasses in front of them. Emma’s head is feeling a little buzzy, and that turkey sandwich was more than a couple hours ago. Maybe she can hint at Killian that she wants to go to the Christmas market. Hint even more specifically that she wouldn’t hate if he went with her.

No, she can’t do that. To even think such a thing would be ridiculous.

She can’t possibly ask a practical stranger to walk up and down the stalls of the festive market with her. She can’t expect him to want to sample all the baked goods and food they can handle. Or to hold her hand while they drink spiked apple cider. That kind of thinking is romantic, and hopeful, and not at all her brand.

“This is really your first trip out of the states?” Killian asks.

“I mean, Canada, but that’s so close to home it doesn’t count.” Emma catches herself, eyes darting to Elsa. “Don’t tell your sister.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Killian angles his body on the stool to face her more directly. Without Emma realizing it, they’ve drifted close enough together over the past hour or so that the move makes it so their knees knock together. Emma could move away, put some distance between them, but everything is foggy and hazy in that delicious way, and she can’t bring herself to move. “What does that make me, then? The ruggedly handsome foreigner you intend to seduce as a notch on your bedpost?”

“Who said anything about seduction?”

“You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”

“I do not make eyes of any kind. Especially bedroom eyes.”

Elsa jumps in, setting glasses of water down for each of them. “Yeah, but Killian does. And he needs to put them away.”

Emma tries to react quickly enough to Elsa’s teasing to evade Killian’s detection, to turn away and hide her smile in her shoulder so he can’t see, but the gentle tug on the end of her braid indicates he caught her.

“Think that’s funny, do you?”

“You and my mom ganged up against me. I deserve to join with your family against you.”

“Your mum is great.” He shrugs. “Well, based on the little I know.”

“I know she can be a little intense. I hope she didn’t—”

“She was as lovely as her daughter.” Before his words can fully sink in, perhaps bringing that blush back to her cheeks, he’s moved on. “You’ll have to bring her with you when you return.”

She rests her chin on palm, blinking up at him. Okay, maybe she sometimes makes eyes. “What makes you think I have any plans to come back?”

“Ireland gets in your blood. You’ll be back.”

This time they’re interrupted by Liam. He swipes away the pint glasses in front of them, remaining beer and all. “That’s about all I can stomach of that.”

“What do you mean?” Killian asks.

“You’ve been flirting with the kind tourist long enough. Time to go.”

Oh. Emma looks down at her boots. A surge of deep embarrassment heating her cheeks and causing her stomach to churn. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” The twin cries from both Liam and Killian startle her. She’s not sure which one appears more stricken by her announcement she intended to leave.

“Apologies, Emma, I wasn’t clear,” Liam says. He extends his hand to Killian. “Apron.” It takes Killian a moment to react but when Liam stays in his place, his hand extended, Killian removes his apron and hands it to him. “See you tomorrow, little brother.”

“Younger.”

“Dumber.”

“Stubborner.”

“Not a word.” Liam stalks back over to Elsa who is shaking her head at the whole display. “They’re both idiots,” Liam says, and Emma is just going to pretend she didn’t hear that, thank you very much.

“Have you been to the Christmas market yet, Emma?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the pub, and this particular bar stool, with this particular man. This particular man who has somehow intuited the secret desire of her heart to go to the town’s Christmas market with him.

“No. No. Not yet.”��

Killian jumps down from his seat and extends a hand to Emma to help her down. “Come on, love. Let’s sail away.”

There’s 100 ways Emma could respond to that. She could tell Killian she isn’t his love. She could jump down from the stool on her own. She could insist she’s fine going to the market by herself. But she tries to channel a little magic, that particular magic which for her mom and dad turned one day in Rome into a lifetime, and chooses differently.

(Not that she’s saying she expects—)

She takes Killian’s offered hand and his answering grin is all the confirmation she needs she made the right decision.

And so they go to the Christmas market, and at Killian’s insistence she tries mulled wine but quickly trades it in for a cup of boozy cider. They ride the ferris wheel, the cold stinging her cheeks from the top, the lights of Cork spread out before her, and that thrum of love for this place beats loudly in her veins. Suddenly every travel story her parents have ever told her makes sense and maybe Killian is right – maybe Ireland is in her blood.

They walk together side-by-side and at a point Emma can’t remember – somewhere between sampling whiskey, buying several bottles for her dad, and licking salt and malt vinegar from hot chips off her fingers – they transition to walking hand-in-hand. The heat of Killian’s skin, even through two layers of gloves, is what she blames for the fact that she actually starts humming along to Christmas carols. Where’s that deep cynicism she has been committed to for her life when she needs it?

“Told you,” Killian says after the two of them step away from a stall with handmade ornaments. She must have been channeling her mom because she couldn’t stop herself from striking up a conversation with the vendor. Somehow by the end of the interaction she’d agreed to join him and his wife for their annual holiday pub crawl the following night.

“Told me what?”

“That you would fall for Ireland.”

“You get the honor and privilege of keeping me company on my first full night on my first real trip out of the country and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?”

“I believe what I am trying to say, love, is you appear very much at home here.”

The sentiment makes everything in Emma buzz, but she does what she does best and works to diffuse it. “Well, uh, I don’t know. Does it ever snow here?”

“Eh, we get about 50 mm every year?” At her look of confusion Killian smiles. “Not much.”

“Have you ever had a white Christmas?”

“Can’t say I have. They’re pretty rare in Ireland.”

“In that case, I think this means you should come to Maine. We do a great white Christmas.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Great. Next year sound good?”

Killian laughs and squeezes her hand. “Sounds great.”

She hears the faint echo of advice her dad once gave her. It was right when she was fresh off her heartbreak with Neal and wasn’t sure she had it in her to apply for grad school. He said something to her about moments. About the need to notice good moments even in the midst of bad ones.

Standing here hand-in-hand with a man she met only five hours ago, the glow of Christmas lights dancing in technicolor hues against his cheeks and hair, Emma is absolutely certain this is a good moment.

“Emma?”

She answers Killian’s question by rising up on her toes and kissing him. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a brush of her lips against his, but the look on his face as she pulls away, all bright eyed-wonder, deserves to be classified as a good moment all on its own.

It takes self-control Emma wasn’t aware she possessed to not drop their shopping bags to the ground, grip him by the lapels of his jacket, and kiss the crap out of him. Instead she loops her arm in his.

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Want to walk me back to my hotel?”

He swallows, that poleaxed expression still on his face. “Aye.”

The next morning, Emma is woken up by the sound of her video call alert and boy it was a mistake to not extend her do not disturb until noon. She reaches out and blindly bats at the bedside table until she makes contact with her phone. As soon as she swipes up on her mom’s call, she squeezes her eyes shut again.

“Hello?”

“Oh, sweetie. Are you still jet lagged?”

“And a little hungover.”

“Sounds like you had a very eventful night.”

Killian grumbles from somewhere behind her. “What time is it?” he asks.

It’s right about this moment Emma realizes her error. Her mom goes quiet and Emma considers taking the opportunity to end the call. And then maybe ignore every call thereafter for the next five days.

“Emma Nolan. Is there a man in bed with you?”

“No,” Emma answers, though it’s perfunctory and not at all convincing.

Killian presses closer to her, and shifts so his chin rests on her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Nolan. And this must be Mr. Nolan.”

That gets Emma’s attention and she opens her eyes enough to see her mom and dad sitting beside one another on the couch. While her mom is positively gleeful, her dad looks as though he wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear.

“There are certain things I don’t care to see,” her dad says. “Certain things I don’t care to know.”

Emma rotates in bed and onto her back, holding the phone above her head so both she and Killian are still in view of the camera. “Oh hush, Dad, you and mom did it the first night you met.”

“You told her that?”

In response, her mom shrugs. “She asked.”

“And not that it matters, but Killian and I didn’t have sex.”

Though it didn’t stop them from trading long, slow kisses that left her dizzy and wanting more, more, and more. Killian must have felt the same because it took little to no convincing to get him to stay the night. Perhaps most remarkably, after extending the invitation, Emma had no desire to retract it or pretend it didn’t mean anything.

“Your daughter was far too drunk to have sex.” Emma turns her head so fast in Killian’s direction she hears something crack.

“That, for instance, is one of the things I don't want to know about,” her dad says.

Killian cheerfully waves at the camera, ignoring both her father’s indignation and her glare. “I’m Killian, by the way. Happy to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Nolan.”

Emma elbows Killian. The man is a total menace. “I’ll call you guys back when I’ve had coffee,”

“I want details,” her mom says.

“And I want no details.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma hangs up the phone and tosses it in the direction of the foot of the bed. She flips over onto her side and Killian mirrors her, reaching out to trace the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “So that was my dad.”

“He seems a charming fellow.”

“Don’t let the responsible tough guy act fool you,” she says, and snuggles closer to Killian. He responds just as she hoped, by wrapping his arms tight around her. “He once spent all his money on a cross country train ride and stole oyster crackers from the dining car for food. And during a California road trip, my mom almost froze to death sleeping in her wet bathing suit on the side of the road.”

Killian chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh making her feel even warmer. “You’re saying they can deal with a half naked man in their daughter’s hotel room?”

“Yeah, they can deal.” After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slips her hands up and under Killian’s shirt. It’s the one he wore to work, and she can still smell the faint aromas of beer and fried food that linger. She presses her palms against his back and bunches the shirt up, up, and then over his head.

“Emma?”

A girl could get used to the way his voice moves over the syllables of her name. “They might have a problem with a fully naked one, though.” She kisses his bare shoulder.

Killian’s hands move under her shirt to span her waist. Goosebumps breakout across her skin. By the slight twist of his lips, Killian notices. “So you’re saying—?”

“I’m saying you should quit gabbing and kiss me before they call again.”

“As you wish.”

And a week later, when she is back in Maine celebrating Christmas with her family and Killian is in Ireland with his, Emma convinces herself she imagined it. She must have. She must have imagined how safe she felt in the presence of another person. Imagined the comfort she felt as he joined her for a quick road trip to Dublin. Imagined that it could feel like your heart was split in two, half residing in the chest of a person you just met.

But the week of New Year’s Eve, when he arrives in Maine to celebrate with her, she’s startled to find it was all real.

The morning after Killian arrives, she sits with her mom in her parents’ breakfast nook, the two of them sipping coffee as Killian and her dad make waffles.

“Not such a dumb souvenir after all, huh?” her mom whispers.

Emma shakes her head, too happy to even react to her mom’s shameless gloating. “No. Not so dumb.”

#csss2020 #cssecretsanta2020 #cs ff #ouat ff #killian jones #emma swan #cs secret santa 2020 #p: emma x killian #thisonesatellite

78 notes · View notes

godofplumsandthunder · 4 years ago

Text

Our First Meeting

Paring: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Swear words, Period Homophobia (nothing major, but Bucky does have some homophobic thoughts towards himself)

A/N: First chapter of Ancient History! This is a series that I wrote for @the-marvel-horniest-book-club and its sister blogs Week of Love Challenge. The way I wrote it is when Bucky and Steve are telling Peter their story, we see it from their POV. Like The Princess Bride, or How I Met Your Mother. I had such a fun time writing this and I hope that y’all will like it!

“And so, as ‘The Valkyrie’ made its fast descent into the Arctic Ocean, Captain Steve Rogers lowered the plane into the ocean, saving humanity from the treacherous plans of the Red Skull. Captain Rogers’ sacrifice cost him everything, choosing to leave behind the love of his life, his fiancée Peggy Carter, and their unborn baby. Sadly, losing the love of her life caused Agent Carter to miss carriage, losing the last surviving piece of Captain Rogers. But, as you know, the story doesn’t end there,” the school bell rings, cutting off Ms. Lund, Peter Parker’s American history teacher. Filing out of the over cramped room, Peter is left speechless. He couldn’t mention anything in class, but he thought he knew his Uncle Steve. Losing a child would affect him, right? Steve would have said something. Walking home, Peter decided to make a quick pit stop at the Avenger’s compound, where Steve and Bucky were enjoying their retirement. Sending a quick text to Aunt May letting her know he wouldn’t be home for dinner, Peter quickly slung his way over.

Peter found Steve and Bucky in the living room, Steve playing Mario Karts (he picked up a love for the game in his retirement, don’t blame the man, okay?) while Bucky read some weird book in Russian.

“You!” Peter points at Steve, “you have a lot of explaining to do! I thought we were family! But I had to find out from my freaking history teacher that you and Peggy were engaged and you were having a baby together?” Flopping down on the couch, Peter stares Steve down, his eyes showing how truly hurt the kid was.

“I… What?” Pausing his game, Steve looks up from his game confused. And Peter, crossing his arms, shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me! I thought we were close!” And sure, Peter knows he’s probably acting like a baby, but Peter’s pain is genuine. Steve was the first one to know about his crush on MJ, even helped him plan their first date. After Tony died, Steve became his father figure, someone he looked up to and tried to emulate.

“No, you just caught me off guard Petey. God, is that what they are teaching these days? No, I’m… Peggy and I…” Bucky cuts Steve’s floundering.

“He’s gay Peter, not bi or pan, gay. He likes dick, more specifically mine.” Steve blushes as he reprimands Bucky.

“Jesus, Buck, language! He’s still a kid! But he’s right Peter. I’m gay, I’ve always have been, and I always knew it too. Peggy and I were just really good friends. God, they’re saying I had a kid with Pegs, can you believe it, Buck?”

“Yeah, I can, actually. The government loves to erase me from your, our story.” The bitterness and hurt in Bucky’s voice don't go unnoticed by Steve or Peter. “For fuck’s sake, they’re still pushing this bullshit Americana nuclear family. We’re not in the ’30s! Instead of giving the kids hope, that their sexuality can’t limit their dreams, no keep on pushing this shit!” A heavy silence blankets the room. Bucky’s anger is still fuming in him. And in traditional Peter fashion, he butts in.

“Well, I’d like to know your story! We have to give a presentation on you, Steve, and well I know it’s just one classroom in Queens, but I’d like to tell your story. And I’d love to see my teacher try to correct me. I’ll just show her my Works Cited page. Two resources, Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve, smiling at Peter, takes Bucky’s hand in his, rubbing over the vibranium band.

“What’d you say Bucky, do you want our story to be told?”

Putting the book down, Bucky cuddles up next to Steve as he turns to Peter.

“Buckle up, spidey. Our story is a long one.”

----- The last thing that Bucky wanted to do after moving halfway across the country at the start of the Great Depression was to go to mass. Hell, his family wasn’t even Catholic, but the way his Ma saw it was they could take any additional help they could get. And if that meant listening to some Catholic priest ramble on about the virtues of Saint Peter, then so be it. Even if Bucky complained the entire walk to the small chapel.

See Bucky wasn’t that religious. He believed that there had to be some sort of God, a purpose as to why we were all here. But he never once thought about becoming a catholic. So while the Father was rambling on about the lessons we could learn from Mary Magdalene, all Bucky wanted to do was go home and have some lunch. Bored, Bucky decides he’s going to play some people watching. Looking around, he sees the usual church suspects. Stuffy old ladies in godawful hats. Even his people-watching is getting boring. That is until he sees him. A boy, probably close to his age, 15 or 16 max, but small for his age. He had the most beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes. Bucky’s heart is racing, as he tries to push the thoughts in his head away. Recently he’s been having inappropriate thoughts about some of the boys at school. As his friends would go on and on about the gals they fancied, Bucky’s heart was set on the wrong gender. Or at least that is what he was taught to learn.

“Now brothers and sisters, the sister of the covenant prepared a light luncheon that’ll be served outside!” Father O’Malley’s booming voice broke Bucky out of his thinking. Getting up, he turns to his ma.

“I saw a boy that’s my age. Can I go talk to him?” Winnie simply nods as she frets over Becca’s dress. That girl could ruin any dress. Bucky wades through the crowd of people and finally makes it out to the church patio where he sees the blondie, alone on a bench, drawing.

Mustering up all the courage he has, Bucky steps up in front of the boy. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Family just moved here.” Blondie, as Bucky dubbed the boy in his mind, looks up. And god, those blue eyes were so much brighter up close.

“I’m Steve,” smiling at Bucky he motions to the empty space next to him. “Care to sit? My ma went to get some food. I don’t have many friends, as you could probably tell.” Bucky chuckles softly.

“I don’t either. Guess we can be each other’s friends.”

Something there clicked inside of Bucky. He finally understood what the other boys felt when they talked about their crush. Heart pounding and sweaty palms, as he tried to make sure he made a good first impression. He imagined going on dates with Steve, giving him the world. But Bucky knew he couldn’t have those things. He couldn’t take Steve out dancing, or on a date. He had to be his friend, and Bucky was willing to make that compromise. He just hoped his heart wouldn’t break in the process.

#the hbc #hbc week of love #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky fluff #bucky fluff #fluff #idiots in love #love at first sight #chris evans #sebastian stan #Ancient History

33 notes · View notes

introvertguide · 4 years ago

Text

Gone with the Wind; AFI #6

Our next film for review is the classic epic drama, Gone with the Wind (1939). This movie was the big award winner from a year that is often considered the best year for movies in American cinema history. The film won 8 Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Actress. Notably, the film also had the first win for a black actor with Best Supporting Actress going to Hattie McDaniel (although she had to get special permission to sit in the back of the room since the awards took place at a segregated hotel). All these wins came against competition like The Wizard of Oz, Wuthering Heights, Stagecoach and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Although this film is considered to be one of the best American films of all time, there has been a lot of complaints about the depiction of house slaves and slavery in general in this film. I want to discuss why it is still great and the takeaway from the film, but first a quick synopsis of the plot will help. This movie is almost 4 hours long, so it will be much more condensed then usual, and I relied heavily on Wikipedia and IMDB entries to summarize this particular film. I do want to do the standard...

SPOILER ALERT!!!! IF YOU ARE AMERICAN, THEN YOU SHOULD PROBABLY WATCH THIS FILM AS ALMOST A CIVIC DUTY!!! IT IS A MAJOR PART OF AMERICAN CINEMA HISTORY AND SOMETHING THAT SHOULD BE EXPERIENCED!!! IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT, I IMPLORE YOU TO GO AND WATCH IT BEFORE READING ANY FURTHER!!!

In 1861, on the eve of the American Civil War, Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) lives at Tara, her family's cotton plantation in Georgia, with her parents and two sisters and their many slaves. Scarlett learns that Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), whom she secretly loves, is to be married to his cousin, Melanie Hamilton (Olivia de Havilland), and the engagement is to be announced the next day at a barbecue at Ashley's home, the nearby plantation Twelve Oaks. At the Twelve Oaks party, Scarlett makes an advance on Ashley, but instead catches the attention of another guest, Rhett Butler (Clark Gable). The barbecue is disrupted by news of the declaration of war, and the men rush to enlist. In a bid to arouse jealousy in Ashley, Scarlett marries Melanie's younger brother Charles before he leaves to fight. Following Charles's death while serving in the Confederate States Army, Scarlett's mother sends her to the Hamilton home in Atlanta, where she creates a scene by attending a charity bazaar in her mourning attire and waltzing with Rhett, now a blockade runner for the Confederacy.

The tide of war turns against the Confederacy after the Battle of Gettysburg, in which many of the men of Scarlett's town are killed. Eight months later, as the city is besieged by the Union Army in the Atlanta Campaign, Melanie gives birth with Scarlett's aid, and Rhett helps them flee the city. Once out of the city, Rhett chooses to go off to fight, leaving Scarlett to make her own way back to Tara. Upon her return home, Scarlett finds Tara deserted, except for her father, her sisters, and two former slaves: Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) and Pork (Oscar Polk). Scarlett learns that her mother has just died of typhoid fever and her father has become senile. With Tara pillaged by Union troops and the fields untended, Scarlett vows she will do anything for the survival of her family and herself.

(Little bit of a side note, this seems to be where several of the commenters on IMDB thought the movie ended as the phrase “ends with Scarlett vowing never to go hungry again” showed up more than once. This is the point of the intermission and the two halves are very different from each other, but this is by no means the end of the film. It is a very good time to take a break if you are watching it so I suggest taking more than the intermission time to stretch your legs. This is a really long movie.)

As the O'Haras work in the cotton fields, Scarlett's father attempts to chase away a scalawag from his land, but is thrown from his horse and killed. With the defeat of the Confederacy, Ashley also returns, but finds he is of little help at Tara. When Scarlett begs him to run away with her, he confesses his desire for her and kisses her passionately, but says he cannot leave Melanie. Unable to pay the Reconstructionist taxes imposed on Tara, Scarlett dupes her younger sister Suellen's fiancé, the middle-aged and wealthy general store owner Frank Kennedy, into marrying her, by saying Suellen got tired of waiting and married another suitor. Frank, Ashley, Rhett and several other accomplices make a night raid on a shanty town after Scarlett is attacked while driving through it alone, resulting in Frank's death. With Frank's funeral barely over, Rhett proposes to Scarlett and she accepts.

Rhett and Scarlett have a daughter whom Rhett names Bonnie Blue, but Scarlett, still pining for Ashley and chagrined at the perceived ruin of her figure, lets Rhett know that she wants no more children and that they will no longer share a bed. One day at Frank's mill, Scarlett and Ashley are seen embracing by Ashley's sister, India, and harboring an intense dislike of Scarlett she eagerly spreads rumors. Later that evening, Rhett, having heard the rumors, forces Scarlett to attend a birthday party for Ashley. Incapable of believing anything bad of her, Melanie stands by Scarlett's side so that all know that she believes the gossip to be false. After returning home from the party, Scarlett finds Rhett downstairs drunk, and they argue about Ashley. Rhett kisses Scarlett against her will, stating his intent to have sex with her that night, and carries the struggling Scarlett to the bedroom.

The next day, Rhett apologizes for his behavior and offers Scarlett a divorce, which she rejects, saying that it would be a disgrace. When Rhett returns from an extended trip to London, Scarlett informs him that she is pregnant, but an argument ensues which results in her falling down a flight of stairs and suffering a miscarriage. As she is recovering, tragedy strikes when Bonnie dies while attempting to jump a fence with her pony. Scarlett and Rhett visit Melanie, who has suffered complications arising from a new pregnancy, on her deathbed. As Scarlett consoles Ashley, Rhett prepares to leave Atlanta. Having realized that it was him she truly loved all along, and not Ashley, Scarlett pleads with Rhett to stay, but Rhett rebuffs her and walks away into the morning fog, leaving her in tears on the staircase. A distraught Scarlett resolves to return home to Tara, believing that one day she will get Rhett back.

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

While discussing this film with my mom, she mentioned that the film has had a different effect on her each time and she felt like it was because she was a different person each time she saw it. I have had the same experience and I find that rewatching the film is a good way to see how your own perspective has changed over time. I first saw this as a teen and thought Rhett Butler was a cold man who could could not forgive a suffering Scarlett who was trying to figure out her priorities during a trying time. In my twenties, I could only focus on the depiction of slavery and thought that people should not watch the film at all. In my thirties, I hated Scarlett and wished that she had died instead of her friend or the daughter because she was dramatic and made bad situations worse. I recently turned forty and watched it again...

I still find Scarlett to be dramatic and the cause of many of her own problems, but at the same time I would expect this from somebody her age (I think I finally separated the age of the actress from the age of the character) with her “Princess of the South” upbringing. I can’t really empathize since her life was much easier than mine, but I can sympathize after working with many rich teens who are spoiled and don’t know how to act in an emergency. I think I understand better about how the author of the book was trying to portray this plantation lifestyle as almost royalty and the slaves were like the 1850s Southern United States version of royal attendants. I find the language very cringy, but all of the house slaves at the O’Hara plantation have their place in the story. This is probably an accurate depiction of what somebody from the old South would want to glamorize plantation life as being to people living in the 1940s, and thus historically valuable. I find Rhett Butler to be somewhat similar to Han Solo: somebody who looks out for his own best interest but softens for good people and good causes. He seems to do good things except when he gets drunk and forces himself on Scarlett (marriage and sexual assault are not mutually exclusive). He is otherwise pretty faultless, but that scene drops him quite a few pegs in my eyes.

One thing that sticks with me each and every time is when Scarlett is working at the army hospital and the doctor wants her to help with an amputation. They have nothing to numb the pain and there is a young man screaming not to cut into his leg...I can’t even imagine yet I know that this was not even uncommon during the height of the war. I remember watching a documentary on the Civil War and a real photo showing a pile of amputated limbs at a makeshift tent hospital. The pile looked to have more than 100 limbs and I am sure they did not have enough morphine for all of these men. The best field doctors were said to be more strong and stoic than accurate since being able to saw through a man’s leg quickly was a major commodity. This horrifically honest portrayal of war in the midst of the Nazi threat and a couple of years before the entry of the U.S. into WW2 took courage. I was able to sublimate a little more during this viewing since there was no on-screen cutting. I also tried to imagine the man doing the voice over and screaming “Don't cut my leg!” in a sound studio. It helped. Another thing that I didn’t know during previous viewings was that when she exits the building and sees the hundreds of soldiers in the streets, half of the bodies on the ground are manikins. Look very closely at the middle picture above...half over those bodies are fakes.

I learned a lot from the extras that were with this movie since I borrowed my friend’s DVD box set. It was unexpected to me that the three slaves were my friend’s favorite characters (Pork, Mammy, and Prissy), since my friend is a black woman in her 70s and grew up during the Civil Rights movement when films that depicted slavery in this way were generally looked down upon. My friend said she was glad to see black actors at all from the era and the movement had to start somewhere. The actors seemed to be of the same opinion with Hattie McDaniel saying she would rather portray a maid and get paid like an actor than have to actually be a maid. Speaking roles for black actors were very few, especially in big budget movies, so there was not a lot of concern about the character being portrayed. This makes since, especially after the Great Depression. Having a role playing a stereotyped house slave still meant a great paycheck at the end of the week. I also liked that one of the things that Rhett Butler wanted and had difficulty getting was approval from Mammy concerning the courtship of Scarlett. Mammy was a slave, but she knew a lot of secrets and was not powerless.

My favorite character this time around was Melanie Hamilton because she is just a good person. She is not helpless and she doesn’t complain about her problems, she just handles her business and keeps supporting her family with a strength that I am not likely to truly know. I was saddened to hear that the actress recently passed away as, similar to her character, she seemed like a real survivor that would live forever. Apparently the actress, Olivia de Havilland, was not nearly as demure and liked to play jokes on her fellow actors. She also made a lot of fun about the age gap between Vivien Leigh and the actress playing Scarlett’s mother (there was a real life age difference of 4 years). Havilland also had the crew tie her to a chair that Clark Gable was supposed to lift her from and he nearly threw out his back.

It is a little surprising how much adversity occurred on set since there were a lot of injuries, actors who didn’t really like their character (Vivien Leigh described her character as a “raging bitch”), giant sets that were lit on fire so only one take was possible, and the portrayal of the South and slavery in a favorable light. However, like so many other films on the AFI list, it seems like the difficulties are what bonded the groups together to make classic cinema. It seems like a little adversity and strife can bring out the best in film makers.

So does this movie belong on the AFI list? Maybe more than any other movie ever made. It is the top film from the pinnacle year of the Golden Age of Hollywood. It is a historical drama about a singularly American topic based on an American best seller. I think a list about great American movies should probably start with films like this and go from there. Absolute classic. Would I recommend it? Yes, and I would actually recommend multiple viewings because your interpretation will change throughout your life. This is a superiorly good movie that should be viewed, no matter how it is interpreted. Just make sure to plan a break because this movie is epic in scale and in run time. Still totally worth it.

#gone with the wind #vivien leigh #olivia de havilland #clark gable #golden age of hollywood #classic film #american film institute #depictions of slavery #academy award winner #best picture #introvert #introverts

38 notes · View notes

fericita-s · 4 years ago

Text

Epilogue

The end has arrived for the A Mansion House Murder!

Big thanks to all the writers of this quarantine round-robin: @jomiddlemarch, who had the idea to begin with and wrote so many good chapters, @broadwaybaggins and @sagiow who dragged us all across the finish line, and @mercurygray and @tortoisesshells for their wonderful chapters and effusive comments and @the-spaztic-fantastic for the faithful beta-ing. I think this story probably set a record on AO3 for the comments to kudos ratio. 300 comments and 20 kudos?! We are a chatty bunch. And I love it.

“Thank you, Belinda. For so much. Not just today,” Emma said from the doorway. Belinda hadn’t invited her in and Emma didn’t want to assume. She’d already assumed too much about Belinda’s desires, or discounted them completely. “I’m going to see Mother and explain about Jimmy. And Frank.”

Belinda looked to Emma’s arm looped through Henry’s, to the pale circle of white around her ring finger where a wedding ring had been. “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, Belinda. I won’t ask that of you. I just wanted to tell you all of that myself before you hear it gossiped about.”

“Well,” said Belinda, a smile turning one corner of her mouth. “I think I’d like to see her take the news.”

“Even if she asks you for laudanum?” Emma asked, matching her smile. It was a sad thing to tell her mother that her brother was arrested, her husband dead, her sister currently in hysterics that Percival was trying to soothe with one arm while signing away the family hotel to Mrs. Morris with the other. It was sad. But the lightness and laughter kept rising in her chest and she couldn’t stop smiling over the freedom she felt and the relief that she would be leaving soon.

“I can tell her where to find it if she does,” said Belinda, reaching to the peg by the door for a shawl.

***

“It’s a fair price,” Anne said, though she knew it was a bargain. She also knew how desperate they were to sell and she knew what being desperate felt like, so she didn’t push further. Emma, at least, deserved the money and Anne was eager to send it to her. Anne had more money than she could spend and Charlotte’s idea for a school was the first thing to excite her about the future since Frederick’s death. They could scrub the blood out of the walls, purge the secrets from each closet. The Greens had done it once before. Anne was determined she and Leah and the Diggs would do it even better. Bridget too, if she could persuade her.

Percival nodded and might have shaken her hand, but his arms were currently around his wife who was crying. Anne couldn’t tell if Alice was genuinely grief-stricken and whether it was for the loss of property or the loss of life, and she didn’t much care to find out. She’d had her fill of mysteries.

***

They went to Boston before Williamstown and Mary took her shopping. In Boston, it was easy to find ready-to-wear, though Mary took her to a favorite tailor and dressmaker and insisted on some pieces made to Emma’s own measurements. They moved slowly through town, at Mary’s normal pace and Emma’s preferred one for seeing a new city. It wasn’t so different from Alexandria, not really, not until people spoke to her or their eyebrows shot up at her accent. The kid gloves were to guard against the cold more than the sun, and she’d never had nor needed a sealskin toque or fur muff. But the Yankees weren’t the fearsome lot her mother had promised they would be, practically drowning out the vows she and Henry made to one another in the Green family drawing room with a subdued Dr. Hale doing the honors.

After a wool cape and fur-trimmed pelisse that Emma bought with Henry’s money (our money he had said, pressing it into her hands that morning as he kissed her forehead), Mary bought her a silk Paisley shawl with fringe, calling it a wedding present.

“If I was really spoiling you it would be Kashmir. These are going out of fashion now what with everyone’s desperation to show off their bustles. But I find them the best way to keep warm at home, at least when Jed’s not there.” Mary pulled the shawl around Emma and fiddled with the fringe. “I hope you’ll be happy here. I know Henry wishes it too. But I know what it is to lose a husband.”

Emma put her hands in Mary’s and smiled at her friend. “I am happy. Or, I will be. I’m not sure what I am now, but it’s better than I was.”

***

He married her in Virginia but, all he had offered since then was a chaste kiss or an arm for hers to loop through as they navigated trains and carriages. Their overnight at the Foster’s home was a late night of reminiscences by the fire, mulled wine, and the steady interruptions of Johnny and Daniel and then even Elias coming to complain about the loud ruckus downstairs. When Mary finally shooed both the boys and the adults to bed with a meaningful “They’re newlyweds after all, Jed,” Emma and Henry had both hesitated when he shut the door behind them.

“You’re weary from the travel; I’ll let you - “

“Henry,” Emma said, her hands already reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “Don’t make me wait any longer. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Henry closed his eyes and reached for her cheek, remembering his first touch there years ago. When he had wiped away a tear and wished he could kiss her.

“Is it that you don’t want me this way? That I’m - “

“No, Emma not that.” He opened his eyes and stepped back so he could see her clearly, reaching for her hands and squeezing. “I want you very much. So much I hardly know how to start.”

“Then let me show you, Henry,” Emma said, pushing on him gently until they were at the bed and he sat down heavily, off balance and out of breath. She nudged his knees open with her own and stood between them, her hands on his shoulders and his at her waist, leaning in to kiss him behind the ear and to whisper “I am my beloved’s and he is mine.”

***

Henry and Emma continued west to Williamstown, waving from the carriage that took them from the Foster home and promising to return soon for a visit and to write even sooner. One week later the Foster boys welcomed their much desired puppy, and one year later, a rather less desired sister. Jed’s apprehension turned to delight when Mary reached for her daughter with eager arms, bringing her to her breast and leaning back into the pillows with a laugh. “There’s two of us now. Three if you count the dog. We’ll be evenly matched soon, Mr. Foster.”

Jed washed his hands in the basin and looked at the brightness in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow, walking to her to check for fever. He kissed her forehead and then the baby’s. “Oh, I’m very happily outmatched already.”

***

Frank didn’t haunt her. But sometimes her own inaction did. Her complicity.

The cold of Williamstown was nothing to the bone-chilling terror of life in Franklin County, the shiver of fear she felt as she heard horses whinny in the dark and hooves pound the dirt as Frank and his most loyal congregants rode off to wreak whatever hateful havoc they could.

In Williamstown, Henry knew how to stoke the fire just so, and soon afterwards the Rumford fireplace in the house was replaced by a coal furnace, the intricate ironwork and decorative finials as fancy as any etched crystal her mother had been proud to show.

She did not long for her life in Virginia and it took a while before Henry’s encouragement to write letters to her mother and sister and Belinda yielded missives sent south. She hardly wrote to Mary because they visited so often - heading east for Boston meetings of the American Woman Suffrage Association with Mary and her friend Josephine Bhaer and then later to meet baby Penelope Foster.

Emma taught Sunday School and led sewing circles and an auxiliary chapter of the AWSA. She waved to Henry’s students as they walked by their house and he brought her flowers that Alice might have called weeds but Emma would not.

When Henry’s hands were on her, she never thought of Frank. The way he loosened her corset and spread his hands over her stomach and chest, pulling her to him before it was dark and he could see her best, it was uniquely Henry. He had started hesitant and unsure, but she showed him with her sighs and fingers spread across his shoulders and legs wrapped around his middle that she wanted this too, so much.

In the end, all of her new fitted dresses and smartly tailored coats that Mary helped her buy were useless by her second winter as it became clear the Reverend and Mrs. Hopkins would welcome a baby with the spring.

***

The first students at The Lou Morris School knew there were ghosts, and they knew Ms. Leah Gordon took care of them. They knew there had been a war and they knew about loss. In their beds, under clean cotton sheets, they whispered about the cries they heard in the night, the thuds and thumps and rhythmic banging. Laughter too, though only when patrons Doctor and Mrs. Hale came on their weekly tours and Mrs. Diggs walked them to an upstairs room. The children decided the ghosts liked ornate bustles and lacy flounces like Mrs. Hale wore and drew elaborate flourishes on the pictures they drew of the spirits they imagined.

But after a few years, no one spoke of ghosts, even though Ms. Gordon still sang at night to calm them and Jack and Harriet had been there the whole time and remembered. The children knew people came in different colors; the grown-ups said black and white, but to them, they were all brown and beige, with a few pink, with freckles all over their faces, like Miss Brannan. They also knew people had different skills; some spoke with words, others with their hands, and some, not at all. Some could run and jump over the fence they weren’t supposed to jump over, earning a scowl from Old Mrs. Green who seemed to always walk by when they were at play in the yard. Some could walk with some help, and others had special chairs with wheels that needed to be pushed - slowly! the teachers always said, Mrs. Morris most of all, her eyes all seeing, her tone sharp but never mean.

When the cries in the night and the thumps and thuds sounded, it wasn’t with fear that the children strained to listen. They stilled in their beds to listen for Ms. Gordon’s voice floating down the halls.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Glory, Hallelujah

#mercy street #Emmry #mansion house murder mystery #epilogue #finally!!!!#we did it! yay us!#Emma #Henry #Mary #Jed #assorted others get mentions

14 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Roguish Women Part 21

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 21: The moment Kate has been dreading for years.

Kate wasn’t sure if she could move at all. But she didn’t even want to see the man in front of her. Everything about him sickened her. He had deep brown eyes but there was hardly any emotion in them other than smug self-assuredness. His dark hair wasn’t slicked back as it usually was. In fact, he wasn’t wearing the same airs he usually did. Not the expensive clothes, polished shoes, gold watch. It indicated to her that he hadn’t been conducting business, but traveling. Traveling from London to Birmingham to catch her off guard.

He stepped toward her with a smile. “No words for me? None at all?”

“I have a gun on me.” She spat out, trying her best to sound fearless. There were so many men who she could dismiss, men she would never be afraid of, men she could take over in minutes. But Santo was different. He knew things about her. He could control her if he wanted to.

“You’re not gonna kill me, you’re smarter than that.”

“Yeah? Seems like a smart idea to me.” She lowered her hand to the edge of her jacket, prepared to reach to her holster tucked beneath.

“Because you know the repercussions already.” He stuck a hand in his pocket, making Kate flinch. “S’alright.” He held one hand up like he was soothing a spooked horse. “Here.” He pulled something out and reached his enclosed fist out to her.

Kate remained on her front steps, watching him warily. “What is it?”

“What, you think I’ve got a live snake in here or somethin’? A spider?” He chuckled. “C’mon.”

She glared at him but stepped down to hold out her palm. Santo gently dropped something gold into it. Still cautious but curious, she examined the piece of jewelry. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized. The oval-shaped locket wasn’t anything expensive. It was badly tarnished from decades of being worn for so many years. It was the same locket her father had given her mother when they were just lovesick teenagers. It was the locket that her mother had gifted to her when she became of age. It was the locket she had lost when she fled America.

“Where did you find this?” She whispered.

“In Boston, you dropped it on the street before you disappeared.” He answered.

Her expression hardened. “When you set my building on fire.”

He nodded slightly. “I can admit my methods were harsh back then.”

Kate’s fingers curled around the necklace, not willing to let it go again. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Now, how would you know that? You’ve been running around Europe while I’ve been trying to find you. You don’t know how I’ve changed.” He took another step toward her, almost testing the waters to see how far he could get before she threatened to shoot him again.

She tensed up but didn’t move away. “Was anyone killed?” She asked the question that had been haunting her for years. The screams coming from the burning apartment building still kept her up at night. She never knew if her neighbors were saved or perished. She had no idea the destruction Santo had caused. And yet while he lit the fire, she felt responsible for giving him reason to.

“Come now, Katie, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He said in an almost unrecognizably gentle voice.

“I know why you’re here. You’re not going to get what you want.” Kate crossed her arms over her chest, holding her mother’s necklace close to her.

“Could we talk inside?” He gestured to the door.

“You won’t be able to kill me in there and get away with it.” She asserted.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t want you dead, micina. C’mon, let’s talk inside.” He passed by her and went up the steps.

It was against her better judgment to let him in. The man she’d been hiding from. But she knew she wasn’t going to get rid of him easily. She wondered if she cooperated even just a little, he might be more lenient. Besides, she was self-assured that if he did try to harm her, she could fend him off.

So, with a deep breath, she went back to the door and unlocked it. She let Santo inside. He acted as if it were an old friend’s home, taking off his hat and coat and hanging them on the wooden pegs by the door.

Feeling awkward and on edge, Kate led him into the kitchen. She sat down and pulled out a cigarette to calm her nerves.

Santo slowly walked behind her, taking in the surroundings as if each piece of her personal belongings were artifacts in a museum. “I didn’t think I’d find you in a place like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked defensively.

He chuckled and finally found a spot to sit at the table. “I mean, I remember the way you used to live in Boston and Chicago. I mean you used to stay at the Palmer House and the Omni. You knew people, I mean for fuck’s sake Crowninshield wanted to put you on the cover of Vanity Fair.”

Kate averted her eyes. They were memories she had chosen to set aside. The lavish lifestyle she once had. Things people in Birmingham didn’t know about. The circles she ran in afforded her things that perhaps someone like her didn’t deserve. Things she ate up because she was just a young woman who wanted the world. It all seemed well and good until she attracted the interest of very dangerous men. One of whom was sitting in her kitchen.

“I was different then.”

“Hm.”

Kate loosened the grip she had on her locket. Instead, setting it on top of the table in a neat pile. “Just tell me what you want, Santo.”

“It’s not really about what I want, micina. It’s about what you want.” He proposed. “Is this really where you want to be? Stuck in this filthy city? You want to be locked up for something someone else did? You’re so much better than that.” He urged.

“You don’t know anything about this place.” She muttered. He made it seem like she was locked up in hell.

“But I know the people you’ve been running with.” His eyes darkened with disapproval. “Thomas Shelby. Him and his brothers don’t know their fucking place. I heard what they did to Kimber. I know what they’ve done. Now you’re suddenly a favorite of his? Where do you think that’s going to lead, Kate?” He questioned.

“Fuck off.”

“And even in London, you managed to find the lowest of the low. Alfie Solomons.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” She warned, not about to allow him to talk shit about a man who actually respected her for the person she was.

Santo took the hint and backed off a bit. “I’m just saying, there’s so much more you were meant for. When was the last time you danced? Do you still have your shoes?”

She did. The ballet pointe shoes that she adored so much. They were perfectly broken in and allowed her to lift up inches beyond how tall she usually stood. She felt like a different person when she laced them up. Someone more elegant and refined. That’s why she didn’t take them out of the box that was carefully tucked under her bed. They would remain there until she was free. Free to finally dance on stage again with a production. Free to have enough space to practice her leaps and spins.

“Kate, that’s all you ever wanted. To be a dancer no one could take their eyes off of. You didn’t want all this mess. Not here or in America. I can give you more. I can give you what you want. Any company will take you on. You’ll be the lead in every production.” He enticed her with bedazzling dreams of some utopia back in America. “You won’t have to worry about money or anything. I’ll take care of you until the day I die.”

She was absolutely sick to her stomach. Everything Santo was promising her was so alluring. To finally be free of the burden she’d been carrying for so long. To finally dance again. To put her murky past behind her and just shine. But then she looked into his eyes. There was still nothing there. No emotion, no adoration, no concern. He didn’t hold the same feeling that Tommy. She could recall seeing an array of strong expression in those blue eyes. But Santo never showed her anything. Nothing. Not the respect that people in Birmingham and London did. He never laughed with her like she laughed with John and Arthur or Alfie. Never confided with her like she did with Ada or Lizzie or Polly. He never held her heart in his hand like Tommy did.

“I don’t want that.” She replied. “I may have at one point, but I don’t anymore.”

A flash of anger passed across his face but he seemed to try and suppress it. “So, I can’t convince you with anything? Designer clothes, five-story town-house on Beacon Hill, cars? Nothing?”

She shook her head. “No.” She knew what she wanted. She wanted Tommy. She wanted the Shelby family. She wanted the relationships she had cultivated over the last couple of years.

“Well.” He cleared his throat and stood. “I suppose I can’t force you into anything.”

It was surprising to Kate that he was ceding so quickly or easily. “Um…okay.”

He pointed to the locket. “May I?”

Wary, she nodded and stood up. Santo picked up the locket as she brushed her hair away from her neck. He placed it around her neck and fixed the clasp.

When she expected him to step away, instead he grabbed her by the neck. His fingers dug into her throat, threatening to completely cut off her air supply. She reacted quickly out of shock, scratching at his hands to get him off her.

But he only tightened his grip and leaned in close to her ear. “You’ll come back to America with me, whether you like it or not.” He hissed. “I’d give you the fucking world and you turn me down? Not happening.”

“You can kill me.” She rasped, still clawing at his skin and trying to elbow his torso. “I don’t give a fuck.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I know you don’t. That’s why I won’t kill you. If I had wanted you dead, you never would have made it out of Boston alive. No, no, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to kill those fucking gypsies that you seem to like so much. I’ll kill that fucking Jew if I have to. I’ll make you watch as I burn down this disgusting city. I’ll make you watch as I slit their throats.”

Tears began to slip down Kate’s cheeks. She had been so naïve to think Santo would let her off the hook. This was much more like the man she once knew. Violent and psychotic. “Please.”

“Please? Please what? You want me to spare their lives?” He asked in a simpering tone. “Do they really mean that much to you? Huh?”

Kate felt so weak crying in front of him. She always expected that if he returned, she would either kill him or at least fight tooth and nail. But there she was, crying and helpless against him. She couldn’t kill him. Not when the Changrettas were already breathing down Tommy’s neck. Not when he had so many other allies who would be willing to cross the Pond to teach him a lesson. She couldn’t bring harm to the Shelbys. “I’ll do anything. Just leave them.” She gasped for breath.

“Oh, micina, I thought you learned not to catch feelings for others. They can always be used as your weakness.” He tsked sarcastically. “Very well. If you go willingly, I’ll leave them all be.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek making her stomach flip with disgust. After a few more moments, he let go of her neck and stepped away from her.

Kate felt her knees buckle as she rubbed her throat and took a few shaky breaths.

“I’ll get tickets to the next ship. Should be less than a week.” He straightened up and acted like everything was all well and fine. I would keep you company for the night but I don’t want to spend another second in this dumpster.” He sniffed. “And you’re smart enough to know that if you run, I’ll keep my promise. Every single one of them will die and it’ll all be your fault.”

She nodded. “Okay.” Her voice was weak and didn’t even sound like her own. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Santo smiled, victorious. He had finally won. “Good, sleep well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Kate didn’t spare any time. She went right to the phone once Santo left. Her calls to the office, the betting shop, and Arrow House all went unanswered. No one seemed to be around or willing to pick up the phone. She stayed up all night trying to call everyone but didn’t get a response.

Finally, the next morning, she got through to Polly.

“Is Tommy still in Warwickshire?”

“Kate?”

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, we were supposed to meet with him today. He didn’t say to bring you…”

“I need to speak with him.”

There was a soft sigh over the phone line but Polly didn’t seem to have the energy to argue. “Alright, I’ll come by to pick you up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to Tommy’s study was locked when Kate tried to barge in. Ada looked alarmed that she had shown up.

“He didn’t need to talk to you today.” The Shelby sister tried to intervene.

“Well, I need to talk to him.” She insisted and banged on the door. “Tommy, open up!”

Polly rand Ada exchanged looks but neither of them knew what was going on. Kate hadn’t disclosed anything to Polly on the drive over.

Finally, the knocking on the door got Tommy to open it. He was stone-faced and didn’t say a word. Instead, he moved right past her.

“Tommy, I need to talk to you there’s something going on and it’s-”

He just kept walking, right out of the room and out of the house entirely.

Close to tears, Kate followed. “Tommy!”

His footsteps crunched across the gravel as he made his way toward the stables.

She finally broke down in tears. Everything was too much to handle and she couldn’t hold her composure for another second. “Tommy, please!” She sobbed.

The agony in her voice made him finally stop and turn around. There was clear pain written across his face. Their last interaction obviously had put them both in drastic moods.

“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She choked out.

He wasn’t sure what she was referring to. Whether it was about walking out on him when he expressed his love for her, or not. But he didn’t have the strength to turn away from her. “Sorry for what?” He walked back toward her.

Too overwhelmed, she just let out another sob and shook her head.

“Kate…” That’s when he noticed the fingerprint-shaped bruises around her neck. “Who did this to you?”

She could hardly breathe right, she was all out of sorts. “Santo. Santo did it.”

//If you’re looking for more Tommy fics, I just started a new one call Field of Poppies that details Tommy’s life before and going into ww1. Check it out!

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen

Masterpost

Masterlist

48 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

Text

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 5- Defrosting

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: So nothing like the possibly one time love of your life being hurt to make you realise that actually, you might just care a little bit… Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (The Ice Queen is thawing…)

Song for Episode: For What It’s Worth by Liam Gallagher

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

“I’m so sorry for your loss…” Bucky bowed his head as he stood next to Steve’s mom.

She dropped her eyes to the floor taking a deep breath.

“I’m alive, jerk.” Steve shot back from where he lay on the hospital bed.

“I was talking about the car, punk.” Bucky shrugged “Or the beard. Man you look like 12 years old without it.” “Not like I had a choice.” Steve grimaced pointing to the line of stitches in the corner of his mouth “And is my car really totalled?” Bucky grimaced and nodded “Fraid it looks that way.” “Shit.”

“Language.” Sarah looked at her son. “Steve, it’s just a heap of metal…”

“No, no bad move, he loved that metal.” Bucky shook his head.

“He should be grateful he is getting away wit cuts and bruising.” Sarah narrowed her eyes “Could have been a hell of a lot worse, he’s been in an out of consciousness for almost 5 hours! I mean what was that idiot doing running the light?”

“It happens Ma.” Steve said gently “He’ll get dealt with.” He rubbed his shoulder which felt a little stiff and then looked up as the Doctor that had been looking after him returned.

“Ok Mr Rogers…your recent scan results show there’s nothing going on with your brain…” Bucky sniggered and Sarah slapped him around the back of the head. “Owww.” he said, reaching up to rub at his hair.

“So if you have someone at home with you, I’m happy you can be discharged.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening” Bucky nodded. The Doctor smiled and set about sorting out the forms and in a little while they were making their way, albeit slowly, out of the hospital.

Steve was grateful to his ma and Bucky for getting him home. Once his mother had stopped fussing as much as she could do she finally left with the promise of returning in a few hours and Steve went straight to his bed after popping a few painkillers. He was lucky, it was bruising more than anything, and a few stitches to his face where the glass from the car windows had cut him but all in all nothing too drastic.

He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he’d been injured enough to land him in hospital. They’d been on a drugs bust down town and had gotten separated, and thanks to a catastrophic coms failure he had been ambushed by 6 of the gang at once. He’d managed to get the upper hand at one point until someone had crashed him straight round the back of the head with a piece of wood. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too serious and Katie, Natasha and Clint had stormed in a few seconds later and it was all locked down. Katie had been by his side in the hospital for hours until Peggy had turned up and dismissed her, rather curtly actually. Katie had bitten her tongue and simply left with no fuss, and he and Peggy had ended up having a huge argument.

“I’m your girlfriend, Steven, not her.” Peggy crossed her arms and glared at him as she sat in the chair. “It’s ridiculous how much she hangs around you.” “Peggy, for god’s sake.” he groaned “She came in the ambulance with me!”

“Why not Clint, or Natasha?”

“Oh, you know what, I don’t want to do this now. My head hurts and, well, frankly I’m sick of having the same discussion. She’s my best friend.” “She wants to be more than your friend Steve.” Peggy sighed “Ever since her and Ward split she’s been hanging around like a bad smell.” “She needs support.” Steve shook his head

“She has a brother and god knows how many friends.” Peggy shook her head “But you were the one she called to help her kick Grant out, you changed all her locks…”

“Peg, she’s hurting, and I’m not gonna turn my back on her. She wouldn’t do it to me.” “Bet she can’t wait to get me out of the way.” Peggy sniffed, pursing her lips. “Soon as I’m off to London you mark my words…” “Oh stop being ridiculous.” Steve closed his eyes “Katie wouldn’t do that. And I wouldn’t do it to you either, you know that.” Oh the irony. In the end it had been Peggy that had done it to him. She’d departed to London for the 6 month placement, and they’d both agreed to stay together, what was 6 months after all when you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone and they wanted to spend the rest of theirs with you?

Or you thought they did. Less than a month later he had received the message, telling him that it wasn’t working, that she thought he was a burden and a tie to a life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. He’d tried calling, even debated getting a flight over to speak to her face to face but she’d point blank refused to even consider it, telling him if he turned up she wouldn’t see him.

So it had ended and he and Katie had navigated their heartbreak together. In bars, taking weekend trips upstate, hiking…anything that took their mind off things. And he dare say now, in hindsight, that it had brought them even closer. He understood now that he and Peggy were never going to make it. They were too different. Peggy was practical, realistic, stoic in every area of her life whereas Steve, whilst all those things when he needed to be, also had a softer side, showed his emotions, wore his heart on his sleeve.

Like Katie.

Breaking up with Peggy at the time had killed Steve, but now he realised that it was for the best. But he also knew that it had really tainted his views of relationships in general, even almost a year or so down the line. And the only person he had been close to since he had pushed away.

With a groan he lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, thankfully the codeine did its job and he slipped into a dreamless, painless sleep.

****

“Guys…” Bucky said loudly over the chatter in the briefing room. Everyone turned their attention to the front and he noticed a few puzzled glances. It wasn’t unusual for a Sergeant to take the mid-morning briefing in any other Precinct, but it was unusual in the 101. Steve liked to see his troops in the morning, he felt it was only fair. “Captain Rogers won’t be in today, and probably not for a little while. He was involved in a car accident last night and…” “An accident?” Wanda spluttered out. “Is he ok?”

“He’s fine. The car that hit his wasn’t travelling that fast it just unfortunately hit the driver’s side. They checked him over at the hospital and decided he was good to go home late last night, or earlier this morning even. Few cuts and bruises, no doubt some injured pride and his car most certainly isn’t ok but…he’s good, just needs to rest.” He couldn’t help but glance at Katie who was looking down at the table as she bit at her thumbnail. Her brow was furrowed and he could see in her face she was concerned but trying not to show it. Bucky didn’t say anything, simply carved up the duties. Whilst the murder investigation was taking most of the resource, there were still the other crimes to cope with and as such he ended up sending Clintasha to go and speak to the victim of a mugging. But for him and Stark, the morning was slow, real slow. She had already called through to Peralta and arranged for them both to head over there the next morning once he had been able to pull the files from the archive but until they didn’t have much else to go on.

“I just hope looking at the old case throws something up.” Katie said, looking at him “Because if not, we’re dead in the water. No leads, nothing…”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow.” Bucky said. “Look, why don’t you finish for the day? There’s really nothing we can do now.”

“I just got a few bits to tidy up and then I might do, thanks.” she looked back at her screen.

Bucky kept one eye on her as he continued clearing the admin from his inbox, and he could see that she was grappling with something.

“Have you errr…spoken to Captain Rogers?” she asked a few minutes later. Smiling to himself, Bucky looked up.

“Careful, Stark!” Bucky smiled “You almost sound like you care.”

She scowled, “I’m not a completely heartless bitch.”

“I never said you were…”

“Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I want him hurt…”

At that, Bucky almost fist pumped the air when he realised that actually this could work in Steve’s favour somewhat.

“You don’t hate him.” he said, matter of factly, looking at Katie. “You hate what he did, but you don’t hate him. And that’s what you find so hard to take about this entire situation.”

She paused, open mouthed for a moment, before she snapped her jaw shut and folded her arms, glaring at him. “What are you my therapist now?”

“No, just someone who the pair of you are starting to really piss off…” he sighed and ran a hand dramatically through his hair “Did you ever stop to consider exactly why Steve did what he did?” “Because he’s an ass hole.” Katie said, “He got what he wanted and then…”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit doll face.” Bucky said “He’s never been one for one night stands. Had a few at Uni but, well, frankly he always told me he hated it, but that’s not the point…the point is he cared about you…”

“Funny way of showing it…” “…and he did what he did because he thought, in his stupid pea brain, that it was for the best.” “The best?” Katie snorted “he thought bailing on me, and ghosting me was for the best?” “If you two had made a go of things, one of you would have had to move, and it would most likely have been you because Captain vacancies are harder to find…” “Yeah, I kinda figured that we’d have to do something about the chain of command, but, for fucks sake, I was contemplating going to DC…we could have sorted this, made it work!”

“I get it, I do…but this is Steve we’re talking about!” Bucky chuckled with affection, he was a dumbass but he was still his best friend. “The guy is an idiot when it comes to women and very rarely lets his heart rule his head…but with you he did. And that shows me just how much you mean to him.”

Katie looked down at her hands, her fingers were twisting around one another. After a little while she looked up and shook her head “That doesn’t make what he did ok.” “No, and I’m not trying to make excuses for him.” Bucky said gently “Just trying to give you the explanation you’re not allowing him to give to you himself.”

Katie turned away from him and wiped at her eyes. Bucky was tactful enough to look away whilst she composed herself.

“If you wanna go and check in on him I know he’d appreciate it.” he said, sowing the seeds of the idea in her mind. “Just think about it.”

She shrugged, but there was a definite softer expression on her face as she turned back to her computer.

About half an hour later Bucky came back from the bathroom to find her gone. Tacked to his monitor was a post-it note.

“Thought about it…thanks Buck.” “Don’t blow it Punk…” he mumbled to himself as he re-read the note before scrunching it up and throwing it in the bin, a huge smile playing on his face as he laced his fingers behind his head, swinging his feet up onto his desk.

“What you looking so smug about?” Natasha asked and he looked over to see he was being watched by her and Clint.

“Well…” he said, leaning back in his chair “Seems that the stupid Punk getting t-boned made Katie realise that she actually still cares about him. So Phase 1 of ‘Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K” is officially underway. Time to prepare Phase 2 Romanoff.”

“Wait, Phase 1 was getting someone to T-bone him?” Natasha looked at Bucky, her mouth open.

“What?” Bucky frowned as Barton looked at him.

“That’s just sick man…” Clint pointed at him before he frowned and looked at Nat “hang on, what plan?” “Oh after I spoke to her yesterday, I talked to Serge and we decided that we’re fed up of the pair of them moping around and pretend hating each other, when they’re both blatantly still head over heels despite their protestations to the contrary.” Nat shrugged “So we came up with a 3 step plan, of which the first phase, I thought, was simply making them talk…”

“Yeah, and I was gonna lock them in a cupboard or his office until they agreed to do so but hey, I’m all for grabbing the moment, right? This worked a treat” Bucky said, grinning at them both.

“So what’s Phase 2?” Clint asked. Natasha arched an eyebrow and grinned at him.

“Wait and see Barton, wait and see.”

Clint blinked, looked at Natasha who now had a devilish grin spreading across her face an then back to Bucky who was smirking into his coffee cup.

“Man I love you guys!” Clint said with a small laugh as he leaned back in his chair.

***** “Ma for the last time stop fussing…” Steve looked at his mom as she set a mug of coffee down on the table in front of him.

“I’m your mother, Steven…” she looked at him. “It’s my job to fuss. Now, what do you fancy for dinner?” He was just about to tell her he was capable of dialling a pizza when he heard the key in the lock and glanced at his watch, frowning. It was early for Bucky to be home.

“Buck?” he questioned. But the reply wasn’t what he was expecting, or who he was expecting for that matter.

“No, it’s errr, me.”

Steve looked at his mother whose face had lit up at the sound of Katie’s voice and he pushed himself up of the sofa, hissing a the bite of pain in his side and turned to see her stepping nervously into the living room.

“How did…” he asked and she looked at him, sheepishly, holding up her keys.

“Never did give it you back.” she said softly. He watched as her eyes travelled over the bruising and cuts on his face and her brow furrowed somewhat as she swallowed thickly and continued “Thought you might have changed the locks, you know like you did for me when I threw Grant out.” “Not really the same thing.” he said with a soft smile. “But I’m surprised you kept it.” “It was on my keyring.” she said, shrugging “I kinda forgot about it, should have mailed it to you or something…” Steve could tell that wasn’t the truth. There’s no way she would have forgotten about it, but he didn’t pick her up on her white lie. The fact she had kept it made him slightly hopeful she wasn’t quite as ready to give up on him as she made out.

“Hi Sarah…” she said in a small voice, her gaze turning to his ma.

“Oh my little star…” Sarah hurried over to give her a warm hug before she held her at arms length “Let me look at you…I love the hair!” “It’s grown a little.” Katie smiled, running her hand through her hair, the longer side was now an inch or so below her chin.

“How have you been?” Sarah pressed.

“Oh, you know…” she shrugged “Ok.”

Sarah smiled at her and then over at Steve before she nodded. “Well I was just about to head out to the store to pick something up for tonight.” “Ma, I told you…” “And I told you to shut up.” She shot him a look “Does carbonara suit?”

Steve sighed “Yeah, that’s great…” “Ok, so, I’ll be back in a little while…” she said, rushing for her purse.

“Hang on I’ll get my wallet…” Steve made to move and she shook her head

“I don’t want or need your money.” she said sternly. Again he rolled his eyes and noticed a smile on Katie’s face.

His ma made to hug her again “If you’re not here when I get back, you best stop by some time…oh, did he give you your pie the other night?”

“He did and it was amazing as always!” Katie smiled, giving her another hug “And I will, I promise.” With that his mom left them alone, and once the door was shut Katie turned back to him and looked him up and down as she raised an eyebrow “You look like you got in a fight with a bus.” “Not quite, it was a chevvy Blazer.” he said, chuckling slightly at her joke.

“How are you feeling?” “I’m ok, just a bit sore. Be fine in a few days.” She nodded “Ok, well, that’s all I wanted to check…when Bucky said you’d been hurt I just…” she trailed off, taking a deep breath before she sighed, “God why is this so awkward?”

Steve gave her a soft smile “Because I fucked it up?” She gave a soft huff of a laugh.

“Do you want a drink?” he offered “Ma just made a fresh pot of coffee so…” “I err, I don’t…” she looked at her watch, biting her lip. Steve could tell she was searching for a reason to say no so he decided to put her out of her misery.

“It’s fine, honestly.” he said, “You don’t have to make excuses not to stay. I appreciate you popping in.” She licked her lips and looked at him, her green eyes searching his before she smiled softly “Coffee’s great, you stay where you are. I’ll get it.”

“Everything’s in the same place…” he said softly and she nodded. But she didn’t move straight away. Instead he noticed her eyes flickering to the space by the TV where the photo of the two of them used to be.

“It’s in the bedroom.” he said. She looked at him, blushing slightly that she’d been caught but didn’t try and deny what she’d been thinking.

“I’m not gonna lie, my copy is in a drawer.” she replied quietly “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away but…” She swallowed and headed into the kitchen. He slowly sat back down and he heard her clinking about before she emerged with a mug. She placed it on the coffee table, removing her keys and phone from her pocket before she tossed those just to the left of her mug and took a seat on the sofa, picking up her drink and cradling it in both hands, the way she always did when she was seeking comfort.

“Has the station fallen to pieces yet?” Steve asked and she snorted.

“Not quite.” she smiled “To be honest it’s a bit slow. Oh, erm, I’m going to see Peralta tomorrow with Bucky, dig through the files on the old rape case. I know it’s just a hunch but something feels off.” “Well your instincts have never failed you before.” Steve smiled gently.

She smiled and shrugged “Who knows?” “Stop it.” Steve said.

“Stop what?” She frowned

“Doubting yourself.”

“I’m not.” “Yes you are I can tell. You always do it.” “No I don’t.” Steve chuckled and then winced at the pain in his side “Yes you do. And you’ve no reason to. You’re a damned good detective.”

She took a sip from her drink and looked down before she opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it. She took a deep breath and swallowed, her eyes remaining on the floor.

“Use your words Doll.” he said, softly.

“I don’t want another argument.” she said quietly. “It doesn’t matter…” “Katie.” he urged, his voice almost stern.

“I just… “ she licked her lips “I was just thinking that, well, I can’t remember the last time we did this, you know, drank coffee in your lounge.” “I can tell you exactly when it was.” he said “It was the morning of the Christmas party. About 12 hours before I sent everything sideways.”

She looked at him, before she looked away and Steve felt a pang in his chest that was totally unrelated to his accident. He yearned for her, longed for the way things used to be before he’d fucked it all up.

“I never thought you would be the man that I cried myself to sleep over.” she said so quietly he almost missed it.

As she placed the mug back on the coffee table Steve took a shaky breath “It wasn’t easy for me either you know?” he looked at her, blinking back his own tears “I hurt too.” “Yes but you did it to yourself Steve!” she said, running her hands over her face

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice a little louder “If I could change it, go back and do it differently I would but I can’t…”

“Bucky told me why you did it, that it was your stupid idea of being noble.” she cut him off, her voice soft as she shook her head “Frankly I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous in my life…all that stuff and panic about getting involved in someone in your chain of command…Steve, I had had feelings for you for a long time before that, do you think for one second that I never considered what it would mean? Fuck, I’d just told you I was considering the DC move, I’d have been well out of your chain then!”

“I should have talked to you, I get that…I do” he pressed “I was an idiot and I panicked and then I didn’t want anything to stop you moving or getting in your way and tying you back here..”

“You thought I’d do a Peggy?” she looked at him, frowning, as if she was understanding something for the first time, which in fairness she probably was. “That I’d move and things would end”

He didn’t reply, he knew that one look in his eyes would be enough to tell her. She always knew.

“Steve, what Peggy did was cruel. The way she left and then ended it, calling you a burden and a tie she didn’t need…I’d never have done that.”

“I know.” he said softly “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.” She shook her head before she spoke again, her voice cracking slightly. “You know what the worst thing about all this is?”

One look at her was enough to tell him she was struggling to keep herself controlled, he could see from the way her chest was heaving and she was stuttering for words.

“I can’t hate you.” she shrugged “No matter how much I try, and believe me I tried, I just can’t. I wanted so hard not to care when Bucky told me you’d been hurt, but all I could think about was making sure you were ok.”

She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath as her tears began to fall. She looked up and he saw her before him, as utterly broken as he had ever seen her. Her face crumpled and she stuttered to him. “I miss you. I miss my best friend.” With that he felt a tear slide out of his own eye and he moved from his chair onto the sofa besides her, pulling her to him, ignoring the aches and pains in his battered body. She didn’t shy away, instead she pressed her face into his chest, her arms linking round his waist at the back as his hands gently slid up and down her back, soothing her as he had done so many times before.

“I’m sorry.” he managed to stutter “I really am…I never wanted to hurt you sweetheart, I swear…”

He pulled her tighter to him and then instantly winced as the pain in his ribs. She pulled back straight away and looked at him.

“Steve…”

He felt a little light headed then, and it must have shown as she frowned a little.

“Hey, you look really pale.” she said, concern etched across her pretty face “Don’t pass out on me…” “I’m fine, honestly…” he protested. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I errr…” he shrugged, scrunching his eyes shut. “Yesterday, some point. Mac and Cheese.” “You made Mac and Cheese?” she said as a twitch in the corner of her mouth grew into a small smile. “Sorta, well, opened the box…”

“Mac and cheese, from a box.” the smile went and she looked horrified “Steven that is disgusting. I showed you like a million times how to make it properly.” “Yeah well it never comes out as well as yours so…” he blinked again and took a deep breath. No, he definitely felt dizzy.

“You need to lie down.” she said, standing up.

“I’m fine…” he protested, but she wasn’t fooled. She never was fooled by his bullshit. “Stop being a stubborn asshole and do as you’re told.” she said sternly as she grabbed a throw cushion and positioned it against the arm of the sofa. “Go on.” she patted it gently and he slowly moved himself backwards, laying his head where she told him.

“Just need to close my eyes for a moment…” he muttered, and he did.

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

Steve blinked and stirred a bit. He was tired and his ribcage ached. He opened one of his eyes and saw Katie sitting on the armchair beside the couch, her shoes discarded and her legs tucked underneath her as she was reading something on her phone. A warm feeling filled his chest and he closed his eye and smiled at the thought that she was still there, looking after him, keeping him company even though he was sure she’d rather be anywhere else. She had said earlier she had missed him, she had missed her best friend. If only they could go back to the way they were. He was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of keys in the door before it opened, shut and his mother’s shoes tapped down the hallway.

“Shhhh” he heard and opened one eye again, ever so slightly, to see Katie moving her right index finger to her lips and pointing her head at him, where he lay on the couch holding onto a yellow cushion for dear life.

“Is he asleep?” Sarah asked in a hushed voice.

“Apparently” Katie answered, and he didn’t miss the fond look she shot his way. “He was feeling dizzy and I forced him to lie down and rest. I didn’t want to leave him alone so I thought I’d wait for you or Bucky to come back.” she added as if trying to excuse herself for being there.

“Good. Thanks for looking after him.” the old woman smiled at her fondly. And then Steve decided he should make them aware he was awake.

“I wasn’t dizzy.” Steve suddenly said with a hoarse voice. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up so fast all his body was in pain and he grimaced again.

“Steven!” Sarah scolded him. “Be careful, love. Have you taken your painkillers?”

“Yes ma.” he answered. “Took them before you left.”

She nodded and smiled at her son and then turned to Katie “And you, my dear, are having Carbonara with us this evening?”

"Sarah, I don’t want….” Katie started but Sarah cut her off.

“I wasn’t asking Star.” she said “It’s the least I can do after you looked after this mad driver I have for a son. Besides, you’re helping me fix it, we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Wait Ma! I’ll help you with those” Steve said as his mother turned to head for the kitchen, taking a shopping bag in each hand.

“No. Stay put. I’m perfectly able to do it myself, Stevie. You rest until dinner’s ready.” she refused her son’s offer.

Katie stood up and sighed. “I’ll better go help her.” she said before smiling at him and ruffling the hair on the top of his head softly, and God that was a balm to his soul. Such a familiar action she had done so many times before, but yet never had it felt so significant as it did then. The ghost of a grin threatened to spread on his face at her show of affection but it was quickly turned into a grimace as she tugged on the longer locks at the top of his head.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed and Katie, who was heading for the kitchen turned to look at him and grinned.

“Serves you well for letting them shave you.”

“I was kind of unconscious so I didn’t have much of a choice” he looked at her “And besides, they had to stitch my lip.” he shrugged innocently.

“Whatever.” she said over her shoulder walking towards the kitchen.

Steve leant against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. Was it him or was the ice queen beginning to thaw?

He must have dozed off again, but that stupid grin was clearly on his face as he was jerked back to the here and now by another voice about 15 minutes later.

“Are you high?” he heard Bucky ask him. Steve opened his eyes to see a smug smile on his friend’s face who was examining the packet of painkillers the doctors had prescribed him.

“Jerk.”

“I love you too, honey.” Bucky grinned at him and frowned when he heard the two female laughs coming from the kitchen.

“Is that…?” Bucky asked squinting his eyes at Steve and he nodded.

“She came by this afternoon. Ma invited her for dinner.” he said.

“Well, this is getting interesting.” Bucky smirked, tossing the packet of painkillers down onto the table “Very interesting indeed.”

Steve didn’t miss the cunning smile on his friend’s face as he turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Buck.” Steve warned him, but Bucky was already gone. He came back a few minutes later drinking a beer and sat sprawled on the armchair beside the couch and Steve cast a longing look at the bottle.

“Don’t even think of it.” he said mocking Steve’s captain voice “You’re not allowed to drink a single drop of alcohol on those things.”

Steve groaned took the TV remote and started channel-hopping until he found a film that caught his attention.

“Why does Superman wear a cape? I don’t get it. What’s with making superheroes look like idiots with those spangly tight outfits?” Bucky began to rant but Steve ignored him.

Bucky side eyed him for a moment, before he smirked to himself. “Sooo. I guess you and your girl are on better terms now, seeing as she still hasn’t torn your head off.”

“She’s not…”

“Your girl. Hmmm, yet you wanted to punch me in the face for buying her lunch.” Bucky finished for him. “You’re smiling, just saying pal.” he added pointing at him with his beer bottle before turning to the TV screen again. But as he gave Steve another side glance, he could see the blonde was smiling again.

Twenty minutes later Katie emerged from the kitchen cleaning her hands with a tea towel.

“Dinner will be ready in five, so move your asses and help me lay the table.” she said standing in front of the TV screen, hands on the buckle of her belt.

“Yes, Mrs. Captain.” Bucky sat up mocking a salute.

Kate shot him a glare and both turned to watch as Steve was struggling to stand up from the couch with a pained expression to no avail.

“Here, hold on to us.” Bucky offered reaching one of his arms out for Steve to hold at the same time Katie approached the coach and offered hers. But they couldn’t lift his weight.

“Come on, man. Are you on our team?” Bucky asked between gritted teeth.

“Just represent. Pull!” Steve bit back. And with that they were able to lift the Captain’s weight and haul him upright.

“Are you ok? Are you still dizzy?” Katie asked Steve while she rubbed his arm.

“I’m fine, doll. Thanks.”

Bucky flinched waiting for Katie’s outburst at the pet name, but when nothing came he just raised an eyebrow at the pair but they were too busy looking at one another to notice him. He just smiled, shaking his head. He had to remember to text Romanoff later.

“Ok, pal. Lean on me, I’ll walk you to the dining room.” Bucky said ducking under Steve’s armpit and putting his friend arm over his shoulder while holding his waist with his free hand. “We are your sidekicks after all.”

“Yeah, just like Mulder and Scully you two.” Steve scoffed.

“Thought it was Cagney and Lacey?” Katie, who was walking ahead of them, turned to quip.

Soon after the table was ready and Sarah had finished fixing a salad to go with the Carbonara. She passed the bowl to Katie who placed it at the centre of the table and all four sat to enjoy the food. But as Bucky was about to take a breadstick Sarah slapped his hand.

“What’s with people slapping my hands?” Bucky protested

“Have you washed your hands, young man?” Sarah asked. "God only knows where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“Or who.” Katie muttered under his breath and shared a smile with Steve who was sitting opposite her. He grinned back.

“Yes, I did ma'am.” Bucky answered, taking the breadstick from the bread basket and biting it unceremoniously.

“Are you going to tell us where you’ve been all day?” Steve asked looking at him while he helped himself to some salad.

“Playing Captain Dickhead.” he quipped.

Sarah, who had just stood up to go find a pitcher of water, smacked him on the back of his head.

“Language!” the old lady said and Katie couldn’t help but snigger.

“Ouch!” Bucky dropped the fork on the plate and rubbed the back of his head as he looked at Steve “Doing your job, buddy. Which I must say I did beautifully.” he added with a smug smile.

“Well, he didn’t burn the station down.” Katie shrugged.

“Chasing the bad guys. Looking after your herd.” Bucky continued.

“We’re not goats.” Katie scoffed.

“That is debatable, honey.” Bucky said pointing at her with his fork and Steve smiled at the bickering between the two. “And I met a friend later.” he added casually.

“Oh, anyone nice?” Sarah asked excitedly as she returned with the water.

“Don’t encourage him Ma.” Steve shook his head.

“You could say that.” he looked at Sarah smiling before adding “Name’s Sammy, we’re not a thing yet.”

Steve saw Katie stop eating and try to catch Bucky’s eye but he was avoiding her purposefully. After a second or two she gave in and stood up.

“I’ll fetch the Carbonara, pass me your plates.” she said holding out her hand at Bucky and looking at him intently. He shot her another passive look, but there was a faint tinge of red in his cheeks and as Steve watched Katie smirked, knowingly, before she collected the other plates.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sarah said to Katie as she headed to the kitchen. “And James, make sure you treat your dame right.” he said looking at him before raising an eyebrow at her son.

“Will do.” Bucky said looking at the woman at the same time he reached for his water glass.

“You’re not a thing? Yet?” Steve asked Bucky leaning an arm on the back of the chair to look at him directly.

“Nope.” he replied, not wanting to go into many details.

“But you could be?”

Bucky shrugged.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie asked placing a pasta plate in front of Sarah.

“Just leave him alone.” Sarah said patting Katie’s hand. Katie shrugged and dropped another plate in front of Bucky before returning for her and Steve’s.

“Thifif delishos” Bucky grunted with his mouth full of food.

“Thank you, I guess. Did you mean the food was delicious?” Sarah laughed and Bucky nodded.

“It is good, thanks.” Steve said, nodding appreciatively.

“It should be after feeding on mac and cheese from a box. Did you know that?” Katie asked Sarah, who nodded resigned and shook her head.

“What’s wrong with box mac and cheese?” Bucky looked up.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s disgusting!” Katie said, affronted.

“Katie cooks the best Mac and cheese you’d ever taste.” Steve told Bucky before he shot her a wink as he refilled her glass with water.

“Thanks, Stevie.” she smiled back softly.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “STEVIE?” he mouthed to Sarah who nodded at him, smiling knowingly.

For Steve it was like he had been taken back to before everything went wrong. Sitting with his Mom, Katie, eating dinner…with the addition of Bucky this time. It was nice. The 4 of them ate, chatting, there was no arguing, no frosty moments. Ok, it wasn’t as easy as it had been once upon a time but still, this was progress. And he wasn’t taking it for granted.

Eventually his mother announced it was late and that she should be going. Much to Steve’s disappointment, Katie checked her watch and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll walk down with you Sarah.” Katie said “Tony’s already bitching about me treating his place like a hotel. If I’m much later home he’ll probably threaten to Ground me or something…”

Bucky and Steve both sniggered as Sarah looked at Katie.

“If he’s annoying you that much you can always come stay with me love.” she said and Katie grinned.

“You’d feed me that much apple pie and banana bread I’d be the size of a house.” “Well you do look like you need feeding up….have you been eating properly in DC?” “Ma stop it.” Steve sighed as Katie laughed.

“I’m promise you I eat as much now as I always have.” she assured the woman as they both stood up. “As you’ve just seen. I look like I’m having a food baby.”

Bucky and Steve both rose along with them, Bucky hugging Katie whilst Steve gave his mom a squeeze.

“Don’t blow this…” she hissed into his ear.

“I’ll try not to.” he replied gently.

She stepped back and Steve turned to Katie. Bucky and Sarah were tactful enough to move away to the door, talking loudly to give them some space.

“Think the polar ice caps are melting…” Bucky mumbled to Sarah who smiled as she watched Katie slip her arms round Steve’s waist.

“None so blind as those who will not see.” Sarah mused back.

“Aint that the truth…” Bucky said.

As her arms connected at the base of his back, the familiar fit of her body against his made Steve close his eyes as he gently hugged her back, dropping an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head as he always had done.

“Thank you.” he said softly, “for coming round and…” “It’s ok.” she said, she stepped back and licked her lips and took a deep breath “Look, Steve, I can’t promise everything can go back to like it was before but…maybe we can move forward right?”

“Forward’s good for me doll.” he assured her.

She smiled and turned towards the door. “See you tomorrow Bucky.” “Yeah later Doll Face…” he said to her retreating back.

The two men watched as she paused momentarily, took a deep breath before she held up her right hand and flipped him off over her shoulder, without so much as a look back.

Bucky let out a bark of a laugh and Steve chuckled as the door shut.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @charmed-asylum @pagesoflauren

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #wanda maximoff #tony stark #sam wilson #thor odinson #bruce banner

57 notes · View notes

msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 7- Croquet and Cronuts

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @kingliam2019 @captain-kingliamsqueen @pedudley @drakewalker04 @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @kimmiedoo5 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

******

Riley and Drake discreetly left the stable- before going their separate ways. Luckily she bumped straight into Maxwell- still feeling flustered from her moment with Drake she blamed it on the Cordonian weather.

“Warm weather? I think it’s pretty chilly in all fairness.” Maxwell faked a shiver dramatically- if he wasn’t a noble he sure could pass off as an actor.

“I just get warm easily... that’s all.” Faking a smile, she didn’t know why she had to lie to him. He knew about her and Drake. But she felt that if Bertrand was to discover the truth- her, Maxwell and Drake would be toast. Burnt to a crisp, with the Dukes fierce tongue.

“I hope you’re not coming down with anything! Anyway to impress the Queen, she enjoys fashion and likes a woman with grace and style. She tends to favour the ladies who are from Cordonia, so you’re at a disadvantage there.”

“I see. But do I really need to impress her that much because obviously I’m not fighting for Liam’s hand in marriage....”

“Of course you do... I know this whole thing is a sham..... but...”

Riley held her hands up in defeat- interrupting Maxwell from continuing. Feeling psychic she had a premonition of what he was going to say.

“But it’s all part of the game, I know.”

“Well yes. But I was going to say you’d win her over with your charm anyway.” Maxwell flirtatiously said, winking at his new friend.

******

Riley met Hana and Olivia at the lawn party. It was quaint and ever so delicately beautiful. Riley became nervous all of a sudden- she couldn’t pinpoint why? Noticing Queen Regina, she softly met her gaze, smiling to be polite. There was a blonde woman, stood next to the Queen- she began whispering before smirking at the ladies. Riley didn’t give a shit that they were most likely bitching about her due to their eyes fixated on her. But it was surely intimidating the other ladies in court.

Hana was oblivious regarding the facts on the mystery woman. Riley didn’t care about the blonde woman, who looked familiar for some reason. Sneaking glances from Drake every so often, she was knocked out of her trance, due to Duchess Olivia’s bellowing voice.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Olivia exclaimed- furious that she was in close proximity to the blonde snake.

“Who is she?” Hana quizzed Olivia. Riley shrugged, her mind just kept thinking of Drake- memories flashing back to their encounter earlier on in the day.

“You dolt! That thing is Countess Madeleine Of Fydelia, and if you haven’t heard of her then you really are behind the times.”

“Oh that’s the infamous Madeleine. Liam’s brother ‘dumped’ her when he abdicated Hana. I did my research before I came.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at Riley- to say she’s here for Drake why is she researching us?

The Queen briefly spoke to all of Liam’s suitors, Riley was the last in the queue. Taking a deep breath- she curtsied gracefully. Regina was impressed by the commoner, and with the positive feedback from the press put Riley in her ‘good books’. First impressions on Madeleine- Riley didn’t blame Leo for abdicating having to be engaged to her. She gave the impression that she was trouble, that she would thrive in making people’s life hell. Riley now realised what Maxwell meant with Regina favouring Cordonia ladies- she was practically stuck up Madeleines arse as if she was superglued to her.

It was time to begin the Croquet game, Regina tested Riley to see if she would stand behind her or not. Riley was pissed that people believed she didn’t have manners just because she wasn’t born and bred into nobility. Prince Liam greeted all of his suitors, Riley curtsied. Knowing that she was in a relationship with his best friend - he had assumed that was the reason as to why she didn’t hold her hand out to him like the other ladies.

“Lady Riley. I’m so pleased to see you.” Liam kissed her on the cheek, much to the annoyance of Drake and Olivia- who both mirrored the same expressions. Jaws agape, narrowed eyes, folded arms.

“Prince Liam, it’s nice to see you again. But don’t do that again please.”

“I do apologise, my lady.” Liam quietly whispered, Riley felt his warm breath linger around her ear. Closing her eyes- wanting the need to ignore his presence.

Riley faked a smile towards the Prince, before turning to Drake- discreetly covering one side of her mouth with her palm - imitating rubbing the bridge of her nose. She whispered - I love you, Walker. Hoping he could lip read. Noticing his lips curl upwards, he then pointed to her before placing two fingers in the air- she assumed he said “you too”.

*******

The Queen announced that they would be playing a round of croquet, with herself choosing a suitor for her team and Prince Liam choosing one too. As Regina announced that she would be playing along side Madeleine, everyone gasped in shock trying to catch their breath. Olivia was the most annoyed with The Queen’s choice- Riley didn’t understand why as Liam was choosing her as his bride- his Queen anyway. He most certainly wouldn’t stray and pick the snake that ruined his brother’s life.

“As for myself, I shall choose Lady Riley.”

I shall choose Lady Riley- what the fuck is he playing at?

“With all due respect Prince Liam, I don’t know how to play- why not chose Duchess Olivia?” Her eyebrows narrowed at him- ignoring her, he put his arm around her back and guided her to the start. Abruptly brushing his arm away from her, Drake noticed and his scowl suddenly changed to a slight smile- that’s my girl, he thought.

“Looks like we’ve found a few moments alone.” His baby blues sparkled, whilst he spoke to her.

“Liam! I don’t want to be alone with you, no offence. Why couldn’t you chose your actual bride?”

“Riley the truth is... My father isn’t that enthusiastic regarding Olivia. I had to do something to make them believe I am considering other options.” Liam walked behind her- his soft touch went around her waist, before resting on her arms guiding her to hold the mallet correct.

“I am not an option Liam- please. I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“It’s just a game Riley. And so is the social season. So how are you and Drake?”

“WE ARE FINE!”

Riley hit the ball into the centre peg with an almighty force- forgetting that this would make her and Liam win. That’s it I’m going to be beheaded for embarrassing the Queen and beating her at her game.

“Are you sure you’re fine? I mean this is all new for you both again. Fate brought you back together. But is he really what you want?”

“Of course he is Liam. He wouldn’t have left me if he didn’t need to save your sorry ass! Excuse me your soon to be Majesty.”

Before Liam could respond, she ambled upto the table where Maxwell, Hana and Drake was sitting. There was an awkward silence at the table after all the petite sandwiches had been consumed.

Are you okay? You’re being awfully quiet. I love you x

Yes I’m fine. I promise. This whole thing is torture. I wish I didn’t come, I was just desperate to see you again. I love you too x

Liam has to spend time with all the suitors babe. It’s killing me. But you’re mine, and I’m yours. You have always been mine. I meant what I said, I want a future with you Riley.

Riley blushed, their friends noticed them both on their phones smiling - they were each other’s favourite notifications. It didn’t take a genius to realise what they were doing.

“Why are you texting each other? Why not just talk? We all know you two are together. It’s no secret between us.”

“How did you know Max?”

“Because Drake never smiles. It’s too obvious. I’m not stupid. What were you both talking about?” Maxwell placed his elbow on the table supporting his chin with his palm, waiting impatiently for some decent gossip.

“Erm. I was just saying how I’m missing home and could really go for a cronut. Right Drake?” Her baby blues pleaded with her boyfriend to stick to the fake story.

“Yeahhh... we used to go for them all the time.”

Hana and Maxwell looked at Riley as if she was talking gibberish. Hana believed Rileys definition for a cronut was an American slang for Donut. After explaining what a cronut was- both Hana and Maxwell were intrigued on trying the dessert. Much to Riley’s delight- Maxwell had invited Liam.

*****

“You made it then Liam? Where’s Bastien?” Drake’s eyebrows raised in shock- not only the fact that Liam disobeyed the rules, but also that Bastien wasn’t there lurking in the shadows.

“It’s been a while since I had to sneak out my own bedroom window. I nearly fell into the rose bushes, but I stand before you unscathed. Bastien doesn’t know obviously. So shh!”

Liam smirked at the others- quite proud of himself. The ‘well behaved’ Prince had managed to escape, maybe Leo’s bad influence was now rubbing off on him. Riley rolled her eyes, she didn’t understand why Liam would want to go with them- surely he would want to spend time with Olivia?

“Watch it Brooks, you’re on my side.”

“Sorry did I miss the part where you own this bakery?”

Both providing each other with a coquettish grin, Riley sat on Drake’s knee and kissed him passionately. He held her tightly. Knowing that he could do this in front of the company they kept. The friends enjoyed talking and being away from court- Drake and Riley enjoyed being out in the open and in each other’s embraces.

“So when are you two getting engaged then?” Maxwell questioned with a teasing tone of voice. Riley nearly chocked on her cronut- whilst Drake narrowed his eyes at the younger Beaumont. Maxwell was the only one that Drake had confided in about marriage and the future when they attended Liam’s bachelor party.

The men arrived in New York for the Prince’s bachelor party- the atmosphere was slightly morbid. Liam knew who he was marrying but it was going to be torture having to complete a social season that wasn’t required. He wanted to marry for love not for the happiness of his Father. If Leo wasn’t his brother he would have potentially murdered him for placing all this responsibility onto him.

Tariq was more interested in seeing if there was any shopping boutiques that sold the top leather shoes that he admired. Liam just wanted to go to the Statue of Liberty. The three other men weren’t as enthusiastic but as it was the Prince’s weekend away they felt the need to be dragged there to make him happy.

Upon arrival, Liam’s eyes lit up whilst Drake’s filled with sorrow. Tariq and Liam went ahead whilst Maxwell held back with Drake.

“Drake what’s up?”

“Nothing Max. Just brings back memories being here that’s all.”

“Oo what memories? You hardly talk about the time you spent here.”

“I met a girl here in the city. I loved her. But I got in a relationship with her friend because this girl didn’t seem interested in me- then Lola, her friend cheated on me. I didn’t care because I really loved this girl instead. I left her without saying goodbye, to return to Cordonia. It was seven years ago but it still hurts. The last time I saw her, we stood here. Before Leo came to get me because of the assassination attempt, I imagined her as my wife, the mother to my children. We hadn’t been together long, but there was that feeling that she was - is the one. I left her heartbroken, she probably hates me now. Whenever I see my grandmothers ring, I picture it on her finger.”

“What’s her name? We can look for her whilst we’re here? Drake I’ve never seen you this sappy before- she really did steal your heart didn’t she?”

“Her name is Riley. It doesn’t matter now, I let her go. The only woman I really loved and care for. All for what? To become miserable being back to the ‘scrounger commoner’ as everyone labels me.”

“Don’t be silly Maxwell. We won’t be getting engaged.” Riley let out a nervous laugh.

“So why are you two together then?” Liam snapped- he knew Drake was smitten but didn’t want his friend to get hurt. Liam found her to be attractive too- so he could fully understand Drake’s feelings.

“Because.. we love each other Liam.”

“You love him. But you wouldn’t marry him? That’s not love, Lady Riley.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what love is. The only person engaged here will be you, your highness! And whilst I’m in this sham I have to act single and desperate to be a Queen.”

“Li, leave it out. Riley’s right. We aren’t getting married. We have only just rekindled our relationship.”

Riley couldn’t comprehend why the conversation turned into the Riley and Drake show. Why Maxwell would come out with something so random that? Riley went to pay for the cronuts- she offered to as a treat- a gift from New York with love. Hana followed Riley- she insisted on paying for herself, but Riley refused. Her stubborn side was beginning to show.

“Thank you, Riley. Thank you, for introducing us to this wonderful invention. I will have to get the staff at home to invest in some.” Hana excitedly said, knowing she would get some if she battered her eyelashes at her father. She was a daddy’s girl after all.

“What did I tell you? They are delicious.” Riley licked her lips, before impersonating the Italian chef kiss.

“They most certainly are! Are you okay? That conversation became awkward at the end.”

“Yes I’m absolutely fine. Myself and Drake have history- but not that much to talk about marriage. We’ve only just found each other again.”

“I understand that. If he asked you now... what would your reaction be?”

“I don’t know? My heart would probably say yes. But my head would convince me to say no. It’s too soon.”

********

“What the fuck Beaumont?” Drake was petrified that Maxwell and his big mouth was going to let slip Drake’s confession he trusted Max with whilst they was in New York.

“Sorry Drake. You both just look so cute together. And your babies- wow! They’ll be gorgeous... I think the sugar rush went to my head. I wasn’t thinking I’m sorry.”

“Well at least now I know she doesn’t feel the same. So no point embarrassing myself.”

“Drake, you don’t know what she thinks. She might have just said that because we were all here.”

“No. She’s not like that. She doesn’t hide feelings. I don’t mind. It probably is too premature. And I left her- I’m surprised she’s even talking to me. She deserves better. But I’m not going to question my luck.”

The two men suddenly stopped whispering as the women walked over in their direction. Liam was outside on the phone- as the foursome exited the bakery. A stern man was giving Liam hell.

“Bast? Liam?”

“Ah Drake. Lord Maxwell, Lady Hana. Nice to see you all. I was just informing his highness to not leave the palace without informing me. And you must be the infamous, Lady Riley.” Bastien kissed Riley on the hand, before smiling softly at her.

“Infamous?” Confused at first, but then she realised he must had seen the press interview that had taken place. She would hardly describe herself as infamous though.

“I’m Bastien, Prince Liam’s and King Constantine’s royal guard. It’s finally nice to put a beautiful face to the name. You’re all Drake’s ever spoken about all these years. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #kingliam #olivia nevrakis #hanalee #bertrand beaumont #drake x riley #drake x mc #liam x mc #liam x riley #hana x riley #maxwell x riley #trr bastien

26 notes · View notes

darling-i-fancy-you · 7 years ago

Text

I Meant Something Like That - Steve Harrington x Reader

[AN: Based off the an amazing request I received asking for a Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader based loosely off the ‘Cooler’ Episode from New Girl with the first ever Nick and Jess kiss and also one of my favourite kisses in the history of television. You don’t understand the happy dance I did when I received this prompt!

To maybe follow some of this fic you may have to look up the rules to True American, just for the fist couple of paragraphs of this fic if you aren’t familiar.]

You weren’t exactly sure how you had found yourself partaking in the excited games of your younger brother and his friends, upon turning thirteen and suddenly becoming interested in the boys in your classes you hadn’t spent much longer than half an hour in the presence of Dustin or his nerd squad. However something to do with Steve Harrington turning up to your house with a bottle of stolen liquor for you both to share and a promise that it ‘wouldn’t be all that bad’ had swayed you into playing a game with rules that were not all that clear.

‘Okay so remind me again,’ you giggled swaying on the spot, ‘the soda cans?’

‘Are the pawns, Y/N, God!’ Lucas shouted, he was standing on top of a sofa cushion. ‘Whoever’s team drinks all the soda’s on their side first gets a chance at claiming the stack of comic books.’

‘Right!’ You hiccuped and took a sip of your spiked root beer, your eyes lazily glanced over at Steve.

Steve was stood poised with one foot on the sofa armrest and the other on the reclining chair, he grinned as he caught you staring.

‘One, two, three, JFK!’ He shouted.

‘FDR!’ The party responded, each downing the respected soda cans and then picking another up.

Each of you took another step in the weird formation of a circle you had created in the basement of your house. Cushions and pillows lay scattered in between chairs and place mats, providing a safe-haven from the ‘molten’ floor.

‘Iceman, Angel, Cyclops!’ Dustin began to chant.

‘X-Men!’ You laughed, all but Steve and Jane took a sip of their drink.

‘Time-out!’ Wheeler announced, crossing his arms in the shape of a T. ‘I gotta have a bathroom break guys, all this soda is building up in me!’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Muttered Will with a meek smile at the ladies of the group.

You chuckled at Max and Jane’s grossed out faces and bounced back onto the cushionless sofa, moments later your brother plopped down beside you. With glassy eyes you smiled down at him.

‘We got a new rule coming up.’ He grinned. ‘I’m gonna shout one, two, three, and everyone has to put a number up to their heads anyone with a matching number has to kiss in the closet.’

‘Ew gross!’ You exclaimed. ‘What if we have a matching number, doofus?’

‘Gross! No hear me out first!’ He began to explain. ‘We’re gonna make it so Max and I have matching numbers, Lucas is gonna tell her if she holds up a seven no one will match up with her, but I will.’ He purred.

‘You’re a creep, Dusty, you know that right.’ You rolled your eyes at your brothers pathetic antics. ‘So what number should I hold up? I don’t wanna kiss any of your dweeby friend.’

‘Go for a one, you’ll be safe with a one.’ He nodded firmly and patted your shoulder before standing up.

Mike and Will returned to the basement, they where whispering about something and Byers seemed a little out of it.

‘Drinks ready?’ Max smiled wickedly, as though a plan had formulated in her mind. Somehow you didn’t believe your brother would be getting the kiss he so desired.

The squad re-positioned themselves in their earlier positions, you were stood dead-centre of the sofa with Jane to your left and Mike on your right. You watched as Lucas signalled a thumbs up to Dustin, an affirmation that their plan was supposedly in action.

‘One, two, three!’ Dustin called out, many of the members looked on confused.

Jane held up a five to her head, Mike a three, Lucas a nine, Dustin a seven, Max a ten, and Will a four. Steve looked at you in bewilderment before copying your number, a one.

‘Steve, no!’ You grumbled as heat rose to your face.

‘Lucas, what the hell man?’ Dustin accused.

‘Sorry, man.’ He replied sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

‘What?’ Steve questioned, he swayed slightly from the top of the chair. ‘What does it mean, do we drink?’

‘No you ki-’ Lucas began.

‘How about we just forget that round?’ You suggested and wished the couch would swallow you whole right about now.

‘Nah-uh, Y/N’ Dustin scolded. ‘It’s the rules. You guys gotta kiss and we all get to drink.’

You looked over at Steve with apologetic eyes, from the right you heard Mike snicker, a swift elbow to his shoulder saw him lose his balance and he fell into the ‘lava’.

‘Oom-pah-pah!’ The rivalling teams announced and took swigs of their drinks.

‘Y/N, we’re on the same team!’ Mike grumbled, you looked at him with a snarl.

Pleadingly you looked at Dustin, then Lucas, then Will and Jane and Max, all of them responding with a small smile and a shrug of the shoulders. In frustration you groaned and jumped off the sofa.

‘Oom-pah-pah!’ The teams announced again and then once more as you dragged Steve off the reclining chair and towards the closet door.

‘C’mon, Harrington.’ You said softly.

The closet was warm and small, a clothes peg dug into your shoulder blade as you backed against the wall, Steve chuckled earnestly.

‘This is your fault, you know.’ You smiled despite the situation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Steve, you did, in fact you really did. He was handsome, kind, funny, and you and him had become quite good friends over the course of the past year. It was weird at first, you had to admit, that he spent so much time with your brother and his dumb friends, but Dustin looked up to Steve and it wasn’t hard to see why.

Lonely nights babysitting a bunch of pre-teens had now become nights spent laughing with Harrington as he dished out advice to the boys and warned the girls to stay away from boy’s like Max’s brother, Billy.

Other nights you’d sit together in the living area listening to your records, whilst the boys took claim over the kitchen playing Dungeons and Dragons, those nights were your favourites.

‘It’s always my fault.’ Steve replied with mirth in his voice. ‘It was my fault when the T.V blew out, it was my fault when Tews escaped, oh and it was my fault when you spilt that entire can of root beer all over the carpet.’ He grinned.

‘Shut up.’ You muttered, pushing back on his shoulder. ‘Maybe we should just suck it up and french a little.’

Steve coughed, his next breath caught in his chest by surprise.

‘Sorry,’ you apologised, ‘I just mean, maybe we should just get this over with. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.’

‘Okay,’ he laughed, ‘but don’t say lets suck it up and french a little.’

‘Right.’ You laughed.

You could feel the ends of your limbs tingle with anticipation, your heart practically beating against your rib cage desperate to escape. Steve let out a low breath and licked at his lips.

‘What are you doing?’ You questioned with a laugh as his head moved in towards yours.

‘I’m licking my lips?’ He explained as though it was obvious. ‘D’ya want kiss dry lips?’ His brow arched in confusion.

‘Uh-’ you stuttered. ‘No I guess not.’

‘Okay, so I’m licking them to make them better.’ He licked them once more. ‘Shut up.’

‘Don’t tell me to shut up.’ You argued and pushed at his chest.

‘Y/N.’ He groaned. ‘I thought we were just gonna do this and get it over with.’

‘Okay, we are!’ You exclaimed and reach your hands to curve around the back of his neck.

Instinctively Steve’s body curled into yours, you were chest to chest, nose to nose, hip to hip. He smelt like the rum you had been sharing all night, mixed with the recognisable scent of his aftershave. His hands fell softly against your waist and heat radiated from his palms.

Was he nervous? You questioned internally.

‘Are you a tonguer?’ Steve whispered.

‘What?!’ You whipped back at him. ‘A tonguer?’

‘I don’t wanna put my tongue in your mouth if you’re not.’ He explained.

‘Steve, just kiss me.’ You sighed exasperatedly.

‘Fine.’

‘Do it then.’

‘I’m doing it.’

‘Are you guys done?!’ There was a thud against the door, it sounded like a shoe.

‘It’s been like 10 minutes guys!’ Shouted Sinclair.

‘I swear to God, Steve, if you’re making out with her I’ll kick your ass.’ Came a cry from Dustin.

With a groan Steve pulled away from you and pushed himself back against the wall, he rubbed a hand over his face pulling his facial features down with it. You looked at him and saw the flushed skin of his cheeks and his dark eyes staring at you softly.

‘I can’t kiss you, Y/N.’ He sighed. ‘Not like this.’

His own eyes widened at his last statement.

‘I mean- you know- like-’ Steve stuttered. ‘Like we can’t kiss like this, like at all, right?’

His eyes pleaded with you to understand and his hands fumbled for the door handle.

‘We’re done.’ Steve called out as he took a step out of the closet.

The cool air of the basement hit your face in relief, you blinked back at the bright lights and took a step out of the closet yourself. Steve was already back in position, a drink in his hand and gaze that avoided catching anyone’s eyes.

The game continued on almost uneventfully for the rest of the evening, yourself and Mike Wheeler actually managed to win the game when Steve started a round of ‘finish the quote’. Unfortunately for the rest of the kids only yourself and Steve had managed to see Terminator so when he started off the quote:

‘Come with me if you want to-’

You excitedly screamed ‘live!’ and downed the last can of soda. Mike tackled you as he realised the bounty of comic books stacked on the coffee table were now officially his and you smugly smiled to yourself.

Half an hour later you were rounding up a bunch of sugar-high kids and sending them out of the door to their rides home, it was getting late and tomorrow was a school day. Tipsy from the quarter bottle of rum you had consumed you lazily picked up the empty soda cans and deposited them into a trash bag.

Your silent partner Steve Harrington helped, he scooped up the empty boxes of pizza and made his way over to you.

‘Y/N.’ He started.

‘Steve.’ You smiled and stopped him, he dropped the pizza boxes into the trash can. ‘You can go you know, I’m fine cleaning the rest of this up.’

‘Now you know I can’t do that, Y/N.’ He smiled and picked up a few stray cans from under the coffee table.

The once loud and messy room was slowly beginning to look a little bit more like itself, cushions had been picked up from the floor, chairs had been placed back under tables and sweet wrappers and soda cans had been removed. You turned to look at Steve, he had perched himself by the stairs of the basement, ready to leave once you confirmed the place was officially tidy.

‘Thanks.’ You smiled softly and made your way over to him.

‘Anytime.’ He grinned back.

You reached for handrail before a voice and a hand stopped you in your tracks.

‘Y/N.’ Steve whispered before spinning you around and into his chest.

In one quick motion his lips were on top of yours and his hand had curled into your hair. On instinct you flung your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper as he drew every last breath from your body. His tongue ran over your lips and you readily parted them, the sweet taste of rum and coca-cola spread across your tongue. His hands moved to grip at your waste and you felt for a moment your feet leave the ground, then he pecked at your lips, once, twice, and then it was over.

‘I meant something like that.’ He whispered breathlessly

[A/N 2: I LOVED WRITING THIS! It will always be my favourite Ness moment! I did proof-read this as I was writing it but in a couple of hours when I’ve had my break from my laptop I’ll do another quick proof-read! Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!]

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things #stranger fic #fan fiction #dustin henderson #henderson!reader #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #jane hopper #mike wheeler #will byers #steve harrington fic

599 notes · View notes

akechi-kikyou · 7 years ago

Text

Long Goodbye: Chapter 3

AN: I meant to update this earlier, and in fact, I have a solid chunk of Chapter 4 done, so another update maybe soonish? Also, I got a message about long text posts, but it was cut off and I never did find out what the sender was saying. If that was you, I’m sorry for whatever I did. I always put these posts under a read more to avoid taking up a lot of room on the dash. Unfortunately, that doesn’t show on mobile. Sadly, there’s not much I can do about that. I do post this on AO3 as well, so perhaps if my posts are horribly inconvenient, it’s better to follow me there?

The steakhouse that they were being treated to turned out to be in walking distance of their hotel. McCree took them in a back entrance, one arm slung around Genji as though they had been friends forever. In the meantime, Hanzo felt like a third wheel who had been driven through salt. He lagged behind the duo with Shuichi and the others following. None of the Deadlock Gang came with the damn cowboy because, according to McCree, he was in good company and could “take cara myself”.

In the restaurant, McCree took them up a set of stairs and into a closed off room with wide windows overlooking the patio. Upon seeing it, Hanzo wondered why they couldn’t have met here instead of on a train, but decided to keep it to himself. Genji sat next to the other young man, and Hanzo sat across from them while Shuichi decided to stay outside with the other men.

As soon as the other two boys sat down, their phones were pulled out while they babbled over whatever it was that they were mutually interested in. Hanzo barely listened, and he kept his eyes on the menu in front of him instead of watching them exchange phone numbers. When they were done, he overheard McCree saying, “I’ll get it to you before you leave, ‘specially if you call me so I don’t forget.”

Feeling done with this entire situation, Hanzo became so ready to get back to the hotel that by the time the waiter came in to fill their water glasses and take drink orders, he was already set to order his entree. McCree was just rolling in the dough tonight, wasn’t he? And so Hanzo had no qualms about ordering a $200 Kobe steak. Hearing this order, the punk cowboy in fact remarked, “Well, that does sound mighty good. Make mine medium-rare.”

“Oh yes. Mine as well,” Genji chimed in.

Once the menus had left those two’s hands, they were back at it again, with McCree describing some gory scene that had apparently happened in some trash that he had been reading. At least Hanzo was sure that it was trash. He didn’t take the cowboy to be any kind of connoisseur of fine literature.

After a long sigh, Hanzo stared down into his water glass and began to daydream of places that weren’t here. Home immediately came to mind. He wished that he was back there with the cherry blossoms instead of seated across from two children who were playing gangster for fun. Lost in his own thoughts, he barely heard McCree talking to him. He would have gone right on ignoring him if he hadn’t heard his own name.

“My apologies. What was the question?”

McCree’s smile was full of patience and amusement, “Said how bout you, Hanzo? You like doin’ anything fun?”

Why was McCree asking him this? Furthermore, why did Hanzo care that he couldn’t think of anything that the other two would call fun? He shrugged as he picked up his water glass, “I like to read.”

“It’s true,” Genji chimed in. “He reads all of the time.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” McCree was still smiling at him, and there was something about it that couldn’t go ignored.

It was perhaps too long that they sat there looking at each other, but the moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing in a bottle of honey colored liquor and three shot-glasses. Once it was sat on the table, their host’s face lit up as he started to pour out three shots. “Here we are! Do a shot with me, fellas! Let’s call it sealin’ the deal. Ain’t a man you can trust like a man you had a drink with. Someone or another said that before, I think.”

Hanzo started to say no, but of course Genji had already grabbed a glass, and McCree had one of his own. He was too old for peer pressure, wasn’t he? So why did he find himself picking up a glass and half heartedly joining in the toast?

Hanzo downed the liquor quickly, grimacing at the way it burned his mouth and throat. “It’s horrible,” he complained bitterly when he could speak.

“It’s an acquired taste,” McCree shrugged as he tossed the water out over his shoulder and then poured some of the liquor into the now empty glass. “Been at it since I was 15, so it goes down like Koolaid.”

“What is Koolaid?” Genji questioned.

Hanzo zoned out before he could hear the answer because he had a more important question. Would their father approve of them drinking if it was for the sake of a business partnership? He didn’t have to know did he? Just like he didn’t have to know about the burger meal that Hanzo was still slightly full from eating. Sojiro also didn’t have to know that his eldest son was about to waste a $200 steak because he had thought ordering it would take McCree down a peg. That damn boy was just too confident and cocky. He was just throwing around money like he did with that water on the floor, and he kept smiling...

When Hanzo looked up, the cowboy was looking right at him and had the audacity to wink. Who did he think he was? If it was Genji behaving this way, a lecture about behaving properly would surely happen. But Hanzo couldn’t do that with McCree, could he? And so he had to endure those little smiles, and he had to wonder what they were about.

One good thing did come of the night, and that was Hanzo learning of an American concept known as the “To Go Box”. He only managed to finish a quarter of his steak and couldn’t even touch the accompanying vegetables. American restaurants gave out entirely too much food, he had learned. And now he was amazed to learn that the waiter would pack up the leftovers in a box that could be popped into a microwave to be reheated and eaten at a more convenient time. Unfortunately, the only reason he learned this was because McCree saw his struggle to finish his meal and requested it from the waiter on his behalf. Once the food was packed up, McCree scooted his chair over and used the handle of his fork to scratch letters into the lid of the styrofoam box.

“See? Wrote your name so you can tell it from Genji’s,” he smiled again, and Hanzo felt his face turning red. He also felt like stabbing McCree in the nose with a fork. Instead of acting on either of those, he stood abruptly and headed for the door with his box.

“Genji, we are going. It’s late.”

“Aww,” his younger brother complained. But he stood obediently with his own box and started to follow the eldest out. “Thanks for everything, McCree. I will see you before we leave, right?”

“Promise,” McCree nodded. “Cross my heart and hope to die and all that. I’d walk you fellas back, but I think I’mma help myself to mor’a this…”

Hanzo rolled his eyes at the sight of the young cowboy pouring himself another drink. It was proper to say goodnight, but at this point, all his tongue held were bitter words. Only when they were in their car for the short drive back did he allow some of them freedom.

“A fucking kid,” he grumbled as he glared out of the window. “I should have known father wouldn’t trust me to handle anything serious.”

“Did you say something?” When Hanzo turned to Genji, he found his brother using his finger to trace the letters that formed his name in the styrofoam box on the boy’s lap. When had that happened? Why did he even care? The younger brother started to frown as he fidgeted with the box lid. “Hanzo? Brother? Are you… angry with me?”

Was he? Or was he angry with McCree? Or was it their father? Or was it himself? Their car came to a stop, and Hanzo got out quickly before storming into the hotel to avoid giving his brother an answer that he didn’t have.

Once he was in their room, Hanzo immediately dropped his box in the trash. Then he went into the bathroom to shower away some of the salt. The water running all down his body from head to toe was soothing enough to wash away his anger, leaving him with guilt caused by how he had acted tonight, especially towards Genji. His little brother was a nuisance, true, but the boy’s heart was mostly good. Mostly. Genji had his wicked ways every now and then, but he was much slower to anger and quicker to show love than his older brother. With this in mind, by the time Hanzo stepped out of the shower an hour later, he had decided he would make it up to Genji.

By the time he returned from the bathroom, all of the lights were off and the TV was being watched by no one. Genji was lying on his side in the second bed with both arms dangling off. The clothes the younger brother had been wearing were thrown all over one of the chairs so that the former wearer was now clad only in his green boxers. Smiling a little, Hanzo gently pulled the TV remote from one of his brother’s hands. Then he covered him with a blanket and gave the other’s head a pat.

Once he was sure that Genji was ok, Hanzo got into bed. Tomorrow, he would make things up to him by having an entire brothers only day with him. It would be a long time in the making and probably a lot of trouble. Hanzo couldn’t wait.

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

Traveling and all of the excitement of yesterday must have taken its toll on Genji because the youngest Shimada brother didn’t wake up until a bit after noon. Once he was awake, the first thing he did was start whining that he was hungry. Hanzo had already gone down for the free continental breakfast, but he felt like he could eat again, and so he suggested that they go to the hotel restaurant. This allowed him to take more pictures not only to fool his father, but also because he really loved the scenery and he did want to remember this time with his brother. As Genji put it, “It’s rare that we get to spend time together that isn’t you watching over me while I’m being punished.”

Hanzo looked down, at first not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to come across as overly sentimental, but his opinion on his brother coming along for this trip had changed. How he felt about his sibling was also changing.

“You did well yesterday,” he spoke at length. Looking up, he found his brother’s smile to be as bright as the sunlight that lit the patio area. This should have been encouragement to follow through with more kind words, but instead, he added, “But I was angry with you for not telling me beforehand that you knew McCree.”

Genji’s face fell, and he immediately protested, “But Hanzo, I didn’t know it was him! At the arcade, he didn’t look like some cowboy. Not really.”

“But he said that he knew he would be seeing you…” Hanzo trailed off, and Genji picked up immediately.

“I haven’t seen many Japanese people around. He must have known that way. It was McCree to approach me first. We didn’t talk about the meeting at all. Just played Area 51 together. He’s really good at it. That makes sense now, knowing he’s the gunslinger…”

“Hm,” Hanzo steepled his fingers. There was a lot going on in his head, but seeing that his brother was no longer smiling, he made the decision to try to put those things aside in favor of having a good day with his only sibling. Getting the dessert card that was still left on the table, he pointed out the sundae that he’d had yesterday. “Look at this dessert, Genji. The chocolate isn’t like anything you’ve ever had before.”

“You ate this?” Genji asked with slight disbelief showing on his face.

Hanzo nodded, “I did. Today, I’ll eat it again. You should try it.”

“I think I will,” the younger agreed.

Hanzo would wish that he was able to say that they had a lunch that was full of sharing and getting to know each other, but the truth was that he often found himself struggling to relate to this younger brother. Though they had the same parents, they were raised differently. As a result, Genji was outgoing and friendly while Hanzo was introverted and could seem abrasive. Other than the trip they were currently on, what could they talk about?

He might have thought that the day was a waste, but going to the clothing store and a pair of black and white plaid shorts in particular saved it. It was Genji’s idea for Hanzo to try them on. The older brother protested at first, but then the youngest showed practicality by reminding him of the Santa Fe heat. Besides, Hanzo rather liked the pattern and decided to pair the shorts with a black t-shirt with a white dragon on the front.

“Wow,” he remarked upon looking at himself in the fitting room mirror. He did like the casual clothing, particularly how they made him look like the teen that he sometimes forgot he was. It was his legs that made him question if this was a good look. “I didn’t realize that I am so pale…”

“Just your legs. They don’t match the rest of your body,” Genji was cracking up at the moment, and this helped Hanzo to find the humor.

“What are you saying?” He pointed as his brother’s own exposed legs, which were not quite as pale as Hanzo’s but they were definitely scrawny. “Honestly, it appears we are both victims of skipping leg day.”

“My legs are well toned,” Genji crossed his arms, but continued to be amused. “I’m shocked that you would confess to skipping leg day.”

Hanzo shook his head as he started to study his pale limbs, “It must be some Shimada curse to have pale bird legs. Suddenly, father’s pet name for you makes sense.”

“That isn’t why,” Genji stuck out his tongue and then stood so that his legs could be easily compared to his brother’s in the mirror. “And look at this. How are you older, but your legs are even thinner than mine?”

“I’ve skipped more leg days than you,” Hanzo smirked as he started to look at his whole outfit. Aside from the pale bird legs, he thought he looked pretty cool.

“So you DO skip it too,” his brother gasped.

“No, I don’t, but now I know that you do.” Though he was teasing his brother, he became suddenly worried that Genji would think the eldest was going to go tattling to their father. To dispel this, he gathered up the clothes that they were wanting to buy and started out of the fitting room. “I’m going to wear this today. We have today and tomorrow for our legs to get some sun, don’t we?”

“That’s true,” Genji agreed as he grabbed what was left over and followed his brother.

“Good! What do you want to do now?”

Genji replied without missing a beat, “Let’s go to the arcade. I can show you Area 51!”

The younger brother worked in mysterious ways. Hanzo didn’t know why Genji wanted him to play this game, but since he had vowed to make this day for his sibling, he didn’t protest. Once they were finished shopping, their purchases were put into a car to be taken back to the hotel by some of their men. Then they went to the arcade.

Hanzo wasn’t a complete stranger to fun. As small children, he and Genji had a lot of it together; stepping into the arcade made him remember this. The younger brother wanted to go right for Area 51 once they had two cups filled with tokens, but Hanzo grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Hold on. Look.”

The game he was taking his brother to was skee ball, and it certainly brought back memories. Hanzo stuck his token in and Genji immediately hit the button. Then he grabbed a ball and held it out to his brother.

“Like when we were small.”

Hanzo felt all of the warmth in the world as he replied, “I was thinking about that too.”

Taking the ball, he turned and then bowled it up the lane, aiming for the 100 point cup, but just missing it narrowly. When he turned, Genji had another ball for him. Blushing slightly, he admitted, “I’m out of practice.”

“I know you can do it, Hanzo,” his brother looked at him in a way that was too much like when they were kids. It made the eldest Shimada sibling both happy and sad. After all the things said between them, the brotherly love was still there and they could have this moment of fun the way they used to as children. It was bittersweet because Hanzo didn’t know when they might have another chance like this.

But for now, Genji was smiling and encouraging, “Maybe a few games to warm up.”

“No,” Hanzo shook his head as he rotated his arm. “This time.”

So he promised and so he delivered.

Earlier, he had worried that there was nothing for them to talk about, but this simple arcade game had taught him two things. One, they didn’t need to talk for the sake of talking. Just being together while doing things that they both loved was enough. Two, they did have things they needed to talk about. Hanzo just didn’t know when to start those conversations or how to begin.

But the time passed quickly, seemingly measured by the increasing amount of tickets that Genji held onto while Hanzo continued to earn them. Eventually, the younger suggested that they go cash in what they had, and Hanzo agreed with a nod, “My arm is a bit tired, anyway. Use them to get something you like.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Genji replied rubbing at his stomach with a slight frown. “I don’t really like stuffed things anymore.”

“Well then, get something cute to give to your girlfriend. The ramen shop owner’s granddaughter, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t really…” Genji started and then grimaced more.

This made the elder brother frown, “Are you feeling alright? Your face is starting to look like my legs…”

“I feel strange,” the younger admitted. “My stomach…”

“I’ll take you back,” Hanzo felt panic threatening to rise in him. Sadly, the first thing he thought was that his father was going to blame him for letting his beloved Sparrow get sick. Pushing that thought away, he put an arm around his brother and started to move him towards the door.

“But the tickets,” Genji protested. “And we have so many tokens left. And I didn’t show you Area 51.”

“We’ll come back,” Hanzo promised him. “For now, you should get in bed and I’ll...I’ll call father and find out what to do.”

Because he sadly didn’t know what to do when his brother got sick. Hanzo was used to taking care of himself, which mostly meant powering through whatever was ailing him with the help of herbal remedies and over the counter medications as needed.

It was just a short walk back to the hotel, but it felt so long with him worrying about Genji. As soon as they were in their room, he laid his brother down and then moved the trash can within reach right on time. The younger brother immediately grabbed it and emptied his stomach into it.

Now Hanzo was feeling the panic. Going to the bathroom, he wet a towel and brought it back to clean his brother’s face with. While he did so, he used his freehand to pull up his father’s number.

“I think I’ll be alright now,” Genji spoke from bed. “Don’t call him.”

“I have to tell him something,” now panic stricken, Hanzo closed his phone again and looked at his brother. “We haven’t even checked in with him.”

Hanzo was only realizing this now, and it was not helping him to stay calm at all. Covering his face with both hands, he slid them up and towards his hairline, pulling up his features and then letting them drop. Sadly, he muttered, “I am the worst.”

“You are not the worst,” Genji argued. “You do everything that he tells you exactly the way he tells you to do it. You can’t even have fun because you worry about what he will think.”

“But you have plenty fun,” Hanzo shot at his brother. “You are always doing things you aren’t supposed to do. If anyone is punished for the things that you do, it is ME!”

“I’m sorry,” the younger brother looked down. “I ruined today. This was your chance to have fun, and I… ruined it.”

Sighing, Hanzo got onto the bed next to his brother and put an arm around him. There were a lot of things that he could have and should have said, but he was at a loss for words. At length, he sighed, “I have no right to complain about my responsibilities. Try to rest now.”

Genji seemed as though he was going to protest, but Hanzo grabbed the remote and turned on the television, effectively ending their conversation.

He knew very little of American TV, and so he flipped through, hoping to find something interesting. After about fifteen minutes of this, he heard his brother’s breathing pattern change, and looked over to find that he was sleeping. Good, he thought. A little nap would be good for the both of them.

Just as he started to nod off, he heard his phone’s message chime and snapped awake. His father! That was the only person he could think of that would be messaging him. Sojiro was probably demanding a phone call to find out how everything was going. This meant that Hanzo would have to tell him what happened with his brother; he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

Swallowing against a lump in his throat, he opened the phone, but then blinked at the unfamiliar number. Confused, he read the message twice. Then he looked at the face of his sleeping brother. After a bit, he sighed and slipped away from him. He covered Genji with a blanket and tucked his phone into his pocket. Then he quietly left the room.

#Overwatch AU #McHanzo #Young McHanzo #Hanzo Shimada #Jesse McCree #genji shimada #mitsu's fics

5 notes · View notes

texanredrose · 7 years ago

Text

Six Degrees (Megacrossover Fic)

... I wrote this four years ago and the fact that I did occurred to me again. So. I’m just going to say that the following includes characters from: Gundam Wing, Homestuck, Venture Brothers, Outlaw Star, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, American Dragon: Jake Long, Teen Titans, Beetlejuice, Hercules, Mass Effect, Kim Possible, Dragon Age: Origins and I’m sure I’m forgetting a few but fuck it, play a game and see if you can catch all the references and nods to other media because I literally can’t remember them all. And as much of a cluster fuck as that sounds, it’s really just a slice-of-life with Heero Yuy and Rose Lalonde being best friends, Kim being a tired police officer/momma with her adoptive son Beastboy, and Relena Darlian and Kanaya Maryam bonding over perhaps the most ludicrous batch of morgue employees in the history of ever. Here’s the crossover no one asked for and you’re welcome.

At ten minutes until closing time, Rose Lalonde was quite ready to be done with the day. Two of her employees called in, leaving her to run the book side of the store while Melfina ran the café, both of them flying solo through a relatively busy Thursday. It wasn’t anything either of them couldn’t handle- Rose had started Jasper’s café and bookstore while running the whole thing by herself, back when it was half the size and tucked away in a seldom tread part of the colony, and Melfina was a bartender before opting for the less hectic scene of a café- but it still irked her that both sides of the store ran shorthanded. She had half a mind to lecture her two youngest employees about commitment. However, in their defense, it wasn’t as though she didn’t see it coming; Twilight mentioned that her brother would be returning from the expedition sometime this week and Jake cited pressing family concerns which he had warned might be a possibility the week before. One could never be quite sure when the expeditions would return, given the nature of space travel past the jump point, and Rose was hardly one to argue about familial obligation. Both assured her they would be present for their next shifts, so it wasn’t as though they quit without warning and she would be doing this all week. In the end, she was just tired from a long week and looking forward to the following day. She typically worked Fridays and Saturdays, given most of her employees attended either the local high school or the university a few blocks over. She remembered well the way teenaged partying went from her own days spent at university on Earth, but once a month she took both days off and left the store with Melfina and the kids, hoping nothing burned down in her absence and drinking a glass or three of wine to ease away the stress. If anything, she was looking forward to the wine.

“Rose,” Melfina said, her voice soft as ever but still managing to slightly startle Rose. She must’ve zoned out while watching the clock. She turned her head to note that Melfina had already donned her blue shawl, the color complimenting her eyes nicely as she smiled. “I’ve already cleaned up the machines and restocked the line.”

“Thank you, Mel. You can head home.” Rose nodded, pushing off from the counter and heading for her coat and purse hanging by the door to the back room. “Give Gene my regards.”

Melfina nodded, heading out through the front door, keys in hand so she could lock it while Rose saw to arming the security system. Before it shut, however, she poked her head back in, a slightly apologetic smile on her lips. “Rose, you have a visitor. Do you want me to tell him-“

“No, it’s fine,” Rose replied, setting her coat back on the peg and turning towards the stairs up to the café. So much for heading home. “Let him in before you lock up.” Without a word, Melfina admitted one of Rose’s favorite- if not always punctual- customers before locking the door and heading towards her car. Rose was busy making the coffee upstairs but could hear her friend walk around downstairs, searching for a particular book, before following her up to the café. He took a seat at his favorite table, far enough from the window for the average passerby to miss while still able to admire the view of the colony as it gently sloped up. She noted it took him a little longer than usual, as though something was on his mind and he was having trouble deciding how to handle it. His choice of book invariably boiled down to three genres, depending on what was on his mind: military history- someone’s opinion challenged his enough he sought solace and stabilization in facts before attempting to evaluate the opinion properly- , law enforcement strategies- something or someone at work had challenged his authority, professionalism, or tactics-, and allegorical or satirical works criticizing political groups- some sort of red tape or administrative bullshit was preventing him from doing something he felt important. As she poured the cups, she could hear him open the book and begin turning pages, likely searching for where he left off last, and projected how the night would go based on previous encounters. The man could move silently if he so desired, and it often translated to a cup or two enjoyed in companionable silence at the end of a long work week. Given how much noise he was making, though, it meant he wanted to talk, and at length, which wasn’t that unusual. However, she could usually tell which section he’d visited before ascending the stairs, giving her some hint as to the topic for the night. Rose turned around, bringing both cups to the table where he sat and with a fond smile on her lips. He was intently staring at the page in front of him, skimming the information before moving on to the next page, searching for something. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that bordered on black when he was being especially thoughtful, and his tousled chestnut hair sometimes reminded her of childhood friend John Egbert back on Earth. Except, there was no mistaking their personalities; John was a gregarious, slightly immature bundle of positive energy while Heero Yuy was a very quiet, very reserved, and very private man. Setting his cup down in front of him- black, of course- Rose cradled her own, waiting for the creamer to finish blending before taking a cautious sip. After regarding Heero for a moment longer, Rose eyed the book he was so fixated upon and raised her eyebrows. “And here I thought we’d gotten past the point where you could surprise me.” Rose chuckled, a soft smile playing on her lips as she reached out to pull the book away. “I wouldn’t rely on that, if I were you.” “Then what’s it doing in your store?” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, frowning slightly as he reached for his coffee. Though he was certainly more anxious than usual, it didn’t show in his voice or movements, only in his choice of reading material. Rose shook her head, sliding the book to the side and closing it. “Because it’s not a bad reference for teenagers, and the amount of college students who come here demands I make certain concessions, but you’re a grown man, Heero. There’s no advice Dating for Dummies can offer you that’ll actually work.” “You and me both,” Heero replied, taking another pull of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. He passed a hand over his face and Rose noted the fading indention on his wrist from the band of a disposable glove. “You took another paramedic shift. Is there a reason you’re working overtime?” He shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “Not overtime; I volunteered today.” “You’ve been volunteering a lot.” Rose leaned forward, a smirk on her lips and one brow raised. “Is there a particular reason for that?” He regarded her a moment before grunting out an affirmative response. She was actually a little surprised he was being this straight forward about the issue. Usually, extracting answers from him was about as tedious and painful as trying to get her brother Dave to make sense during his ironic irony phase. If she hadn’t been so accustomed to patiently prodding her conversational partner for information or intrigued by the need to do so, she might’ve kicked Heero out of her store three years ago when he showed up at closing time, drenched from the colony’s rain system and impassively staring at everything around him. It was the first time she’d ever stayed late for someone who didn’t even buy a book but it started a strange tradition, and once she finally got him to open up a little, Rose had found a very intelligent, very self-aware person underneath that monotone voice and slight scowl. Their conversations ranged from the usual commentary on their work day or chosen professions to politics, religion, psychology, or whatever the hot topic of the week was in the universe. Much like herself, Heero never felt quite comfortable going to a bar- although for entirely different reasons- late at night to unwind, and both his work schedule and personality acted as barriers to anyone trying to become his friend. If Rose didn’t own Jasper’s, she probably wouldn’t know him as anything other than one of the police officers patrolling the colony. More than once, though the conversations were decidedly rare, they’d discussed their love lives, or lack of such as the case may be. Rose had made a few attempts, prior to moving to the colony, all of which ended within a few months but Heero had admitted after much poking and prodding that dating wasn’t something he’d ever really… done, per say. He didn’t see the point back when he had the time and, since he worked so often, it wasn’t very high on his priority list now. It was still there, though; Rose had drawn the conclusion long ago that, while he wasn’t quite one to go out and make friends, he appreciated the ones he had and wanted to have other, deeper relationships. He just had no clue how to go about it and it was easier for him to simply act like it didn’t bother him than do something about it. Which, of course, made the current edition of their late night talks absolutely delicious. Rose took another sip of her coffee to hide her amusement. “So, am I to try and guess her name or are you going to be so kind as to give me a hint first?” Heero shot her a glare to counter her mirth before sighing. “Name’s Relena Darlian. She’s a nurse at First Colonial.” “That’s a pretty name,” Rose commented, earning a slightly more heated glare from Heero, which she dismissed with a wave. “Oh please, Heero, I’m not trying to steal your girl. I wouldn’t dream of it.” “She’s not my girl.” Rose liked to think there was an unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of that statement. “And I seem to recall you telling me a story about trying to steal your brother’s girl once.” He pointed out, glancing back to the book before drinking more coffee. “Actually, that was a boy, and the whole incident was based on principle. He challenged me, I accepted; simple as that,” Rose replied, setting her half drained cup aside and lacing her fingers, resting her chin atop them. “Now, back to the matter at hand, I’m guessing you met through work, unless you were shot recently and forgot to mention it. Again.” Heero grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was just a graze; Kim overreacted.” She returned his flat look with an unimpressed stare, which he would invariably take to mean that she neither bought that line nor did she appreciate him downplaying the incident. Rather than continue down that particular road, however, he shrugged. “I met her two weeks ago after that big crash over on Fifty-Fourth. Usually, we just brief whoever receives the patient about the name and vitals and turn over any miscellaneous information to the desk clerk. She had me tell her everything.” “Control freak or perfectionist?” He drummed the fingers of one hand against his arm before uncrossing them and leaning on the table. “Neither. She wasn’t curt or rude about it and she didn’t try to belittle me about my medical knowledge. I told her there was likely massive internal bleeding due to the nature of the collision- that he’d need surgery- and she ran with it.” “Maybe she heard about the last time someone tried to question your medical training,” Rose offered, earning a subtle shrug in response. “What impression did you get?” “That she was more concerned with making sure her patient was going to survive than proving she was the one who could save him.” Heero ran a hand through his hair, doing very little to the disheveled locks. “The nurses and doctors down at First Colonial always act like we’re in the way once we’ve passed the threshold, like they don’t need us to do anything aside from bring them the casualty.” “Yes, we’ve discussed your resentment of their superiority complexes several times.” Rose pointed out. “But what about this particular incident has you reading Dating for Dummies at eleven o’clock on a Thursday?” He frowned at her, brow furrowing. “I’ve met her more than once.” “Something I wasn’t aware of until just now, thank you, though I did suspect as much.” Heero sighed. “I think she only works the Emergency Room. She’s been there the last four shifts I’ve worked.” Rose cocked a brow. “New policy on vacation days; no more cash-ins, it’s use or lose after we hit seventy. I have ten to burn before the end of next month.” “Which translates to: you’re taking yours now because Kim needs them later.” “Her anniversary is next month. She wants to take hers then and we both know Chief will go ballistic if his two favorite lunatics are on vacation at the same time.” “I see.” Rose nodded, returning his slight smile with one of her own. Heero often made it sound like his relationship with Police Chief Anderson was one of mutual respect and agitation. Then again, Rose wasn’t sure she’d handle the duo so well if they were her employees; Kim and Heero seemed to share the mentality that nothing was too difficult for them to overcome, which often got them into situations no sane person would willingly walk into, much less charge into headfirst. It was a desirable trait for a first responder and an admirable trait to an extent. That extent ended when violent death was involved, crossing the threshold from ‘brave’ into ‘stupid’ more often than not, a fine line neither officer was willing to admit existed. “Although, given the timeline you’ve just laid out, and knowing you as I do, I suspect you haven’t had much time for sleeping.” “I sleep well enough.” Heero lifted his hand to rub at his eyes but caught himself. Not in time for Rose to not notice but she ignored it anyway. “What do your other interactions lend to your overall perception of this Relena Darlian?” “She’s driven, focused on the task in front of her, intelligent, well read...” He paused, as if weighing how to proceed, and was prompted by Rose’s slight nod. He ran a hand through his hair again, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “She’s very kind. When she talks to the patients, you can see her make this instant connection with them. She’s got a presence about her that just eases people. When she walks into the room, she commands it, but not through physical intimidation. Just force of personality. I admire that.” Rose nodded slightly, tapping a finger against her lips. “I think that’s the closest I’ll ever come to hearing the stoic Heero Yuy mooning over a girl.” Heero sat back and frowned. “You’re making fun of me.” “No, I’m reveling in the moment. There’s a difference.” Rose chuckled as he rolled his eyes. Rather than continue teasing him, she continued her questioning. “Have you actually spoken to her in a conversation that didn’t include the words ‘laceration’, ‘gunshot wound’, or ‘third degree burns’?” Heero shifted uncomfortably. “No. Not yet. That’s what I was investigating-“ Rose clicked her tongue with a shake of her head. “Investigating? Heero, you must learn a little flexibility in your vocabulary.” “Investigating is an accurate description of my actions,” he replied defensively. “It implies you’re looking at this as a case from the perspective of a police officer which, I should mention, might be too clinical for a pathologically kind nurse.” He favored her with a sour frown before looking at the tabletop. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know how to do this.” Rose reached across the table and patted his hand. “That’s what lesbian best friends are for.”

Looking thoroughly unsurprised, Heero picked up his cup only to realize it was empty and set it down again. “You finally decided to stick to women.” “In theory, if not in practice,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder while gesturing to him. “But of the two of us, you actually have a shot at something, so let’s focus on that. Do you know anything about this woman other than her professional work ethic? Anything that might hint at the two of you being compatible?” Very briefly, genuine confusion showed on his face. “I thought the purpose of dating was to discover that information.” “Technically, the purpose of a date is to discover compatibility; the continued version known as dating is typically founded upon already discovered compatibility.” His frown said quite clearly he was not amused with her word games. Rose had to smile at how serious he was acting. Given this was Heero Yuy she was talking to, she sincerely hoped Relena was a patient and forgiving sort. “Well, let’s start with the basics. The next time you see her- and there’s no bleeding people demanding her attention or yours- introduce yourself.” “She knows who I am.” Rose cocked a brow in disbelief. To his credit, his glance away was very brief. “She knows what I do.” “She knows you work full time as a police officer, you’re a member of the SWAT team, a qualified EMT, and a volunteer firefighter?” Rose waited, ready to list off other things she’d learned about him over the past three years that might warrant some acknowledgement. He crossed his arms again and pursed his lips but relented. “Okay, so I introduce myself. Then what?” “Ask her if she’d like some coffee or if she’s hungry. You know every little hole-in-the-wall and mom ‘n’ pop shop on L1, especially in this sector. Pick a place she’d never think to look for where the food is excellent and the environment is cozy.” Heero’s face said quite clearly that he thought she was insane for suggesting he paid attention to things like a cozy environment before he buried his face in his hands and sighed in defeat. “I hope she opts for coffee.” “I’m not going to hit on her for you because I am wingman to no one due to ineptitude,” Rose pointed out, standing up and refreshing his cup. “However, you are welcomed to bring her here if you want. Melfina is still the best barista on L1 and the familiar environment might ease your nerves.” “You make pretty good coffee too.” Heero offered, accepting the full cup before Rose reclaimed her seat. He smoothly ignored the comment about him being nervous and Rose was only a little disappointed he didn’t rise to the bait. “The tea you usually drink is alright.” “I would appreciate the compliment if black coffee was actually difficult to make. Also, you hate tea, so I’m not sure how valid your opinion is on that front.” Heero shrugged. “People who like tea drink it.” Rose sighed. “You should really stop trying to derail the conversation at some point. Setting my skills with liquids aside for the moment, have you accepted the possibility you’re going to end up finding something wrong with her? Or how difficult it will be to maintain a relationship when you’re both working long shifts and odd hours?” “No.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop thoughtfully for a moment. “Should I?” “Not necessarily.” Rose chuckled. “While they are valid concerns, I bring them up because those are the excuses you usually give me when you won’t talk to someone. She must really be special unless...” She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” He shifted slightly under her gaze, his face impassive. “Did you hear about the attempted robbery over on seventh?” “Of course. The incident was resolved peacefully.” Rose narrowed her eyes further, encouraging him to make his point. “I was on patrol that day. She talked the armed robber into turning himself in when we arrived.” He took a sip from his cup. “She was unarmed. I watched the security footage myself. She walked right up to him, convinced him to return the money, dismantle his weapon, and wait patiently until we arrived. It was… not how I would’ve handle the situation, but impressive.” Rose sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and smiling. “I believe the relevant term is ‘folie a duex’ and now I get it. She’s just as certifiably insane as you are, albeit on the other end of the spectrum.” Shrugging, Rose glanced out across the colony, admiring the lights that painted the veins of the colony. It wasn’t as breathtaking as a clear night sky, but it was beautiful in its own way. “She sounds like an interesting woman. You should at least try- and I mean really try, Heero- to ask her out. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?” “She could be as annoying as you,” he replied, drinking his coffee without so much as cracking a smile. Rose, on the other hand, grinned.

She would never claim to have nerves of steel but Relena Darlain did not scare easily. Stepping off the elevator into a darkened hallway in the basement of a hospital did raise her heart rate a bit and it did invoke a sense of foreboding in her that she couldn’t immediately dispel but she wasn’t scared.

Just alert. Ready in the event something did happen.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Relena set off down the hallway before her, noting the one to the left looked like it lead to a maintenance door and to the right had warning placards on the door at the end and another door that probably lead to the stairwell. At least the path before her seemed to actually go somewhere, though she wasn’t entirely sure where it might lead.

She could stare at the floor plans all day- and had, for at least one of her shifts- but Relena wasn’t the kind of person who learned by just reading the information. It tended to blend together, one sentence melting into the next, and while she could come away able to repeat the material almost verbatim, she never felt like she fully understood it. She preferred having experience to really cement the information in her mind and wandering the halls of her new workplace seemed the most logical course of action to familiarize herself with the place.

Also, being unable to answer when stopped for directions was also a bit embarrassing; she’d rather not rely on someone else to come to her rescue in such matters. As she passed under a dim security light, she tried racking her brain for what was actually kept in the basement. Maintenance access, of course, a few specialists for non-human biologies, but she was sure there was some sort of clinic or department also housed in the basement. Not that she could clearly remember anyone saying so; maybe she read it on one of the signs scattered throughout the hospital. As she continued down the hallway, Relena reached up and released her golden brown hair from the rigid bun she’d put it in that morning and sighed in relief. She truly hated buns but it was a necessity to keep her field of vision clear, not to mention away from her patients’ wounds. With only her own echoing footsteps to accompany her, Relena continued down the hall, slowing occasionally to read the plates set beside the doors to identify the rooms. Three were storage rooms, one was a holding area for medical waste, and one was written in a language she couldn’t quite place. It was familiar- one of thousands she’d studied over the years- just not to the point of recognition. She really only ever learned how to speak small phrases, rarely focusing on how to write out the words. At the end of the hallway was another cross section, with halls leading to the left and right. However, before her was a set of heavy looking double doors with a somewhat dim light inside, the first she’d come across that showed a hint of activity, but lacked a plate to identify it. With only slight apprehension and a little bit of effort, Relena pushed one of the doors open and stepped inside. A cursory glance was all she needed; this was the morgue. Only two tables appeared to be, well, occupied, light blue sheets draped over the stone still humanoid shapes, and there was another set of doors off to the right. Various tools were laid out on the countertop against the far wall, all clean, and there were a few carts in the corner carrying more tools and boxes for gloves and masks.

Curiosity satisfied, Relena turned around to exit and was confronted with a tall, stern looking man, grey and white streaks coloring his hair and goatee. As her eyes widened in surprise, he seemed to grow taller, the red gem that clasped his black and gold cape around his shoulders glowing with its own light. “Who dares enter the realm of the deceased?” He bellowed, his smooth baritone combined with the dramatic billowing of his cape and the glowing of the gem paralyzing Relens with a primal sort of fear. “Do you seek accommodations?” He stepped closer, towering over her as she shrank back. “That can easily be arranged.” “Oh, Byron, stop scaring the poor girl.” A clipped feminine voice called out in a reproachful tone, though it was somewhat muffled. “She is a nurse, not an intern.” “Oh dear.” The man- apparently Byron- suddenly stepped back, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. “I do apologize, my dear, my mistake entirely.” Relena blinked and shook herself, the fear leaving her the moment he stepped back. He was still a full head taller than her but he wasn’t towering anymore, the gem seemed to glint dully, and his cape hung listlessly off his shoulders. Had she imagined all the rest? “I hope I didn’t make too terrible an impression.” “Uh…” Relena chanced a look over her shoulder to find the source of the feminine voice- which she didn’t, just one of the doors swinging slightly, and that just furthered her questioning of her own sanity- and stammered out a quick: “N-no, I shouldn’t have- I’m new to the ER staff and was just trying to familiarize myself with the hospital, I didn’t mean to intrude-” “Oh, that’s quite alright, really,” Byron chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “We simply aren’t used to visitors down here. Not live ones, anyway.” “We have had issues in the past with surgical interns trying to sneak in here when we weren’t looking, hoping to use our cadavers as practice.” A woman about Byron’s height entered the room through the swinging doors, a purse in one hand and a white lab coat draped over her arm. Her voice was the same as the one from earlier, a clear space between each word as though they were being pronounced very carefully. The woman’s slate grey skin and candy colored horns clicked in Relena’s head the moment after taking note of them; she was a troll. “Given it is both disrespectful to the recently passed and quite dangerous on occasion, it is a policy to give them ample reason not to try such a thing again.” “We’re actually quite talented at it, if I do say so myself,” Byron said as he untied his cape, striding over to pluck his own lab coat off a peg next to the one the woman was resting hers on. The gem remained, though, matching the red sweater he wore. “The local high school contemplated extending us invitations to their annual celebration of All Hollow’s Eve but reconsidered when someone raised the question of paying for therapy.” “I’d have to vouch for your abilities myself, given my firsthand experience,” Relena tried to make light of the situation while recovering her senses; she felt she was only moderately successful at masking her slight distress. “Is it a requirement for morticians here to be able to terrify people?” The woman smiled, revealing what Relena previously took to be two small incisors resting on her bottom lip as two very long fangs while Byron chuckled. She had momentarily forgotten that trolls were strictly carnivorous. “It certainly does not hurt.” The troll extended her unoccupied hand. “I am Doctor Kanaya Maryam and this is my accomplice, Doctor Byron Orpheus.” “I’m Relena Darlian.” She shook both offered hands while telling herself there was nothing to be scared of; they were doctors, regardless of their appearances, and they wouldn’t be working at the hospital if they we intent on killing her. At least, that’s what she hoped. She hadn’t really paid much attention to First Colonial’s screening process. “I sincerely didn’t mean to come barging in here.” “Nonsense. The pursuit of knowledge of any kind is a worthwhile endeavor.” Byron glanced at the clock. ��However, I would suggest leaving soon.” As she opened her mouth, curiosity written on her face, the troll laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will accompany you.” Kanaya offered before turning her attention back to her co-worker, motioning towards the tables. “These have already been checked, Byron, but there are fifteen in the secure room waiting to be inspected. I do not expect any trouble but one can never be sure. We also received a new request from the police about half an hour ago but I was not able to review it.” Byron sighed. “As long as it’s not another exhumation, I really don’t mind. Busy work helps ease my mind a little. I’ll get started on it tonight, if events permit.” “Thank you. Hades will be here in the morning to assist with transportation arrangements.”

Byron frowned, opened his mouth to say something and then closed it without saying a word. After a brief pause, he tried again. “Oh goodie.” Kanaya shook her head slightly as she steered Relena back towards the elevator. “Have a calm night, Byron.” He inclined his head before setting off to venture further into the morgue. “The same to both of you.” As they walked down the hall, Relena glanced over her shoulder. “Not that I would want to interfere with your work or anything, but why did we have to leave?” “Hospital policy.” Kanaya chuckled, looking at her through the corner of her eye. “I suppose you’ll hear a version of the story at some point, so you might as well hear it now, from the source.” With a heavy sigh, Kanaya reached out and punched the call button for the elevator, turning to regard Relena with a soft smile. “Five years ago, I was admitted to this hospital after a vehicle collision. I was pronounced dead on arrival and sent to the morgue. However, it is a peculiar facet of my caste that, sometimes, rather than submit to death, an individual will come back to the land of the living as a rainbow drinker. I am one such individual.” The elevator arrived and both women stepped inside. “Rainbow drinker… given that trolls come in varying blood colors, I take that to mean you are a troll version of a vampire?” “Yes, though we do not generally operate by the same rules as the various subsets of human vampires.” Kanaya winced. “Well, that is not exactly true. You are aware of the subset that sparkles in direct sunlight?” “Of course. They’re rarer on Earth in comparison to the colonies, given artificial light doesn’t expose them in such a way, but I’ve heard of them before.” Kanaya nodded. “Well, in that vein, rainbow drinkers glow. Quite brightly, in fact. Given Trolls are nocturnal by nature I suspect this to be a self-defense mechanism of sorts. It took nearly two years for me to learn how to voluntarily control it but it occasionally… well, if I get too flustered, it becomes a very obvious sign of anxiety.” She frowned. “Painfully obvious. Of all the changes I have endured, it is easily the most aggravating.” Relena smiled politely, stepping out of the elevator as it arrived at the ground level of the hospital. Kanaya was a step behind her, jade coloring her cheeks. “Oh, dear, I was rambling again,” Kanaya sighed. “Sorry; it is a habit I have yet to outgrow. At any rate, upon returning to life, I found myself confronted with another individual- the man who caused the collision, actually- who had returned as well. Unfortunately, he had reanimated as a mindless zombie and was trying to kill the orderly who was monitoring the morgue that night. I dispatched the zombie and was hired to work in the morgue shortly afterwards; being undead myself, I am far less likely to provoke an antagonistic response from the recently undead. After years of working both day and night shift, Byron and I have noticed that, if someone is going to return to the land of the living, this is about the time of night they do so. It ranges between just before midnight and a little after three in the morning.” She tilted her head to the side. “Though, to be perfectly frank, we have no idea why this particular time frame is most appealing.” Relena’s eyes grew wide as she glanced back at the elevator. “Is Dr. Orpheus going to be alright?” Kanaya nodded, flashing her a fanged grin. “Byron is also well versed in dealing with the reanimated. More so than I, truth be told; he’s a practiced necromancer of thirty years or so. Very few could rival the man’s knowledge of the undead and even fewer could handle the creatures the way he does.” Sighing in relief, Relena’s shoulders relaxed slightly. While she had no desire to fight the undead that evening, she wasn’t keen on leaving someone to do so alone. In hindsight, it was a tad bit silly to suggest senior members of the staff might not have the situation well in hand. If she noticed this, Kanaya said nothing, merely smiling politely before speaking again. “Are you parked in the north lot?” Relena laughed, brushing aside her embarrassment. “Actually, I don’t own a car. This is the first time I’ve ever been to a space colony, so I decided I wouldn’t risk getting distracted while behind the wheel.” She nodded towards the double doors leading to the emergency room. “As much as I enjoy helping those who come to the ER, I’d rather not be a patient myself. Besides, I could do with a little exercise.” “I see. I suppose I can see the wisdom in that.” Kanaya looked towards the main entrance to the hospital before returning her gaze to her companion. “Do you at least live close by?” “It’s only three blocks, just off Fourteenth Street.” Relena started towards the entrance, the troll easily matching her stride. Kanaya worried her lip with one fang. “That is quite a ways to walk at this time of night. Would you like a ride?” “I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way. It’s really not that far,” Relena protested, stepping out into the night and trying not to take a reflexive step back. When the colony shut off the main lights to signal the coming of night, all that was left were lights that lined the streets, perfectly spaced out, and it formed lines on the sloping sides of the colony, strange boxes on the horizon to replace the stars. It was strange, something she still hadn’t quite accepted since coming to the colony. She sighed; one thing she missed about Earth was watching the phases of the moon. “Nonsense,” Kanaya continued walking, completely unfazed by the spectacle. “It is no trouble to me at all. I will likely be awake for a few more hours as is; I might as well be somewhat productive and courteous with my time.” Relena chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “You’re the type of person who meddles in the affairs of others, aren’t you?” “When I see reason to… or if I am bored,” Kanaya conceded with a laugh, Relena joining in as they walked to the mostly empty parking lot. “Some habits do not break, I suppose. I have been something of a meddler since my youth.” Glancing toward the mostly empty street, Relena relented. “Well, seeing as I’m not up to breaking anyone’s old habits this evening, I suppose I’ll just have to accept.” “Excellent.” Kanaya smiled, pulling out her keys.

Kim woke to someone gently shaking her shoulder, resisting the urge to ignore the shaking, curl up, and drift back to sleep. Opening her eyes, the redhead found her wife smiling down at her, hands on her hips as she shook her head. “Come on, couch potatoes, time for bed. Unless you’d rather continue not watching whatever is on the TV right now,” Shego said, laughing as Kim forced herself awake. Garfield had curl up against her at some point after she sat down, though she couldn’t remember if she was conscious for it or not. She barely remembered trudging through the door after work and her stomach was quick to remind her that yes, she had forgone heating up dinner in favor of collapsing on the living room couch. “Kimmie. Garfield.” “I’m up,” the redhead replied, sitting upright and shaking her son. “Come on, Gar. You heard the woman.” “I dun wanna,” the teen groggily replied. Kim ruffled his forest green hair to no avail and sighed. She was half tempted to side with him and just go back to sleep on the couch. “At least make it easier on me to carry you to bed, buddy.” Shego offered, rubbing his back. He cracked one of his eyes open, ear twitching as he concentrated, and then the teen morphed into a flying squirrel. A flying squirrel with green fur but Shego couldn’t complain; Garfield was by no means large for a fourteen-year-old, thin and lanky as he was, but she was in no mood to deal with the boy’s dead weight while ascending the stairs. “That’ll work.” “Good night, Gar, I love you,” Kim mumbled sleepily, scratching behind his head. He chittered something in response, most likely reciprocation, before falling silent again. Shego picked Garfield up in his squirrel form and nodded towards the kitchen. “There’s a container in the fridge. Grab something to eat and come to bed, Cupcake. We all have an early morning tomorrow.” Kim groaned, getting to her feet and stretching. She hadn’t even changed out of her uniform. Great. Kim tried responding to her wife while stifling a yawn, muddling her words only a little bit. “-oaorrow ‘y ‘ay ah.” The green skinned woman- a few shades lighter than Garfield’s own tone- rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I speak tired Kimmie. Yes, I’m aware you don’t have work tomorrow; we promised to go down and visit the garage, remember? Drew’s been talking my ear off about it.” Kim scrunched her nose slightly while working out her stiff neck. “Do we have to go? Drew’s a weird guy. The way he talks sometimes makes me think of mad scientists and world domination.” “Yes, because Ron is the picture of mental health,” Shego replied, placing a gentle kiss on Kim’s forehead before smirking at the redhead. “We have weird friends.” “Speaking of Ron, he was talking about visiting sometime next month.” Kim quickly continued, noting the narrowing of her spouse’s eyes. “I suggested towards the beginning of the month.” “Good.” Shego nodded, wrapping an arm around Kim as they left the living room. “I don’t want the buffoon spoiling the mood for our anniversary. Or the afterglow.” Kim raised a brow at the lecherous grin on Shego’s lips but Garfield’s animated chittering put a stop to the banter before it got started. “Hey, we gave you ample time to retreat to your room. Not my fault you decided to stick around and see your moms making goo-goo eyes at each other.” Shego half-heartedly lectured, releasing her wife and turning towards the stairs. “I’m going to put the squeak toy to bed. Go grab some food. And don’t fall asleep again.” “Yes, Warden,” Kim mockingly replied, turning towards the kitchen. She paused at the entrance to watch Shego ascend the stairs, long raven locks bouncing with each step and holding their son in her hands. A serene smile came to her lips as Shego reached the top and Kim proceeded into the kitchen. The decision to adopt a child was a debate between the couple for nearly two years. Shego thought they were ready; Kim heavily disagreed. She had just graduated the Colonial Police Academy, her work schedule was hectic, she wasn’t even sure if she was going to do well on the force, and her first three partners hadn’t bolstered her confidence any. Kim believed a child would need stability and she wasn’t sure if she could offer that. Then she was partnered with Officer Heero Yuy, a strong jawed man with a will of steel whom few could work with for any extended period of time. For some reason she would never understand, though, she and Heero had clicked instantly. Perhaps it was their determination or their commitment to the job or maybe they were just alike enough- and intuitive enough- to get past the things other officers saw while being different enough to function as a balanced duo. Heero respected Kim’s skills in hand-to-hand combat and physical agility; Kim respected Heero’s familiarity with any and every weapon imaginable as well as his tactical mindset. They thought and acted quickly, leaving their former partners in the dust, but together they were nearly unstoppable. Heero also had the benefit of seniority which brought some much needed constancy to Kim’s work schedule. Even though she was older than him by a year, he was a much calmer person, less apt to allow his emotions to control him, something he had to teach Kim about during their first few months working together. She started to enjoy her job and really feel like she was accomplishing something, like she was succeeding, and that’s when Shego brought the issue up again. Much to her surprise, Heero sided with Shego once she finally got around to telling him what had her zoning out while they were driving through the streets. He asserted, as Shego did, that love and compassion were more important to a child than what their parents did for a living and Kim had to concede that their knowledge did trump her own, given both of them were adopted and she wasn’t. Her parents were thrilled to learn they’d be grandparents soon; really, she was the only one who seemed terrified of the prospect. But then they met this wide eyed twelve-year-old with a goofy grin, pointed ears, skin and hair the color of grass, who could morph into any animal he saw, and Kim was hooked. He laughed the loudest of all the kids, his movements full of energy, but when the attendant called him away from the other kids, Kim could see the hope in his eyes clear as day. She could also clearly hear the whispered, hurtful words one of the children uttered that caused a slight stutter in his step. His smile never faltered though she saw the shine disappear from his eyes. Kim suddenly found herself wondering if this little boy was really happy or if his laughter and his smile were just for show and it nearly broke her heart. Garfield became a Possible that day. She and Shego became mothers. Everything just fell into place. “Kimmie?” Shego’s voice jerked Kim out of her revere. “Are you okay?” Kim looked down at the sink; apparently she auto-piloted her way through dinner and was just staring out of the kitchen window after depositing the container in the sink. “Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day. Heero took one of his vacation days today and Kiyone’s out too, so-” “Oh dear Lord, you were paired with Mihoshi, weren’t you?” Shego sighed, shaking her head. “You poor thing.” “It wasn’t that bad,” Kim replied with a chuckle, walking over to her wife and kissing her lips. “It just… takes a lot out of me.” Rather than press the matter, Shego led the way to the master bedroom. “And here I was hoping for some fun tonight. Don’t even start,” she said, effectively silencing the objection on Kim’s tongue “you’re tired and you need some sleep, especially since we’re dealing with Drew and his cousin tomorrow. I don’t want to hear you complaining about how I kept you up all night, so let’s just get a good night’s rest.” “All right.” Kim pouted, trying to hide her gratefulness. Working with Mihoshi was… an exercise in abundant patience and a little luck. There weren’t any major calls today though so it could’ve been much worse. Still, sleep was calling, and it was all she could do to put away her dirty uniform properly and throw on shorts and an oversized shirt before she hit the sheets and was out like a light. Shego, on the other hand, took her time changing, turning off the lights and sliding in next to her wife with an impossibly wide smirk. She kissed Kim’s temple, barely disturbing the redhead’s slumber, and settled down for the night with a smile.

Relena watched through the window, slightly entranced by the colony night, the way the squares of light seemed to revolve around the car. While it was entertaining to say the least, it also firmly proved her theory about her driving skills and she was instantly grateful she took her brother’s advice to find an apartment close to the hospital regardless of price. Not like she was paying the bill at the moment anyway. Wishing to return her mind to the present, Relena looked over at Kanaya. “Who’s Hades?” “Beg pardon?” The troll arched a brow in her direction, obviously taken off guard by the abruptness of the question. Relena had to laugh at her own impatience. “Sorry. What I meant was: you mentioned Hades would be by in the morning.” “Oh! Right.” Kanaya sighed, a little smirk on her black lips. “I’m sure you noted Byron’s enthusiasm. Hades… is not the easiest person to get along with but he is, essentially, our boss.” “Wait, do you mean the Hades? As in, Lord of the Dead Hades?” Relena’s brows rose in shock at Kanaya’s nod. “Of course; who else would be in charge of the morgues and mortuaries?” Kanaya chuckled as the car came to a rest at a stop light. At night, the colony lights operated on timers, and they tended to run long. “He comes around a few times a month to round up any wayward souls. He visits everyone, of course, but he pays our little slice of morbid real estate special attention. It was on his recommendation that I was hired at First Colonial. He arrived just after I dealt with the zombie and decided I could keep my soul, provided-” “Provided you were a good little girl and ate all your dinner.” A male voice suddenly finished right behind Relena and she whipped around in her seat to stare at the man suddenly in the backseat of the vehicle. “My ears were ringing and I decided to- Hey, dollface, haven’t seen you around before, which is good news for you if you know what I mean-” “Hades, what are you doing?” Kanaya sighed, watching the apparition in her rearview mirror with a fond, fanged grin. “What, I can’t pop in on a dear friend?” He leaned forward, the blue fire atop his head shifting with the movement but appearing completely harmless to the vehicle itself. “I’m hurt, Kan, absolutely distraught. You’d think you’d show a little more gratitude towards the doorman who barred your entry to a rather eternally dull existence in the underworld. But, hey, what do I know?” “Hades,” Kanaya warned, so intent on her impromptu passenger, she initially missed the changing of the light. When she returned her eyes to the road, she passed through the intersection and pulled over, putting the vehicle in park so she could attend to Hades without getting distracted. Sitting back heavily, the lord of the underworld sighed. “Did you really have to schedule that schmuck for tomorrow?” Kanaya rubbed her temple with one hand, the other one the wheel. Though she probably should’ve stayed silent, curiosity got the better of Relena. “Do you and Dr. Orpheus not get along, Mr. Hades?” “Whoa, drop the mister babe; I’m a god, not a door-to-door salesman,” he turned his glowing blue eyes on her. “And who are you, exactly?” “Relena,” she replied, accepting his offered hand. “Relena Darlian. I’m a nurse at First Colonial.” “Well isn’t that nice.” He gave her a grin before releasing her hand. “Look Relena, babe, think about it. Do you really think the lord of the dead would have a good working relationship with a necromancer? I mean, come on, this ain’t a hard gig- bozo gets knocked off, soul comes to Tartarus, my head count goes up by one, someone get the abacus- but when you got guys trying to bring those souls back to the realm of the living, then they get axed again- you see where I’m going with this? It’s a bit of a pain in my neck trying to keep track of who’s just regular old dead and who’s dead dead.” Hades sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have enough to worry about sifting through my newcomers and making sure jerk hero so-and-so gets into Valhalla alright and jerk sinner so-and-so gets sent to the correct circle of Hell, not to mention the reincarnation chuckleheads or those who think they can reincarnate if they ask nicely enough. And yeah, I got some help, but St. Peter can be a real pain when he’s vetting the souls going to Heaven, the guy’s anal retentive to the max. You think I got time to track down souls who should already be chilling in the promise land all because some schmuck can’t accept that death is a thing that happens and move on?” Relena smiled innocently. “Well, you do have time to pop in on dear friends.” Kanaya and Relena laughed while Hades rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic.” “But seriously, Hades.” Kanaya composed herself, smiling at him over her shoulder. “You know full well I have weekends off now that we have BJ and Mordin to cover. So why are you really here?”

Hades ran a hand through his flaming hair and down his neck, sighing heavily. “You asked me a question a few months back, Kan. I came to give you the answer.” “Ah,” Kanaya replied, looking forward with unfocused eyes. “I take your reluctance to mean the answer is not to my liking.” In the pause that followed, Relena put her hand on her seatbelt release. “Perhaps I should-“ “No, it’s fine,” Kanaya said, smiling sadly as she continued looking down the road. “I merely asked Hades how long rainbow drinkers… live, for lack of a better term.” Closing her eyes a moment, she sighed slightly before turning her gaze to the mirror. “What did you find?” “Every single rainbow drinker to become a permanent resident in the afterlife,” Hades replied. “And each of them pretty much said the same thing. They- you won’t expire like a loaf of bread, Kanaya. The whole immortal schtick is the real deal and it takes some pretty extraordinary measures to break it.” “Yet they walk the realm of the dead.” Kanaya sighed, reflecting quietly a moment before shrugging. “Thank you, Hades. It does little to comfort me but I appreciate your assistance nonetheless.” “Don’t mention it.” The backseat of the vehicle started filling with blue smoke. It was odorless and tasteless, as though it was only an illusion of smoke, and Relena had to resist the urge to reach out and wave her hand through it to see if it reacted. “Send my love to Mordin and Beetlejuice, would ya?” As Hades was swallowed by the smoke, Relena looked at Kanaya. “Beetlejuice?” “Do not say his name again,” Kanaya instantly replied, checking the backseat to ensure Hades had left. Relieved, Kanaya shifted the vehicle into drive and started down the road once more. “BJ, as we call him, is a poltergeist who can be summoned to any place at any time if his name is uttered three times. It ensures he is never late to work but can be a little problematic from time to time, seeing as… well, he is something of an asshole and his abilities greatly exacerbate his condition.”

Relena chuckled, raising a brow at her companion. “And Mordin?”

“Is a salarian scientist and doctor with an impressive knowledge of various species’ biological compositions as well as combat maneuvers and tactics.” Kanaya shrugged. “He says he was part of the salarian military and word around the hospital is he operated with STG, though I am not entirely sure what that means. Some sort of special unit, from what I understand.”

“So the morgue is staffed by a rainbow drinker, a necromancer, a poltergeist, and a Special Forces doctor, and is often visited by the Lord of the Dead himself, and you have to actually try scaring people off?” Relena shook her head. “Those interns must’ve been insane.” Kanaya nodded. “It seems what brilliance they have in the field of surgical medicine, they lack in common sense.” With one last turn, the duo finally reached Relena’s apartment complex. “I do apologize for the delay; Hades tends to drop by unexpectedly and I’ve found not giving him my full attention makes him a bit moody.” “It’s fine,” Relena said as she gathered up her bag. “It was great meeting you and the others; the nurses in the emergency room don’t really socialize much, for some reason.” “A lot has happened in the past few months that you probably have not heard about yet; a lot of people are trying to keep to themselves a bit more than they used to but they will warm up eventually. Just swing by the morgue sometime and I will fill you in,” Kanaya said, pausing a moment before continuing. “I apologize for subjecting you to the conversation between Hades and I. It is something I have wondered since I read my first book regaling the supposedly fictional tales of rainbow drinkers and I am still sorting fact from fiction.” “Don’t worry about it,” Relena smiled, opening the door and stepping out. There was a question at the tip of her tongue but she refrained for the time being. Perhaps once she knew Kanaya better. “Thank you again for the ride!” Kanaya inclined her head and Relena closed the door, turning towards the complex while ignoring the weariness suddenly overcoming her. The last hour or so had really taken a lot out of her and it was a long day even before all that. She almost groaned in defeat when she realized she had work the following day but she couldn't, in good conscious, complain. She’d wanted this, begged her brother for it, and now she was living the dream, so to speak. As her key slid into the lock of her apartment, Relena took one last look out at the colony draped in night. The sight was slowly starting to grow on her.

Rose armed the security system and quickly exited through the shop’s back door, closing it firmly behind her before attending to the dead bolt. Heero was standing just a few feet away, scanning the immediate area and waiting for her to finish locking up. After the third pot of coffee, Rose had decided he needed sleep more than he was willing to admit and set him to work washing the cups and machine while she put the book back and left some instructions she’d forgotten about for Twilight and Melfina in the morning. Turning back to her friend, Rose favored him with a smirk. “You realize I’m completely capable of walking to my car unescorted, yes?” Heero nodded. “It’s occurred to me once or twice.” “I suppose I should be flattered you at least considered it,” Rose laughed, heading towards the parking lot just around the corner. “Do you have work tomorrow? Of any sort?” “No, I’m off,” he replied. Silence began to settle between them, accompanied only by the muted noises of the slumbering colony and their own quiet footsteps, when he decided to break it. “Would you like to see a movie tomorrow?” Rose raised her brows in surprise but smiled. “Of course. Do you have one in mind?” Heero nodded. “Warden’s Oath. It’s based on the Grey Wardens’ crusade to end the Ferelden Blight.” She pursed her lips in thought, tapping a finger to her chin. “Wasn’t there a witch who aided the Grey Wardens in that blight? Morrigan, daughter of Flemeth?” “You’ve heard of her?” Between the two of them, he was the clear history buff, and she smiled as she mentally evened their score for surprising the other. “I read her grimoire when I was younger; her mother was one of the strongest witches in the universe during her time. Morrigan was her natural successor and the work she put into expanding her mother’s power was admirable.” Heero was one of the very, very few people who were aware of both her affinity for the dark and magical as well as her ability to use certain forms of magic. Mostly destructive forms, though she constantly assured him that she would never endanger the colony for the sake of practice. “According to the grimoire, they’re still lurking somewhere in the universe, Morrigan and her mother, constantly chasing and fighting each other for supremacy. Maybe even the entire party she travelled with during the Blight; she reflected on her journey with the Grey Wardens very thoroughly and I think she took a liking to them towards the end, even Alistar. I’m curious to see how they portray her.” Heero grunted. “I want to see how well they portray the battles. The loss of the King’s forces at Ostagar was a clear rout but many accounts of the events that follow don’t seem to agree on the later battles.” Noticing Rose’s look, he added somewhat begrudgingly. “I’ll pay attention to the characters too.” “Right. You still can’t tell me the name of any character from Final Destination.” “That’s because they were idiots with poor situational awareness.” Rose shook her head in amusement as they reached the lot, her keys already in hand. “Your empathy knows no bounds.” “And you’re a ball of sunshine,” he replied, heading towards his own vehicle, a black sedan with tinted windows and a ridiculous brush guard. She slipped behind the wheel of her coupe, depositing her purse in the passenger seat. “Call me when you’re ready. But not before noon, please.” “Don’t drink yourself into a coma,” he called over his shoulder. He slid into the driver’s seat of his sedan while Rose started her vehicle. He waited for her to pull out of the lot before following suit and she watched as his taillights became tiny red dots in her rearview. She could hardly call her life on the colony exciting or adventurous, but she did enjoy the occasional bump in the road and, knowing Heero as she did, this development promised to bring with it all manners of oddities. Watching it all unfold would be entertaining, to say the least. She just hoped her friend would survive the entire process with his sanity intact.

#TRR writes #Tex's ridiculous megacrossover fic #if you're lost as shit dw because my mind works in weird ways

3 notes · View notes

agheaven · 7 years ago

Text

Kirsten and the Thief, by Janet Shaw

(Typed transcript from American Girl Magazine)

A rumbling stomach and a stolen cookie land Kirsten in a surprising dilemma. “Papa, can’t you make Blackie trot any faster?” Kirsten called over the clatter of hooves on the dirt road. “Let’s hurry!” "Be patient, Kirsten,“ Papa said. "Blackie’s got quite a load to pull." But moments later Papa clucked and snapped the reins, and Kirsten could see that he was eager to get to Maryville, too. It WAS a big load for Blackie to pull. The entire Larson family was crowded into the wagon. Kirsten, her cousins Anna and Lisbeth, and her brothers Lars and Peter sat with baskets of food packed tightly between them. Toward the front, Mama held baby Britta on her lap and Aunt Inger clutched the family Bible. Uncle Olav rode on the wagon seat beside Papa. The Larsons were on their way to the special Sunday gathering with the other Swedish settlers. The visiting pastor hadn’t been able to come to Maryville all winter, so today there will be two weddings and three christenings to celebrate. When the prayers and hymns were over, everyone would share a special dinner. Then the children would play and the parents would visit until it was time to start home again. To Kirsten, this Sunday seemed almost as exciting as Christmas. "I can’t wait for dinner!” Anna said. “We’ll have cookies and cakes, won’t we?” Peter pressed both hands to his stomach. “I’m already so hungry my stomach hurts.” Mama reached into a basket and held out a handful of dried cranberries. “I bought these for a snack,” she said. "I want something sweet, not sour berries,“ Peter said. "You’d better take them,” Mama said firmly. “You know we won’t eat until after church.” "Why can’t we have our dinner before we have church?“ Peter complained. "Because food for the spirit comes before food for the stomach,” Mama said. She held out the berries again, and this time Peter reluctantly took a few. Lisbeth nudged Kirsten’s arm. “None for me. I’d rather wait. How about you?” Kirsten nodded, but the truth was that her mind was filled with the scent of ginger from the basket by her feet. All week she’d helped Mama bake cookies. Now their sugar-and-spice aroma was making Kirsten’s mouth water. She leaned over to tighten her bootlace and peeked at the mound of fragrant cookies wrapped in a clean napkin. No one else seemed to notice the cookies. Lisbeth, Anna, and Peter had begun to play a counting game. Lars sanded a wooden whistle he’d carved. Mama and Aunt Inger chatted with each other and cooed to baby Britta. Kirsten sniffed the ginger cookies again. They were awfully tempting! When everyone else turned to look at a deer leaping across the road, she slipped her hand into the basket, broke off sugary bite, and quickly popped it into her mouth. "Kirsten’s sneaking a cookie!“ Peter yelped. Mama’s stern gaze fell on Kirsten. "Kirsten Larson, I’m surprised at you,” she said. “You know those are for sharing with our friends.” Kirsten felt herself blush. She knew she shouldn’t have sneaked a cookie before dinner. But Peter, that tattletale, hadn’t done a single thing to help with their meal, while she’d grated and measured and stirred right along with Mama. Didn’t she deserve just one bite? Kirsten’s face was burning with shame and indignation when suddenly - crack! - the wagon lurched hard to the left. Everyone was jolted against the side, and Papa pulled Blackie to a shuddering halt. “Now what?” Papa said. He climbed out of the wagon with Uncle Olav right behind him. "Some spokes came loose in the wheel,“ Uncle Olav said after a moment. "Everyone out while we take it off and fix it.” Kirsten and the others piled out of the wagon while Mama and Aunt Inger began to straighten the tumbled-over baskets and jugs. Suddenly Mama cried in a low voice, “Oh, no! The basket with the ham and bread isn’t here! I was going to put it in last, but I forgot it! What could I have been thinking of?” Aunt Inger patted Mama’s shoulder. ‘With so many things to remember, it’s a wonder we forget more,“ she said gently. Mama looked as if she might cry. That ham was special. The Larsons were lucky to eat ham once or twice a year. Last autumn Papa had salted two hams and packed them away in the bin of oats to dry. Mama had cooked one for a holiday dinner. A few days ago she had unpacked the other ham, soaked it to draw out the salt, and boiled it. Then yesterday she stuck cloves into the ham and baked it till the cabin filled with the appetizing scent of spicy meat. This ham was to be their offering to the celebration dinner. But if they went home to fetch it after the wagon was fixed, they’d miss the church service. They couldn’t do that! Then Kirsten had an idea. If she went back for the ham while the men fixed the wheel, surely Mama would forget her displeasure at the stolen cookie. "Mama, listen!” Kirsten cried. “I can ride Blackie to the cabin while you wait. I’ll be back with the ham by the time we’re ready to go! We’ll be on time for church and have your ham for dinner!” To Kirsten’s surprise, Mama didn’t argue. Instead, she looked relieved. “Lars has to help the men, or I’d send him,” Mama said. “You’re a good rider, Kirsten, but don’t gallop when you’re carrying the basket. It could spill.” "I promise, Mama!“ Kirsten said. Papa unhitched Blackie and gave Kirsten a leg up onto his back. Then Papa slapped the horse on the rump to signal, 'Get going’. And Kirsten was on her way. It wasn’t long before Kirsten saw the cluster of little log buildings huddled under the gray sky. Already she felt how grateful everyone would be when she rode up with the loaded basket. She was picturing Mama’s pleased face when, to her surprise, she saw a dark figure round the corner of the cabin. The figure paused at the door and, after a moment, went inside! Kirsten reined Blackie to a halt by some scrub pine and peered through the branches. Who had cone into their cabin? She knew sometimes Indians helped themselves to food. She’d heard sometimes men stole guns and bullets. Was a thief in their home? Kirsten’s heart stuttered with fear. She slid off Blackie and crept up to the cabin. What could she do to frighten away a thief? If only Papa or Uncle Olav were here! She shivered, but kept going until she crouched under a window and peeked in. No lamp was lit inside, so it was hard to see clearly. Kirsten could just make out a thin figure in a skirt with a bundle on her shoulder. Kirsten watched as the figure moved to the table and bent over the big basket they’d left behind. She was going to steal the ham they had all looked forward to since autumn! Anger flared in Kirsten’s chest. Forgetting everything but the ham, she raced to the cabin door and burst inside. "Stop!” she cried. Instantly, the woman crouched behind the table as though it would protect her. Kirsten knelt, too, and found herself face to face with a very young woman, almost no more than a girl. Her eyes were wide with alarm, and in her hands was a loaf of bread. The raggedy bundle she clutched against her shoulder whimpered. It was a baby. Kirsten stood. Now the last of her fear disappeared. “What are you doing here?” she said indignantly. Her voice sounded like Mama’s when she scolded. The girl rose and silently put the loaf of bread back into the basket. Kirsten lit the lamp. As the flame leaped up, she saw the girl more clearly. Her wrists were bony, here hair was matted, and she wore a dress so soiled it was the color of dust. Her lips were cracked and dry. She looked only a little older than Lars, but her face was wrinkled like a dried apple and her eyes were exhausted. “Who are you?” Kirsten said. The girl didn’t answer. Her gaze went to the framed paper on the wall that certified the Larsons were Swedish citizens and had been educated in reading, writing, and Holy Scripture. Then it moved to the woven cloth covering the table, the candlesticks, and the butter box of split birch. She looked at Britta’s cradle and Peter’s painted wooden horse and the extra shawls hanging neatly on pegs. "You don’t need to know my name,“ the girl said at last. Her voice was sullen. "So you DO speak English!” Kirsten said. "I went to school, too!“ the girl hissed. "That’s a school paper, isn’t it?" She nodded to the certificate on the wall. "Yes, it’s our permit to leave Sweden,” Kirsten said with a frown. What right had this strange girl to ask questions of her? “Where do you live?” she demanded. "We live a few bends up the river, in a cave, like a den of foxes!“ the girl said bitterly. "We don’t even have canvas over our heads.” This girl’s family was so poor they didn’t even have a tent or a sod house! Papa had told Kirsten about down-on-their-luck settlers like these. They were forced to live in caves or dugouts. Some had so few farming skills that they had nothing to eat but wild game. Kirsten was curious in spite of herself. “Where did you come from?” she said, a little more politely. The girl jiggled the baby but couldn’t calm its whimper. “Our name is Rynd,” she said. “We came from Moravia.” "Have you been in this country long?“ Kirsten asked. "Too long!” the girl said. “We should have stayed in Moravia! We had a cottage there. We had chairs and a table and a bed. We were as rich as you!” Rich? thought Kirsten. Before the Larsons came to America they had gone to bed hungry almost every night of their lives. They’d arrived in Minnesota with only two trunks and a few bundles. "Do others from your homeland live here, too?“ Kirsten said. The girl shook her head. "There’s only me, my husband, and my old mother,” she said. “Listen, I didn’t do any harm. I’m leaving now.” But Kirsten wasn’t ready to let her go so easily. The girl had taken their bread. She would surely have taken their ham, too, if Kirsten hadn’t caught her. “You were stealing from us,” Kirsten said accusingly. The baby pushed its face against the girl’s shoulder and began to wail. “We’re hungry,” the girl said. “We had some potatoes, but they’re gone now. We don’t even have salt. I came to beg for scraps, but no one was here." She sat and rested her head on her fist as if this speech had taken the last of her strength. "Could I have a drink of water?” Alarmed, Kirsten filled a cup with water from the jug. Is the girl ill from hunger? she thought. Quickly, she cut two thick slices of bread and put them beside the cup. The girl drank and ate greedily. As Kirsten watched, she remembered the taste of Mama’s ginger cookies on her tongue. How terrible it would be to beg for food, she thought. Her throat tightened with sympathy. The girl swallowed the last bite and said, “That was good.” "Can I give bread to your baby, too?“ Kirsten said. The little thing was sucking desperately on its fist. Kirsten thought of baby Britta with her healthy, plump face. "My baby’s too young for solid food,” the girl said. “She cries because I don’t have enough milk.” Kirsten pulled a stool next to the girl’s and sat down. She tried to imagine living with a baby in a dugout cave without any food. “What will happen to you? How will you live?” she said. "I don’t know, and that’s the truth,“ the girl said. "This winter we had to eat our seed potatoes so we wouldn’t starve. Now we have nothing to plant.” "You’ve been living up the river from here all winter?“ Kirsten said wonderingly. "But I’ve never seen you.” "I’ve seen you from a distance,“ the girl said grimly. "You were a wool sweater and leather boots." She rubbed her eyes. "Do you know what I think about every day?” "What do you think about?“ Kirsten said. Would the girl say 'food’ or 'home’? The girl rested her head against her baby’s. I think about the day we came here,” she said. “The boatmen put us and our few things onto the shore. My mother sat on our one chair. My husband helped push the boat back into the current. I turned and looked behind us. There was nothing but prairie and sky. Nothing. We were all alone.” Kirsten remembered her own family’s long, long walk from the boat landing to Uncle Olav’s farm she also remembered the warm welcome they’d received when they got here. They had never been truly 'all alone’ - not for a single moment. Gazing around, Kirsten saw how cozy their cabin was. It was filled with good things Mama and Papa had made. It smelled of the delicious food. Like the girl’s family the Larsons had come with very little, but look how much they had now! "You’ve had a hard time,“ Kirsten said. "Yes. But until winter we had hope,” the girl said. “Now that’s gone, too.” "Oh, don’t say so!“ Kirsten cried. "you can find hope again if you don’t lose heart! My mama says never to lose heart.” The girl gazed at her with narrow eyes. “We can’t even find food,” she said. “Where can we possibly find hope?” Kirsten bit her lip What should she do? The girl and her family were starving. Kirsten could give them bread, but that wouldn’t go far. What about the ham itself, with its crisp, spicy skin? Meat would be the most nourishing. Kirsten imagined her own family waiting for her on the road to Maryville. Mama was already cross with Kirsten. Wouldn’t she be angry if Kirsten didn’t bring the ham for the family and all their friends? And it did smell so delicious! Kirsten struggled another moment, then made a decision. She stood, seized the basket of ham and bread, and shoved it toward the girl. “Take this to your family. It will give you strength.” The girl’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Then she grasped the heavy basket and, without a word of thanks, rushed to the door as though she feared Kirsten might change her mind. She ran awkwardly into the trees with her burdens and was gone. Kirsten let Blackie gallop. When she got close to the others, she saw Mama shadowing her eyes to watch her come. She knew Mama was wondering where the basket was. There were going to be lots of questions, and maybe there would be blame as well. As she jumped off Blackie, she said, “Don’t say anything until I tell you what happened, please!” Everyone crowded close as Kirsten told about surprising the hungry girl and her baby in their cabin. As Kirsten spoke, she looked anxiously from Mama to Papa. Papa was frowning thoughtfully. Mama glanced from Kirsten to Aunt Inger and the others. Peter’s face was red and unhappy. "Are you awfully angry with me?“ Kirsten said hesitantly. Mama put her arm around her. "What kind of people would feast while their neighbors starved?” she said gently. “If I’d been there, I’d have fed them, too, Kirsten.” "But maybe not our ham!“ Peter wailed. Mama took Peter by the hand. "It isn’t always easy to share,” she said, “but it is always right.” Papa stroked his beard as he considered the situation. “You gave them one good meal, daughter,” he said. “But they’re much worse off than I’d have guessed. They’ll go hungry again if they don’t have better luck farming. I’ll ask the men at church to pitch in. We’ll give them what help we can.” "We can take oxen to plow,“ Uncle Olav suggested. "We can get them started with rutabagas, carrots, and onions,” Papa added. As he spoke he hitched Blackie to the wagon. “Come on everyone, climb in!” Anna sat beside Kirsten. “Tell us more about the girl,” Anna said. “She must really be nice! You wouldn’t have given her the ham if she weren’t really nice.” Kirsten thought a moment. “No, I don’t think I’d call her nice,” she said. “Anyway, I didn’t give her food because she was nice. I gave her food because she was hungry.” She scooped up a few of the dried cranberries from the bottom of the basket and slipped one into her mouth. As she bit into the sour berry, she imagined the girl and her family eating Mama’s bread and ham, and though her stomach rumbled, she was satisfied.

Thank you so much for this summary @platypusbutt! This is my first time reading this particular short story, so this is greatly appreciated!!

On a side note, I tried to put the summary under a read more, but tumblr is a mess and won’t let me add that to submissions!! I can edit the text around, but I can’t add it under a cut...tumblr’s a mess I swear...

#Kirsten Larson #Kirsten and the Thief #Short Stories #American Girl #Submission #submission

68 notes · View notes

hollywritesinstardust · 7 years ago

Text

Sister Sinner, Chapter Four

Request: Do you do cross-overs? I was thinking Neal Caffery’s younger sister works with the BAU, her brother, Mozzie, and Peter on a case, and ends up crushing on Derek Morgan.

Fandom: Criminal Minds/White Collar

Characters/Pairings: Derek Morgan/Reader; Garcia, Hotch, Prentiss, Reid, Rossi, Neal

Words: 2,136

Y/N - Your Name

“The good news is that he was definitely in contact with someone the entire time. The bad news is that the Gambinos – or whoever else might have been on the mic – only opened their end of the transmission when they communicated into his wire, which was for only seconds at a time and not long enough to trace. The radio signals bouncing out were encrypted very heavily with very dense coding and went through half a dozen proxy servers in the New England area before leaving the country.”

Garcia looked very nervous as she presented the results of your first undercover meeting with Gio, and although you couldn’t say you had enjoyed being in his company, you were kind of excited that you would have to keep reprising your role as Sofia. It felt good to be the one under pressure for once – the one in the loop, the one whose abilities were coveted, the one who had the power to make it or break it. Since going good, you’d been doing far less of your own thing, mostly because you knew it would make things rough for Neal if Peter (or anyone else in law enforcement, for that matter) caught you.

“Garcia,” Hotchner prompted, inserting just the one word in his boss voice between her rambling sentences.

The techie stopped, swallowed, and nodded. “What I’m trying to say, sir, is that they have someone with their own special spice of signal protection that I can’t get through without the cooperation of governments in China, Belarus-“

“Countries who are less likely to grant American law enforcement access to their satellite data,” you mused. Garcia nodded disappointedly. “Well, that’s fine. We don’t want to catch them now, anyway. We need more evidence, otherwise we’ve got them on shady charges at best. We want them on smuggling, even if we can’t nail ‘em for murder.”

“He said they will be in touch. He wasn’t speaking on his own.” Prentiss took a glance at Reid, who nodded and then repeated, word-for-word, what Gio had said to you. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment – odd but useful, kind of like Mozzie’s photographic memory. The black-haired woman continued with her reasoning. “He wasn’t even trying to be discreet.”

“Or he was, and he’s just bad at it,” you suggested.

Morgan was clicking the end of a pen on the desk. “Nah, these guys wouldn’t hire an amateur.”

“Maybe they pegged her as a smart one and assumed she would have done her homework,” Rossi posited wryly. “After all, what’ve we got on this Gio guy? Nothing. A high-profile armament doesn’t just drop into his lap unless someone knows who pads his pockets.”

“Then they’re definitely going to call on me again.” You just hoped they would have the class to not be like the femme fatale that had broken into Neal’s penthouse to call on him.

When Hotchner called for the dismissal, telling everyone to pack up and go get some rest before morning, it was like he was the teacher and everyone else was racing to leave before he tacked on a last-minute homework assignment. You waited for the room to empty out while stretching in your chair, letting the tiredness show on your face. Undercover operations were always more taxing than you expected them to be.

Morgan was the last in the conference room. The handsome agent had caught your interest several times – not just when he spoke, although you definitely liked that he had more than just a few brain cells floating around up there. JJ was pretty, and Reid was cute, but Morgan was attractive, in the way that gets people a fan following on social media with tags that you wouldn’t want to read off in a room full of children.

“Alright, Y/N.” He stopped while he was pushing in his chair and peered at you over the table, openly curious, but relaxed. “The suspense is gonna do me in if I don’t ask. So what’s it like? Being his sister.”

You raised an eyebrow and glibly responded. “Got a friendship crush on my brother, Morgan?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Something like that shapes a person. Shapes their relationships. Siblings are impacted by how their brothers and sisters bond with them, the values they teach and the roles they fill. How did his antics fit into your life? Why did you let them stay?”

You seriously considered not answering. You understood his curiosity – it was far from unique to him – and appreciated that he had asked without sounding underhanded or judgmental. In the moment, though, you decided that it wasn’t going to hurt anything, and maybe if you let him see a little more than the others could, then he’d be a bit more motivated to trust you and feel like he knew you. You’d seen Peter and Neal fight because of lacking trust too many times, and you wanted real friendships, not friendships that fell apart as soon as there was a hint of doubt.

“Believe it or not,” you started, choosing your words carefully and leaning on the table, “Neal gave me an ultimatum.” The agent’s eyebrows went up slightly in surprise. “Not as such,” you elaborated pensively, “He would never intentionally do that. But the context mandated it. It was never said, but I understood. Be involved, and be my family. Or don’t, and…” You stopped, shaking your head, being mindful how much information you gave out. Neal’s reasons for running were personal. Not so personal that they weren’t your business, because they were mostly about your family, but private enough not to want to share. “If I hadn’t gone, I would’ve been safe. I would’ve been free. I would’ve known that I could go home every day to a woman who loved us and took care of us and been fed and housed. But I also would’ve lost my brother, and to me, that was unfathomable.”

Neal had promised, a long, long time ago, that you were his best friend, and he would never leave you. It was entirely possible he hadn’t realized what he’d been making you choose between at the time, but though he said he understood completely if you chose to remain in St. Louis, you had intuitively known that the next time you’d see him could be decades away, if ever. Runaways don’t come back home when they intend to successfully run away.

“Be involved?” Morgan repeated, crossing his arms.

You surveyed his face and decided the gesture wasn’t in disapproval, so you expanded on it.

“Not commit crime. Just run away.” You shrugged. “Be involved in his new life, whatever it meant. Neal did his best to keep me clean and safe, but… there’s always a degree of inevitability. Especially in a hypothetical situation where people want money and are allegedly more or less cheated out of it. I could’ve stayed or gone any time I wanted, but it wasn’t worth losing him.

“We were a bit codependent.” You chuckled reminiscently. “Not as much anymore. It’s hard to be codependent when one of the parties are in prison.”

“I bet.”

You licked your lips and swallowed. “Anyway.” You stood up to leave. That was more sharing and caring than you usually did in a month, even with El, the undisputed queen of compassionate and empathetic conversation. “Neal was – and still is – my best friend. I’m not always happy with the choices he’s made. And I’m definitely not always happy with their consequences. Yet, I can never regret the choice I made to follow him. Whatever you might want to accuse him of, he has always done his best for the people he loves, and that’s better than a lot of others.”

Before you left, you paused. And turned around. You’d tried explaining your story to a couple of people before, people you’d known longer and trusted more, and in spite of this, you had never had a more thoughtful or quiet audience.

“Agent Morgan?” You let your own interest loose and looked right at him, making eye contact and holding it with piercing, alert brown eyes. “Do you believe that choices change the courses of our lives?”

He pondered it a moment, then nodded decisively. “I do. Yes. One thought, one idea, one feeling in the right place, time, or context can be enough to have someone stoned for treason or venerated as a saint. It could leave in a moment or it could persist and become an entire cultural revolution. Why?”

“Do you have any of those choices in your past?” You couldn’t help but ask and hope you weren’t going nosy.

Morgan weighed this thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. Most definitely.” He decided, and seemed content to say so. Then, even though you thought it had been implied that you wanted to know a bit more than just the yes or no answer, he picked up his phone and left.

You sucked on the inside of your cheek. You weren’t sure whether or not you were a huge fan or Morgan’s quick leave, but you did know that the role he had chosen for himself, as an FBI agent, would either fill quickly without him or leave a gap in his team that damaged their effectiveness.

Teams were like organisms, sometimes, except where Morgan’s was well-used to him and functioned like a well-oiled machine, Sofia was in the business of selling hers. There was something very poetic about how each of you used people and relationships to get where you needed to be, and for just a moment, you felt a hot flash of jealousy, because you wanted to claim a sense of belonging. You wanted to be able to say that you were required and comfortable.

Except that was all very ridiculous and you shoved it aside as quickly as you could. Morgan had a pretty good life, from where you were standing, but that didn’t mean you wanted what he had. If you prioritized things like that, then you never would’ve run away with Neal in the first place. Right?

It was a nightmare come true.

You couldn’t convince yourself that Mozzie was lying, not after everything, not after hearing for yourself the recording of the gavel being banged.

You cried into Neal’s shoulder while he cradled you lovingly, shushing you softly and rubbing up and down your back the same way he did after you were hurt in Copenhagen and he couldn’t take you to the hospital for fear of both of you being caught. While your shoulders shook, he was admirably composed for a man who knew he was hugging his sister for the last time for at least four years.

“You should’ve let me do it,” you whimpered, digging your hands into his jacket. “I’m not eighteen for another few months. They might’ve charged me as a minor.”

“It’s a grand felony,” Neal gently corrected you, pushing your hair out of your face. “They’d have tried you as an adult. And you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Like this is so much better,” you retorted. Despite that you were starting to argue, you still held tight to him. “You’re gonna be trapped in a cage and I’m gonna be alone.”

“You won’t,” he promised, rubbing a tear off of your face with an earnest, sentimental look on his face. “Mozzie and Kate will take care of you. Kate will make sure you’re not alone and Moz will keep you supplied with money, food, clothes – he has connections.”

You sniffed and looked deeply into his eyes, trying to memorize the blue and the youth in his face. You knew prison could change a person and couldn’t believe this would be your last opportunity to see your brother as you knew him now. “But they’re not you.”

His smile turned sad. “I know. I’m going to miss you, too, sweetie. We knew this could happen. I told you Burke was good.”

Good? Burke was taking your only family away. “I hope he goes to hell,” you spat hatefully.

Neal’s surprised and scolding expression was the only reason you felt even a little bit remorseful for saying it. He tilted your chin to look at him in the eyes and said firmly, “Hey, don’t go there. He’s a good man, he’s doing his job. He told the DA I cooperated once I was caught. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be doing ten.”

“I still hate him enough for the both of us, since you’ve clearly lost your mind.” You mumbled into his shirt, hugging him tightly again and wishing you could ignore that Neal wasn’t wearing one of the nice suits he loved.

He’d been forced to wear an outfit supplied by the Department of Justice instead.

A/N: This one took a while and was harder to write - it was mostly filler. I hope you enjoyed!

On the tags list are: @bestillmystuckyheart, @skeletoresinthebasement, @werewitchling, @1enchantedfantasy1, and @ragweed98!

33 notes · View notes

join-the-joywrite · 5 years ago

Text

Women in War -- 4

All Maggie Maravillla ever wanted was to help people. She never imagined losing damn near everything when winning a war.

WiW masterpost

Chapter 4

They could not deny her this time. She would pass every exam with the highest marks and she would perform perfect demonstrations. They could not fail her no matter how hard they may try. Maggie was determined to graduate by the end of the academic year.

"MAGGIE!"

Maggie was so startled by the screaming and the banging on her dorm room door, she quite nearly fell off her bed. Furiously, she stormed to the door and threw it open. She glared at the brunette that fell into the dorm they had once shared. Becky stood up quickly and fixed her shirt back into her powder blue skirt.

"Maggie, oh thank goodness you're up, I really need to talk to you."

"I was asleep," Maggie growled, closing the door again.

"Oh. Oh, dear, I'm so sorry, love."

Maggie sighed and pushed her hair back. "What did you want, Beck?"

"Remember when I said some choices we had to make on our own?"

"Yeah," Maggie said slowly.

"Well, it was all bullshit and I'm sorry I never gave you all the help you need. Please help me."

Maggie frowned as she sat down on her bed, tucking one leg under her. "What happened, Becks?"

"I went back to work yesterday and, um, and Edwards called me to his office. Pegs was in there too. He gave me this envelope, a proposal. He said he'd spoken to Pegs the day we left for New York. She said she spoke to Freddie about it and they decided not to take the offer. I don't know if I should, though. I want to stay here, with you and Pegs but . . . I kind of want to go too."

"Beck."

"Hm?"

"What was in the envelope?"

"Huh? Oh! It's a proposal from the SOE, the Special Operations Exevutive. It's a new war division spearheaded by Churchill. Anyway, it's to be trained in irregular warfare, espionage, sabotage, guerilla tactics--"

"A field agent?" Maggie asked. She knew those tactics -- in theory. Several of her patients these days were field agents sent home after injuries too serious to stay on the field.

"Yes."

"They don't send women into the field, though."

"Resistance networks all over Europe need people who won't draw attention walking down the street. They need women and they're recruiting Pegs and me. Part of me wants to go, but not alone. I want to persuade Peggy to accept, but I can't force her to do something that would jeopardize her happy love story, you know? I don't know what to do, Mags."

Maggie pondered the matter for a moment before getting up and walking to her desk. Becky watched curiously as Maggie lifted her jacket from the back of the chair and dug in one of the pockets. She walked up to Becky and took her hand. Holding Becky's gaze, she pressed the quarter into Becky's palm. "Your brother gave it to me when I needed to make a choice. Give it a flip. And if you choose wrong, maybe the universe will conspire to throw you onto the other track."

Becky smiled. "You're an asshole."

"Puta." Maggie countered, smiling back, "look, this is a great opportunity. I mean, you're American and they still want you. Someone must've praised you quite a bit. But if you don't take the job, there's nothing wrong with that. You're allowed to choose what you want, no matter what anyone else says about it. And no matter who flips their mierda, it's okay to make mistakes."

"Thanks, Maggie. I'll think about it. Will I be seeing you at Peggy's wedding this weekend?"

"Of course. I even have my dress picked out."

"The yellow and white one?"

"Sí. It's my favourite. What are you wearing?"

"Royal blue, remember? I'm her bridesmaid."

"Right. You know something I just realised?"

"What?" Becky asked, looking up from the purse she had slipped the quarter into.

"I never asked Howard how he knew Peggy. Do you think he knows her well enough to be invited to her wedding?"

"I doubt it," Becky said, scrunching up her nose, "remember, she's never mentioned him. Howard is rich and in many places he shouldn't be in. Maybe he's noticed Peggy and he's the one that recommended her."

"Or maybe he recommended you and knows Peggy's name because he got his hands on a list of possible new field agents."

Becky shrugged.

"Look at us, discussing Howard's involvement in a British war division. Anyway, maybe you should write to Buck about this proposal? See what he has to say?"

"Yeah, maybe. Listen, Peggy and I are going out for drinks tonight, once she's done fitting her dress with her mother. Care to join us?"

"I would love to, but I've got to work harder than ever before if I'm going to make it this year."

"Understandable. I'll tell Peggy you said hi."

There was a knock on the door. "Urgent mail for Crystal Maravilla!"

Maggie groaned and pulled a robe over her nightdress before opening the door. "Yes? Oh, hello Jude."

The young man smiled. "Hi, Crystal. I ran into a friend of yours on the way to from the letterboxes downstairs. She asked to give you these urgently."

"Thank you, Jude," Maggie said with a smile as she took two envelopes.

"Say, Crystal, you--"

"I'm in desperate need of a bath, Jude. Perhaps I'll see you in the halls for lunch? Goodbye!"

Once she'd closed the door again, Maggie grumbled something about Jude under her breath and tossed the robe onto the bed. "I hate him. So much."

"All he ever does is call you by your first name," Becky said with a smile, "he's cute. Why do you keep saying no?"

"If he can't even stick to calling me what I ask him to, the relationship will be absolutely horrible. No thank you." Maggie glanced down at the envelopes. "This one's for you, actually."

Maggie passed the envelope to Becky as she tore hers open. Becky had just opened the envelope when Maggie gasped.

"Oh, Michael. . ."

"What? What happened to him?"

"He . . . he's dead, Becks. Michael's dead. It says he was killed in action. Oh, we have to go see Peggy! Now!"

"She's gone."

Maggie dropped her coat. "What?"

"Or she will be." Becky showed Maggie the small square of paper, folded down the middle.

I'm taking the job. Meet me at the station near Bletchley Park if you're going to join me.

Maggie slowly looked from the paper to Becky. "We have to get you packed," Maggie said, already knowing what Becky was thinking, "ahora mismo."

///////////////

For Maggie, life went on as per usual. She worked hard, studied hard, and was declined the jobs she so desperately wanted. Her professors recognised her talent, eventually. Some wrote her letters of recommendation. Hospitals would not hire her as a doctor. Some offered her positions as a nurse. She already had one of those. She wanted to be called Dr Maravilla outside of the college. They never said, but she knew it was because patients did not want to he treated by someone who did not look like them. By July, she'd been offered to take over from one of her professors.

Resigned, Maggie accepted the position and kept her job as a nurse on the side. She lectured brilliantly and students passed her subjects with flying colours. Many took the class to be taught by Dr Maravilla. Some of them inadvertently learned Maggie's own language, but only the curses she dropped in class.

By November, Maggie's timetable was completely full. She lectured for her subject and tutored several students for other medical related subjects, some of which she learned just to teach. Her free time was occupied with her nursing job. She barely had time for friends, let alone the love life the Barnes family and her father kept asking about in their letters. Despite the hectic schedule, Maggie always made time to read their letters and write her own back.

It was later in November, as she was finishing up one of her shifts in the hospital, when Maggie saw her two best friends again, though not in the way she would have liked.

"Get me Dr Maravilla!"

"Ma'am, there isn't--"

"I know she's here! I know she's working this shift as a nurse when she should be a supervising doctor. Find out where Dr Maravilla is or so help me God, I will shoot up this whole hospital!"

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter!" Maggie screeched, dropping everything she held and rushing to the frantic woman. "Put that pistol away!"

"Maggie! Oh, Maggie, we need you in there."

Maggie didn't have much of a choice when Peggy grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the frazzled receptionist and into one of the rooms. "Peg, you can't-- I don't have my uniform on anymore "

Peggy pointed at the doctor in the room. "Give her your scrubs. Now."

"Peggy! What are you doing?!" Shocked by Peggy's bizarre behaviour, Maggie ignored everyone in the room and grabbed Peggy by her elbows. She gave the younger woman one hard shake. "Peggy! Look at me! What -- oh, honey, what happened?"

Now clearly staring at Peggy, she noticed how distant Peggy was, how her thoughts were clearly all over the place, how frazzled and uncertain Peggy was.

"Peggy, doll, what happened?" Though her voice was soft and her eyes kind, her tone was hard and demanding.

"Beck --" Peggy hiccupped. "She--"

Peggy turned to the hospital bed and that's when Maggie turned to look for the first time at the patient. Maggie screamed.

"Becky!"

She pushed the doctor out of the way and took over without stopping to ask or inform. Peggy stood alone in the hospital room as Maggie walked with the unconscious Becky on her gurney, shouting orders to the doctors and nurses too afraid not to listen.

"Oh, Maggie, please do something."

Fifteen hours later, Maggie knelt beside the chair Peggy had fallen asleep in. "Peg, she's waking up."

Peggy bolted upright. "Already? How long has it been?"

Maggie shrugged. "Fourteen hours of surgery, and one hour with the anaesthetist to slowly ease off the drugs. I thought you should be there when she wakes up, seeing as you were there when . . . what exactly happened?"

As they walked to the ward, Peggy relayed the story, handing out as much detail as her job allowed. "We were escorting our target out of the building and the guards opened fire on the squad. The target was top priority, and Beck and I are top agents, so that meant he was our priority. We got him out okay, but Beck took a really bad hit. We escaped, but the border guards opened fire on the truck. I told her not to but you know her. She wouldn't listen. She leaned out for better aim and . . . and they shot her. I haven't sent a letter to her family and I haven't let our squad leader do it either. I had hoped you'd be able to do something so we wouldn't have to send that letter."

Maggie opened the door for Peggy. "I'll send a letter," she said as her only response, followed by a slow nod. "I have a lecture now, but I'll be back after. Let Becky know, all right?"

"Thank you, Mags."

When Maggie returned to the spot where she had dropped her things, her keys sat without her nurse's uniform and without her access card. She hadn't been thinking when she took over from the doctor, but she knew that she wouldn't have done a thing differently if she had been thinking.

Becky was her best friend, her sister, and the woman who protected her when they were kids. Why should she stand back and let someone else help Becky when she knew she was the most capable person in the room?

"Wendy, where are my things?" she asked, even though she knew what had happened.

"Dr Stenham fired you on the spot when he heard what had happened," Wendy said apologetically, "he couldn't pull you out of the surgery, but believe me, he wanted nothing more. He's sent your uniform back to storage and . . . he shredded the access card."

Maggie's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Shredded?"

"Mhm. I kept your keys with me or I'm sure he'd have done something with them, too."

"Thanks, Wendy. I'm sorry about Peggy earlier."

"It's quite all right." Wendy smiled and threw Maggie a wink. "Dr Maravilla."

///////////////

Maggie tossed the car keys on the desk. "I won't be needing the car for a while, Dr Martin."

The elderly lecturer lifted his head. "What happened, dear?"

"I got fired from the hospital for taking over a surgery. Personally, I think it's because I kicked Harold Bennet to the side and Dr Stenham thinks the sun rises out of the guy's ass. He's been looking for grounds to fire me ever since. Thank you for letting me use the car between here and the hospital."

Dr Martin, the retired lecturer, now dean of the faculty, thought for a moment. Then he leaned forward and pushed the keys to the end of the desk. "Consider it a gift, dear. You can't stay in the shadows all your life and though what you've done may be frowned upon by everyone else, I've never been prouder of my most dedicated and talented student."

"Doctor, I can't keep--"

"Yes, you can. Now, don't you have a class to teach . . . doctor?"

prev || next

WiW masterpost

#women in war #marvel #au #40s #kenny-writes

0 notes