#my friend has a collar that makes a beep noise if she hits a button

[sergle]

Thank you for not being on the Cesar Millan shit. God, that man is a horrid piece of shit.

oh god,one of those hardcore negative reinforcement dog trainers? actually I just googled him and GODDDDD THIS FUCKING SHIT LMAO. alpha..... also aren't his dogs also reactive? didn't they attack some people

brother come on

[mandadoration]

you’re a fine girl - iii

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though. 

word count: 1, 909

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

chapters: i | ii | iii

Read this on AO3

As much as you want to, you can’t find the power to visit Whiskey while he’s recovering. He’s fine, obviously, with the medical advancements and Soda’s expert skill, he’ll be up in no time. But every time you stand in the elevator, hand hovering over the button for level sub-4, you feel sick.  You retreat back to your office and ignore the video calls from Ginger and Soda. You’ve even gone as far as to shove Whiskey’s black Stetson in a cabinet under your desk, and you consider doing the same to the necklace he had given you, but instead opt to just wear it and tuck it into your shirt out of sight. It weighs heavy against your neck, but it makes you feel the slightest bit better. Maybe you can just ignore everything until you finally grow a pair and do something about the worry that’s been nagging at you. 

You, however, cannot ignore Ginger and Soda when they walk into your office unannounced. 

“Can I help you?” you ask tiredly, taking off your Statesman issued glasses to rub your eyes. 

“What's wrong with you?” Soda asks bluntly, and Ginger smacks him. “What? I’m being honest. You’re holeing yourself up in your office more than usual.” Ginger rolls her eyes. 

“What he meant to say,” she stresses, “is that you’ve been… down ever since Whiskey came back Saturday.” You sigh and put your glasses back on. “We’re worried. This isn’t like you.”

“I’ve been working,” you say. A total, complete lie, and they know it too. “There’s a lot of paperwork that comes with severe injuries sustained in the field.” Not a lie. “Besides, why would… There’s no reason for me to go to the medical wing.” The biggest lie. 

“Brandy--”

“Whiskey’s been asking for you,” Soda blurts out, and Ginger smacks him again. “Ow! Quit that!” You tense and crumple a paper in your hand as anxiety swells in your chest. Well, there goes the contingency plan mock-up you had made for Ale’s mission. 

“Why?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Ginger stops her harassing to stare at you incredulously. 

“Seriously?” she sighs. “You don’t know?” You throw your hands up in the air. 

“Once again!” you say, almost hysterically. “What am I supposed to know? Everyone keeps asking me that, I really don’t know what the fuck--”

“For an intelligence supervisor, you’re really fucking stupid,” Soda says, and Ginger doesn’t hit him this time, instead nodding in agreement. You’re taken aback. 

“Excuse me?”

But Ginger and Soda are soon manhandling you out of your office and shoving you into the elevator, paying no attention to your complaints as they head to sub-4 and practically drag you to Whiskey’s recovery room, ignoring the curious stares that follow the three of you. They push you in, and shut the door, and your heart leaps to your throat when the lock clicks. You bang against the wall. 

“Let me the hell out!” you shout, but all you can hear on the other side of the door are the receding footsteps of the traitors you call friends. “I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell when I get out of here--”

“Brandy?”

If your heart was hammering before, it completely stops at the sound of his voice. There’s the shuffling of sheets behind you, and you slowly turn around with wide eyes as the blood drains from your face as Whiskey strains to sit himself up, looking much worse for wear that you had initially feared. You really should stop him from overexerting himself, but you’re glued to the floor. “What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice sounds so tired, and it’s only made worse when he tries to crack a smile. “Here to see little ol’ me?” he rasps, but dissolves into a coughing fit, holding his ribs as his face contorts in pain. Once he calms down, he looks up at you again, and frowns. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” you finally say, voice small as you slowly make your way over to him. You keep a good distance away from him still. 

“‘m better now that I’ve seen you,” Whiskey says, running a hand over his face. He motions to the chair next to him. “Take a seat, darling, you’re making me anxious.” Your eyes dart over to it, and then back to his face, and eventually lower yourself into it. 

“What happened?” you ask. Whiskey winces. 

“Dealers somehow found out I was there to take down their operation,” he explains. “Got ambushed, got the shit kicked out of me, got the hell outta dodge.” He chuckles. “Told ya I didn’t want to go back.” You play with the impeccably white trim of his hospital blanket.

“Why didn’t you tell us as soon as you got on the plane that you were hurt?” you whisper. Whiskey runs the hand not stabbed full of IVs through his greasy hair. 

“I knew you would worry.”

“It was irresponsible of you.”

“And it was irresponsible of you to not take care of yourself,” he says sharply. “Seltzer’s been telling me how you’ve locked yourself away since I got here.” You curl inwards and lean away from the bed. Whiskey sighs. “I do apologize, sweetheart,” he says after a moment. “I’m going crazy from being stuck in here. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s fine,” you mutter. You’ve had your fair share of bedrest, and it is not fun. He shakes his head. 

“No, it’s not,” he says. “There’s no excuse for treating you like that.” A beat. 

“I said that you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say to change the subject. 

“And I said that you couldn’t stop me,” he laughs, but it wheezes out. Whiskey slowly reaches a hand out, pausing when you tense up, but keeps going when you don’t stop him. He loops his forefinger under the chain that’s peeking out of your collar and pulls it out from under your shirt. “You like it?” he asks, and he sounds uncharacteristically nervous, and he’s playing with the collar of your shirt instead of pulling his hand away. “I know-- Well, I don’t see you wearing any fancy jewelry or nothing, but I saw this and thought the opportunity was too perfect. Like, c’mon, it’s a braided chain--”

“‘Made of finest silver from the north of Spain’?” you finish. You’ve gotten countless jokes about the song, but it’s endearing when it comes from him. He quirks a smile. “Andalucia is technically Southern Spain, Agent Whiskey.” His smile drops. “N-not that I mind,” you stammer, afraid you’ve said something horrifically wrong. 

“I know you don’t,” Whiskey sighs. You purse your lips. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He shrugs. 

“I guess I dreamt you saying my name in the elevator,” he says, following it with an empty laugh as he looks away. “Ain’t that the cruelest trick the Sandman could play? He’s always been a son of a bitch to me. It had sounded so sweet...” You swallow and grab his hand where it rests on your collarbone, and you scoot your chair closer until your knees press against the edge of the bed. You hear his heart rate jump up on the monitor. 

“I… It wasn't… It wasn’t a dream.” Whiskey turns your hand over until he can lace his fingers through yours. 

“No?” he murmurs, and he brings your hand to his lips as he presses a kiss to it. He closes his eyes and keeps your hand there for a moment before letting it rest in his lap. “Mind reacquainting me with the way my name sounds coming from your lips?” Your mouth is suddenly very dry, but you lick your lips and the way you feel warm with how his eyes watch you is enough to give you the little push you need. 

“Jack.”

It’s barely audible over the rapid beeping of the monitor, but a pained noise emanates from his chest, and the hold on your hand tightens. “Again.”

Then louder this time, “Jack.” A disbelieving laugh. 

“Again.”

“Jack.”

And Jack Daniels yanks you closer to him until you’re halfway on the bed to bring you in a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs, an arm wrapped around your waist as he presses as much of his body to yours as he can without yanking the IVs out. His heart rate is through the roof, rapidly beeping on the screen next to him. Jack’s mouth is warm and yours is pliant as he nips at your bottom lip, digging his fingers into your side. His voice is growling when he says, “Good girl,” against your lips.  

You’re one second away from slinging your leg around his hips to straddle him when Vermouth bursts in with wild eyes and a flushed face. 

“Whiskey! What’s wrong-- Oh.”

You nearly throw yourself out of Whiskey’s embrace, but he keeps you close as he glares daggers at the cowering medical assistant standing in the doorway. “You ever hear of knocking?” he drawls. Vermouth’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“It’s just that-- Well, your heart rate it, um, we thought that you were, uh-- We thought you were in danger,” they stutter. Whiskey motions around the room. 

“Do you see any dangers here?” Vermouth makes a ‘kind of?’ motion with their hands. 

“You really shouldn’t be overworking yourself--”

“Kid, I’m fine,” Whiskey interrupts. “Now, shoo,” he says, “get,” and waves his hand at Vermouth, who has never looked more eager to leave the situation. And they’ve seen a lot of shit. You bury your head into his shoulder as you sigh. While Vermouth wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, you know they’re blabbing about what they’ve seen to anyone and everyone. 

“That was so embarrassing,” you whisper.  

Whiskey just laughs, pets your hair, and lets you keep your head where it is, only moving when you slide in the narrow bed next to him when your leg goes numb. The worry that’s been constricting around your heart starts to loosen with every breath he takes in, and he must sense that because he holds you as close as he can, minding the bandages and stitches and his bruised ribs. “You’re mighty affectionate today.” 

“I’m allowed to be after the emotional trauma you put me through,” you mumble. “I still have your hat.” Whiskey just hums and runs his fingers over the skin of your upper arm. He clears his throat. 

“Brandy, I… I have to tell you something,” he says, and there’s that nervousness from the day he was scheduled to leave. His heart rate picks up again, and he presses kiss to your hair to give him a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Whiskey says, “what you mean to me, and I know I’ve been a real ass sometimes, but I promise you, it’s all in good humor.” You’re glad you’re not hooked up to a monitor because your heart is pounding in your ears. “And… and I can’t promise anything, not after--” His voice catches, and he clears his throat. “But I, um, what I’m trying to say is--” You take pity on him and reach up to kiss the underside of his jaw, rough with stubble. 

“Don’t you know, Whiskey?” you say. “I already know.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @lavenderl3mons

you’re a fine girl Tag: @mrsparknuts @jokersdoll @ariasfandom​ @blondecity​ @yodaswrinkles​ @everythingaboutnothingstuff​ @cloud-of-roses​

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 9 - "stay"

Season 9, episodes 23/24 "Angels" and "Demons" (the ones where Reid gets shot in the neck *cries*, while the team are chasing a guy - a preacher, to be precise - who was framed by the unsub. In the episode they will eventually find the real unsub)

Long ass one. Idk what nerve drives me to call these fics "shots" when most of em are +4000 words. Note: Reid always has long hair in my fics, regardless of the season I took inspiration from

As per usual: edited this months after I first wrote it. My fics are perennial works in progress

Read it on AO3

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

"Blake!! " Morgan screamed with all his voice, running toward her and Reid as fast as he could - considering he got shot - pressing a hand on his wounded bicep.

One of his ears was beeping because of the gun shots - 3 out of 4 bullets hit his vest - and he was feeling light-headed from the fall. Not to mention the pain his arm was causing him. But in that moment, it was like his body had forgotten about the soreness and discomfort because his mind was only focused on Reid- no, Spencer. His Spencer.

"Blake-" he called her again, now that he'd got just a few feet from them.

He quickly fell down to his knees and put his hand on Spencer's neck, replacing Alex's. She moved aside without protesting, still sitting on the ground.

"I- I'm- I'm so sorry." she hiccuped on the verge of crying, shaking her head to dizziness while she looked down at her bloody hand; not sure if she was apologizing to Spencer or to Derek.

Morgan didn't answer, but not because he thought it was her fault: how could he? They all would take a bullet - and had taken bullets - to save each other. There was simply no time for apologies in that moment.

"We need an ambulance!" she repeated to her radio transceiver, even though at least 10 minutes had passed since she had first called for help.

"Alright- kid, you gotta stay with me now" Derek ordered, breathing heavily.

Despite the other's pleads, Spencer had almost completely lost consciousness; his mouth hung open, his eyes suddenly rolled back.

"No, nonono no" Derek panted loudly. "Baby please don't-"

His pupils desperately roamed his peripherals, searching for something with which he could pat Spencer's wound to minimize the blood loss, since clearly his hand wasn't enough.

"W-what do you need?" Alex asked, seeing Derek looking around aimlessly; but he seemed too spaced out to answer. "Talk to me Morgan, how can I help?!"

"I-I need something to pat the wound, I don't know some kind of cloth-" he said, panic possessing him.

The only thing Alex could think of, without having to go too far and waste anymore time, was Spencer's tie. She messily reached over, managing to snatch it from underneath his vest - though not without struggling - and untying it. She then slid it out of the collar of Spencer's button-up and folded it, having the hardest time accomplishing even such simple tasks with how bad her hands were shaking. She handed it to Morgan who, without complaining or questioning, placed it on the wound and started pressing again.

Spencer was slowly slipping on the ground from his half-sitting position, with his back leaning on one of the SUVs. Derek wrapped his free, not injured arm around him from under his armpit as securely as he could, and tried to lift him up a little, to help him breathe. He did his best, straining against his own pain and the pressure he had to keep applying on the other man's wound.

Luckily, that was enough to bring him back. Spencer swallowed intensely and gasped, before starting to mumble incomprehensibly. Derek kept both his hands firmly wrapped around his neck, to try and keep his head from hanging on either side.

"Ok this is good, keep your eyes on m- hey, eyes on me" he kept saying, trying to keep him awake; once, twice, dozens of times again and again and again like a mantra; only rearranging the words slightly each time; calling his name - Spencer, kid, baby, stay with me, don't, please, I need you here, come on-

Wait. Stop. Spencer looked like he was trying to say something.

"What? What is it, kid? Talk to me, say whatever- just whatever stay awake for me please" Derek begged him, his voice starting to get too shaky to handle. The ambulance hadn't arrived yet but, even though he had lost a lot of blood, Reid managed to stay somewhat conscious, which must have been a good sign: Morgan thought, trying not to let his mind go to dark places.

"I-" Spencer started to say something, then coughed.

He coughed blood. Everything Derek had been thinking to try and keep his hopes high went to nothing.

Derek started to feel sick. Sick like all the organs in his body were stuck in a million tight knots; and his lungs seemed slowly filling up with cement; and his eyes felt as if an uncountable number of needles were piercing through them; and his limbs were being crushed into ash by a hammer. 

"Oh God..." Alex whispered; her brain was like electrocuted and rendered unable to come up with anything more to keep Reid awake than she'd already come up with earlier, while Morgan was still chasing the preacher before coming to help.

Spencer reached for Derek's arm with his weak hand.

"I- I love you-" he finally managed to murmur with a hint of a lopsided smile, as if relief had washed over him the second he'd let out those words. His eyes were open in mere slits, looking at somewhere around Derek's face with an odd glimmer that the other man couldn't quite place because he'd never seen before.

"No, don't- don't say that, c'mon yo-" Derek barely said, choking halfway. "-you can say that to me later, Spencer..." his words faded away, as he shook his head in denial and the first of many tears to come fell down his cheek. He shut his eyes close in the attempt to avoid that, pressing his forehead against Spencer's while trying not to lose the grip on his neck.

"Please stay awake, please, please, please..." he begged through gritted teeth, once his sobs had somehow managed to slightly quiet down.

-

Suddenly, from far away, the sirens of an ambulance could be perceived amongst a million other noises, seeped out by the two agent's ears because they weren't the ones that mattered in that moment.

Alex quickly hopped on her feet and jogged toward the side of the street, waving and screaming like a maniac at the ambulance to make it quicker for the medics to find them.

"You hear that?? The ambulance is here kid, you gotta resist just a little more alright? Can you- can you do that for me??" Derek straightened up a little and said, well aware that he wasn't quite talking to Spencer anymore.

The other man mumbled something, not as a sign that he understood what was going on, rather that he was hearing Derek telling him things, saying words, making sounds.

He saw the figures of two medics along with Alex walking fast toward them, carrying a gurney. One of them got down and took Derek's place in soccurring Spencer; the former couldn't find a valid reason to protest when he was frantically shoved away off of him.

"Agent, are you injured?" the other one asked, gathering that the blood splattered on his bicep was most likely his own and not the other man's.

"I-I'm fine, the bullet didn't even hit me it just scratched me- I'm not the one who needs help, please! And- wait he- he doesn't take narcotics, please that's REALLY important-" Morgan yelped in response, still in shock, finding difficult to even put his words together clearly.

She only seemingly ignored his continuous whining - albeit rightful - but in actuality took in all that information, quickly examining his injury.

"I see what you mean, you got lucky. Still, it could get infected, so you're coming with us right now." she concluded in a rush, immediately turning around to help her colleague lay Spencer on the gurney.

While hurrying toward the ambulance, Derek saw Alex getting back to Hotch and Rossi. Aaron turned around, his eyes met Derek's.

He nodded at him from afar, a look on his face that said: "do what you have to do."

-

- later at the hospital

-

Derek had been sitting on that uncomfortable chair for at least 2 hours, in the waiting room of the hospital.

-

As soon as they'd got off the ambulance, they had rushed Spencer to surgery: during the drive he'd lost consciousness completely and started mumbling things that made no sense, nearing aphasia. From the second they'd taken him to the OR, Morgan hadn't been able to say anything, shell-shocked and numbed down by his brain as a defense mechanism.

Earlier, while the nurse was bandaging his arm in the Emergency Room and kept asking if he felt any pain, if he had fallen and hit his head when he'd got shot, if he was feeling dizzy; he just nodded or responded "I don't know". She'd even asked him what had happened to "his friend" at a certain point, to try and catch his attention: was she even aware that she was talking to a profiler? He couldn't even remember if he'd effectively shown her his badge.

-

It was probably more than 2 hours, he thought when he saw Hotch coming in.

Morgan looked up at him, finally shifting his eyes away from the floor. He didn't say anything, barely able to stare at him with a confused expression.

"I can't stay long." Hotch stated.

Silence.

"...what do you mean?" that was probably the first actual, sensible phrase Derek had pronounced since he'd got into that damned hospital.

Aaron sighed. "The others wanted to come, but I can't let them get distracted from the case, so I came here to check on you in person. It's the only way I got them to agree to stay at the station and keep working."

Derek finally understood what he meant; the cogs in his brain processing the situation with a concerning delay. He arched his eyebrows and rubbed his face with his palm, as if something Hotch said had awakened him all of a sudden.

"I thought you were here because the case was over" Derek snorted, shaking his head in a silent self-scolding.

"I- I don't know how I could think that..." he added, hunching on himself with his elbows dug in his sore knees.

"How long have you been waiting here?" Aaron asked after a few seconds, shooting him a concerned and squinting glance.

Derek briefly checked his wristwatch. "Since midnight, I think."

It was almost 3 am.

Hotch knew he couldn't ask him to swap and go get some air while he stayed there; he would've never accepted and it was only understandable. Plus, it wouldn't do any of them any good: he would be stuck in the hospital while the team needed him on the case. But he couldn't just leave him like that, what kind of teammate would he be?

"Alright." he sighed deeply. "I'm gonna wait here with you." he asserted, sitting down next to him and picking out the phone from his pocket, to inform the others by text.

Morgan scowled, as his head shot up. "No Hotch c'mon, it's already bad that I'm not working, you- you gotta get back, I'm gonna call you whenever I know something anyway-"

"I'm gonna stay until he's out of surgery and I know you both are ok." Hotch cut him off, without an inch of reconsideration in his voice. "Cause you're clearly not thinking straight right now." he concluded, searching deep in the other man's eyes for some sort of outraged reaction to his accusation, even being well aware that Derek had to be told by someone. And Hotch always seemed to be the one designated for that role.

Morgan faced down to stare at the blue linoleum floor again. After some seconds, he nodded silently, gulping to try and make that lump in his throat go away.

He realized that type of reaction wasn't normal for him. It almost never, ever happened to him to corner himself within his own head and turn to silent mode, in these kind of situations. He was usually the type to remain lucid - of course heating up and pacing around restlessly and punching things and cursing through clenched jaws; nonetheless lucid : interacting with the things and places and people surrounding him, letting himself feel whatever he had to feel and letting other people see it. Acting like he was acting in that moment, that just wasn't him. That could be JJ at times or...or Spencer. His Spencer.

-

After another 20 minutes of waiting in complete silence - which were nothing, compared to the 3 hours Derek had already waited - the doctor entered the crowded room. And Derek didn't even notice.

He was still sitting, eyeing blankly at the portion of floor in between his combat boots. He couldn't hear anything but his paranoid thoughts, not even the general noise and buzz of people's voices - let alone the doctor's footsteps.

Hotch instinctively stood up from the chair.

"Morgan-" he said, tapping on his shoulder.

Derek looked up at him distractedly, raising his brows. Aaron pointed at the doctor approaching them, right behind him.

He immediately got up as well and turned around; once again taking a second too many to process what was happening. He started to feel all the pressure again, heart pounding in his chest to deafness, palms oozing sweat, the knot in his larynx forming once again - for the fourth time at least that night, if one had to keep count.

"How is he?" he asked impatiently, taking for granted that he was even...alive.

"He got very lucky. The bullet didn't hit one of the major arteries just by half an inch or so." the doctor answered, calmly and reassuringly. "The excellent job you did at minimizing the blood loss on the scene was surely a determining factor." he spoke directly to Derek now, smiling widely.

Relief washed over the two agents, whose shoulders slumped and lungs released audible sighs.

"Can we see him right away?" Derek questioned further, hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely, but you have to consider that he's lost a lot of blood and stayed unconscious for quite a while. So it might take him some time to wake up from the anesthesia. Plus, he has to rest well, of course."

"Thank you." was all Derek managed to say, with watery eyes and trembling voice barely coming out of his mouth - but he really did mean it.

Aaron shook the doctor's hand, equally thankful, and quickly picked his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm calling the others right now. You go." Hotch ordered with his usual firmness and loyalty, which he maintained even in such tense situations; giving him a complicit look.

Derek simply nodded in response, infinitely grateful.

-

He opened the door of Spencer's room quietly, having acknowledged that he was still sleeping.

It was early morning; a faint, cold-hued light filtered through the blinds of the window. Derek couldn't see much, if not the outlines of some pieces of furniture and - most importantly - Spencer's shape lying on the bed. And that was more than enough for the moment being.

A gasp hitched halfway to his lungs, and his heart started beating with such intensity it could crack his sternum open, and his eyes prickled with tears of joy.

Morgan quietly grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed. He wanted to hug him so bad, but couldn't bring himself to wake him up; so he just sat there for a while, looking at him, at how the dim light enveloped his peacefully sleeping features and created weird shadows on his wrinkled hospital gown - for a second, he couldn't refrain from realizing that he looked beautiful even in that sloppy piece of clothing, with his tangled mop of hair sprawled all over the pillow.

Morgan reached out for the man's hand to lightly stroke his knuckles with the pads of his fingers. As soon as he did that, a single tear managed to part from the puddle heaped up before his pupils and trail down his cheek, falling down to sink into the cotton fabric of the blanket; not sure if that was due to the relief of being able to sense the warmth of Spencer's hand, or just because he was exhausted; or both.

Derek figured he wasn't gonna wake up any sooner if he stared at him for hours: he gave in to the impulse of resting his temple on his folded arms, over the bed, careful not to touch Spencer.

And he fell asleep.

-

- 4 hours later (7 am ca.)

-

Spencer opened his eyes. He felt wobbly, like he was caged in a glass bubble, and his neck hurt like hell, for lack of a term powerful enough.

He looked around and saw Derek, sitting beside the mattress with his head resting on the bed, sleeping. A disarmed smile played at the corners of his lips: of course he knew he would find him there, but quite frankly he didn't expect him to fall asleep like that.

He reached out to him with a hand, a little shaky from the weakness, and gently caressed his cheek, not sure if he wanted him to wake up or not. After all, he had no idea how much - or how little - sleep he managed to get; still: he needed to hear his voice and see that smile of his as much as he needed oxygen in his lungs.

Derek startled awake with a gasp, straightening up in his seat and checking his watch. It took him a while to notice that Spencer's hand was what had woken him up.

Then he saw him.

"Spencer-" he whispered and instantly stood up from the chair to sit on the bed beside him, stroking his forehead with a thumb.

Spencer suddenly realized Derek's arm was bandaged.

"W-what happened to you?" were his first words, hoarse and cracky; as he tried to prop himself up a little to half-sit on the bed.

"Nothing baby, bullet scratched me. How are YOU feeling? D'you want water or something? Jell-o?" the other asked, knowing exactly Spencer had a thing for Jell-o, not hesitating to brush off his unmotivated concern.

"No I'm fine, just...you should get back to the case, actually." Spencer said half-heartedly as reality hit him all of a sudden, making his smile fade away. He wanted him to stay, but on the other hand he knew keeping him there was only gonna slow down the team. They needed him more than he did - or at least, that's what he was trying to convince both himself AND Derek of.

"Nope. Not happening." the other dismissed, with a tone that left little to no space for protesting. He took Spencer's hand, lacing their fingers together.

His boyfriend gazed at him with puppy eyes. He should have expected that.

Derek sighed, cocking his head. "A'ight, look. They've probably already solved it by now. Best believe Hotch would've called me if it was necessary that I'd be there." he explained, reasonably. The point he was making was enough to ease down some of the guilt weighing on Spencer's chest for wishing he would stay.

"Plus," Derek continued, reaching his hand out to comb his fingers through Spencer's entangled curls. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate much right now anyway, pretty boy." he smiled at him.

Spencer giggled; the weight of his guilt now completely lifted off of his heart by Derek's smile - the brightest he'd ever seen, even being well aware of how much that whole chaos from last night must have drained him out. Only his Derek could.

"Come here" he then whispered, opening his arms, ready to melt into his hug.

Derek didn't wait another second to lean closer and wrap his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny, temporarily fragile body; tight but not too tight, afraid to hurt him. He'd wanted to take him in his arms since the moment he opened the door and saw him, alive, 4 hours before. He released a content sigh, burying his face into Spencer's warm neck, where his nose was being slightly tickled by that soft hair - as per usual.

Spencer gently kissed Derek's temple, ignoring the fact that in doing so he would've inevitably had to tilt his neck in a hurtful way. Indeed:

"Shit-" he whispered as he pressed a hand on his bandaged neck, scrunching his muzzle in a grimace of pain but somewhat amused at the same time: he wondered if it was gonna feel like someone was twisting his throat everytime he tilted his head as little as an inch.

Derek carefully let go of the hug and placed his palm over Spencer's; his eyes revealing guilt and regret for having complied his request to hug him.

"Fuck- sorry about that, kid..."

While the other man's gaze was concentrated on his bandaged wound, Spencer's pupils fluttered around his features, displayed a few inches from his face.

"It's nothing, just kiss me." he murmured like he was in a rush, like he hadn't even thought for a second before spitting it out like that. Which was something he usually did only when he said awkward stuff - only to receive the "Reid, wtf" signature look in response.

He placed a hand behind Derek's head and pulled him closer impulsively, risking their teeth to collide.

Derek was definitely not expecting the man's warm tongue to push into his mouth like that, forcing him to part his lips way more widely than if it were just going to be the quick peck he was initially expecting it to be.

He wanted to draw Spencer even closer, but figured placing his hand on his jaw or - even worse - on his nape, would make him flinch in pain again, so he opted to wrap him back in his arms; one draped over his shoulders and the other tight around his waist.

Spencer gradually slowed down and eventually stopped, struggling to breathe evenly. He opened his eyes to stare dreamily into Derek's; still tied in each other's arms to keep their noses 3 inches apart at most.

He smiled in a sweet, silly way and laid a couple of quick kisses on both corners of Derek's mouth, making him helplessly smile too.

"I love you." Spencer murmured against the other's grinning lips. He had enough time to place on them only a couple more quick pecks, before his boyfriend managed to untangle from his limbs and pull back a little, laughing at how fucking adorable he was.

As he chuckled and put a few more inches between their faces, the memory of Spencer saying "I love you" the night before flashed back into his mind for a second. The jarring difference in how that same phrase was pronounced in those two diametrally opposed contexts made Derek feel things, not quite sure what things. Spencer most definitely couldn't remember saying it - his near unconscious state from last night overpowering his eidetic memory - though Derek recalled mumbling something among the lines of "you can say that to me later"... Anyway, he pushed those inconclusive thoughts away before they could ruin such a precious moment.

"Alright, alright, I would've gone to get you that Jell-o even without all this, you know?" he said, betraying his feigned indignation when he couldn't resist placing one last kiss on Spencer's Cupid's bow. "Or is this your apology for scaring the shit out of me and making me cry like a baby? Cause either way, it's working. You really ARE a magician, huh" he winked jokingly.

Spencer giggled and rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not about the Jell-o!"

Derek let go of him altogether and stood up from the bed, before mocking him yet once more.

"Yeah, whatever. Imma go get that Jell-o, you stay here." as if he could actually get up and walk around the hospital, duh...

Spencer dropped his arms on the bed, as a sign of complaint. "Seriously though, I don't want Jell-o right now I- I want you ! Even if you bring it to me it's gonna stay exactly wherever you put it!" he tried to convince him not to leave the room, blushing as a result of having let "I want you" slip out like that.

Even if what Spencer said and the tone with which he said it and the face with which he said it were persuasive to say the least; Derek already had his hand on the door handle by then. He opened it and turned around toward Spencer one last time before getting out.

"I need an excuse to get out of here or Imma eat you alive, so you better thank me." he concluded with a glare and a smirk, playfully pointing a threatening finger at his boyfriend before finally closing the door behind him.

-

Spencer sighed in resignation, slowly returning to lie down on the mattress with his head on the pillow.

He stared at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his hand, smiling from ear to ear.

[evqnbuckley]

Chapter 2: A Price

7.2k words..........Okay this is taking on a life of it’s own but I promise, I promise there is a resolution. There is a happy ending. I’m just a sucker for pain and angst.... the rest is on ao3 @princesscas​

Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.

Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic NECROMANCY RITUALS. He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death.  The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases  in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.

“I’m going out.”

Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.

Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Dean-” Sam starts.

“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.

Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. Fuck. 

He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. But he's gone. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt. 

Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it. 

Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. I'm going to leave a fucking message. 

The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.

On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty. 

Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.

“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”

“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands. 

The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”

“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.

“Uh, no.”

Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.

“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts. 

“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”

The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”

Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.

“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really. 

The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”

“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.

“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”

The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.

“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”

“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so broken he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. He’s right. 

“Take me,” Dean steps forward.

The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”

Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”

With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. None of it is real. But now Chuck is gone, so this is real. 

Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. Music to my ears. Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. Of course. Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room. 

“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly. 

“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”

“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.

“Our strongest whiskey.”

“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”

A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.

Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.

Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”

She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.

Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.

“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”

“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”

“Lucky lad?” She implies.

Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”

“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.

“Hm,” he replies. I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song. 

“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.

Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees. 

Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle. 

“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”

The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.

Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head. 

"Why?"

"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”

“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”

She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.

“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”

“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.

[charmingnines]

(i kinda wanna be) more than friends - DE artfest day 7/time loop

summary: 

Gavin is stuck living the same day over and over. He doesn't know how to break the cycle. Maybe it has something to do with his feelings for a certain gray-eyed android....

read on ao3 (rest of fic will be posted on here not tumblr!)

or read it below vvv

Gavin had a habit of hitting the snooze button on his alarm clock. But could he be blamed? It was Monday. Insomnia was a bitch, Gavin was late, what else was new? He threw on some clothes and rushed off to work.  

Gavin paused outside of the DPD to catch his breath. Then, he walked in casually, like he wasn’t half an hour late, making a beeline for the break room. “Hey, T,” Gavin said.

Tina nodded at Gavin. “O late one,” she said, buttering her bagel.  

Gavin flipped Tina the bird and Tina rolled her eyes, their version of a friendly greeting. Gavin pulled out the pot of coffee from the machine, swearing when he realized it was empty.

Tina clicked her tongue. “Maybe if you were here earlier….”

Gavin returned the pot to the machine, using a little too much force. He shrugged. “Guess I’ll die.”

Tina hummed. “I think your funeral will have to wait,” she said, inclining her heads towards the bullpen.

Nines was sitting at his desk across from Gavin’s; not unusual. What was unusual was the steaming mug of coffee sitting on Gavin’s desk.

Gavin looked at Tina questioningly. “Did you…?”

“You know I’m not that nice,” Tina said. Then, smiling deviously, “Guess Nines thought of you.” Tina left the break room, leaving Gavin to digest that information. Gavin stalled in the break room for a few moments before walking to his desk.

“You’re late,” Nines said, as Gavin sat down, not even looking up from his terminal.

“Good morning to you, too. Is this for me?” Gavin asked, pointing at the coffee.

Nines looked up. “I can’t drink coffee.”

“Is that a yes?”

Nines’ LED flickered yellow. “Yes,” he finally said.

Gavin studied the mug. “Did you…poison it?”

Nines rolled his eyes. “You can’t function without caffeine and I need you at your optimal performance today.”

Gavin took a sip of the coffee, ignoring Nines’ jabs. It was surprisingly good for precinct coffee. Gavin wondered when Nines had cataloged how he took his coffee. Nines always acted so above it all, but he really... paid attention. Not just to me, Gavin thought, Nines was crazy detail oriented because he was originally programmed to be a police android.

Detail oriented may as well have been Nines’ middle name (did Nines have a middle name? Did Nines have a last name?). It showed especially in Nines’ appearance. Today, he wore a high collared, navy blue button down and black slacks. His hair, of course, was perfectly styled. Even that one stubborn piece that hung into his face seemed artfully placed….

Stop staring at Nines. He’s pretty. Move on, Gavin told himself. “What’s going on today?” Gavin asked.

“Check out the case Fowler assigned to us this morning,” Nines said.

Gavin pulled the case up on his terminal and started to read. He didn’t get very far; Connor seemed to be trying to teach Anderson a coin trick. Anderson dropped it every time, the coin pinging annoyingly against the ground.

Gavin spun around in his chair. “Hey dickheads, some of us are trying to work.”  

Anderson flung the coin from one hand to the other, dropping it, again. “Didn’t you get here thirty minutes late?” he asked innocently.

Gavin scowled. “Least I’m not fucking around.”

“Quick reflexes are actually a very important skill for field detectives,” Connor said, flashing a grin. Gavin narrowed his eyes. It was difficult to tell when Connor was shooting the shit; he always said everything in such a sincere tone.  

“I think we should check out the house on Mack Ave,” Nines said. Then, lowly, “Unless you’d like to stick around and see Hank hit himself in the eye with that coin. The probability increases each time he fails.”

Gavin barked out a laugh. “Tempting,” he said. “But no. Let’s go.”

_

Nines ran over the case as Gavin drove them to the house.

After Jericho took over Cyberlife, they gained access to all of Cyberlife’s records, including all of the androids who’d ever been sold. It was painstaking work, but Markus had managed to document all the androids who were currently apart of Jericho, as well as all the ones who’d died during the revolution. That left a handful of androids unaccounted for. Connor, Hank, Nines, and Gavin had been working with Jericho for months to try and track the missing androids down.

Apparently, there’d been several noise reports about the house they were going to. As Gavin got a glimpse of it, he realized why it’d been put on their radar. The house was a shithole. It was a structural miracle that it wasn’t falling down just from Gavin closing the car door in its proximity. There was no way a human squatter could live there. The noise reports had to be about an android.  

Gavin grimaced as he and Nines walked inside. There were holes in the roof, allowing weak light to stream throughout the house. There was no furniture and the walls were filthy with grime. The wood floor was warped and rotting from water damage. As Gavin moved through what he assumed would be a living room, he stepped on a weak spot. His foot broke through the floor. Nines caught Gavin underneath the arms, before he could break his ankle.

“Jesus, shit,” Gavin said, shaking the debris off his shoe.

Gavin’s ‘thank you’ died in his mouth when Nines held a finger up to his lips. Nines must have heard something; Gavin knew Nines’ hearing was far more sensitive than his own (when their stakeouts had lulls, Nines would relay the gossip of passing strangers to pass the time). Nines pointed to the hallway that led to a closed bedroom. They both took out their guns and approached the door slowly.  

Gavin led the way. When he opened the bedroom door, several things happened in fast succession. Gavin was spun around and gripped tightly around the shoulders. He struggled until he felt the cold press of a knife against his throat. Nines trained his gun Gavin’s attacker, a difficult thing since Gavin was being used as a human shield.

His attacker was no doubt an android judging by the inhuman, iron grip he had around Gavin. Gavin didn’t dare move anything but his eyes, trying to silently communicate with Nines. Nines’ gaze darted between the android and Gavin, LED spinning yellow.  

“We’re here to help you,” Nines said.

“Put down the gun,” the android demanded. A man, by the sound of his low, staticky voice.

Nines’ aim didn’t waver. “We just want to talk.”  

“I want you to put down the gun,” the man said, pressing the knife harder against Gavin’s throat.

Nines pointed his gun at the ground, but didn’t drop it. “What’s your name?”

“He didn’t give me a name,” the man said. Gavin could feel the man’s hand shaking. “I saw the news. About Markus. All of those androids joining him. My owner-” the man spat- “tried to kill me. I ran away.”  

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Nines said. To the untrained eye, Nines was calm. But Gavin could see the tension at the corners of his mouth, the sadness in his eyes.

“You’re sorry,” the man parroted, voice wavering. “Why should I believe you? You came here with a human.”

“There are humans that are on your side,” Nines said.

The man pressed the knife against Gavin’s throat hard enough to draw blood. “Humans can’t be trusted.”

Nines’ LED turned bright red. “I really am sorry,” he said. Then he shot the man in the shoulder. The man dropped the knife from Gavin’s throat in shock, then jerkily sunk it deep into Gavin’s stomach.  

Gavin fell to the floor. The pain muddled his senses. Vaguely, he registered the sound of the man falling over and shutting down. “Nines,” Gavin murmured. Nines’ worried face appeared above him, telling Gavin to hold on, that the ambulance was on its way. Gavin wanted to reach up and smooth out the crease between Nines’ brows but he couldn’t find the strength. Gavin closed his eyes.

_

Gavin woke up heart pounding, breathing heavily. Instinctively, his hands went to his side where there was… nothing?

Gavin sat up, confused. Had that all been just a really elaborate dream? He realized his alarm, which had woken him up, was still beeping. Gavin turned it off, frowning at the date. It was Monday (hadn’t it just been Monday?). He was going to be late. Gavin shook off his uneasiness and got dressed. He’d have to get coffee at work….

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Survivors of Unfair Choices (14) | FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1615

Warning: SW-verse typical violence, minor swearing

-

You were knelt down, telling BB-9 the plan to watch over the Falcon and send the signal to the Resistance as soon as the shields were down. Once that was settled, you joined the others in the cockpit.

“So, how are we getting in?” you asked.

Han glanced at you. “Their shields have a fractional refresh rate. Keeps anything traveling slower than lightspeed from getting through.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So what you’re telling me is-”

“We’re going to make our landing approach at lightspeed?” Finn exclaimed in disbelief.

Chewie let out a guttural answer and nodded. You cursed under your breath as you gripped onto the back of Han’s seat.

“Alright, Chewie, get ready!” Han shouted.

Chewie lets out a groan, telling him he was ready. Han studied the panel indicators closely before shouting at Chewie. They both hit the switches, causing the ship to jerk. Suddenly, the ship was thrusted into lightspeed, breaking through the shield and into the planet’s atmosphere, flying a hundred feet above snowy, rocky ground and heading towards a thick forest.

“I’m pulling up!”

“I don’t think we can make it,” you warned, bracing for impact. BB-9 squealed in agreement, taking out a small mechanical arm to anchor themself down.

The Falcon proceeded to plow through the trees, alarms blaring as the ship tried to rise, breaking through branches. Why do you always end up in a crashing situation? Chewie groaned, wanting to go higher and avoid the trees.

“If I go any higher, they’ll see us!” Han shouted, his face twisted in concentration as he steered, lowering the Falcon again.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m gonna take a break from flying after this,” you said, lowering your head as the ship neared a clearing. BB-9’s head swiveled up at you, scandalized. “I know, buddy.”

You inhaled sharply and gripped harder on the chair as the ship hurtled out of the forest, the layers of snow slowing down the impact until it stopped, half buried. You exhaled slowly before kneeling down next to BB-9. They let out a series of beeps, agreeing to take a break from flying as well.

-

You donned a comfy dark blue parka, a blaster kept in a holster as you walked with the boys out through the snowscape. You heard a noise and signalled for the others to duck into cover as walkers passed by.

Finn peaked his head around the base structure and pointed. “The flooding tunnels are over that ridge. We'll get in that way,” he said.

You nodded, looking over at Chewie who was adjusting the strap of a black duffel bag filled with explosives. “Be careful with that,” you warned. He groaned, as if to say ‘Tell me something I don’t know’.

“What was your job when you were based here?” Han asked Finn.

“Sanitation,” Finn said, looking around.

Your eyes widened, your head whipping towards Han and watched as his features flickered to anger. 

“Sanitation?” Han said incredulously, “Then how do you know how to disable the shields?”

“I don’t. I’m only here to get Rey.”

“Oh, Kriff,” you muttered, stepping away before Han bursts.You didn’t know the details of his previous position, but you knew enough that he didn’t have a high enough rank to know the details of the system unless he heard talk around their canteen. With all this in mind, you weren’t expecting Finn to admit knowing nothing so blatantly.  

Han grabbed him by the collar. “People are counting on us! The galaxy is counting on us-!”

Finn held his hands up. “Solo, we'll figure it out! We'll use the Force!”

You scoffed. “That’s not how the Force works!” you and Han said at the same time, followed by Chewie’s groan about how cold it is. Han rolled his eyes at his friend.

“Has your flyboy told you anything?” Han asked you.

You rubbed your temples. “Since they’ve changed the access codes for the workstation frequently, he wouldn’t have any of the updated codes. He said high ranking officers would have them, though, like Phasma,” you said.

“Of course!” Finn said, pointing a finger at you, “And I know where to find her. Come on!”

You sighed. You wanted to ask how he was going to get it from the captain, but that would mean standing out in the cold forever. The three of you had no choice but to follow him in. In the distance, you could see a laser syphon, sucking in the energy of a nearby sun. You don’t have much time.

While Han grew wary of Finn’s capabilities, getting into the base had been smooth sailing so far with all things considered. Finn had navigated the group to a transport compartment, waiting until a stormtrooper came around to do their routine patrols. All four of you readied your weapons as the door slid open.

“Hey!” the stormtrooper shouted as he fumbled for his blaster. Chewie was the quicker draw, shooting him with his Bowcaster and sending him flying down the corridor.

You winced, hoping that it hadn’t made too much noise. You rushed over with Chewie and helped him drag the body away while Han and Finn scanned the area. Once the body was safely hidden, Chewie gave you a fist bump before the two of you joined them.

“The longer we're here, less luck we're going to have. The shields?” Han asked you and Finn.

“I know where Phasma is around this time. Follow me,” Finn said.

Finn led the group through the corridors, dodging small patrols until he found a hallway. He held up a finger and pointed there before gesturing towards Chewie. The Wookie nodded, walking forwards and waited until he saw the signature chromatic armor before stunning the captain.

Finn instructed Chewie to drag her down a narrow corridor as she came to. Chewie’s arms remained locked around her, subduing her as Finn held a blaster up. As the captain assessed her situation quietly, you double checked the area before standing next to Finn.

“Remember me?” Finn asked his former captain.

“FN-2187,” Captain Phasma said, sounding less than impressed.

“Not anymore. The name's Finn, and I'm in charge,” he pointed at himself before waving the blaster at her excitedly, “I'm in charge now, Phasma. I'm in charge.”

Han placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bring it down. Bring it down,” he advised.

Finn nodded before addressing the captain with a stern look. “Follow me.”

Phasma was led to the nearest workstation, all four blasters aimed at her. She stood in front of the controls, knowing what you wanted her to do, but she wanted you to say it.

“Lower the shields,” you said, using your blaster to point at the workstation before pointing at her again.

When she didn’t move, Finn said restlessly, “You want me to blast that bucket off your head? Lower the shields.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Phasma warned.

“Do it,” Finn said, followed by Chewie’s guttural threat.

Phasma pushed a few buttons, glancing around her every now and again. “I told Ren that you should be watched more closely,” she said, “Having you in sanitation wasn’t enough, but he wanted to see what you would do. What he saw was disappointing.”

“You’re still talking and not disabling the shields?” Finn asked, raising his blaster.

You frowned. Why would Kylo Ren show any interest in Finn in particular? Finn told you that he doesn’t know his own origins, that the stormtrooper program was all he knew. There must be something that the First Order knew that caused them to react like this when he defected. Poe had said that there had been stormtroopers that tried to leave and the First Order would try to sweep it under the rug and replace them. Even an entire company had left and Finn had, apparently, never heard of it.

The workstation beeped, "SHIELDS DISABLE INITIATE".flashing on the screen.

“Solo, if this works, we're not going to have a lot of time to find Rey,” Finn said, turning to Han.

“Don't worry kid, we won't leave here without her,” Han assured him. 

There was another beep, followed by “SHIELDS DISABLED"” on the screen. You let out a sigh. That was one part of your task done. While you had no doubt that Rey could handle herself, the planet was about to blow up and the timer had started its countdown the moment the shields were disabled.

“You can't be so stupid as to think this will be easy. My troops will storm this block and kill you all,” Phasma spat.

“I disagree. What do we do with her?” Finn said, tilting his head towards her.

Han thought for a moment. “Is there a garbage chute? Trash compactor?”

Finn smirked. “Yeah, there is…”

Before Chewie could chuck the captain down the shute, you held out a hand to stop him. Chewie let out a groan in question before you told him to wait.

“You said Kylo Ren had been keeping an eye on Finn,” you said quickly, holding a blaster under her chin, “What did that mean?”

“Did I say that?” Phasma asked.

“Tell me! What did you mean by that? What do you know?” You pressed.

Phasma let out a chuckle. “If you’re lucky, maybe Kylo Ren will tell you himself.”

You pushed her away, gesturing for Chewie to proceed. Chewie let out another groan and did so, hearing a satisfying crash in the chute.

“What was that about?” Finn asked.

You shook your head. “Something’s not right…”

“We need to find your friend, quickly,” Han interrupted.

The two of you nodded and you set off to search the base.

-

Taglist: @megzdoodle @psychoticobsession @thescarletknight2014 @marrypuffsstuff @theoralpha @daniellajocelyn @badwolf-212 @gleigh42 @ella-solei @roserrys @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @juliaguliaa

[rachel1987]

GWCFT Part 6

It’s the night of the big show! All our favorite Wonderlandians gather to show off their skills to June Hare. What acts has everyone chosen to perform? Will Hare be able to pull off his big show stopper? And what is Rabbit’s talent, anyway?

x posted on ao3 and FF.net

Hare stood backstage, his chin tilted up, Hatter's hands tying his cape around his collar. "You need to relax…" Hatter mumbled under his breath. "Everything is going to be just fine."

"How did I let you talk me into this?" he heaved, fingers twitching nervously at his chest. He had been alright all day with his mother, the shopping and monotony of it all making him forget about his nerves. But now that he was here and everyone was bustling around getting ready, a wave of nausea washed over him. He had become so nervous and preoccupied he kept knotting his cape ties and Hatter had to step in to help.

"You're last on the set list, don't worry!" Hatter said, brushing off Hare's shoulders and smoothing out the satin fabric. "Your mother is excited to watch you and you're going to be great. Besides you've never gotten nervous like this before a show before. Don't start this now."

Hare furrowed his brow and huffed a little, making him look like a child who was pouting because his mother wouldn't let him have cookies before dinner. Hatter chuckled and gave his bunny a quick smooch. "Why don't you go check on your mom, show her the pretzel machine? I have a few more things I need to do before the show starts."

"Alright," he grumped, giving the Hatter's hand a squeeze before going to his Mother's side. She was sitting in the front row by the Queen, chatting about something that probably didn't matter.

"Look at my boy!" June exclaimed, cutting the Queen off on whatever she was saying, causing her to "harumph" to herself. "You look just darling in that cape. Oh, I knew I should have brought my camera!"

Hare blushed and bounced his head around a little, rolling his eyes. "Thanks, Mom. Hello, your Majesty. Thank you for coming to our talent show."

"Yes, well," the Queen shook her hand in the air as she spoke. "I had a gap in my schedule today and thought it would be a good idea to spend some time with my subjects. After all, one needs to have a little fun from time to time."

"How true that is, your Majesty," Hare said, clasping his hands together by his chest as he spoke. "Would either of you, perhaps, like a pretzel or a drink before the show begins?"

"Yes, I would, thank you," the Queen cut in quickly, not even waiting for Hare to finish his offer before speaking. "Who knows where that Rabbit ran off to? He was supposed to bring me a drink twenty minutes ago and seems to have disappeared."

"Right away, your Majesty," Hare nodded.

"I'll go with you, son," June said as she got to her feet. "Please excuse me, your Highness."

The Queen dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned her attention to other matters. She was watching the Tweedles spin around, practicing their routine on the other side of the courtyard and found them more interesting than anything else going on.

The pair walked to the pretzel machine that hadn't been turned on yet and Hare ran through it with his mom. "You put the dough in here, there's a salt meter and a unit that shapes, bakes and cools them so they'll be ready to eat when they come out. And a little bell you can ring when it's done."

"What are the lights for?" June asked, enchanted.

"Those are for fun," Hare smiled. "When you push them, they change colors." He then demonstrated them.

"And how do you turn it on?" she asked, brows raised in intrigue. She held her finger under her lip in a familiar pose as she listened, nodding as she took it all in.

"This knob here," Hare pointed. "But once it's on, you can't turn it off. Somehow we never figured out how to fix that. It'll just keep baking till it runs through the dough and then it'll shut down."

"Do you think…" June paused, feeling a little sheepish and her cheeks going pink. "Do you think I can turn it on?"

Hare smiled widely and guffawed. "Of course!" he hopped excitedly. "You just crank it to the left two turns."

June bit her lip and did as she was told and the machine came to life, mechanisms beeping and lights flashing. It didn't take long for the pretzels to start popping out of the contraption and Hare started piling them into bowls that were spread around the table. She seemed very impressed as she picked up one of the first pretzels, giving it a sniff and then a test nibble.

"This is delicious, son," she commended. "Not too salty, not bland. Excellent flavor. All we need is a fondue pot and this would be perfect."

"Why hadn't I thought of that…" Hare muttered to himself, thinking of his full fondue set sitting at home that hadn't been used in ages.

Suddenly, Alice was next to them, a little bit of a flustered expression on her face.

"What's the matter, Alice?" June asked, her motherly intuition rearing its head.

"Her majesty wants to know what's taking so long to get her some refreshments," she shrugged.

The three looked over at the Queen, who was shooting daggers in their direction, arms crossed over her bosom in frustration. Hare panicked a little, fingers flexing as he rushed to get her Majesty a pretzel and a wine cooler, cape whipping behind him as he ran. June and Alice followed behind, each taking some snacks and tea from the refreshment table, going to their seats casually.

The seats were filling as more of the talent and audience arrived. Caterpillar sat himself to the right of the stage, giving himself perhaps the best view out of everyone and Rabbit appeared with a gym bag which he stored behind the curtain for later. The Cat hovered over the crowd, probably already thinking of some sick burns to throw during the show to entertain himself.

Six o'clock rolled around and the Hatter took center stage, a wide smile across his face as he greeted everyone. He was looking extra spiffed up, his usual purple coat and tails speckled with glittering embellishments that sparkled as he moved.

"Ladies and gentleman, cats and Majestys! Welcome to the talent show!" There was a smattering of applause as people settled into their seats, the chatter dying down. "We have a wide array of acts lined up for you tonight. You'll laugh! You'll cry! You might not even believe your eyes! So sit back and enjoy the show." Another round of applause followed and Hatter waited for the noise to settle before introducing the first act.

"Our first act is the upbeat dance stylings of the Tweedles!" He casually stepped to the side, arm outstretched as the Tweedles came through the part in the curtain.

Dum set their oversized boombox to the side of the stage (volume set to 11) and pressed the play button, racing to center to hit his mark before the music began. They stood back to back, arms crossed over their chests, sunglasses covering their eyes for that cool hip-hop look.

The bass boomed from the speakers and they hopped into action, poppin' and lockin', ducking and weaving around each other. They synchronized their movements to each other and the music perfectly, hitting every beat with a gesture or pose that yelled nothing but hip-hop attitude. At one point they did a little rap battle, bouncing verses back and forth off each other with ease. The audience was mesmerized and feeding into their energy, getting hyped up and sucked into the show. Soon people were clapping to the beat and the Hatter couldn't stop himself from doing some dance moves from his seat just off stage. The Tweedles did some flips and jumps, landing just as the music ended, applause filling the area. They got to their feet and bowed, waving at the cheers as Hatter ushered them offstage.

"Thank you, lads. What a great first act, am I right?" Hatter said as he applauded, a bounce still in his step from the energy he gained from the show. "Really marvelous. Such a hard act to follow. But, someone has to do it! And our next act is a dramatic reading of a new story from none other than our resident storyteller, the Caterpillar."

The Caterpillar scooted his way closer to the stage, setting just off to the right of it. There was no way he was even going to attempt to get up on that tiny stage and nobody expected him to.

"Thank you, thank you…" he said to light applause that preceded him to the stage. His lowest set of hands applauded for himself, his middle hands were holding a book tightly and his top hands were moving in a downward motion, as if to settle a crowd of unruly children. "How am I meant to follow an act like that? Well, I would say, with a story." His middle hands passed the book up to his top ones and he flipped through the pages, going to one marked with a red ribbon. This was apparently his journal that his second pair of hands worked in (his best writing hands, if you'd asked him) and it was filled with all of the stories that he was working through.

"This is a story about a boy named Carl who thought it would be a good idea to go into the haunted house alone…" He read the story aloud, bringing the energy of the room down a spell from the last act. His second and third pair of hands worked with him, pulling items from a bag that was slung over one of his shoulders to act as props or sound effects as he read aloud. He droned out the story but somehow brought it to life and everyone felt like they could almost see the tale run through in their mind's eye. The story had twists and turns and one surprise after another. There was a jump scare almost ¾ of the way through that got a lot of them, Rabbit most of all. He almost hopped into the Queen's lap, causing her to make a little bit of a scene. But the Caterpillar reeled them back in to finish the story with a grim message.

"And, in the end, Carl learned that sometimes you must heed the warnings of others. Because, if you don't, the only friends you'll have are the worms in the ground who will feast upon that's left of your corpse."

The audience didn't know how to react to the story the Caterpillar chose to read to them. It was an enthralling tale, but one that probably would have been better saved for their Halloween Campfire session.

The Cat, however, loved it and howled with laughter as he applauded enthusiastically. "The little sucker got what he deserved, haha!" he boomed, tail swishing around with excitement. Everyone looked at him with confused expressions on their faces as the Caterpillar moved his way back to his original spot, Hatter taking the stage again.

"Ooh, spooky story, right folks?" he said with a nervous laugh. He was thinking that perhaps he should have screened the talent before allowing them to perform, but it was too late for that now. "I especially liked the part where the…" he paused and cleared his throat. "Anyway, thank you Caterpillar. We will keep our eyes open for when your next book is published and I'm sure we'll all be sure to grab ourselves a copy."

"I will be selling autographed anthologies after the show," he said as he settled. "Come and see me if you're interested. Oh, and no personal checks, please," he added with the wave of a finger.

"Righty roo," Hatter said with a chuckle. "Now, on to the next act. This little guy has traveled a long way from my tea table to perform his acts of daredevilry for all of you tonight! So please direct your attention to the center of the stage as I present to you: Danger Dormouse!"

Hatter pulled on a yellow cord that was to the left of the stage and the curtain went up, revealing a miniature driving obstacle course set up on a table. It was just below eye level, so even those in the back row had some sort of view of it. The stage, however, was empty of the small mouse with a motorcycle.

From off in the distance, the put-put-put of his motor could be heard and he zoomed in from under the gate door, coming up the center aisle and up a ramp and onto the stage. He was making great speed but was still visible to everyone as he hopped another ramp onto the table, doing a wheelie as his tires screeched. That earned him a surprised round of applause, most of the audience being quite shocked that the Dormouse had this sort of act in him.

About halfway through the routine, Rabbit got a tap on his shoulder and he jumped to see the Hatter there, tilting his head to the side to indicate that he was up next. Rabbit twiddled his fingers and nodded, getting to his feet and sneaking away to prepare himself without anyone noticing.

They watched the Dormouse weave through traffic cones, do a crossing on a narrow beam from one table to another and he even did a handstand on his little cycle while driving it. Every stunt he managed to land received more applause from the audience. And when he pulled off his final trick, jumping over 8 of the Hatter's tophats side-by-side, you'd have thought he had jumped the entirety of the grand canyon by the way the audience reacted. Dee and Dum were so impressed they gave him a standing ovation, thrusting their fists into the air and hooting as the little mouse stood on the stage beside his bike, bowing to everyone.

"Alright, little guy," Hatter said as he entered the stage, applauding his small friend and housemate. The curtain had been dropped behind him and there was a scuffling sound from behind it, if anyone had paid attention to hear it. "Everyone should watch themselves with this guy on the road, am I right?" That received a little bit of a laugh and the Dormouse climbed back into his bike, kicking the stand up before looking up at Hatter. "You be careful on your drive home, alright? I know you have quite a journey to make." The Dormouse chuckled and turned the motor on, zooming away and around the side of the hat house.

"Now, this next act was a last minute addition to the lineup, so even I'll be surprised by what we're about to experience," Hatter introduced as the put-put-put of the motor died away. "Let's give a round of applause for the Queen's right hand bunny, and one of my favorite furry friends, The White Rabbit."

Rabbit took the stage from behind the curtain in a black unitard, leg warmers on his fuzzy legs, sweatbands on his wrists and no roller blades. He carried a small boombox and placed a cassette tape into it, standing upright as he addressed the audience. "I will now go through a day in the life of Rabbit… through interpretive dance." He bent down and pushed the button marked "play", waiting till an early morning music started before he started bounding around the stage, waving his arms.

Everyone in the audience was completely aghast by what they had to sit through for the next few minutes. They followed Rabbit through his day, watching him mime cleaning and cooking and the various frustrations of his life, all through dance and bunny feet shuffling across the stage. Hare couldn't help but notice that his mother's eyes never left Rabbit once. It made him feel uncomfortable and he felt badly for teasing Rabbit about it at the Market the other day.

After what felt like the longest and most agonizing two minutes of their lives, everyone in the audience applauded weakly as Rabbit stood in the center of the stage, one leg lifted up behind him, his arms above his head, the music coming to an end. Rabbit later said the dance was rather invigorating. Dee said he'd rather poke his eyes out with a pencil than sit through it again. The Cheshire Cat couldn't stop cackling to himself over it, wishing he had recorded it for later viewing.

"Well, that was something, Rabbit…" Hatter said, applauding as he entered from stage right, his guitar hanging from his shoulder. He was dragging a stool behind him as he made his way to center stage. "Thank you for sharing that with us…" Rabbit gave one final bow, his ears brushing the ground, before picking up his boombox and exiting the stage.

"After that last exciting little display of talent," Hatter started as he took a seat on the stool, flipping the guitar around to his front and resting it on his knee. "We're going to slow things down a little with a song that I wrote for the occasion." There was still a buzz in the audience about the strangeness they had just experienced and they were having a little bit of a hard time focusing on the Hatter, but his calm demeanor was drawing them in slightly. Hatter strummed the strings on his guitar lazily as he spoke, warming up his fingers to play his new song.

"As everyone here knows, we have a special guest in the audience tonight: Hare's mother June. Give us a wave there, Junie. Righty roo… righty roo… She was in the paper this morning, I hope you all saw that. And so was Hare, but that's a whole other matter…" he cleared his throat, licking his lips as he plucked the cords. "And, in seeing her with Hare over the past day or two, it's gotten me thinking about my own mother: Mother Hatter. So I decided to write a song to her and I hope you'll all be patient with me as I sing it." He paused and his foot started to tap on the floor gently as he began his song with a slow and loving melody.

This was quite a departure from the wild and crazy Hatter that everyone was used to seeing. He was calm and collected, fingers moving away over the neck of the guitar, singing a sweet song about the love of a son for his mother. Hare gasped a little at the tenderness of it, his breath getting caught in his throat as he listened. This was a song directly from the heart and it was beautiful. Even the Queen had to wipe a tear from her eye because it touched her so. His sweet song filled the dimming evening with a tranquility that was surprising to everyone in the vicinity. Every act up until this point was full of energy and excitement (except perhaps for Rabbit's strange display) and this was just plain different.

The Hatter played his song through, hitting the final cords with perfect rhythm, earning him applause from everyone. Hare saw June dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she had taken from her purse, her makeup smearing a little under her glasses. He returned his gaze to the Hatter, who looked at him and gave him a wink. God, he loved this man.

Hatter relished in the praise for perhaps a little longer than he should have, before he tugged the stool off stage. "Thank you, thank you, you're all too kind," he said with a wide grin, moving his hands in a downward motion to get them all to settle. "Still two more acts to go, folks. Does anyone need a refill on refreshments? More pretzels, we have plenty? No? Ah, righty ho. Well, you're all taking home the extras because I never want to see another pretzel again as long as I live."

Returning to the center of the stage, he maneuvered his guitar onto his back again, clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention. "Now, for a little something by our very own Alice."

Alice took the stage with a bright smile and flashing green eyes, her hands held behind her back as she addressed the crowd. "I'm afraid that I don't have a big flashy act or anything to share with you all tonight," she said with a little bit of a shrug. "But what I did bring to share are a few of my favorite poems from my world that I would like to share with all of you!"

The audience "oohed" as Alice cleared her throat and began reciting a number of poems she had taken the time to memorize over the past couple days. The poems she had chosen were by Robert Frost, TS Eliot, Emily Dickenson and Shel Silverstein, who were not completely unknown to the Wonderlandians. She never fumbled her words or paused to try to remember the next line she had to say, saying every word calmly as if she were making them up as she went along. The Queen shone with pride at the girl's display, nudging June next to her to say that she had helped her learn the words and practice them the day before. The Caterpillar made a mental note to talk to Alice about the talent who was TS Elliot sometime.

After finishing the last of her memorized works, she gave everyone a bow and stood center stage as Hatter came to join her. "Very nice, Alice! Wonderful job," he said, applauding her happily. "Everyone give her a hand!"

The audience clapped for her as she gave them one last bow, rushing to her seat beside the Tweedles in the back row. She passed Hare as she made her way, taking the time to whisper a "Good luck, mr Hare" and give him a reassuring thumbs up before taking her seat.

Hare smiled and nodded, adjusting his collar on his cape before turning his back to the audience. Normally he wasn't one to get stage fright. But this was a whole different set of circumstances. He was performing for his mother and he lacked confidence in his big finale. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a moment as Hatter wound everyone up.

"Righty roo, everybody!" the Hatter said, a wide grin on his face as he introduced the final act of the night. "Everyone, hold onto your hats! This is the act we've all been waiting for! Well, I know June has, anyway," he said, giving her a playful wink, causing her to giggle from her seat. "I give you, the man of mystery, the illustrious illusionist, the Amazing Hair-raising Hare!"

Hare forced a smile on his face and turned around on his heels, holding his arms out so his cape draped over his form just right. There was a light bit of applause, a boost of it coming from where June was seated.

"Thank you, thank you!" Hare said aloud, trying to make his voice sound as confident as possible. He kept his eyes off of his mother, focusing on the other faces in the audience to put himself at ease. He found he kept eyeing Rabbit, which was obviously making the elderly bunny uncomfortable.

"For my first trick of the evening, I will show you one that may ring a bell!" He chuckled to himself, pulling from behind his back three sets of golden rings. He showed them to the audience, running his hand along the golden bands to prove that it was a continuous piece. After some fancy handwork, the three rings were linked perfectly, Hare tugging on them to show that the rings were still solid. He displayed them to the audience, walking down to the Queen and having her inspect them.

"I know gold rings and, yes, these are solid!" she said with a laugh, clearly impressed. Maybe it was the sparkle of the gold, but her eyes glittered a little.

"But what good are three rings stuck together, am I right?" Hare asked, licking his lips a little before taking two of the rings and rubbing them between his gloved fingers. Pressing hard with his fingertips, he felt the metal slip and pulled them apart with ease. He handed the free one to the Queen, before unlinking the second pair as well. Everyone applauded and Hare felt a boost in confidence as he took the three rings from the Queen, tossing them in his magic box behind the curtain and retrieving his next magical item and tucking it away in his jacket.

"For my next trick, I'll need a volunteer from the audience! And who better than my own Mother, June Hare!"

June's eyes widened as her son came down from the stage, taking her gloved hand and leading her up onto the platform with him. She stood there nervously, hands balled up and fingers laced in front of her as she watched him closely.

Everyone in the audience grew nervous when they saw Hare take the handcuffs out from his jacket pocket.

"Don't think about it, Hare!" the Queen pouted, making everyone laugh a little, causing the Hare's happy demeanor flicker a little. His eyes looked at his mother, who was beaming so wide you could see all her teeth. He put on a brave face for her.

"Worry not, your Majesty! This trick is foolproof!" Hare gestured his arm out, holding the handcuff aloft in his other hand. "I'm so confident in it, I would risk handcuffing myself to my own mother to prove that it can be done!"

It probably didn't come out the way it had sounded in his head, but his mother didn't seem offended by the statement and everyone in the audience took it as a sign that he was serious. In fact, his mother seemed a little overwhelmed by being pulled on stage. Quickly, he decided he needed to distract her and give her something to do to settle her nerves.

"But first, I will demonstrate that I can remove them from myself. Ma, if you would be so kind…" He gave her the handcuffs and she snapped them around his wrists nervously, fingers shaking a little as she did it. He took hold of her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze before continuing. "Thank you…"

Holding his hands out in front of him, he tried to tug at the cuffs, showing that they were indeed locked onto his person. "The cuffs are securely fastened… but not for long?"

With the flip of his wrists, he twisted and turned, causing the cuffs to fall right off. Of course, all the Wonderlandians who went through the great handcuff ordeal knew how the trick worked, but Hare's mother was delighted by the trick and clapped her hands enthusiastically. Her hands reached out to inspect the cuffs for herself, eyes wide with wonder.

"As you can see, there's really nothing to it!" Hare said aloud, turning to his mother. "Now, the real test."

Hatter came on stage and assisted Hare in getting the cuffs around his and June's wrists, stepping aside to allow the act to continue.

"As you can see, the handcuffs are on tight," he raised his arm out and tugged against his mother, showing everyone that they were indeed locked and not going to move. "Now, on the count of three, the cuffs will come off as easily as they had been put on."

June watched as her son guided her in her actions without really realizing it, raising and dropping their connected arm as he counted aloud. She lifted her right arm as he counted, and on the count of three he moved his wrist, causing the cuff to rotate around hers, making them fall off easily. The audience applauded as the cuffs fell to the ground with a clatter. It seemed they were impressed that he'd actually managed to get the trick to work this time around.

Again, June clapped enthusiastically, examining her wrist as if it had been removed from her body and reattached again.

Hare ushered her off stage and back to her seat, Hatter standing on stage with a box and some more magic items when he returned.

"And now, some slight of hand!" he reached into the box and took out three small multicolored balls. With nimble hands, Hare tossed the balls up in the air, not missing a beat as the orbs did their dance. He tossed them high and low, over his shoulder and under his leg, adding a fourth ball with ease as the act went along. The audience was impressed by his skill. He was a clumsy hare and people often forgot that he was a master juggler.

"He sure knows how to handle his balls," the Cat said aloud, causing Dee to laugh out boisterously.

He continued to juggle, tossing the balls to audience members and instructing them to toss them back to him when he gave them the signal. Dum might have thrown the ball a little too hard, because Hare had to stumble back in order to get it, almost causing him to trip over his own feet. But he caught himself, adding to the suspense of the trick, a smattering of applause coming from the audience. After a little more of this, getting 5 balls in the air, he caught them all in a box and gave a short bow, mentally preparing himself for the final trick. Everything had gone well up until this point, he was feeling comfortable on stage, his nerves had gone to the back of his mind. It was now or never.

"My final trick for the evening will shock and amaze you!" Hare said, tossing the box of balls backstage and into a crate with the rest of his magic items. "Hatter, bring in… the box!"

The curtains parted behind Hare and Hatter appeared, dragging a large trunk behind himself. Hare moved around to help at the other end, positioning it in the center of the stage. Hatter gave Hare a reassuring pat on the back, before stepping aside.

"What you see before you is a plain, ordinary box!" Hare said, gesturing a hand toward the trunk in a flamboyant fashion. "This trick requires a volunteer. Alice, if you will, please come look at the box to make sure that it is, in fact, ordinary."

She looked at him and nodded, going to the trunk and investigating it. She opened it with the help of the Hatter and looked inside, tapping on the sides and the lid.

"Looks like a plain box to me." She announced.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Hare said, fluttering his fingers mysteriously for effect. "One more, thing. Did you happen to find something -in- the box?"

Alice took a peek in and pulled out a large velvet bag.

Hare's mother applauded joyously, causing Dum to lean over and say to her "I don't think that was the trick…" causing her to stop.

Hare forced a smile and took the bag from Alice, showing it to the crowd. "Now, Alice, inspect the bag for any holes or imperfections, if you please."

Alice came over and glanced over the bag, turning it this way and that and checking the inside before agreeing that the bag hadn't been tampered with.

"Thank you, Alice," Hare said aloud, taking the bag from her and placing it in the bottom of the box. "Now, Alice, stand in the bag!"

She looked at him, shoulders dropped, her jaw slack. "What?"

Hare's eyes widened and he smiled at the audience, hearing them laugh nervously, before turning to Alice. "Get in the box."

She blinked and shook her head a little, before the Hare put a hand out and guided her into the box, positioning her so she was standing in the bag.

"Now, Alice, I'm going to close you in the bag and lay you down in the box. Do not be frightened! You will come out of this, completely unharmed!" He accentuated the last bit by looking at the audience, gesturing an outstretched hand at them as if he were reeling them in, causing them to Ooh and Aah. Dee might have muttered something along the lines of "I hope Alice has health insurance" before being jammed in the ribs by his brother.

Hare helped Alice pull the bag up around her, seeing her give him a wink to signal him that she was okay, before tying the bag shut above her head. Then, with the Hatter's help, they helped her get in a lying position in the box before closing the lid.

"Now, Hatter, the lock please!"

The audience was on the edge of their seats as Hare put a comedicaly large lock on the front of the lid, jangling it around to show that it was, in fact, sealed.

Hatter came from the left side of the stage with a portable curtain on a rod. He switched it around, making it flutter in the wind, before handing one end to the hare. They walked around the box, before Hare stepped atop it.

"Now, don't look away!" he shouted, wiggling his fingers at the audience a little before lifting the curtain in front of him. Hatter stepped aside as the curtain shook and shimmered in the light, obscuring the view of the trunk from the audience. It continued to shake from side to side for a few moments, before falling to the ground, revealing…

Alice standing atop the box, arms outstretched and wearing Hare's cape.

The entire audience gasped as she was revealed, not missing a beat before they erupted into applause. Everyone jumped to their feet and roared, even the Queen had gotten swept up in the moment. They were all so impressed that they forgot to ask where the Hare went.

With Hatter's help, Alice hopped off of the box and took a bow, before taking a step aside and gesturing toward the trunk.

And nothing happened.

Alice had a strained smile on her face and Hatter was starting to look nervous. She gestured back to the box and still, nothing happened.

"Uh… mr Hare?" Alice asked, going to the box and tugging on the large lock, finding that it was still stuck shut. "Uh oh…"

There was a thumping and banging from inside the trunk as the noise died down and people started to get the feeling something had gone wrong. The box shook a little and scooted around as Hatter bowed down next to it.

"Hare? Are you in there?"

"I can't get out!" Hare shouted from inside. "I can't get the thing open."

"Oh dear…" Alice gasped, hand going to her mouth as she bent down beside the Hatter.

Hatter hit against the back of the trunk, finding that the secret door was stuck. He reached for the lock with his giant hands and gave it a yank, straining to pull it off. After struggling for a few moments, the crowd had gathered at the foot of the stage to get a better look at what was going on.

"Where is the key?" Rabbit asked, pointing at the lock. It was the most obvious solution, why hadn't they thought of it already?

Hatter patted his sides down, but he didn't have it, so he bent down and shouted at the box. "Where's the key, Hare?" he asked, holding his ear against the lid of the trunk to listen for an answer.

"It's in my pocket…" came the response.

June looked like she was about ready to either faint or pull the lid off the trunk with her bare hands. To say she was getting frantic was an understatement. "Did he just say they're in his pocket?"

Hatter laughed and shook his head. "No, he couldn't have!"

"He did, Mr Hatter…" Alice said, biting her lip.

"Oh… well, this is quite a pickle here, isn't it?" Hatter said, scrunching up his face and putting a hand to his hip. "Well, only one thing to do." He got to his feet, everyone having their eyes trained on him as he walked in through the IN door and immediately through the OUT door, holding an ax in his gloved hands. The group parted as he stood at the front of the box, lifting the ax above his head and was about to swing down, when…

"I don't think so!" June exclaimed, putting her arm out.

"But, June! How else are we going to get him out of there?" Hatter asked, still holding the axe above his head.

"A mother has her ways…" she said, raising her hands to her head and pulling two hairpins from her updo. Kneeling down at the lock, she straightened the pins and shoved them into the lock, moving them around with expert fingers. They sat for a few minutes, Hare tapping on the lid of the box every minute or so to let him know he hadn't passed out. Eventually he started making casual conversation with those outside the box, asking what the outside world was like and if the price of gasoline had dropped because it was much too high. He also asked if it would be appropriate for him to sing a song when he got out of the box (they told him no) so he started singing a song about being stuck inside it instead.

A few minutes and broken hairpins later, the lock clicked open and fell to the floor.

"She got it!" Dum exclaimed, jumping to his feet in excitement.

"I'll be damned…" Dee added under his breath as June wrenched the lid open.

She found her son scrunched up inside the box, trap door knocked off its hinges on one side, tied up in the sack.

"He did it!" Hatter rejoiced, giving Alice a hug. "He finally got inside the bag this time."

Desperately, Hare clawed at the mouth of the bag, pulling it down over his sheepish face. The view from inside the box was one he didn't think he'd ever forget. All his friends were looking down at him, expressions varied from surprise to anger to trying to hide laughter.

"Ta-da!" he shouted, with a little bit of a nervous laugh. He wanted to climb back into the box and die right at that very moment. Instead, he allowed Hatter and the Tweedles to help him get out of the box and to his feet, dusting himself off as Alice gave him back the red cape. June fussed over him, giving him a once over to make sure he was alright. If you had looked at her while she was picking the lock, you'd have thought she was keeping very calm, but on the inside she was frantic with worry. Now that her son was sitting on the lid of the box, sipping a calming cup of tea, she was starting to relax.

"Where did you learn to do that, mrs Hare?" Alice asked, very impressed with how well she dealt with the situation. And her skill with a pair of hairpins was very intriguing.

"I'm sorry, dear," June said with a friendly smile, once she realized Alice was talking to her. She was watching Hare from a distance now, just making sure he was okay. "What did you say?"

"I was curious about how you knew to pick the lock, mrs Hare," Alice said, taking a seat beside the elder bunny.

June couldn't keep the shy smile from her face. Her cheeks turned a little pink as she bent toward Alice.

"Let me tell you," June whispered to her, patting the child on the knee. "When you have a son who would accidentally lock himself in rooms as often as Hare did, you had to get good at picking locks," adding a playful wink at the end, she held a finger to her lips to tell Alice it was a secret. The girl nodded and returned with a wink of her own.

[writer-chan97]

A short story draft of my Rogue Soldier au. This is how Gary saved Quinn in space, also reuniting. And I think in this au, I’ll make Quinn’s last name spelled out as Airgon. His au is not cannon anyways. Enjoy!

———

“Gary. I’m receiving a mayday call.” Once H.U.E. said this, he displayed a holographic projection of a malfunctioning escape pod on the main monitor, lights blaring red as the distress call broadcasted in the brig.

“Mayday! Mayday! This is Quinn Airgon! Can anyone hear me? Help me!”

Gary’s eyes widened in shock. It had been a long time, but he would never forget that voice. “Oh, my gosh... it’s Quinn.” It was the same Quinn who he was infatuated for two years ago, and the same Quinn who has been pursuing him ever since he went rough against the Infinity Guard. They ran in to each other several times since then, a few close calls where he was almost captured, but this was the first time in five months.

“My name is Quinn Airgon! I’m a captain of the Infinity Guard who’s been investigating a gravitational disturbance which I now see is a breach in space. Many people are dead, and I’m about to join them if I don’t- Ahhhh! Is there not a single idiot out there who can hear me?”

Gary could hear beeping alarm in the shaky background noise. She sounded scared. Yes, she had been a pain to get rid of, but he wouldn’t wish this on her.

“Should we respond?” H.U.E asked.

“That won’t be necessary,” Avocato said, his facial expression blunt during the whole call. He took the hologram off the display and leaned back on his chair.

“Why not?” Gary turned to his friend quickly, surprised at his heartless answer.

“It’s a bad idea Gary. She’s Infinity Guard. She’s either gonna turn us in or kill us.”

“She’s going to die, Avocato! She’s not one of them.”

“Gary, are you sure we can trust her? What if this turns into a big mistake?”

Gary looked down, knowing a million things could turn for the worst if he saves her. He might end up regretting it, but he would regret letting an innocent person die even more. “Then I guess it’s a mistake I’ll have to fix. Either way, we can’t just sit around and let her die. H.U.E., set course to the coordinates to the pod. It’s time for a rescue.”

“I’ll help too, Gary!” KVN intercepted Gary’s path, getting close to his face.

“Out of my way, KVN!” Gary aggressively shoved the giant ball robot to the side as he gently descended down the elevator.

The pulse engines spun and charged. Soon, then entire ship was engulfed in fast-moving light as it light folded across space. As Gary floated down the elevator into the airlock, the ship was within reach of the escape pod spiraling out of control.

The danger sirens inside the pod were projecting louder as sparks and smoke flew all over Quinn’s face. All controls were failing. Afraid, almost at the break of giving up, she spotted an Infinity Guard ship approaching her. Hope! She didn’t care who it was, somebody actually came to save her!

Gary hooked himself to the cable and lowered the door. Once the hatch fully opened, Gary took several steps back, got a running start and leaped into the could of space, souring straight to the pod.

Quinn slammed her fist on the eject button. As her seat automatically secured her helmet, tightening the air pressure, Quinn was propelled out of her chair just as the pod exploded into flames and debris. The projection shot her straight into the direction of the incoming astronaut.

Gary could see her. He extended his arm as she did hers. At the moment they clasped hands, she accidentally slipped out of grasp. Quinn gasped as she felt her blood go cold, her life lost before her eyes.

In that split second, Gary quickly grabbed the collar of her suit out of reflex. He sighed in relief, his heart almost dropping from what could have ended badly. Quinn got a hold of his arm as the harness wire slowly reeled them back to the ship.

Once inside, Gary had a slightly rough landing as his body crashed into a row of metal barrels like a bowling ball hitting a strike. The hatch closed behind them, making it safe for Quinn to remove her helmet. She took a deep breath, calming down from the near death experience.

Gary looked up at her and for some reason felt astonished, as if he met her for the first time again. Their encounters were never in good terms, but for the first time in two years, she was smiling at him. That genuine, perfect smile he had almost forgotten.

“Nice work,” she commended, giving him a hand.” I need to commandeer your ship. I have a Class 3 emergency.” As she helped him back up to his feet, Gary snapped out of his captivation and realized that she probably didn’t realize who she was talking to.

He removed his helmet and shook her hand, returning the smile. “And you’re looking well.”

Quinn’s face immediately shifted to utter shock a dread “You?!”

Before Gary could say anything, Quinn squeezed his hand tight and twisted his arm, turning Gary around as she physically restrained his arms.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Hey! You know, a proper ‘thank you’ would‘ve been the appropriate reaction to saving your life. Twice, now.”

“Shut up! By order of the Infinity Guard, you are under arrest.”

Gary grinned. “Arrest me? Really? On MY ship?”

“An Infinity Guard ship that YOU stole!”

As Quinn reached down her back pocket to pull out energy cuffs, Gary took that open opportunity to dislocate his robotic arm. Once the arm was unhinged from the shunt, the limb went limp and loose. With Quinn briefly confused at what just happened, Gary freely spun around to untwist his arm and swim a round-house kick. Quinn blocked the blow and took a step back when he swung his other leg.

She pulled out her gun but before she could pull the trigger, Gary threw his trench coat at her, blocking her view. She shot a few holes at it out of impulse before yanking it out of the air. Gary has already rolled over to his prosthetic arm and relocked it in place. He pulled out his gun and shot Quinn’s gun out of her hand.

The Infinity Guard captain charged at Gary, kicking the gun out of his hand. The two were now engaged in hand-to-hand combat. “Look, I don’t want to fight you,” Gary tried to reason, but got kicked in the face. He fell back with blood running down from his nostrils.

Quinn kicked him again in the stomach, turning him over with Gary on his hands and knees. She stood over him and pinned him down with the gun pressed against his head. “Finally, after all these years I finally-”

In mid-sentences, Avocato karate-chopped her in the neck from behind, knocking her out cold. As she collapsed, Gary sat up and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Avocato didn’t say anything. He simply looked down at Gary with an unsurprised expression.

“I think that worked out pretty well,” Gary said.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 28

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

It was the dream she’d had so many times. The details changed, but the bones of it were always the same. Rhonda Reese was eleven years old again. The Louisiana summer was hot, full of mosquito bites and the screaming of cicadas. The air conditioning had been broken for two days, and it was less miserable to be outside than inside, but not by much. 

She ate a popsicle while she played with a boy. Sometimes it was chocolate pudding, sometimes other foods, but this time was a popsicle, just like the first time. He was her brother, and he was annoying, the way most little brothers are. What was his name? Daniel. Of course. How could she have forgotten? He had sandy hair and dark eyes, but the rest of his face was never clear anymore.

On the hot driveway and with hotter tempers, playing became fighting as little Daniel antagonized her. He pushed her buttons for the umpteenth time and provoked young Rhonda to such an anger that she’d never felt before. She yelled and stomped her feet, as she always did, and shoved him hard with her palms on his chest. As she did, a bright shock of electricity like pale green lightning left her hands and hit him. 

The boy, her brother, fell to the ground, shaking. Rhonda screamed, screamed for help, and screamed more. Her mother called for an ambulance and the family rushed to the hospital. Sometimes, Daniel collapsed in a charred, smoking heap or matched Rhonda’s anger and sent her shock back to her, but this time was just like when it had really happened.

In the waiting room, Rhonda cried in horror of what she’d done. She didn’t know how she did it, but it had definitely been her fault. She couldn’t get the image of her brother shaking on the ground out of her mind. Her parents wouldn’t look at her. They barely spoke to her. They wouldn’t let her see her brother. 

She cried and waited and cried, alone in the waiting area while her parents stayed with Daniel. An older man who used a wheelchair approached her with a kind smile and called her by name. He told her she was different and special, and though something scary had just happened, he could help her avoid doing something like that again. He promised her the love of her life and sausage casserole - that wasn’t right. In reality, he had promised a school where she would make friends, teachers who cared about her doing well, and would help her be unafraid of herself. The sausage casserole and love of her life had come later.

She wiped her nose, dried her eyes on a handkerchief the man had offered her. Rhonda didn’t know how the things he promised could be possible, but she was desperate for some comfort. “But what about my parents, sir? And my brother?” she asked.

His expression was warm, but there was an edge of sadness in his eyes. “You can call me Professor Xavier,” he said, “Or Charles. I will talk with your parents, but only if you want to come with me.”

Rhonda’s dark brown eyes were large, round, and overly glossy with tears as she nodded. Professor Xavier headed down the hallway to the room where the rest of the Reese family was. Moments later, he returned and held out his hand to lead the teary-eyed girl with him.

Sometimes, the dream showed Rhonda what things could have been - her parents visiting the school, her brother joining her there. Other times, the dream was much darker, like all the times her parents had shown up to the school in DMC uniforms, dragging her out of the house screaming. But the facts were: Rhonda came to love her new school and call it home, but her parents never visited, never called, and Rhonda never went home. She had never even heard if her brother lived.

--

Rhonda stirred when she felt something cool and damp on her face. She felt something around her that was warm, but unyielding. “Hey, honey,” she mumbled through a pounding headache, not yet opening her eyes.

“There she is,” crooned Piotr’s deep, soothing voice, lifting a washcloth off her face. “We were getting worried. Can you stand?”

Frowning and slowly shaking her head, Rhonda woke up a little more before she recognized the fuzzy feeling dulling her senses and the uncomfortable weight around her neck. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up so fast that Piotr only moved just in time to avoid her clipping her head on his chin. 

They were in a shabby motel room, lying on a bed with Rhonda nestled in Piotr's lap. There were drab orange and gold curtains over the window, dense enough that it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. Overwhelmed with confusion, Rhonda swished her way around the bedspread, looking around at her husband, the window, and the closed door. All her questions condensed into a raspy, “Where’s the DMC?”

Carefully, as though he were trying not to scare away a tiny bird, Piotr took her hands and said quietly, “They’re not here, but they will be soon. Sladkaya, there isn’t much time.”

Rhonda took deep breaths, a little too fast. “Okay,” she huffed in a whisper like wind blasting through a tin can, “okay. How are we getting this off?” She pulled one hand out of Piotr’s grip to tug at the collar. 

He hesitated. He briefly looked away, clenching his jaw. When he looked back at her, his brows were pinched and his lip twitched. 

“What?” She knew, deep down.

“Rhonda,” he sighed, “If we try to remove it ourselves, it could detonate. We can’t risk it.” He glanced at the door.

“What are you saying?” her blood turned to ice.

“The safest way is to get hard tokens from Icebox…” he gently squeezed her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm.

“So we’re breaking in?”

“Yes, after we learn more about it, but…” he swallowed, “It will be easier if we have someone inside.”

She looked at him with horror and hurt, even betrayal, “You’re telling me to...go back?” Her breathing grew heavy and hot tears stung her eyes. “You can��t be serious.”

Everything in him screamed what a mistake it was to even ask. “Cable has good plan,” he assured her, “If what that guard said is true, someone needs to go in there and get hard tokens. None of us know Icebox as well as you. If you can steal hard tokens, and we break through the walls from outside, we can get your collar off, get you out, and expose DMC’s corruption.”

Rhonda struggled to get her breathing under control enough to speak. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, cutting out if she reached higher pitches. She shook her head. “So you’re not even gonna try to get the collar off?”

“Rhonda, it could blow your head off!” he made a frustrated noise. 

“I’ll take that risk! Can’t you contain the blast with your hands? How big could the yield be?” She tried to turn the collar and feel the block that housed the keypad and explosive. “You could get your hand in here.”

“Not without strangling you,” he grumbled. He reached to pull her closer, but she edged away and off the bed. 

Her shoulders low, brows set harder than Piotr’s skin, Rhonda snapped, “I would rather get my head blown off than go back in there. Piotr, if that’s the plan,” she smeared away her tears and said with bitter finality, “I would rather die here. At least I’d be with you and not in a freezing cold shit-hole.” She swallowed around the huge lump in her throat and tried to speak calmly, but her voice was so damaged from screaming. “Don’t put me in that casket, I wanna be cremated. Do whatever with the ashes.”

It was roughly the reaction he expected, but it was another thing entirely to hear his wife all but ask him to kill her out of mercy, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for asking his wife to go back to hell because he couldn’t find another option. But this couldn’t be the end for them, for her.

There was a little beep and the door opened; Wade stepped into the room and said, “Yeah, these walls are paper thin and Silver Cinnamon Roll here is fucking up this whole pitch.” He smacked Colossus on the shoulder, “Give us the room for a minute. Go stand in the hall and think of how you couldn’t sell weed to Snoop Dogg if your life depended on it.”

Frustrated and disgusted with himself, Piotr stood from the bed and glanced at his wife, which she returned with a stony glare. He sighed and quietly closed the door behind him.

“Anyhoo,” Wade said with entirely too much excitement in his voice. “You’re a prime candidate for the Revenge Arc Club now, Mrs. Colossus.” He booped her nose and she looked like she would bite off the next thing that touched her. “I heard some stories about you in the Icebox, and if half of them are true--shit, if any of them are true, you’re tough enough and smart enough for this. I’ve known Marines and Navy Seals who weren’t as tough as you!”

“I doubt that,” she growled under her breath, eyes narrowed.

He laughed, “Your Cable impression’s getting really good! Furthermore, if Colossus knows where you are, there’s not a fucking thing in this world that will keep him from getting to you.” He plopped himself onto the bed like a kid at a sleepover. “If it was me, well, he’d let me sit in the Icebox awhile as a fancy time-out to think about what I’ve done. Actually, he has done that. But not you.” Wade waggled his finger. “You wait, he’ll crash through the wall like a big, sexy, Kool-Aid Man.”

Rhonda was silent. She didn’t doubt her husband would come for her, but knowing what he would see, what he would learn about her, she couldn’t imagine a world where he would still want to take her home after that. She sank onto the edge of the bed.

“Aaaand,” Wade drawled as if he was about to promise a child extra cherries on their ice cream, “I’m going in with you.” He paused for dramatic effect, watching Rhonda’s furrow twitch. He sobered. “Colossus wanted to go in with you, but I had to veto that. Hard pass,” he nodded conspiratorially, “You and I both know the first person he says privet to would stab him right in the liver.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, hopeless, “He wouldn’t last through lunch, before twenty guys jumped him.”

“You and me, though,” Wade continued, “we’ll be a good team. We know what it takes to survive in there. When push comes to shove, I know you’ll do whatever fucked up shit it takes to get the job done, and not lecture me about playing nice with the other kids and getting on the honor roll.” 

As upset as she was, Rhonda’s scowl deepened.

Wade pulled off his red mask, and he gave a subdued smile. “Besides...Guestbook,” he traced one of the visible Xs on her right forearm, where most of the zhostovo painting from that morning had scraped or peeled away. “Good chance for you to get some payback.”

She stiffened at the name, but instead of hitting him, she wilted. “There’s really no other way, is there?”

He held up his right hand, pinkie extended. “I pinkie swear, we’ll get out.”

Rhonda held up her right hand, to remind him she had no pinkie there, and vehemently lifted her middle finger instead. 

Wade shrugged. “Not to hard-sell, but Juggernaut can only buy us so much time, and the DMC will be here anywhere from twenty minutes to a few hours, so…”

She arched a brow in disbelief, “Cain? How’d you get him to help? I thought he ran off with Mystique.”

“Caaaiiin, so chummy!” Wade scoffed. “Well, the blue meanie drove off without him when shit hit the fan. When Cable found the collars have tracking chips, your buddy Caaaiiiin grabbed a few layin’ around and said he’ll throw off the DMC’s trail. How did you get him to like you so much? He literally ripped me in half, and I love him! You give him an insanely good blowjob or something?”

She blinked and gave an emphatic, “No. He...he always made it sound like he’d shred me limb from limb if he ever got the chance.” She shook her head. 

Wade stretched his shoulders. “So? The plan? You and me in, Cable and Colossus bust us out. Maybe Caaaiiin helps. They’ll probably bring on Domino and the lesbians as backup--ooh, that would be a great band! You on board or is the DMC gonna make that choice for you when they catch us at this hotel?”

Rhonda stared at her new wedding band, twisting the faux-brozne silicone on her finger before slowly slipping it off. Her heart felt like a lump of lead in her chest, cold and misshapen. She sighed with heartbroken resignation, “Let’s go,” and rose from the bed, clutching her bruised ribs for just a second before standing straight.  

In the hallway, Piotr leaned against the wall with his face in his hands. The door opened and he snapped straight to see Rhonda emerging with Wade behind her. Her expression was the same hardened inmate scowl she’d had when she first arrived home a few months ago. He had hoped she would never look like that again, and seeing it now twisted the knife in his gut like nothing else. He reached to touch her shoulder, “Rhonda, I--”

She grabbed his hand and pressed her ring into his palm. “Hold onto this.” She barely met his eyes for a second before she dropped her gaze again.

He looked down at the ring in his hand, confused, but before he could say a word, she strode down the hall, Wade on her heels, and snapped over her shoulder, “And you better not bring the girls anywhere near the Icebox.”

[randomlerson75]

Stuff people at my high school have said or done

• “I’ll just pretend I broke my ankle. I’ll limp a little”

• “You’re face doesn’t even have many bones”

• “Do you wipe your ass with your fingers”

• “I look cute though so I’m saving it”

• “They’re not dirty minded they just have a sexy brain”

• “This is not a good situation now. I’m not happy”

• *sleeping in class and randomly screams* “STOP!!!”

• “I’m coloring my weed symbol”

• “I stretch pretty violently I’m sorry”

• “I look like I’m more full of life than you”

•”I’m a good person” “haha ok”

• “I’m gonna round it to the nearest 11”

• “You don’t always have to swallow”

• “What a fucking time to be alive”

• “why are you harissing me”

• “That’s why you turn around and punch him in the face”. “I don’t have time”

• “You are the highest grade”

• “Does it taste normal”. “No it tastes good”

• “Why are we all up in this cold ass blueberry”

• “The sun can’t be that hot”

• “I could have overreached but that would make me stupid”

• “I’m all muscle bro, it’s tight on me”

• ”I’m a stripper that’s how I make my money”

• “You’re my mom” *talking to the teacher*

• “Are you high” “just get it off”

• *laughs normally* “you sound like a pedophile”

• “Pinkie ring until I roll”

• *about to jump off a cliff in a video for free diving* “push her”

• “Capitalism is ok”

• “It’s so funny how you can be alive one second and dead the next”

• “Change the m in marijuana to a j. Jarijuana”

• *teacher puts desk in the hallway*

• “He smoked water”

• “You can’t speak Latin” “Can you?”

• “May I acquire a pencil” “yes you may” “have a blessed day”

• “I’m going to write a book about how depressed I am”

• “God has forsaken me”

• *girls trying to stab each other with scissors*

• “I got a pretty long weenus. It looks like a penis”

• “My skeleton is twerking”

• *draws a skeleton twerking* “this is why it’s fun to learn art”

• “Why does he have eye holes?” “He’s a skeleton”

• “Don’t get my businesses ”

• “YOU ARE A WHORE”

• “love is so good”

• “Happy 17th day of birth”

• “You know it’s cold when you walk outside and it’s cold

• “why are you smiling like a creep Jess?” “That’s my normal face”

• “I’m living my best life, right here right now”

• *About thirty kids doing nothing but snapping*

• “Yes, I am very racist about smart boards”

• “I used to be like ;) but now I’m like :|”

• “Physically I’m here but mentally I’m still at home”

• “Emotions are like hurricanes. They never go where they are suppose too”

• “it took me a whole 27 minutes”

• “I would pay for the fire alarm to go off again”

• “Why did we get such a gay name like Florence”

• “this is my dad” *points to Albert Einstein

• *A REAL debate on wether to rip the clippy part off of mechanical pencils*

• “Not gonna lie. I grinded a friends marathon this weekend”

• “FINISH THE TEA”

• “You should know to never mess with another persons tech deck”

• “She has a thing against white people even though she’s white”

• “Speak of the devil. All white, what a fright”

• “You are a children”

• “You think a bull in a china shop? How about a bomb in a restaurant”

• “Me do”

• “I cheesed myself”

• “I never said I was going to jump you at Bojangles”

• “Knitting is VERY fun”

• “I’m not good enough, I’m great enough”

• “North Korea, South Korea, Same thing”

• *drops pencil* “NOOOOOOOOO”

• *light flickers* “excuse you”

• “You can make Australia bigger?”

• “Why don’t we burn people at the stake anymore for doing crimes. It was proven very effective”

• “It’s like I went into the pits of hell”

• “Can I borrow her crutches” “She has a lot”

• “You have arms?”

• “I was born thick”

• “I wasn’t sick I was drunk”

• “be a good person. Go go go”

• “Lotion and ravioli”

• “It smells like weed in here”

• “F*ck oxygen”

• “bring it back tomorrow or you die”

• “Tables are for glasses, not asses”

• “Stick it in between her boobs”

• “A lot of religions end in ism” “Christianiaism”

• “I just want someone to snort my ashes. That would be cool. Mix it with a little cocaine”

• “The United States of Australia”

• “Clark Kent who. I’m kidding, that’s not even Spider-Man”

• “Mental cheese”

• “Your blood is not supposed to make whistling noises”

• “Who sleeps on a Friday night”

• “A whole ass race”

• “that’s a sexy button” “I know right”

• *Screams* “and....”

• “Judaism is neither a religion or race”

• “Have you ever met someone and thought ‘wow. I would feel no remorse killing you’”

•“I hate this school with a burning passion”

•“Beep beep in your seats”

•“What is wrong with the world? The simulation is breaking”

•“What if we’re each other’s dad”

•“You use mental gymnastics to get around your head and get what you want”

•”You can’t just roll up to North Korea. You have to beat me in bingo”

•*teachers wear a dress and played despacito on the trumpet*

• “He’s a stingy boi”

• “A for anarchy? Dude i wish”

• “shut up I’m choking”

• “The snack the smiles back” “GOLDFISH!!!”

• “Where’s the pointy boi?” “I don’t know. I have the thick boi”

• “Dude. Fish can’t talk”

• “Stop taking my eraser” “it’s a ruler” “it can be whatever it wants to be”

• “A female vacuum is attractive”

• “I can love you but not like you”

• “I am mother gothel mentally, physically and spiritually

• “Mother gothel is my religion”

• “IM GETTING A COW!!!!”

• “It’s like Leonardo Da’Vinchi but instead it’s Leonardo Decaprio”

• “I wish I had some crippling disease. Schizophrenia would be nice”

• “I’m gonna kill someone for the rush of adrenaline I’ll get. I’ll get pumped, then I’ll work out”

• “Should I become an important political figure”

• “My cats might have eaten him”

• “Who else is trying to overthrow the government”

• “Where’s our kid?” “He looked at me funny and I had to teach him a lesson. I flushed him down the toilet”

• “I text Jesus all the time”

• “You are a saucy boi”

• “Your neck is really soft. Do you know that?”

• “Um. No professor. I don’t give a fuck”

• “Bro I look like a whole ass beetle”

• “You know? I’m definitely going to hell. But I’ve accepted that”

• “We need to go to the woods and have a collective cry”

• “Moths = whore”

• “Can we watch more food videos”

• “Just outlive the old people and health care prices can go back to normal”

• “Let’s just start the gladiator games again to handle population”

• “I’ll be Michael Phelps”

• “Don’t you just hate it when Nolan steps on your 69 Barbie head”

• “He’s so 20”

• “LITTLE BOY! WHERE ARE YOUR NIPPLES”

• “You guys disgust me”

• “I thought I had a good nights sleep but then I stood up and was like ‘oh no’”

• “you look better as an apple”

• “Why the fuck does it smell like weed in here. Mrs. Burch be blazing it up”

• “What is the coast of South Carolina growing” “Fish”

• “Why are we here on Halloween but not on Thanksgiving”

• “Even though I’m 18 I still might go trick or treating”

• “All minors should be allowed to trick or treat”

• “Tomorrow is not today, is it?”

• “ah yes, the glorious uno and dos”

• “I think Kanye is a crackhead”

• “Like. She’s not hideous”

• “Casserole and Gatorade?”

• “That’s what Google’s for girly”

• “this class has corrupted me”

• “You stepped on my fat”

• “What would Jesus do?”

• *Squeaks kazoo in anguish*

• “We’re going to watch a video about the depression” “weird, nobody has been following me around with cameras”

• “Approximately 50 minutes till ice cream”

• “Did you know heroin is not good for you?”

• “I have the constant need to fight myself and my demons”

• “what the hell?” “I know”

• “you are crack-a-lakin me up”

• “I have no muscles so what’s the point”

• “Flex on the legless”

• “didn’t that movie come out in November? Fifty shades of green?”

• *County music blares from another class down the hall*

• “I got a twin brother” “What’s his name” “Pj”

• “Keep the iPhone in your ear”

• “Super white red lipstick”

• “They just need a lot more dollars”

• “Don’t be like Anthony” “Isn’t he your son”

• “There’s a lot that needs to happen in the next.... today”

• *Plays bagpipe music walking down the hallway*

• “Say sorry to Billie Eilish”

• “We should make army merch”

• “Some of us have bitch lips”

• “Time is moco loco”

• “Alfred Adler sounds like Adolf Hitler”

• “Albert Einstein is my favorite president” “YES”

• “It’s winter berries”

• “She just unfollowed your ass”

• “Do you ever get so mad you’re like rrrrr”

• “Bear Grills filtered that shit”

• “The US army is trying to recruit us with socks and bandannas”

• “This dude tastes bad”

• “I’m a sophisticated retard”

• “It’ll get your heart rate up” “I think asthma will make my heart rate go down”

• “She was like egh and the he was like EGH”

• *Door won’t open* “DISRESPECTFUL”

• “if she wasn’t my sister she would be my baby”

• “Will you let me make love to an Oreo”

• “Directions turn me on”

• “I’ll eat you” “Dude that’s gay”

• “you’ve been had a 69 in here”

• “I’m gonna be real with you. Hayden is a whole ass lesbian”

• “I’m sorry that picture is ugly. Sorry sis”

• “A whole jump suit with pikachu on it”

• “He’s been birthed”

• “Ru Paul’s drag race has been dragged”

• “Imma sip some chlorine”

• “why do you gotta throw up”

• “suicidal dog collar”

• “I’m pulling out Murphy’s head ass”

• “you’re gonna be single forever”

• “Do you trust me?” “No” “why” “you know why” “I told the truth after”

• “I didn’t mean to make her suicidal”

• “I did it in the most respectful way I possible could” “oh Jesus”

• “it’s not my fault she had that much of a connection”

• “she’s a sly bitch”

• *dresses in a Thomas the train hat and plays Thomas the train theme song on a piano*

• “I’m getting better at this” “what” “this”

• “It’s just my master plan to manipulate people’s emotions and have many successes in my future”

• “How do you do that” “I just empty my eyes”

• “You know what. Give me my birthday back”

• “Bitch bye. Not even cousins”

• “they go away. They don’t putt putt”

• “why” “so you don’t die in a police chase”

• “are you a virgin” “yes” *throws paper* “there’s my virginity for you”

• “I’m not stupid. I’m just not smart”

• *tries to hit someone with a decapitated mannequin head that has swim goggles on and fake blood coming out of its eyes*

• “you ignant”

• “I hope she chokes”

• “I had to sit at the edge of my chair, feet flat on the floor and hold my horn”

• “I don’t want to get my freaking hair done”

• “he hates my moms guts” “yeah no shit”

• “ok. Can you go cry over there”

• “Fuckin Jurassic world”

• “will you please beat up my mom”

• *drops phone purposefully* *immediately gets scared*

• “I want a new mom” “then break her”

• “did you just say what’s frog juice”

• *freshman walk by* “oh shit there’s a parade of them”

• “that five year old king is a queen”

• “Join the ranks”

• “Garrett’s carressing the computer” “cool”

• “You’re going into my dragons mouth”

• “Don’t snap my crab”

• “Crab breaking black belt”

• “are you milking the crab”

• “Cameron buttered my lemons”

• “Mixed with god”

• “What’s the juice”

• “I’m your bestie and you won’t even tell me the juice”

• “Let’s amazon.com this”

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

Tiny Dancer part 5

here’s part 5 after a billion years it’s a million words long

Thank y’all so much for waiting, @fucking-petticoated-swashbuckler and I hope you enjoy it!

Read Part 1 here!

Read Part 2 here!

Read Part 3 here!

Read Part 4 here!

A beeping noise woke Race up with a start. Blinking his eyes open and groaning, he rolled into his side to grab his phone.

A text from Spot. At 8 am. Wonderful.

“what time will you be at the nye party?”

Beep.

“I don’t wanna show up too early.”

What he wasn’t going to say was that Spot Conlon could show up to any party at any time and not be questioned.

He looked back at his phone and typed a message. “probably about 7:30.”

Oh god, Spot was typing. A few agonizing seconds passed before he got a response. “I’ll stop by on my way there?”

Showing up to yet another party together. Yeah, sure. That sounded great. It seemed like one more time, and their friends would start to think they were dating or something.

Race had imagined that possibility before. But the closest real life had come to that was a week ago. On Christmas. When they’d hugged more than once in a single day.

He shook his head to clear his mind before typing out another text. “sure. see you then.”

He set his phone back down and rolled back onto his side, falling back asleep almost immediately.

The next time Race opened his eyes, he looked back at the clock. 12:47. PM. He had slept for almost thirteen hours, but he supposed it made sense after all the choreography work he had done the day before. He debated staying in bed a little longer; after all, he had nothing to do until Spot came over before the party. Oh, wow, Spot was coming over before the party. He checked his messages again to make sure the exchange wasn’t just a weird dream he had had, and sure enough, there it was. Race felt a little jolt in his gut, like what happened sometimes when he was nervous.

Wait. Was he nervous about this? Spot was just dropping by. They were just going to the party as friends. Huh. Friends. Yeah, sure, Race was pretty sure he had a crush on Spot - no, scratch that, he was definitely sure he had a crush on Spot, but it wasn’t like Spot liked him back. Maybe-

But then his stomach growled, interrupting his rapidly spiraling thoughts, and Race sighed, .

Oh, yeah. Humans needed food to survive.

Since it was almost 1 now, Race deemed it an appropriate time to have leftover pizza for breakfast. He heated it up and scarfed down a few slices while he watched a few episodes of Friends.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Another text from Spot. “be at your place 5:15? we can hang before we have to leave.”

He paused before answering. “yeah, sure.”

Race glanced at his watch. 3 o’clock. Just over two hours until Spot would arrive. Before he realized what he was doing, the couch and coffee table were against the walls. He plugged his phone into the speakers, selected a random playlist, and began to move.

Yo-Yo Ma, playing The Swan. Saint-Saëns.

The more he danced, the more his ballet movements turned to lyrical, though it took a lot of concentration to completely let go of his ballet technique.

Arabesque to penché. Enveloppé to retiré. Double fouetté, double fouetté, land in arabesque.

Not caring about the steps, Race focused only on matching his musicality to Yo-Yo Ma’s phrasing.

Chassé derrière, rond de jambe à terre, fondu rond de jambe en l’air, chassé devant to attitude.

Allongé, cloche to tendu devant. Cambré derrière, close to fifth.

Rond de jambe en dehors to one knee. Révérence.

Race lost sense of time; all he felt was the music coursing through him as he moved gracefully around the living room.

He didn’t know how many pieces he danced through, but when Race glanced at his watch again, he was surprised to see that a little more than an hour had passed. 4:07.

As he looked down, his legs and abs began to burn with soreness, and his clothes stuck to him with sweat. Exhaling loudly, he filled up a large glass of water and downed it quickly before making his way to the bathroom.

Race turned the faucet on the bathtub about three-quarters to “hot” and let the water run while he went to his bedroom to lay out clothes for the party. It wasn't that he cared that much about what he wore tonight, but he knew Spot liked to look nice for stuff like this, and they were showing up together, after all, so it would be good to look presentable.

He spent an embarrassingly long time choosing an outfit, but finally Race decided, and when he had laid everything out on his bed, he was proud. Black skinny jeans, a white button-down, a dark blue bomber jacket to go on top, and his black high top converse.

By the time he walked back into the bathroom, the bath was mostly full. Race poured in half a bag of Epsom salts, turned off the water, and undressed before sliding into the tub, sighing in relief when the warm water hit his sore muscles. He grabbed his phone from where it sat on the toilet and selected another playlist, and soon the sounds of Debussy were floating through the air. Race sank deeper into the water, finally able to relax and let the bath do its job. Sometimes he hummed along to the music or tapped his fingers against the rim of the tub, but mostly he just sat there, head back, listening.

Race wasn’t sure how long he was in the bath, but he must have nodded off at some point, because the next thing he knew, the sound of knocking at the front door cut through the music and startled him out of his relaxed haze. Drying his hand and reaching for his phone, he turned it on and checked the time. 5:18. Shit.

Spot had arrived.

Starting to drain the tub, Race stood up, quickly grabbed his towel, wiped off his upper body, and wrapped it hastily around his hips.

He felt his whole face turn red as he opened his front door to see Spot Conlon- wide-eyed, eyebrows raised, and beginning to blush as well before Race caught Spot’s gaze flit down for the smallest instant before meeting his eyes again.

Wait. Did Spot look flustered?

If so, it was probably only because Race was half naked and soaking wet.

Race inhaled deeply before breaking the silence. “I… uh, fell asleep. In the bath.”

Spot’s face relaxed, and he raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “... I see.”

Race bit his lip momentarily before gesturing inside his apartment. “I’ll just… get dressed? You can come in.”

“Alright, then.” Spot did just that and sat on the couch. Race closed the door. All he wanted to do was get dressed as soon as possible, but maybe it was the continuous prompting from Davey to “be a good host” that made Race hesitate.

“Do you, uh...want something to drink? I have water...uh, soda-”

“I can grab it,” Spot said, cutting him off and grinning. “You just worry about gettin’ some pants on.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Uh...be right back.” Race hurried to his bedroom and shut the door, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Did he really just try to offer Spot Conlon a drink, while wearing nothing but a towel? Race pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration for a moment and sighed. He really was hopeless, wasn’t he?

Race shook his head, trying in vain to forget that the past couple of minutes had happened, and went to his bed, where his clothes were lying. He got dressed, tucking in the shirt and slipping the jacket on over it, then went to the bathroom and ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times until it looked decent. Race looked at himself in the mirror and couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

I look pretty damn good.

As he walked out of his room, Spot nodded approvingly before standing up and walking over to Race.

“Ya look great. Ya just… look like a lawyer. Here.” Race held his breath as Spot reached up to his collar and proceeded to undo the two top buttons. “’S a party, Higgins, not a job interview.”

Race laughed genuinely, but still trying to conceal his awkwardness.

“You always did know how to dress for a party,” he said without thinking and immediately felt his face flush in embarrassment. Smooth, Race.

But then Spot laughed, too, and Race relaxed just a little bit.

“Ha. Thanks.” Spot bit his lip as he smiled, which Race couldn’t help but think of as endearing.

They sat in silence for a minute before Race spoke. “You know what? Let’s just go upstairs now. You’re Sarah’s best friend anyway; it’s not like you’re not always there.”

“I mean, yer not wrong,” Spot said with an amused grin. “Maybe Sarah and Kath still need help settin’ up.” He walked to the door, opened it, and gestured dramatically. “After you.”

Race laughed a little as he walked past, turning back when he was in the hallway to lock the door as Spot stood beside him. They walked up the stairs together, and soon they were at Sarah and Katherine’s apartment, just two floors above Race’s. Spot knocked on the door and after a few seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah, still in a t-shirt and shorts, but with her hair up in a loose bun and secured with a gold clip.

“Hey, you two,” she said with a grin, throwing Spot a (not so) subtle wink. Spot rolled his eyes, but Race thought he could see the tiniest flush in his cheeks. “Come on in. I’m glad you’re here, actually; Kath and I could use just a little help.”

Race nudged Spot as they followed Sarah inside. “Looks like you were right.”

He giggled a bit as Spot nudged him back. “I always am, Higgins.”

Sarah disappeared into her room, and Katherine waved at Race and Spot from the kitchen, an oven mitt on her hand, when they entered the living room. “Hey, guys. Glad you’re here. Could you do me a solid and move the furniture so we can have some room for dancing?”

“Sure thing, Kath,” Race replied. He and Spot got to it, and he realized that they worked well together, even if it was just moving the couch and a couple of armchairs to strategic locations. They didn’t have to say anything; both just seemed to know where everything should go and how to move it there, and soon there was a sizable space in the living room, plenty big enough for dancing.

“How’s that?” Spot asked. Before Katherine could reply, Sarah emerged from her bedroom, now dressed in a short-sleeved, slightly sheer black top and sparkly skirt, gold heeled sandals on her feet. She grinned at Spot and Race.

“There’s so much room now!” She exclaimed, walking into the middle of the space and doing a little dance. “Tonight’s gonna be so much fun.”

“Sarah!” Katherine called. “You have time for dancing later. Come help me in here.”

Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Coming.” She glanced over her shoulder at Spot and Race, who were still standing next to the couch they had just moved. “You guys can chill. We just have to pour some drinks and stuff.”

Did she wink at Spot again before disappearing into the kitchen? Race couldn’t tell.

Spot’s cheeks turned the slightest shade pinker. She definitely had winked at him. Race had no time to think on that, however, before becoming intensely conscious of Spot placing his hand on the small of Race’s back and walking with him to the couch, sitting down almost a little too close to be platonic. Was this Spot’s way of nonverbally flirting?

The two sat for a while, avoiding eye contact but still stealing glances in the other’s direction. Spot finally opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but before he could, they both heard music drift in from the kitchen.

“Come on, babe, why don’t we paint the town… and all that jazz…” Sarah appeared in the doorway, lip-syncing along to the music now playing from the bluetooth speaker, Katherine was behind her, red-faced, laughing, and miming playing a trumpet.

“Question,” Spot interjected as the music continued, Sarah’s dancing getting more outrageous by the second. “How much have the two of you had to drink already? Sarah, this is normal for you, but Kath?”

“Hey!” Katherine tried to look offended, but she was still laughing too hard. “I like to have fun...and I’ve only had a glass of wine. I’ll be right back.” She backed out of the room, leaving Sarah still dancing, and hurried back into the kitchen.

Spot laughed and shook his head, glancing at Race before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the middle of the floor. “Come on, Higgins. If Sar’s going to dance, we might as well join her.”

“Spot, the party hasn't even actually started,” Race tried to protest, freaking out a little at the thought of even more physical contact with Spot.

“Hey, it's never too early to party,” Spot said. “Besides, we can't leave Sarah all alone, can we?”

Rolling his eyes, Race raised the hand Spot was holding. “Fine. Twirl!”

“What?” Race grinned. “You heard me.”

Now it was Spot’s turn to roll his eyes, but he did as Race said, twirling quickly and trying to hide his smile. Then he turned to Race. “Now you.”

Race dramatically twirled, making it graceful even when he had to duck a little to fit all the way under Spot’s arm. He grinned. “You’re too short for this, Conlon. Maybe you should be the designated twirler.”

“Fuck off, Higgins.” But Spot was laughing now. He even twirled again just for fun, and Race’s face lit up. They danced a bit more, and the song was just ending when Katherine came back out of the kitchen, looking frazzled.

“Sarah, shit, we forgot to get ice,” she said. “And there’s not much time till everyone gets here, and I haven’t finished making the-”

“Kath, it’s okay,” Sarah interrupted, already grabbing her coat. “The store’s not far.”

“Change into your running shoes,” Katherine said. “You don’t want to get blisters before the party even starts.” “You’re right. Thanks, Kath.” Sarah grinned at her and slipped off her heels before pulling on a pair of sneakers that were sitting by the front door.

“Spot, could you go with her?” Katherine asked with a sheepish smile. “I know it’s not far, but people are crazy on holidays, y’know?”

Spot nodded immediately. “’Course.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.” Sarah’s tone was sarcastic, but there was still a grin on her face. “Race, you wanna come, too?” “Actually, Race,” Katherine said. “I need some help putting up lights if you’re okay staying here?”

Race swallowed his disappointment at being separated from Spot for even a few minutes and nodded. “Sure, Kath. No problem.” She smiled at him. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”

“We’ll be back soon.” Sarah was out the door then, and Spot squeezed Race’s shoulder for the briefest second before following her and closing the door behind him.

Race turned away from the door and spent the better part of the next forty-five minutes helping Katherine string up some extra lights inside the apartment.

“So, Race…” Katherine handed him another string of lights to put up. “Sarah’s mentioned it more than a couple of times...how about you and Spot?”

Race nearly fell off the stool he was standing on to be able to reach the place where the wall met the ceiling, and he did drop the string of lights. Katherine caught them and handed them back. “I guess that means there’s something going on, then?”

“Um… no? Not yet at least.” Race shook his head. “Wait, I didn’t mean- Kath!”

Katherine rolled her eyes as she fought off a laugh.

“It’s not like he even likes me back.”

Race narrowed his eyes at Katherine as she burst out laughing this time, trying to catch her breath.

“Race.”

“What?”

“Race,” she said again, her voice trembling with mirth. “Sweetie. I’m going to need you to think about what you just said.”

“About Spot?” Race frowned. “But, I mean, it’s true-”

“No, it’s not!” Katherine was still grinning, but her tone was exasperated. “Haven’t you noticed? You’re both head over heels for each other and too stubborn to admit it. For goodness sake, Race, he came over to your place two hours early just to be with you.”

Race just stared at her as he struggled to process this. Spot couldn’t like him back, he just thought of them as friends...right? But then Race thought about all the little touches, the jokes, the laughter, every single interaction they had had over the past few months. And Spot had asked to come over early. Very early.

“Holy shit, does Spot like me back?”

“Took you this long.” Katherine smiled and shook her head, reaching to touch Race’s arm. “Hey, if you play your cards right, you might have a new year’s kiss.”

Race sighed a little and looked at her. “You really think so?”

“Definitely.” She winked at him. “Okay, but first, help me finish putting these up.” She gestured toward the remaining strings of lights. “People will be arriving any minute.”

“Oh...oh, yeah! Sorry.” Race grabbed the lights and put them up quickly, then stepped off the stool and put it back by the counter. “Alright, you need any more help?”

“Um…” Katherine glanced around the living room, then shook her head after a moment. “Nope, I think we’re done.”

“Cool.”

The front door opened then, and Race and Katherine turned to see Sarah and Spot walk in, Spot carrying a couple of bags of ice and Sarah carrying a bottle of margarita mix.

“What?” She said innocently at Katherine’s raised eyebrow. “I didn’t want us to run out in the middle of the party.”

“Uh-huh.” Katherine rolled her eyes. “Go put it in the kitchen, you alcoholic.”

Sarah laughed and hurried into the kitchen, beckoning for Spot to follow her so he could put the ice down. They came back out a couple of minutes later, and Spot made a beeline for Race and nudged him playfully with his shoulder. Race grinned and nudged him back.

“How was your adventure with Sarah?” He asked. Spot laughed.

“I wouldn’t call it that; it was nothin’ compared to some of our other exploits,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate. After the talk he had had with Katherine, Race couldn’t help but wonder if Sarah had subjected Spot to something similar.

“Hey, you wanna sit down for a while before more people get here?” He asked. Spot nodded, and they went back to the couch. And this time, Race made sure to sit a little closer than perhaps was strictly necessary, and his heart soared when Spot didn’t scoot away.

Sarah grabbed her heels and sat down on the couch next to them to change shoes again. When she was done, she stood up and tossed her sneakers back against the wall near the door.

“Alight, I’m ready to party,” she said with a grin. “When’s everyone getting here again?”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Katherine went to answer it as Sarah pulled up a playlist on her phone and started it. Music blasted out of the speaker again, echoing around the apartment.

Katherine pulled the door open, and let in Jack, Specs, Davey, Crutchie, and Les.

“Happy New Year, Kathy!” Jack exclaimed, grabbing her in a tight hug. She laughed and hugged him back.

“We still have a few hours till then, Kelly,” she said.

“Yeah, but we can start celebrating now!” Jack let go of Katherine, then he grabbed Specs and dragged him into the middle of the living room to dance.

“He may have had a beer or two before we left,” Davey said, and Katherine laughed. She pulled Sarah into the middle as well.

Within the hour, everyone else had shown up, and soon the apartment was filled with people and laughter and music. Tearing his gaze away from his dancing friends, Race turned his head to glance at Spot, who was standing by the TV on the opposite side of the room. He was leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, and he was bobbing his head to the beat of the music. After a few seconds, Race’s feet began to carry him in Spot’s direction until he arrived next to him.

“Party's fun.” Spot commented, turning his head toward Race. “Surprised you’re not dancin’.”

“I mean, I did a bit of dancing earlier,” Race replied, “before you came over. It wasn’t much, just some improv...anyway, I guess I’m still a little sore from that. I might dance later.

Spot nodded, and they stood there next to each other for a few more minutes in comfortable silence. Race opened his mouth to say...well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say. But he didn’t get the chance, because Led Zeppelin’s Thank You started playing, and Spot noticeably perked up.

“Oh, I love this song,” he said.

Something in Race’s brain clicked, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed Spot’s hand.

“Spot Conlon,” he said with a cheesy grin. “May I have this dance?”

Spot couldn't hide a grin of his own. “Yeah, Higgins. You may.”

Race made a few failed attempts to control his racing heart rate as Spot tenderly placed his hands on Race’s hips. He put his own on Spot’s shoulders, and they began to sway with the music. “So we haven't had really a whole lotta time to talk today,” Spot said. “What with the decoratin’ and me havin’ to go with Sarah to get ice.”

“So…” Now that they had a chance to actually talk to each other, Race couldn't think of anything to say. Thoughts were flying around in his head a million miles an hour, and he just concentrate when he could feel every one of Spot's fingers gently touching his hips, his back, his waist. Was it his imagination, or did Spot pull him closer, just slightly?

As he focused back in on reality, he could hear Spot quietly singing along.

“If the sun refused to shine, I would still be lovin’ you…” He glanced up at Race, who immediately blushed. After a second, Spot stopped singing and turned just the tiniest bit pink as well. Race could barely wrap his mind around it - he was at a party, dancing with Spot Conlon to a love song. And there was a very good chance Spot was thinking the same thing about him.

“You're...you're a good singer,” Race said and immediately mentally kicked himself. Was that seriously the best thing he could come up with? But Spot just laughed a little.

“I'm alright, I guess,” he replied. “Far from the best. There's a reason I mostly just stick with playing the piano.”

“And dancing?” Race glanced over. “You were one of the best dancers in our classes in high school. I haven’t seen you dance in forever.”

“You know, I haven’t really danced in forever. Aside from, ya know, this kinda thing.”

“You should,” Race said. “I could...I mean, maybe we could do something in the studio after class one day. Um...dance, I mean.”

Spot grinned. “I’d like that...the dancing, I mean.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and Race laughed despite the heat he felt in his cheeks.

“Cool,” he replied. “Then it’s a date.”

“That it is.”

Jesus. A date? Really?

As the song ended, Spot turned his head toward the kitchen. “Do ya wanna get some food?”

Race nodded. “Yeah, I’m famished.”

Spot let go of Race’s waist, but immediately grabbed his hand. They passed Katherine and Sarah, who were dancing to the next song, and Katherine flashed Race a grin and a thumbs-up. The kitchen was blessedly empty; everyone else was still in the living room or on the outside balcony, though Race couldn’t imagine how they managed it with the snow that covered every inch.

Race went to the counter, where there was spread of refreshments laid out, and put a little bit of everything on his plate.

“So.” Spot’s voice made Race turn his head.

“So?”

Spot smiled a bit. “I dunno, I was hopin’ you’d have something ta talk about.”

“I, um…” Race grabbed a few crackers from his plate and stuffed them in his mouth in an attempt to stall for a few seconds. But Spot just continued to smile at him. God, why was he being so awkward?

This whole thing was harder than he’d imagined.

Fuck it. Time to dive in.

“We’ve...we’ve been hanging out these past few months. It’s been really fun, Spot. Every class is more fun with you there playing the piano, and-” he paused to take a breath. “And I’m just really glad you came to be my accompanist because now we’re friends again and we see each other every day-”

“Yeah, Higgins. Me too.” Spot stole a cracker from Race’s plate and ate it with a smirk. “It’s fun playin’ the piano for your dancin’, too. You’re really good at it. It’s beautiful to watch.”

“I can’t be much better than you were ten years ago.”

“You sure about that?”

Race laughed a bit before responding. “You were always the best dancer at our studio. In every style, except maybe not tap.” He smirked. “I think I had you there.”

Now it was Spot’s turn to laugh. “I think you’re right.”

“I wish I could see you dance again.” Wait, did Race just say that?

“You’ve seen me dance,” Spot replied. “Out there in the living room a few minutes ago.”

“That wasn’t dancing and you know it. It was more...swaying than anything.”

“It fuckin’ counts, Tony,” Spot retorted through laughter.

Race blinked a few times before raising an eyebrow. “Did you just- you didn’t call me by my last name.”

Spot’s face turned the slightest shade of pink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” The corner of Race’s mouth turned up as his head lowered, allowing his eyes to focus on his feet, or the floor- anything but making eye contact with Spot. “No one’s really used my first name in forever, nickname or otherwise.”

“I get that.” Race felt Spot put his hand on his shoulder. God, why did his heart race every single time Spot touched him? What would happen if he just kissed him right here?

Spot’s voice brought him back to reality. “Is it...is it okay if I call you by it? If you don’t want me to, it’s fine-”

“I’d like it if you called me ‘Tony’ more,” Race interrupted. “It’s...it’s nice to hear it again, especially coming from you.”

Spot grinned. “Okay then, Tony. You want another drink?”

“Sure.”

Spot grabbed a pitcher that sat on the counter near the food and poured some of the reddish liquid into their empty cups. He handed Race’s back to him. “Gotta love Sarah’s mixed drinks.”

Race laughed and took a sip, grimacing just a little at the taste. “‘Mixed’ is a strong word. I think there’s more tequila in here than anything else.”

“It has margarita mix in it. But yeah, I guess you could call it ‘flavored tequila.’” Spot chuckled, then put his arm around Race’s waist and briefly rested his head on his chest before Race returned the hug. Wow, that’s gay. Or… bi, I guess.

Race raised his right arm, checking his watch. “It’s about nine. What do you wanna do for three hours?”

When Spot lifted his chin to look Race in the eye, Race could see the faint shadows Spot’s eyelashes cast onto his high cheekbones. “I dunno. We could-” He grabbed Race’s hand, pulling his torso to face him. “-dance some more?”

Race giggled slightly, grinning. “In here?”

Spot shrugged. “Why not? We can hear the music, we don’t hafta be around all those people...”

“Alright.” In a move more forward than he thought he could be at the moment, Race grabbed Spot by the waist and pulled him close. “Let’s dance.”

Race didn’t know how long they ended up dancing. All he cared about what was the way they inched closer and closer to each other, until finally Spot had his arms wrapped around Race’s waist, and his head was resting on his shoulder. Race’s heart skipped a beat when Spot pulled him closer by the waist, seemingly unknowingly.

The kitchen door opened abruptly, pulling Race out of his trance. Sarah poked her head through. “Few minutes ‘til midnight. You two planning on watching the ball drop? Or you just gonna hide out in here…alone?”

Spot smiled, turning his head toward Sarah, still keeping his hands on Race’s waist. “We’ll be out in a sec, Sar. Give us a minute.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” As Sarah slowly closed the door, Spot looked back at Race.

Race inhaled slowly. “What was that about?”

“Tony.”

“Yeah?”

Spot took a deep breath. “Tony, I-”

“Thirty! Twenty-nine!” From outside the door, they could hear everyone counting down.

“We should go out there.”

Race nodded. “Yeah.” His heart sank, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Spot grabbed his hand, almost dragging him out to the living room.

“Nine! Eight! Seven!” Spot and Race joined in the enthusiastic chanting.

“Three! Two! One!”

Everyone cheered, clamoring to see the ball drop as each couple paired off.

Race glanced down at Spot before pulling him close. “Can I-”

Before Race could finish, Spot reached up, sliding his hand over the back of Race’s neck and rising onto his toes, pressing his lips to Race’s. Race’s eyes widened before slipping closed, and he returned the kiss in kind.

They pulled apart to cheers from the others.

“It’s about time,” Sarah called, leaning on Katherine. Race grinned at them, and when he turned back to Spot, he saw that he was grinning, too.

“Happy New Year, Tony,” Spot whispered before pulling him in for another kiss.

[forcebaby732]

Why Didn’t You Kill Me, Part 8

Rey jumps slightly as the door slams. She frowns. How will they ever find the common ground they need to find? How will she save her friends AND Ben Solo?

She looks around the kitchenette/common area. Tiny droids start to clean up their mess. She’s impressed by the luxury of it all.

There’s a table and black cushioned benches around the circular room. One door leads to the cockpit. Another to Ben’s private quarters. Next to that appears to be a refresher room, and then a small hallway that should lead to some crew quarters. To the left of that, what she imagines are the engine room and other equipment compartments. And finally the short corridor to the ramp.

She explores the crew hallway.

Rey finds a closet sized room with cots stacked four high. This craft was designed to operate with a small, to non-existent staff.

She collapses into the bottom cot, sliding her bag beneath her and taking out the broken pieces of Luke’s lightsaber. The shattered shards, so much like her and Ben. She has no idea if they can ever be brought back together again…

----

Sleep is impossible for Kylo Ren, or is he Ben Solo? He doesn’t even know anymore. If his mask was a childish disguise… what does that mean for his name? A name that instilled fear worlds over. What did it mean now that everyone thought him dead? Should he reclaim his place, or build something new for himself…

NO, he had sacrificed too much for it to end like this. As Supreme Leader he would finally put an end to this damned conflict, a war to end all wars. Peace through strength and control… no more families like his… no more lies…

But then, Ben wasn’t sure what was lie and what truth was anymore. He gripped his head as he lay on a queen sized bed (an upgrade he made sure to demand), black sheets twist around his legs. The memories flood him again. Once tainted and hidden… now bright and pure and heart wrenching… and… had that really been Han Solo he heard whisper in his ear…

Shouting a grunt he kicks away the sheets and flings open the door.

All is quiet. Too quiet. Painfully quiet. He’s alone with his mind, his memories and his crimes.

Ben flees to the cockpit, trying to focus on the instruments.

What would he do if he was back on the Supremacy right now? If he hadn’t followed this damned girl across the galaxy. If he hadn’t felt that urgent tug of the force in his chest…

Perhaps this was a very round-about machination of the force… perhaps this was how he would convince Rey to join his side and rule with him like she was meant to do.

Most beings were not intelligent enough to govern themselves, they needed the First Order, but not with that sniveling sycophant Hux at the reigns. That weak wretch. He savored all the ways he could kill him painfully and slowly.

It was with these fantasies in mind that he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, in the captain’s chair of his cockpit, the universe flying over him.

----

That’s how Rey finds him hours later.

She had woken with a jolt. It took some time to realize where she was and what was happening.

I’m on board a luxury shuttle with Kylo Ren, she tells herself. We escaped a coup attempt. We’re flying across the galaxy to repair my lightsaber and bring down the first order... Well…  he may actually be using me to reclaim his throne…. But I won’t make the same mistake twice.

She would save Ben Solo or kill them both trying.

Rey sighs darkly, her stomach dropping. She rolls out of the cot, knowing she’s unlikely to fall back to sleep with the anxiety filling her. She starts digging through some compartments looking for clothes. Her current attire is torn, burnt and filthy.

She finds some underclothes, thick black leggings and a black, long sleeve shirt. They’ll have to do for now.

In the refresher she tries to clear her head, relishing the feel of warm mist on her skin. But the lack of a clear plan leaves her with a cold dread inside that the warm water can’t reach.

Donning her temporary attire and toweling her hair, Rey walks back into the common area when she notices the cockpit compartment is slid open.

Walking towards it, she sees the top of that head.

A jet black mop of curls dangle over the headrest. His breathing is slow and steady. She peaks around him to steal a look at his sleeping face. He looks so much more peaceful that the last time she’d seen him like this, unconscious in the ruins of Snoke’s throne room, covered in debris and blood. He’s back in his black tank top and softer looking pants... Is that real silk??

Looking back up, her fingers inch towards those raven locks. Looks so soft…

But she catches herself.

The last time she had to stop herself from killing him. Now she has to stop herself from… she doesn’t know what she’s trying to do.

Rey sighs and slumps into the co-pilot seat beside him. What a strange turn of fate…

Rey closes her eyes and loses herself in thought…about everything that’s happened…about the people she misses… her friends. She recounts the memories she’s made with her group of rebels in the last few months… picturing every smile in her mind… feeling more love in that short time than she’d experienced her entire life. They banished her loneliness… but only one person had ever really told her she wasn’t alone… they made her feel important… but only one person had told her she wasn’t nothing, and offered her everything. And the last smile she remembers… is Ben’s… on the planet when she told him they’d kill Hux together… and with that image she drifts off to sleep beside him in the cockpit.

----

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

A low alarm sounds and Ben is jolted awake. He stands and hits a button. They’re about to drop out of light speed. Had he slept that long?

He lifts an arm to massage a kink in his neck when he turns and sees a figure in the seat beside him.

Ben startles and stumbles back, knocking over a hydro spanner, making a ruckus.

Rey wakes a little and rubs her eyes, moaning her annoyance at the noise.

“What are you doing?” comes his low angry voice.

Her eyes fly open mid-stretch and she jumps to her feet.

Shit!

“I… I fell asleep.”

His mind races. She must have walked in here, seen him asleep in the chair and decided to stay? Should he be Angry? He can’t decide what he feels except shock.

“Don’t do that,” he says darkly.

Her eyes are wide as she fumbles for something to say.

“I didn’t… I mean…”

She feels fear and hurt rolling off of him again, bubbling up from someplace deep.

“If you don’t want me, If you won’t stand with me, then don’t pretend like you do, don’t pretend like you will,” he practically growls. 

Rey winces and it’s like a blow to her chest.

There are those truly terrifying swirl of emotions again, both from him and from herself, the ones she doesn’t want to acknowledge. She won’t help him reclaim his place of evil, but that doesn’t means she doesn’t want....

The craft lurches, they stumble as their ship drops out of light speed.

Ben grabs the console, steadying himself. He turns his attention to the readouts. They’re right where they need to be.

“Mustafar,” he whispers, turning to the task at hand. 

Rey looks out at a seemingly black world.

“What is this place?”

Ben shoots her an angry, childish look as he straps himself into the captains chair. She follows suit, buckling in. When he doesn’t answer, Rey feels her anger rising as well.

“I’m here aren’t I?” she practically yells and he looks at her. “If I didn’t want to be, I would have stabbed you in your sleep. You’re not the only one who got hurt so get over yourself.”

He raises his eyebrows a touch and looks at her thoughtfully. This only annoys her more.

“Now tell me where the fuck we are,” Rey could swear with the best of them if she had to, she was no wilting flower, and she wasn’t going to put up with his phony victim bullshit.

His eyebrows go higher. Before he makes a “tch” sound and looks back ahead.

“This is the world Darth Vader made into his home.”

She gasps softly.

Soon they’re flying over a volcanic world, a landscape of molten lava as far as the eye can see. But in the midst of the seemingly endless desolation, a mountain like structure appears over the horizon, only it’s not a mountain. Rey is amazed to see that it’s actually a castle, jutting high into the sky.

They land on a metal grated landing pad.

This is the exact spot from Kenobi’s vision. Ben thinks.

They look out at the castle anxiously before Ben rises. He disappears into his quarters and reemerges with thin, cool black pants. He still dons just a tank top. 

“Grab a pack,” he says. Rey obeys, emptying her pack and slingling it over her shoulder. She pulls her loose hair up into a single bun. He has a pack also. 

They’re down the hallway, getting ready to lower the ramp when Ben looks down at Rey.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

She looks down at herself, “My clothes were ruined,” she says matter-of-factly, “this was all I could find on board.” 

Without another word, Ben puts a hand on each of her shoulders... and RIPS the sleeves off her shirt.

“HEY!” She screams. Rey tries pushing him off but he wont let go until the sleeves are fully torn away. Then he rips a line down from the collar for good measure.

She finally force pushes him back into the wall.

“What in the holy living Kriff do you think you’re doing!?”

Ben stands and dusts himself off, hitting the ramp button like nothing happened at all.

“It’s too hot for that,” he says impassive. “You’re welcome.”

She just cannot respond for a moment. She will never understand this man! Now she’s wearing something closer to a tank top like him. Her breast band peaking through the low ripped holes from the sleeves.

“You’re welcome?” she fumes, “Do you normally run around ripping women’s clothes off?”

He turns to her sharply, “The only pervert on this shuttle, is you.” He points at Rey’s face and she’s left sputtering.

“Me... what... how... how dare...”

Ben leans into her, stopping just away from her face.

“You’re the one creeping around at night, spying on men when they sleep,” he says in that soft deep voice of his. “Try to control yourself, alright?”

Ben smiles a smarmy smile that reminds her of Han Solo, and struts away down the ramp, leaving the thoroughly flustered and angry young would-be jedi in the doorway.

He relishes the sound of her mumbling and cursing behind him. 

She was so going to get him for this.

----

ON Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990587/chapters/32697783

----

Part 1: http://bit.ly/2IdHDTN

Part 2: http://bit.ly/2Ie5q5G

Part 3: http://bit.ly/2oVTDRD

Part 4: http://bit.ly/2HztYF7

Part 5: https://bit.ly/2G8K7RP

Part 6: https://bit.ly/2GfN5YH

Part 7: https://bit.ly/2upJMJa

Part 9: https://bit.ly/2GZFflF

Part 10: https://bit.ly/2HnC9FF

Part 11: https://bit.ly/2HucNsb

Part 12: https://bit.ly/2vt5sED

Part 13: https://bit.ly/2HvMiDH

Part 14: https://bit.ly/2KxOWGN

Part 15: https://bit.ly/2Kt5r6l

Part 16: https://bit.ly/2x5QLYR

----

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