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misspandalily · 8 years ago

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update! - Immortal Love (Ch8)

ANOTHER CHAPTER. FINALLY.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, and I am certainly not excellent with brain anatomy/functioning.

AO3 | FFN

I take a tentative step forwards, praying that the shrieking will die away and the phantom figure from yesterday will dissipate.

Blink.

The piercing noise stops, to my relief. And then there's a blissful silence, save for the panting of late students running into school with their bags bobbing up and down behind them. I recognise Moegi streaming past and sending a brief wave before disappearing into another hallway.

Snap out of it, Tenten, you're just hearing things.

I swivel around for extra measure, skimming the immediate corridor for any signs of red paint or creepy messages. None. My breathing starts slowing down to a normal pace as I lean against the door of Umino's classroom, chest rising and falling with each intake and outtake of breath. The distinct smell of cleaning liquid and sweat flows into my nostrils the moment I calm down enough to start registering the other events transpiring around me, like the outline of Gai running to the beat of his exercise music in the school gym, and the disturbing notion that not one person passing by seems to have heard a thing. Which leads to two different, yet equally harrowing hypotheses:

One, my auditory cortex is acting up and everything unusual I've been hearing over the past two days is absolute bogus. (Rebuttal: But that doesn't explain why everything feels and sounds so real.)

Two, only I can hear the noises.

And, honestly, as bad as it sounds, I would take cranial dysfunction over the second option any day.

If training with Lee for three straight years has taught anyone anything, it's that exercise is the best aphrodisiac in the world. So, for the first time in days, and during first period no less (undoubtedly, Umino will be stamping a cold, hard detention next to my record), my feet carry themselves over to the dojo for some hearty frustration-venting, stress-relieving, one-sided violence.

Fun fact: it really doesn't hurt that no teacher ever ventures into the dojo unless they're immune to the scent of sweat, like Gai, who advocates for fitness and body positivity so fervently that he wouldn't kick me out even if he had to, "legal action be damned".

The pungent smell of perspiration diffuses throughout the centre with increasing rapidity when I start sinking my fists into the bag and round housing it into oblivion. Bend, twist, release. The bag swings up higher from the impact and creaks as it whooshes down like a pendulum. Breathe, Tennie. You're not going crazy. There's a perfectly logical explanation for everything - the weird noises, the raid, the paint, the threats.

It's just a stupid prank.

Please be a stupid prank.

"Fancy seeing you here," Temari angles a not-so-subtle glance at the flushed cheeks and sopping wet hair that is indicative of a post-exercise shower and frowns, "Where have you been?"

"In the dojo," I shrug, settling my tray onto the designated cafeteria table. "I didn't feel like going to class."

Which isn't exactly a lie, so to speak, as much as it is veiled truth.

She watches me carefully when I sit down and then turns away. "I heard something interesting from Hinata," she says with a tone of nonchalance.

"Oh?"

"She tells me that Neji told her that he's visiting your place tonight, at seven."

"So, does she also tell you that I told Neji that his visitation was pending approval, and from not-me?"

Temari lets the corners of her lips droop dramatically. "No. But I am glad that you two are on speaking terms again."

"Yeah, me too," I take a moment to breathe. "But, just curious. Did Neji happen to say anything else to Hinata...before she told you?"

"HA," Temari shouts, slamming her palms onto the hard plastic of the table as she stands up, chair legs scraping deafening against the floor. The sound echoes throughout the cafeteria and draws some startled glances from nearby patrons. "Not really," she shrugs, feigning disinterest and seating herself again. "Just that he wouldn't be home for dinner at Buckingham Palace again."

"I thought he lived with his mother?"

"Really?" She responds, genuinely incredulous.

"That's what he told me," I bite into a sandwich, letting its contents slide down my throat. Of course, right after that, he'd invited himself to my house for the night. And then my stalker decided to make themself known - at school. So clearly, they were a student, or someone who was skilled enough to disappear at a moment's notice. But seriously, that noise.

"Hm," she hums contemplatively, giving me a funny look.

"What?"

"I just had no idea he lived with her, is all. In fact, none of us did. Except you, now." Neji suddenly makes an appearance in the cafeteria with Naruto on one side and a grouchy Sasuke on the other. Temari eyes them thoughtfully. "Fascinating."

Fishy, is more like it. Hyuga heiress goes haywire over truffle advocacy, Hyuga poster boy pops in with a haircut - which, going by the rest of the Hyugas in their mansion, is uncommon to the point of unspeakable - and a determination to expose...something...tonight, Uchiha exchange student happens to move into the apartment next door, and right after making up with aforementioned Hyuga heiress, the apartment gets ransacked and creep-stamped, and said creep comes to school and disappears. Note to self: target Naruto to find out what happened at home; alternatively, ask Hinata herself. And avoid Sasuke.

Even if he has amazing cheekbones.

And the dreams. The first few are few enough to be dismissed as an overactive imagination. But, afterwards, it's coincidental. Almost real.

"-right, Tenten?"

"What?"

Temari looks over, mildly affronted that I didn't hear what she just said, and exchanges a Look with an apple-toting Ino, who responds with a suspicious glare.

"You were thinking about Neji, weren't you?"

"No," I say quickly, noticing said boy being pushed to the taekwondo team's table by Naruto. "Shut up. And I wasn't, for your information."

She folds her hands together and places her chin on top of her fingers. "Then what, pray tell, were you thinking about so deeply that prevented you from listening to the dulcet tones of my voice?"

"They weren't dulcet-"

"Yeah, that's great Temari," Ino waves her right hand dismissively, using the other to bring the apple to her mouth and bite it. "So, in all seriousness. Are you alright, Tenten?"

"Why? Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just been a little...off. Lately. I mean, more so than usual."

"Wow. And I'm fine," I lie, but stress the last word anyway - because who in their right mind would believe my recounts of the past few days? Definitely not her, or Temari, or anyone except my grandparents. There simply isn't any point, at this moment in time, in venting about something that seems more likely to be happening in my mind as the days pass. "I'm tired, is all. From the dojo practice."

They see through the lie, clearly, and send each other another cryptic glance before resuming their meals.

"All I'm saying," Ino continues airily, "Is that if you're feeling bothered by anything at all, we're your friends and we're here to help."

"I'm fine," I respond sharply. Because, on top of everything that's been happening lately, there's still that big, gaping question of where my mother is. Where she had been, when Asuma Sarutobi died in a car crash. Why she hadn't been in that dinky little apartment next to Ichiraku's that she'd left behind right after his death. Why, when I'd been staying in it for months in the hopes that she'd come back and pull me into her arms and tell me that it's alright, you don't have to deal with this without me anymore, she hadn't shown up.

No calls, no texts, no emails. Not even a letter, or a word to her mother.

"I'm fine," I repeat in a softer tone. They spot the lie again, but choose to shrug it off. "Thank you."

You are no stranger to gilded finery. You live in a world where golden dragons line hallways, beads of jade crafted by the finest workers hang down the necks of court women, and food served on plates of gold are placed at your dinner table.

A delicate box of jewels delivered to your bedroom has no effect on you, in contrast to the letter accompanying it. Your husband, despite being a man of war, writes with elegant calligraphy.

He has been away for far longer than the expected time, but you are a patient woman. You spend your days preparing for your child's arrival, making small talk with the palace maids and busying yourself enough to collapse onto your bed in a state of fatigue every night.

And one day, the letters stop arriving. The ones you send out never find their home in the hands of a man with pale, white hands. You don't need to see the messenger arriving at the Palatial Court, scroll in hand and grim expression in place, to know what Fate has had in store for your husband. With great effort, you try to bar yourself from crying.

"Lord Hyuga has bestowed the greatest honour upon our country."

The Emperor - your father - sends him away with a flick of his wrist, eyes unwaveringly staring at the space where the messenger had been standing. There is a sudden kick from the inside of your belly. You lurch forwards, wincing at the pain but smiling sadly. Your mother looks to the side in concern.

"The child will be strong, like his father."

Another kick. The bottom of your robes begin to wet at a rapid pace. You lurch forward again, this time in unbearable pain.

The maids rush forward, hands frantically touching your shoulders, and then you hear your father roaring for the Royal Physician to arrive immediately.

It is time.

"A boy." The Physician beckons for the maids to wash the infant as soon as you feel them separate your baby from the cord. Some rush over with wet towels, while others hurriedly clean up the bloody mess on your bedsheets.

You feel weak, your throat sore and hoarse from the screaming. Suddenly, you realise why so many women dread childbirth.

But you are inexplicably, uncontrollably curious. "Let me see him," you order. Does he have his father's eyes? Or your brown hair? Will he speak like his father, write in fluid script and poetic verse? Or will he be more akin to you, with a sharp tongue and desire to escape? A desire to run away? The nurse carries your child over to you with a bright smile, announcing that the Emperor and Empress are pleased with the news.

At the very least, he will be loved by his grandparents. Still shaking and weak, you watch your baby being lowered into your arms, the blanket wrapped around him a brilliant blue. The moment he makes contact with your fingertips, however, results in another painful lurch. You gasp, eyes widening, desperately looking up at the Physician and nurses, who rush back to the end of your bed and lift up the blankets.

"There is another one!" One of them shouts, to your horror, "I can see the head!"

Your baby begins to cry, and you beg for him to be close to you. The nurses smile at you sympathetically. "After you are finished, you will be seeing both at the same time."

Your lower lip quivers, ready to outright demand to see your son, at the very least his face, but then your body jerks again and you scream.

You feel blood oozing down your legs, onto the mattress, and a sudden pain in your back. You breathe heavily, black spots flooding your vision, then look towards the baby in the adjacent cot and see his pale face and dark, dark hair. The nurses are patting a wet cloth over your forehead, begging you to keep pushing. Your body is screaming for you to rest, to stop, but it is your mind - fatigued from the simultaneous loss of a husband, elated from the birth of a son - that pushes you.

Hours later, the scream can be heard on the other end of the bed, a piercing shriek and the sensation of another mass leaving your body, is both relieving excruciatingly painful.

"A girl," the nurses note, with a less enthused tone. You nod, feeling yourself losing consciousness. The speech in the background is becoming nothing more than a soft hum. Your vision fades in and out intermittently. When you look up, the Physician is congratulating you, and then your husband is there, smiling softly and reaching for your cheek.

And then you know.

"Wait for me." You say. He smiles gently.

"I'm coming."

#naruto #fanfiction #nejiten #neji hyuga #tenten #immortal love #au #fantasy #supernatural #historical

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spearywritesstuff · 8 years ago

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Understanding

Happy Valentines’ Day. Have a post 12x11 coda. Read it on Ao3 Here.

He set his hand on Cas’ knee just below the table. It could have been a brief moment, a squeeze meant to convey understanding or camaraderie, but he left his hand there too long for that. Now Dean kept looking away. He looked at the far wall, the plate in front of him, Sam, his mom, the door to the diner. The door dinged when it opened to let people in and out. He contemplated escape, yet he didn’t remove his hand.

Dean thought of excuses. He thought of all the reasons he could give for this. He’d recently been under a spell and it made him forgetful. Maybe he’d forgotten how to behave appropriately. His hand was cursed. Cas was made from glue. That last one was dumb, but the others might work. He chanced a glance at Cas just then and saw that Cas was looking steadily right back at him. His eyes were equal parts sad and confused, like he wanted to ask Dean about their little secret under the table, but he didn’t. He just sat there quietly accepting this moment that was lasting entirely too long. It had been hours, no days, no an eternity. Actually, it had been minutes. Still.

The worst part was that Dean knew why he looked sad. Dean was pushing him. Dean was asking him in this moment to break one more goddamn rule for him. He was asking him to chuck heaven, commit to something that he himself had said was abominable and for what. Dean left his hand there though. He wasn’t quite ready to give up.

Sam was saying something. Dean half listened, and luckily his mom was keeping the conversation going, responding to Sam’s words. Occasionally, Cas spoke too. Dean knew that he’d have to tune in eventually, weigh in on the topic of the moment, but that was exactly why he was having the existential crisis he was having in the moment.

They’d spoken of Ishim. They’d spoken of the one rule that all the angels had to abide by, and how Lucifer had turned that rule on its head. Cas had sounded disgusted by it. Dean though, Dean, felt differently. He heard them all agreeing that it was bad or wrong. He heard something else. He heard reasons for why he’d never get the one thing he wanted, and it just about killed him.

So he set his hand on Cas and didn’t let go. He imagined holding on so long that his hand just burned right into him, marked him as his. It was maybe wrong. He could feel his heart beating up into his throat and he could barely swallow the rising lump that was also forming there. He’d cry if he were alone. He’d cry over the hopelessness of it all. He’d cry over the selfishness that had brought him to this place, and he’d cry over the fact that he couldn’t even beg, just beg Cas to break just one more stupid rule, for him, for them.

For them. Now that was the thing. Was it for them, or was it for Dean? Dean thought that sometimes maybe Cas wanted this too. He’s an angel though, and they aren’t always easy to read. Cas loves him, loves them all. He said as much. He never said he was in love with anyone though. Dean focused on the warmth that was his hand on Cas, and he did not pull away. He should. He avoided eye contact. He let his eyes wander back and forth between his mom and Sam.

He let his thumb slide back and forth over Cas’ knee. Cas brought up a hand to his chin and let his thumb graze just a little back and forth there while he listened intently to the conversation. Dean shared a thought or two then fell silent again as the food came. He focused on minute things. He thought that if Cas just shifted a little, he might let him go, might retreat back to his own space. He didn’t shift, didn’t move, didn’t do a thing to discourage Dean from just keeping up with all of this.

There was a clock on the far wall of the too full diner. It was a big black cat clock with giant eyes that moved back and forth with the passing of seconds. Its tail too ticked back and forth. He could hear the ticking of the big plastic parts over the low rumble of many voices in conversation. They never had enough time. They never had enough anything. They were always teetering on the edge of some precipice or another.

Sam asked Cas about how the angels would deal with Lucifer’s child, and how they had responded to human angel relations before. He assumed that not every situation was like the one with Ishim. Cas cleared his throat. He slid his uneaten food over to Dean. “It is a rule that angels do not break. Long ago it was common to find nephilim in the world, but the rule, once it was strictly enforced eradicated that.” He glanced at Dean then, and he continued, “If an angel wanted to be with a human, that angel could choose to fall. An angel that would not do that, who would choose to straddle both worlds, was an angel that was selfish. It is as you say, having your cake and eating it too.”

“Actually, it’s not.” Dean found his voice and sounded much more irritated than he meant to. He took a breath and tried again, “Ishim was an asshole. That has nothing to do with loving a person. What he did was selfish.” Dean took a deep breath and continued, “It’s not right that an angel should have to change who they are to love who they wish.”

Sam and Mary were both giving him the same curious look. Sam said, “I get what Cas is saying though. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if an angel wanted to be with a human, then they’d have that option. If they don’t take that option, it’s maybe because the power is more important than the person they’re with.”

“Precisely.” Cas turned his attention back to Dean. “Choosing humanity, choosing love, would not take away an angel’s self. It would take away immortality and it would diminish the being’s strength, but it would also give the angel a soul. It is a trade that some would gladly make.”

Somehow Dean knew then what Cas would choose. He’d fall. And Dean felt the weight of guilt fall heavily on him. He did not let go just yet, though. He held on because he might not get to do this again. He couldn’t have his cake and eat it too. He couldn’t ask Cas to give up everything. He couldn’t ask Cas to give up nothing, defy heaven, break the rules. He loved him, selfishly, selflessly. He loved him too much most days to tie it to those words even.

Dean tipped his head back and pulled in a great lungful of air. “You okay, Dean?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, just ate too much.” Dean brought his head back down and gave her a smile. “We should maybe get back to the motel. It’s getting late.” He leaned to the side and reached back for his wallet. His other hand slipped off of Cas’ knee. All the warmth slipped away too. His body gave a great shudder. He looked up at the air conditioning vent. “Just got a chill.”

“It’s been a long day.” Sam got up and said, “I’ll go get the bill. You all just finish up.” Mary got up after him and followed him.

It was just the two of them now. Dean thought about putting his hand back on him. Instead he brought both of his traitorous hands back up to the table. He folded them together. Cas was watching him, seemingly waiting for Dean to give him an opening. Dean could feel the tiny pin prick at the edges of his eyes. He wanted to look at Cas, but he couldn’t. Cas reached over and settled his hand on top of Dean’s. “Are you okay?”

“Not so much.” He’d been too honest. He realized it the moment the words fell out of him. He leveled his gaze on Cas then. “I’ll be okay eventually though.” He remembered that he had excuses so he trotted one out. “It’s the spell. It did things to me, made me think about some things differently. I don’t know.”

Cas looked like he was sifting through all of that, figuring out what Dean really meant. Sometimes Cas was good at speaking Dean, sometimes not. Dean wondered what today’s reading would be. He glanced over at Sam and his mom by the front door and gave them a little wave. They left. He was sure that they could tell that something was up.

“When the angels fell, when I was human, I was happy.” Dean turned his head sharply back to Cas. “You seem surprised.”

“Didn’t think that was a particularly good time in your life.”

“It wasn’t ideal. In the beginning though, I was quite happy. I did not see it as a loss. I may have even viewed it as a great reward. Had things gone just a little differently, I’d have been quite content to live out my days in the bunker as an honorary Winchester.” Cas gave his hand a squeeze. “Being human is not a punishment.”

“Giving up who you are is a punishment.” Dean couldn’t look at him. He just kept his eyes on their hands. They’d need to leave soon. The restaurant was full, and they were at a large table. Dean got up and their hands separated. “We should head out.”

Cas walked out behind him. The door gave them the little bell sound as they left. The Impala was gone. The motel was just a few blocks away. They could even see the neon sign glowing in front of it. Cas fell into step at his side. Dean cast glances to his right. They were silent save only for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. It was country dark, and the night air was cold. “I’d never assume that I’d be of any use to anyone if I fell. It’s why I never could choose it for myself. Having the decision made for me was a relief.”

Dean sifted through that. “What do you mean when you say that you’d never assume that you’d be of use?”

“I won’t be powerful. I’d just be a man. And I’d be of little use.”

Dean stopped walking and turned to Cas. “Being human just means you’d be like us. Plenty of useful humans out there. I can’t imagine you’d be one of the useless ones.” Dean chose that moment to reach out to him. He pulled him into a quick hug and then let him go.

“What was that for?” Cas asked once Dean stepped away.

“I’d never ask you to fall.”

“That’s not really up to you.” Cas stepped back toward Dean. “Why did you hug me just then, and the rest in the diner there?” Cas looked back toward the diner in their wake.

“Sometimes I’m selfish.” Dean looked back at him, so close he could say fuck it to the world and drag him in. Cas could fight him on that, but Dean knew, really knew that he wouldn’t.

“Me too.” Cas grabbed him then and pulled him in. He went for the kiss that Dean was too chicken shit to take. He had Dean’s mouth open in an instant and his tongue darted in. Dean couldn’t close his eyes. He should. He knew this was something that warranted that. He was supposed to swoon or something. Instead he watched Cas up close. Cas had closed his eyes and committed to the whole experience. He kissed him. He was all in. Dean worried about what this would mean.

Cas must have noticed the shift in Dean’s thoughts. He slipped free. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I’ll only feel like I’m losing something if you fight me on this. I know what I want, who I want to be, and who I want to be with.”

“I understand.” Dean ran a hand up into his hair and kicked some of the gravel off the road.

“No, I don’t think that you do.” Cas stepped back close again, but he didn’t touch Dean. “It’s not like it was with Ishim. It’s not like it was for Lucifer. They wanted something selfish.”

“You just said you were selfish too.” Dean was sifting through Cas’ words and he was pretty sure he was reading him right.

“I am, but it’s different. They didn’t care about Lily or Kelly. You pretty much spelled it out there in the diner.” He cupped Dean’s face in his hand and said, “They didn’t love them. Do you understand, Dean?”

“I understand.” He leaned into Cas’ hand a little more. “It’s why I wouldn’t want you to give up who you are. It would be selfish of me to want that.”

“No, it’d be human.” Cas smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything from you. My feelings in all of this wouldn’t change if yours did.”

“Sometimes I don’t think you understand me at all.” Dean’s lip rolled up into a half grin. “Then other times I think no one understands me at all like you do.” Dean leaned back into Cas’ space and kissed him. It was meant to be gentle, a simple show of understanding. With that, they might just have a chance. Cas seemed to get that. He hummed a bit of pleasure into the kiss. The moon shown high overhead. The night full of stars watched them, and Dean thought he understood what it felt like to fall. He held Cas tight and hoped years from now that Cas might still believe that he was worth it.

#destiel #fanficton #spn #deancas #coda 12x11

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