#nicmargo

[fourteenfifteen]

DRIFTING

G // 1.1k // blaseball x pacific rim

The Jaeger program is looking for pilots. Margo Nava is willing, if they can even find a partner for xem.

read now on ao3

[leonstamatis]

rounding up my offers for the first round of the @blaseballshipbracket :

-if leon/andrew wins, i will drop a previously unreleased ficlet. (this one is so close, y’all. please.)

-if sutton dreamy/juice collins wins, i will release a ficlet for each round they survive

-bonus new offer! if lenny/chorby win their poll i’ll write a companion scene for dying to live from chorby’s pov. (this is a difference of like TWO VOTES. please help the ladies out!)

i’m staying fairly conservative for my offers in round one but prepare for this list to get way bigger in the future. for now this is all i ask.

[leonstamatis]

everyone look me in the eyes. look at me. there are no losers here, and whoever wins is fine, and all four of them are having dinner together somewhere as best friends.

but.

vote for nicmargo. please.

[glassgob]

[First image ID: Simplified digital illustration of Caleb Alvarado and Isaac Johnson. They are standing close to each other: Caleb’s wing around Isaac and Isaac’s arm around Caleb.

Second Image ID: Simplified digital illustration of Margarito Nava and Nic Winkler walking side by side. They are looking at each other, smiling. End ID.]

[waveridden]

considered for about five seconds that i should add a blaseball sections to my favs/otps page and then i remembered. 300+ characters

[stainedglassgob]

shuffling over to the boston flowers to offer them nicmargo

[thehallstara]

aaand fuck it nicmargo 23 ?

23. brushing strands of hair away

this is extremely short and sweet but lets go

"I really don't want to do this."

From across the room, Nic shouts, "It's not going to be that bad!"

“God, we really let her talk us into this, huh?”

Nic gives xem a wry grin. “I’d like you to try telling Dunn no.”

Margo sighs at xir reflection in the mirror, trying to adjust xir tie in a way that doesn’t make xem feel like xe’s choking. “We both know I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Exactly.” Nic gestures for xem to come over next to him, brushing a strand of hair out of xir eyes when xe does. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I hate bar hopping. Especially when I have to do it, not just deal with it.”

“So do I. It really is going to be fine, though. We can hang out with Brock and Bertie and be the old married people in the corner. And worst comes to worst, we’ll just leave early.”

Margo pulls a face at that.

“Oh, come on. She’s just going to be happy we came, you know that. That’s the part that matters.”

“I mean, as much as I’m dreading this, I’m not going to miss Dunn’s birthday.”

“Pretty sure she’d never forgive either of us.”

“Exactly.” Another sigh escapes before xe can stop it. “Okay, fine. Let me find some comfy shoes before we head out.”

“That’s the spirit!”

"And you're dealing with breakfast tomorrow."

"...Should have probably seen that coming, yeah."

[leonstamatis]

putting nicmargo and brockbertie against each other is the cruelest thing that’s ever happened. why are you making them fight they’re literally besties. they all hang out, they told me so.

[leonstamatis]

i don’t feel the need to do propoganda for nicmargo (yet, at least). given that i never shut up about them, you all already know my stance. beyond that i don’t think they need my support they’re doing fine. they won’t win but they’ll make it pretty far and that’s okay. but you know who does need my support. those gay motherfuckers from chicago.

[leonstamatis]

ao3 wrapped: 3 6 9?

3. fic you're proudest of?

this'll be a runner up, technically, but. earn my keep, the jason todd goes to college fic, was such a long time coming and went through so many iterations. it was one that sat on the backburner for ages because i didn't have the motivation, but the full story was in my head from like the second scene, and. it's really nice that the final product pretty much exactly lines up with what i wanted it to be. that's not something that happens to me often.

6. favorite title?

also a runner-up, but! i tried to move away from lyric titles this year at least a little bit. sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. BUT. i really did like a matter of time, a fic about nerd, val, and the passage of time in the black hole. i was proud of myself for that one.

9. favorite pairing you wrote for?

there are so many!! i found a way to write some nicmargo this year, which was delightful and always makes me happy. but it was also the year of scores & envy, sort of -- that fic was written late last year and published this year -- and also of writing for new fandoms, which has been incredibly fun and rewarding. writing the bad kids for you was actually a highlight, and i look forward to doing more with them soon.

[leonstamatis]

um kissing prompts ummm 5 but its nicmargo

5. on the temple

The trouble is, it’s not just the letters. It’s never “just” anything, Margo figures, not as far as the game goes. Just party, but only after losing so much you have no hope of success. Just gain a few stars, by attacking someone else. Just save people, except when you’re not fast enough.

Just lose a few letters… and all the memories, too.

And it isn’t permanent, that sort of hazy and confused look in Nic’s eyes whenever he sees xem. Margo knows that. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So, at least for now, Margo sleeps on the couch. Xe gets up earlier most mornings than xe ever has. Xe walks to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and clumsy, and xe starts making breakfast and coffee. Anything that means xe doesn’t have to see Nic, startled and confused at having another person there.

Thirty-one days. Thirty-one days, and if the damn water had just washed him home a couple days sooner they wouldn’t fucking be here.

An egg cracks against a pan. The yolk sizzles as it hits hot oil. Margo watches it bubble and yawns into the back of xir hand. The clock on the counter reads 6:05, and the sky outside is the sort of hazy light that hits before sunrise.

“Never gonna get how you do it, Nic,” Margo mutters, to xemself and to the empty kitchen. “Fucking unholy being up this early.”

Xe throws a lid on the eggs and turns to scoop coffee into the base of the stovetop espresso maker. Nic would complain about it and ask xem to do drip coffee instead, if he were in his right mind. But he isn’t, so Margo doesn’t bother.

And, because xe knows xir husband, the food is on the table when the bedroom door creaks open. Margo is in the middle of pouring coffee into mugs when Nic appears in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t even seem to see xem as he enters the kitchen.

Margo tries to be normal about it. Xe keeps xir eyes trained on the mugs, on the coffee, and doesn’t move as Nic moves to stand just behind xem.

“Mmf,” Nic groans, reaching over Margo’s head to grab a plate from the cabinet over xir head. As he falls back on his heels, he leans in to press a kiss to Margo’s temple. “Morning, Mags. You’re up early.”

And then he shouts and jumps backwards, probably because Margo’s coffee cup is overflowing onto the counter and spilling onto the tile floor near his feet.

“Shit,” Margo hisses. Xe frantically sets the everything down and turns to face Nic, hands coming up to brace against his chest as xe looks him over. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, no, it happens—”

“Fuck,” Margo says again, emphatically, and it shuts Nic up immediately. “I’ll clean it in a minute, it— what do you remember? Do you remember?”

Xe sounds frantic, even to xemself. It’s unavoidable, though, and xe doesn’t even try to stop xir hands from running up and down Nic’s arms, holding his chin, tilting his head to the side. Looking for… something, xe doesn’t even know what.

“What?” Nic asks. “Did we get into a fight or something? I feel like I’d remember that, Mags.”

The noise that tears out of Margo at that is somewhere between a cough, a sob and a laugh; xe doesn’t really bother trying to figure out which one.

“Your memory isn’t what it used to be, Winkler,” xe says.

Nic’s brow furrows as he mulls that one over. The coffee is still spreading across the tile, and over the counter, and the food is getting cold on the table and this has to be one of the worst moments of Margo’s life. This waiting, this thirty seconds where the other shoe might come slamming back down.

“Oh,” Nic breathes out after a moment, eyes staring at something Margo can’t see. “Scattered.”

Even now, the word sets something in Margo’s chest buzzing. “Yeah. Scattered, Nic. For a while now.”

Nic still isn’t looking at Margo. It’s not the dazed, dissociative kind of avoidance that xe’s been trying not to get used to. It’s observational, taking in the state of their home.

“So you’ve been waking up before me,” he says. And then his eyes catch on something else. “And sleeping on the couch.”

“Couch isn’t so bad,” Margo offers. Xir voice comes out rougher than xe means, though, and there’s a burning behind xir eyes. “You get used to it.”

“Like hell,” Nic mutters.

He looks at Margo, finally, finally, and something in his confused expression softens. He wraps his arms around xem, pulling xem close to his chest. Margo lets him; it’s been a long time, xe’s allowed a little self-indulgence.

“I’m sorry, Margo,” Nic whispers. He presses another gentle kiss to Margo’s temple, then to xir cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Margo grips him back, maybe a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, well. You’d better be.”

[leonstamatis]

Nic braces to hear the announcement over the speakers. He holds his breath and closes his eyes, and he waits for it.

“A Rogue Umpire has incinerated Flowers batter Hurley Pacheco!” the announcer calls, voice echoing even over the screams of terrified fans.

He feels terrible for feeling relieved.

(a marriage, an incineration, a replacement. or: an alternate nicmargo origin)

[leonstamatis]

the nicmargo

big spoon/little spoon: ugh augh oh man. nic. he’s only like an inch or two taller which means they could switch but. they don’t.

favorite non-sexual activity: between the bar and blaseball and the garden they don’t really have a lot of free time! i think their favorite thing to do together is literally just watch tv at home or something. cooking is also pretty high on the list they both like cooking together but only if they have the energy for it.

who uses all the hot water: margo. nic showers in cold water for some godforsaken reason though so it works out. (“it’s better for you!” / “even if that’s true, and i’m not saying it is, you can’t go through life like that. it’s unnatural.”)

most trivial thing they fight over: anything. literally anything. it’s like lighthearted and no one is upset but there’s a list somewhere in the bar office of “things you can’t bring up during work hours or nic and margo will scare off all the customers.” it includes things like whether gazpacho is a smoothie.

who does most of the cleaning: nic. margo cleans up after xemself but when it comes to deep thorough cleaning nic is your guy.

who controls the netflix queue: nic prepares a list of options of things to watch and margo vetoes/approves them. it’s equality.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat's not working: margo and xe’s a regular terror about it. nic sends baked goods as a thank you/sorry about my husband.

who steals the blankets: they both do this. their bed is a regular war zone of blanket thievery.

who remembers to buy the milk: they have to go shopping together because like, nic will remember the milk, but he’ll forget the specific spice margo needs for dinner that night. whereas margo will remember the obscure shit but assume, incorrectly, that they have all the basic necessities.

who remembers anniversaries: nic is better at it but margo REALLY tries it’s just that xe has so many fucking dates and obligations to remember.

who cooks normally: they trade off because they both really really like to cook both together and on their own.

what do they do when they're away from each other: please don’t separate them. they wouldn’t survive. (they’re fine they’re adults they can handle a weekend apart or whatever even if by the end they’re both very “i miss my wife, tails” about it.)

nicknames for each other: ANYTHING. EVERYTHING. margo calls everyone by their last name as a sign of endearment but it’s different to call nic by his last name because that’s also Margo’s hyphenated last name ykwim. husbands. and nic has full permission to call margo anything. mags, maggie, margo, nava, co-captain (affectionate). margo will sometimes go the opposite direction and call nic “Nicholas” to feign being upset.

what would they get each other for gifts: as a rule they don’t do gifts but it’s because they get pretty damn competitive. if nic gets a big gift for margo, margo gets tickets to Paris, and nic puts a down payment on a new house, it goes on and on. they had to be stopped.

who made the first move: nic waited for margo to do it. he fell first but he wasn’t going to scare margo off. margo got there eventually.

who cusses more: margo, but nic can get going if the right circumstances arise (the sportsball is not going his way)

what would they do if the other was hurt: augh. agh. oof. jesus. margo would be very melancholy and morose. nic would try his best to soldier through it but he would be STRUGGLING to keep it together. they aren’t criers but they could for this. god. ow.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo 38!!! :D

38. relieved kisses

(CWs for dissociation, memory loss, and losing sense of time/space. All the Elsewhere stuff.Remember when Margo went Elsewhere in the postseason, two or so days before xe would have been stuck for an entire siesta? Mhm.)

Time stops, in the Elsewhere. And then Margo shakes xir head because, no. No, it doesn't. Time keeps ticking by and the world keeps turning. But it's less of an abject, planetary movement, and more like a carousel. Xe can feel it, under xir feet, and whenever xir eyes latch onto something it's like xe's already seen it. Like Margo did a circuit around an objective center that spins away, and came right back where xe started.

Xe shouldn't be thinking this way. Of course not. There were days, and those days had numbers, and if Margo didn't find a way to see through the slippery, slick, nothing that xe was stuck in, xe would be here for a long, long time.

Maybe xe already had been. It's not like the watch on xir wrist was working; the gears were just as caught up in the immateria as xe was, and there was no helping that just yet. Something for someone else to look over, once xe was back on solid ground. Somewhere green and bright and vibrant, unlike the dull gray fog that gripped at xem now.

Cory, xe thought. And that thought grew, and grew, until it was an avalanche of something in xir brain that xe could almost-quite-but-not make sense of.

Cory could look at the watch. Whoever Cory was.

"Well!" Margo said. The fog took the word from xir chest before it made it out. Xe watched it go, that little white ghost holding onto some part of xem. "Well."

The white fog floated forward. It drifted and parted and reassembled, and Margo didn't have much else to do but follow after it and do the same. Every breath stole something else from xir lungs, xir chest, and those little pieces gathered in front of xem until they were a cloud bigger than Margo xemself.

How long had it been? Margo checked xir watch, but it was full of brackish water. It didn't tick, even when xe pressed it to xir ear. Didn't matter much, anyway. Xe wandered on.

And xe wandered, and xe wandered. Until eventually xir toe bumped into something - and wasn't that weird? Having toes to bump into things? Margo had never thought about it before, but there they were. Toes, connected to xir feet and then to xir ankles and to the rest of xem, and now, through a shoe, they were touching the rough metal of a box.

"Directive complete," the box chirped. "Subject found."

Margo saw two eyes, white and shining. Xe saw a metal claw that might have been a hand, and it stretched out to xem through the clouds and fog and nothing.

It wanted to take part of xem away. All of xem, maybe. The fog didn't like that, and it whispered until the whispers were roars in Margo's own voice, xir own words spat back out louder and harsher than when xe spoke them.

"Captain," the little box said. "You have been found."

Margo didn't have much else to do, really. Xe reached out and grasped the claw between xir fingers - fingers! Strange that xe could feel those, too, pressing into the metal, and it was warm.

"Oh," Margo muttered, and there was no fog to take this word away. Nothing crept into xir chest, and nothing pulled a part of xem out.

The box lit up and began to chirp, and then wheels made tracks in the water that wasn't quite liquid, and Margo felt xemself being pulled along a pathway xe hadn't been able to see before. Xe could see it now - it looked like grass, dead and wilting, but it seemed to brighten as they went until it was finally green. Xe'd forgotten what that looked like.

The roar of xir own voice in the fog was replaced with the cheers and shouts of others, hundreds of them, loud enough to be a physical wave against xem. Still, Cory - and that's who the little box was, xe knew now, watching as the rover pulled them out of the pools of immateria and onto solid ground - pressed onward. Cory kept moving until they were both standing in the outfield, and then the infield, and then the dugout.

There’s water in Margo's ears. Xir hair drips onto xir forehead, down the back of xir neck, pooled in every wrinkle and bend of xir clothes. But xe doesn’t get much time to think about that; those feelings are replaced within moments by arms wrapped around xir shoulders, wide hands pressing into xir spine.

"Seeker sought," Cory chirps behind them both.

And Nic, of course it was Nic, breathes out a sigh so heavy he seems to crumple against Margo.

"Thank you, Cory," he says, and then presses his face into Margo's neck.

Margo blinks. Margo breathes, and lets the warm, late summer air move through xem, and slowly brings xir hands up to grip the fabric of Nic's jersey.

"How long's it been?" xe asks, barely above a whisper, the sound of cleats on gravel.

"Two days," Nic mutters. "Just two."

The weight of it comes back to xem. A postseason, final round of games, very nearly through to the next siesta. A thing that hadn't seemed like much, in the Elsewhere, but seems like everything now.

"Great," xe says, although that isn’t at all what xe’s feeling. Mostly, xe is tired. Mostly, xe is confused.

But Nic pulls back and holds xir face in both hands, looks xem over once, twice, and then presses a careful kiss to xir forehead. To xir nose, to both cheeks.

"Yeah," he says, "it is."

And then he kisses Margo, really kisses xem, and xe sighs and doesn’t mind that it feels like xir breath is stolen away.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo 45 perhaps?

45. sleepy kisses (i am pulling from hayden's version of the vault from hayden's lovely vault fic please go read it!!)

It had been close. They'd all barely made it. The rest of the team is heaving and panting and breathless on the perfectly manicured lawn of whatever park they've stumbled into. Compared to the stormy purple-navy skies they came from, this should be paradise. It doesn't feel like it.

The Boston Flowers made it to the Vault, slipping through the doors of the gate at the last second. Now the gate is closed. The gate is closed, and Beck is outside.

Margo stares at the wrought iron doors with an empty, aching pit in the center of xir chest.

"She'll be okay," Margo says.

They'd been so close. Just behind, really. If xe'd held the gate open, if xe'd reached out...

"Don't think about it."

Margo thinks, for a second, that Nic is responding to them. That xe's been saying these things out loud, and he's responding. But no. Nic had taken off his hearing aids when the immateria started to seep into everything, over the fields and onto the bridges they used to walk here. Better safe than sorry.

"I wasn't thinking about it," Margo signs. It's clumsy, but mostly because xir hands are shaking.

Nagomi's in the desert. They're in the Vault. And Beck is in the Black Hole. What is there to think about?

"Liar," Nic shoots back. It's not angry; just resigned. "Come on. We're finding somewhere to lay low until your head's on straight."

Margo almost has it in xem to figure out a retort to that. It's on the tip of xir tongue, within xir grasp. But xe doesn't get there in time. Within a few seconds, Nic is telling Jacob to take a headcount and get everyone settled, and then he's leading Margo down a sidewalk, out and away.

The sidewalk doesn't have a single crack in it. The sun sits perfectly high in the sky overhead and the air is the temperature of a perfect spring day. The grass is green and there are people everywhere, cheering and even crying, and Margo feels. Hollow. Hazy, like xe's dreaming.

There's a line of apartments along the street. The doors are open and no one seems interested in stopping them when Nic leads Margo inside one at random, up the stairs to a unit that faces away from the street.

No one's inside. Margo's together enough to appreciate that, but not much else. The decorations seem bland and the furniture is stiff. Everything is wrong. It's meant to be perfect, xe suspects, but it feels anything but.

And then Nic is sitting xem down on the edge of a mattress that barely gives beneath xir weight and gripping xem by the shoulders.

"Sleep," Nic says. Firm.

Margo doesn't feel like sleeping. "We could go back for them."

Xe forgets to sign it, but Nic seems to get the idea anyway. He shakes his head and pushes, lightly, at Margo's shoulders. Margo fights it for about two seconds before xe gives in and falls, lets xir back hit the horrible quilted comforter.

"Sleep," Nic says. He brings Margo's hand up and presses a kiss to the inside of xir wrist. "I'll take care of dinner."

When he goes to pull away, Margo holds tight. Xe tugs Nic's hand, once, twice, until Nic finally gets the message and smiles -- a small, tentative thing -- and moves to lay down next to xem.

Margo kisses the palm of his hand, his wrist, his elbow. Xir chest still aches and there's a burning behind xir eyes, but xe can feel the exhaustion setting in too. Maybe sleep wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe it'll feel better, in the morning.

[leonstamatis]

Next Round Of ILB Draft Decided, the headline reads. The picture below is a young woman, long dark hair splayed out behind her as her bat makes contact with a fastball. She’s wearing a jersey Margo doesn’t recognize, but xe knows she moved out west a couple months back. Nevada somewhere

“Are you, by chance,” Beck starts, squinting at xem, “related to anyone named Nagomi?”

“Well, shit,” Margo mutters, leaning down to look at the paper a little closer. “She didn’t tell me she was moving up to the big leagues.”

(What if Nagomi and Margarito were twins and, despite everything, they survived a decade of horror and trauma? 39k, also features Beck Whitney, Nic Winkler and the whole Flowers fam, as well as some Sunbeams for added flavor.)