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austennerdita2533 · 5 years ago

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A/N: My contribution to the KC New Year’s Day Exchange for the lovely Charlotte. (Modern P&Pish/The Hating Game AU + All Human + Romcom Tie-ins)

(AO3)(FF.net)

xx Ashlee Bree

(Spite) of Their Lives

For the past ten months, the routine has been this: Monday through Friday she avoids his eyes, claps back when he crosses a line at the office because it’s only a matter of time before he does something rash and destructive and she has to help fix it - again. Saturday she ignores his emails and text messages. A bevy of unreads she collects like bills, like love letters. However, not because she wants them or anything but so she has an excuse to ream him for his you can’t avoid the devil forever, sweetheart 😈 assholeness later. Like, come on, get a hobby. Or a girlfriend. Or a freaking life outside work already. Seriously. And Sunday…Sunday she reminds herself of all the reasons why he’s the biggest pain in the ass she’s ever met.

A right charming prick, really.

He’s the kind of man who, with a natural blend of arrogance, genteel good looks, cunning, money and rapier’s wit, knows just how to poke and pinch at every last nerve she harbors beneath her skin until she wants to scream. Until she does. Until she’s cursing the name Klaus Mikaelson before her first cup of coffee in the morning and after her last sip of wine before bed at night.

To call him a colleague is a stretch for Caroline. A big one. Let alone a friend, at least not in the conventional sense.

They clash more often than they collaborate on anything, after all: with him demanding speed and severity when it comes to finding ways to cut their competitors off at the neck; and her countering with options that preserve dignity, that allow for diplomacy as well as smooth transitions of power that begin and end with a cordial handshake. Theirs’ is a total conflict in tactic, in personality. A spark of opposition that means business—you know the type. It’s ugly courtesy mixed with innuendo that slides into begrudging respect twenty-four hours a day, fifty-two weeks of the year.

They’re opposites in every sense of the word, but it works.

Together they make for a surprisingly prosperous combination in the corporate world, and it’s one that just so happens to help them rake in diverse clients on top of big bucks revenue.

So where Klaus snarls at almost everyone, Caroline beams. Likewise, where she's poised and reliable in the midst of a crisis, he rages. Sometimes throws things. Expensive things. Once or twice at people’s heads, though that “rumor” lives in the Do Not Discuss Or Else vault with all of those shady concerns about certain members of his family.

Since she’s neither short on smiles nor sociability either, it follows that he tends to be gruff in comparison. Or as most other employees like to whisper, as grouchy as a wealthy Brit has any right to be.

Needless to say then, the muscular tick along his jaw is a measure of his mood. It’s a physical marker to watch for so one knows when it’s okay to broach a sensitive topic with him or when it’s smarter to bow out, zip it, lay low, waiting for a better time to tackle the issue at hand without any measure of solvency. Caroline’s become an expert at dissecting it. That little quirk. She knows precisely what to look for. Figured it out in matter of weeks. Not to boast or anything.

(Hint: the key is in the rapidity with which the tick comes, its root cause. Next comes deducing how long it’s likely to last. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Calculate the potential damages. Then follow up accordingly.)

So now she knows to attack in the evenings, negotiate in the afternoons, and relent in the mornings. She’s learned what strategies to unleash on him and when.

Call it an Unwind the Big Bad Prick science, if you will. A crash course on all Mikaelson whims and asshole-isms.

The truth is Caroline’s not afraid to provoke him. To rattle him. She never has been, never will be.

She’ll call bullshit directly. to. his. smug. face. when he deserves a good tongue lashing or needs a simple lesson in civility, which just so happens to be much more often than one would think.

Summa cum laude honors, and unmatched organizational skills aside, she knows that’s one of the reasons why the Mikaelson siblings had Klaus hire her in the first place. She’s the hip check he needs. The temperate balance to his foul, distrusting moods and impulsivity.

There’s an entire arsenal of cutting glares at her disposal for him now. A challenge that sits on the tilt of her nose when they arrive somewhere simultaneously, both intent on being the first in the room. It doesn’t matter where it is, with whom they’re meeting, or why. The point is to compete…to be the one who’s holding the ace in her palm.

She aims to outsmart, outthink, and out win him in as many schemes as possible. In as many days, too, if she can swing it.

It’s how Caroline has come to carry arguments in the strum of her fingers. Wear them in the slight curl of her upper lip when they disagree. Her hair flip’s perfected, a real asset. A true silencer when she needs it to be. Like when he tries to pull rank or won’t listen to logic at all. (Which, again, happens more frequently than it should. May even prompt an eye roll or two. Sometimes three - you know, if the chip on his shoulder starts to burnish gold and he downshifts into being ruthless and impossible again.)

Not to mention the fact that her verbal comebacks slap harder than Klaus’s do since she smiles as she delivers them, the effect as disarming for him as it is satisfying for her—and oh, boy, can she sure deliver a line! Then watch as it lands like a whap across his cheek.

None of that has anything on the swivel of her heels, though. Or the sashay of her retreat which she enacts only once she’s successfully shaved him down a peg or two, knocking his ego back down to planet earth where it belongs. At least for the rest of the day.

It’s safe to expect that it’ll be back in tact by tomorrow - it always is - but she still lives for the dimpled purse of his mouth, anyway. That rough swallow of his Adam’s apple. The sag in his seat which precedes the defensive crossing of his arms that lets her know she’s one-upped him, and he’s impressed. Intrigued. Put out in a way that makes him borderline congratulatory…almost flirtatious, really.

(Except they can’t stand each other so she brushes the latter thought into the back of her brain where it can asphyxiate and die. Like - as soon as possible.)

A backward wave of her hand is the only thing Caroline leaves behind as her red-soled heels click down the hallway afterwards. Headed back toward her own office. Sometimes she steers toward the elevators afterwards because it’s late, because she now has something to gloat about on her ride home.

She prefers to abandon him when he’s at her mercy like that: stunned, speechless, reeling, his head still turning over her last competitive taunt.

It makes him look boyish even though he’s pushing thirty. Pleasantly caught. Not to mention a smidge more attractive than she wants him to be with those rumpled blond curls and abandoned tie, his sleeves cuffed up to the elbows.

Klaus seems to derive some kind of twisted satisfaction from the leveling of odds between them regardless. And why the hell not? So does she.

It’s adrenalizing, plain and simple. A grin always seems to snake its way onto their faces at the same moment. Win or lose. Every time.

Wrapped up in their little game of professional chess, though, Caroline is too full of plans and spite to worry over what that zing she feels between them means.

Klaus is fond of endearments. And he uses them.

A lot.

They tend to be ridiculous at best, his pet names, downright inappropriate at worst. And he knows it. Designs it so, his grin stretching wider at the edges while he gauges her reaction to his latest assignations.

They slide off his tongue freely, suggestively, relentlessly, until they’re an avalanche of “love,” “queenie,” “venomous cupcake,” “Care-ella de Ville” monikers that fly in her direction more often than not as they go toe-to-toe over some work issue or find themselves cloistered together in the Brainstorm Wing, alone, far too long to be considered tolerable.

He talks and teases. She mostly ignores it because she’s focused, determined - a freaking whiz at professionalism - though he does win a scoff every now and again over their electronics.

That’s simply the way it is between them. How it’s always been.

Occasionally Caroline will threaten to set his pants on fire or will offer to drown him in his most expensive bottle of bourbon for extra measure. Anything to shut him up. Anything to curb his persistent interruptions whenever they’re up to their elbows in files, arguing, warding off a loss before an important meeting or a deadline. But it never works. It never sticks.

Seriously, nothing phases him.

The man is either impervious to rebuff of any sort or his encouragement hinges on the one stupid traitorous blush (one!) that seems to accompany any glare Caroline fires in his direction. (A weakness she’s more than desperate to delete from her physiology.) His audacity is incredible to witness in person. Absolutely incredible.

Suspicion rankles in her gut because it’s as if Klaus has no other targets even when there are other associates present, which doesn’t make sense. It’s just her. Just this. Just endless time and opportunity to pun her to death.

Talk about sucks!

Can’t someone else be his designated prey instead? Why her? Why now? How’d she get to be so unlucky as to have to put up with him all the time?

Rifling through documents one evening in late November, forced to work in tandem per their boss and CEO, Elijah’s, request, the two of them nibble on Chinese takeout and work. Bicker. Pour over contracts. Plot strategy in the B-wing late into the morning hours.

“I know you’re loath to admit it, sunshine,” Klaus says with a yawn after they concoct a one-two punch right as the clock strikes three; it’s a killer solution on all fronts, “but you and I are good together. We make a formidable team.”

“Oh, stop with that.”

“Stop with what?”

“You know it annoys me,” she frowns. “Come on.”

“Annoys you? It was an observation, Caroline. I was under the impression those weren’t illegal.”

Tossing her iPad and color-coded notes aside, she runs a lazy hand through her hair before leveling him with a look, “I wasn’t talking about the team comment and you know it.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Pity,” Klaus says with a sigh and a stretch, raking her over while amusement dances in his rimmed eyes. “I’d hoped we were on the same page for once.”

“Well, we’re not.”

“Clearly.”

“An apology would be welcome at this juncture, you know. I’m open to hearing one,” she suggests.

“An apology?” Caroline waits. Taps her monogrammed company pen on the table’s ledge. He smirks before unhooking another button at his collar and angles closer. “For what?”

With a huff, “We’ve talked about this and you can’t just—how dare you keep—I—”

“Yes?” Klaus doesn’t say it but another endearment hangs from his smirking lips. It waits to shoot her way any second. “Go on then. State your grievance with me.”

“There’s no point.”

“Why’s that?”

“You already know what it is,” she says.

“Do I now?”

Growing perturbed, she ignores the flutter in her belly under this intense scrutiny, his expression a mixture of steady, sarcastic, and softly admiring. “This whole conversation is ridiculous!”

“Fair point. Though, personally, I disagree.”

“You…” she says, fighting back a blush and a laugh then shaking her head, “you are the actual worst.”

“Funny. That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Perhaps not, sunshine,” he dimples, slumping back casually before interlocking his fingers behind his head, and sighs, “but I’ll take it as such anyway. Just this once.”

Caroline scowls. Flattens her lips. Mumbles something about “endearment harassment.” Resists another blush as well as the urge to strangle him before the paperwork for this deal is done.

Instead she decides to re-send him the Merriam Webster definitions of impertinent and dickhead from her phone again—you know, for clarity’s sake. Then she asks demurely, all eyelashes, her hands folded flat, if Satan has happened to set the date for his coronation into hell yet.

“Why?” Leaning over the armrest with his chair wheels squeaking against the floor, Klaus is all cheek and attentiveness and spicy cologne. “Care to be my escort for the big event?” he says without missing a beat.

With a snort, “In your dreams, Mikaelson. But so help me, if you don’t knock it off and focus so we can finish preparing for this meeting tomorrow, then I promise I’ll find a way for the devil to come and collect you early himself. Got it?”

“Sure thing,” he nods. “Can’t have you wanting to push me off the roof later now, can I?”

“Who’s to say I’m not already tempted?” Caroline mumbles.

He swivels to face her, all levity, with one eyebrow raised. Meanwhile she focuses on organizing their files into separate stacks. “Are you?” he says.

Shrugging, “I wouldn’t push it any further if I were you. Better to be silent but productive than flippant and airborne, don’t you think?”

A chuckle. A soft press of his palm over her wrist.

“Well played, love. I don’t know if hearing that leaves me feeling more wounded or paranoid, but…well played.”

Warm, certain, Klaus’s touch lingers far too long after he draws away.

—Archived Twitter messages from FIERCE AND WE KNOW IT SQUAD group chat on December 5th, 10:42 P.M.

thiskatRAWRS : i said find his celebrity doppelgänger for us, caroline. wtf !!

crowned caroline: i did

thiskatRAWRS: no, you defected. like a coward

crowned caroline: did not!

thiskatRAWRS: did too

thiskatRAWRS: besides, i think we both know there’s a better selection to be had here

enzobites: oh - this outta be good, lusty (or is it katTHRUSTY now?)

thiskatRAWRS: *middle finger emoji*

crowned caroline: ugh. don’t provoke her, okay?

enzobites: bugger me for wondering at Elijah’s reaction to his ladylove’s ranking + assessment

enzobites: of

enzobites: his

enzobites: younger

enzobites: brother’s

enzobites: sex

enzobites: appeal

thiskatRAWRS: i still have eyes, don’t i? just gotta keep my hands to myself. not that it’s anyone’s business but mine and Elijah’s if i do or do not 😼

enzobites: …and you wonder why you were reassigned from HR, love

thiskatRAWRS: *double middle finger emoji*

bonnie-b-is-me: Kat told me Klaus has an up-to-no-good Jude Law look about him. is that semi-accurate, Care?

bonnie-b-is-me: (me = works elsewhere = totes out of loop) :(

crowned caroline: nope

crowned caroline: i stand by my original choice

bonnie-b-is-me: which was?

crowned caroline: *inserts internet meme*

bonnie-b-is-me: 😯

enzobites: wut…why Grumpy Cat?

thiskatRAWRS: i told you ^^^ doesn’t count, pick a human

crowned caroline: but the resemblance is astounding! it’s uncanny, really

crowned caroline: look here, i’ll prove it further: *inserts another three memes, one with a side-by-side photo comparison*

enzobites: wicked Santa hat there, Klausy

bonnie-b-is-me: lmao

crowned caroline: Klaus is literally Grumpy Cat in human form bc 1) he’s surly 2) he’s miserable and repressed af 3) he’s one explosive hiss away from taking another corporate life at all times

bonnie-b-is-me: so let him be known, 4eva more, as Grumpy Corporate Klaus

enzobites: i dig it

enzobites: GCK ftw then, yea? ;)

crowned caroline: 👍🏼

thiskatRAWRS: sorry, but all i’m getting from care’s explanation is “overlooked sex kitten” vibes. so if that’s how you view Klaus then idk how to break this to you, girl, but…

enzobites: BOW CHICKA WOW WOW

thiskatRAWRS: exactly !! one of them is gonna pounce on the other before long—ruffled feathers and all of that meowww

bonnie-b-is-me: bets, anyone?

enzobites: count me in, gorgeous ;)

thiskatRAWRS: ditto

crowned caroline: OMG SHUT UP ALL OF YOU

bonnie-b-is-me: did either of you hear something?

thiskatRAWRS: sounds like denial chirping to me

enzobites: or uh…hate could be their preferred foreplay

crowned caroline: THIS ISN’T FUNNY

bonnie-b-is-me: wouldn’t be the first time

thiskatRAWRS: and def not the last !!

bonnie-b-is-me: *inserts YouTube link to “Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande*

crowned caroline: WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM??? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, WTF

thiskatRAWRS: *inserts “You Can’t Handle the Truth” gif*

enzobites: from the way Klaus verbally paws at Blondie here in the office, to the longing look in his eyes when she speaks (or flirts) with any good-looking bloke who isn’t him, i wager it’s only a matter of time before—

crowned caroline has left the chat

A natural curiosity is there, of course. Call it a fatal flaw. A susceptibility. Whatever.

She’s only human.

No use in haranguing her about it forever, you know?

It’s a passing thought or two when the workload is mounting, when Caroline’s eyes blur numbers into scratchy colors of highlighter and her days are spun into spools of navy blue suits and unsigned contracts and poorly worded emails and coffee cart lattes plus beignets which she needs to keep her standing upright for another few hours or else she’ll peter out mid-sentence, toppling into the nearest chair; only to then find what she craves deposited, like a gift from the gods, onto her desk the exact instant she feels herself deflating into putty. No evidence at all that someone had been there. Not an item out of place. No note attached anywhere.

There’s also that prickle against the base of her neck sometimes. A tingle of awareness that tells her Klaus is either close by or he’s peering at her through the glass walls again, idly. Watching her with some soft and introspective intensity Caroline doesn’t understand let alone question thoroughly.

It’s a collection of moments.

Looks.

Coincidences.

Things that happen by accident because their schedules align - because, for example, they’re seated side-by-side on their way to the New Orleans airport one afternoon to catch a flight back home after closing Gerard Enterprises when the car swerves. The driver’s caught in a blast of turbulent traffic, and without thinking, she crosses the invisible boundary between them to curl against his side, her fingers fisting in his unworn seatbelt. Her head tucks against his clavicle, her eyelashes flicking over the buttons on his shirt. Their breaths heavy but in time.

“Are you alright, love? Are you hurt?” Klaus asks, his mouth burring like an ember against her crown of golden hair.

“I’m okay,” she breathes. In then out. In then out. “Just a little toppled and caught unawares is all,” she adds as his pulse slows beneath her ear, his hand hot on her bicep. “You?”

“Heart in my stomach, woman in my arms, so otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

“Yes - quite.”

Then there are the private conversations Caroline overhears. Like the one where he informs a slimy potential de Martel client the two of them are “a package deal” and that she is “not one to be trifled with, disrespected, or undervalued.” Or another where he confesses to his sister, Rebekah, that they’d “be bloody lost without her here.”

It’s how, any time they cross the street together, Klaus’s hand presses against the small of her back as if he wishes to offer another layer of protection. Almost like it belongs there.

It’s when, after a bout of flu descends like a hammer, leaving her phlegmy, feverish for days, and unable to work, a knock sounds at her door to reveal him standing on the other side. Looking sheepish, a shopping bag full of get well tea and medicinal items hangs from one of his arms while chicken noodle soup is Tupperwared in the other. To top it all off a fresh bouquet of sunflowers perches in the crook of his elbow, which he places in a vase with water before he leaves so she can rest. So she can recover her strength and faculties.

And even though everyone at the office whispers that Klaus only cares about himself, and about what comforts he can afford, Caroline knows he pays the secretaries’ bonuses directly out of his own pocket. He also offers use of his car service when the hour is late or the weather gets too dicey to walk to the subway, so he can’t possibly be that awful, can he? Can he?

These passing thoughts accrue over days, hours, weeks, to leave an imprint large enough to make her wonder. To have her questioning their so-called triviality.

Caroline hates to think it but - freaking hell - what if her friends are right? Is the in like vs. in spite line between her and Klaus really that thin, or is she only now realizing to admit so will change everything in ways she cannot begin to fathom?

Swipe left to descend into Emoville✔️

Swipe right for Distraction City✔️

(Both options suck equally for her, as it turns out.) (So she guilts Enzo into paying for drinks for the next three Saturdays and processes in true Forbes fashion: with lists a’plenty.)

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #it's been 84 years #since i last wrote for them #let's hope it's not 84 more #before i do again #ashlee bree's writing endeavors #ashlee bree's edits

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sabraeal · 5 years ago

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Odalisque

Written for @septhi-draw’s birthday; she asked for either some Shirayuki & Kiki or some Mitsuhide & Torou, and my original plan for it fell through (some chapters just got TOO LONG and the timing did not work out), so instead: a part of @onedivinemisfit’s Concubine AU that I felt would fit the bill!

Kiki did not make friends easily.

“I’m sorry.” The boy they have manning the pharmacy today is tall, fair, and sweet-faced; the sort of man that has a hometown girlfriend who snapped him up early and never let go. “Who is it you were looking for again?”

And dense as a brick.

“Sir Obi’s wife,” Kiki repeats, the request growing teeth. She’s said it at least twice, and by the rucked-up confusion on his face, she should prepare for at least once more. “She volunteers here. Small. Freckles.” She hesitates. “Red hair.”

“Ohh!” Finally, those big cow eyes spark with recognition. “You mean Shirayuki.”

“Yes,” Her smile is all canine. “Shirayuki.”

In the grand scheme of the royal court, an earl’s daughter -- or a count’s, as those southerners were apt to call themselves -- did not amount to much. A lady-in-waiting, perhaps. A season’s favored court decoration. Under another king, perhaps even a mistress. But in practice...

Seiran was an old name, older that the walls of Wistal and the Wisteria line by far. Before the flower kings of the south has settled their quarrels and set their sights north, Seiran had been ancient, siring more high kings than any of the other clans. It had been fortune, plain and simple, that had seen a Bergatt on the throne when they were all made to kneel.

And among the ton, it was power that intoxicated men, not titles.

There were no shortages of young counts’ daughters, nor earl’s, when she made her debut at court, but it was to her side that every young buck flocked. She flattered herself at first, believing that she truly was like no other woman they had known. After all, she was witty, she was educated, and she was unbeatable in the yard, at least by her own admission. None of these other court decorations could possibly compete with such interesting company.

That is, until the first proposal. It had confused her, as had his anger at her refusal. He had been a particularly close compatriot, one who had whispered wry commentary in her ear at dinner and trained with her in the yard.

What did you mean by all this, then? he had demanded, as if she had owed him something, as if she had whispered promises instead of jests into his ear. What did you think we were doing?

She had thought, naively, that she was making friends. And still did, until the second, and the third. At the fourth, a particularly persistent fellow, she informed him that she wouldn’t marry a man who couldn’t best her in the yard. The court had taken it as a joke, as a challenge set by a girl foolish enough to believe herself equal to a man.

It was not a misconception that lasted long. Neither did her popularity.

“Is there something you needed?” For once, he seems to gain an inkling of common sense and eyes her with a furrowed brow. “She’s not able to received patients.”

“Oh, no. No,” she assures him with a smile. “Nothing like that. I just thought she might like to go to lunch.”

Even though Kiki soundly rejected every young buck that dared to darken her father’s doorstep with sword in hand, it had not endeared her to the other debutantes of the court. They might have snatched up her spurned suitors, but none of them were grateful to her for the chance. No one enjoyed being reminded that they were second choice.

She had returned to Seiran happy to have her first Season behind her, happy to never return to the gleaming halls of Wistal. Which is why when Father proposed that she go to court again, Kiki had thought the Wisteria madness must have finally kindled on their side of the tree as well.

But when he suggested that she go not as a lady, but as an aide...

Well, Father was always full of clever solutions.

The wife emerges from the stockroom on coltish legs, taking each step as if it were her first. She sends a wide-eyed, helpless look behind her; her face is meant for it, eyes already too-large in her face, the rest of her features small and button-cute. She’s a doe in the clearing, wary of a hunter’s arrow.

Kiki’s mouth thins. She knows the type all too well.

It’s not a surprise when the receptionist comes out behind her, nor is the encouraging smile that lights his face, but --

But Kiki frowns at the hand at her back. She may not know much about love, about relationships, but she knows how hometown girlfriend would feel about that.

And a certain someone else.

Kiki did not make friends easily, but the ones she has...

She protects.

“Lady Kiki.” The girl shuffles, awkward, and for a long moment Kiki wonders if she might drop a curtsy, might show off some of that much-vaunted court training Tanbarun allows their courtesans --

But instead she nods politely, peering through her thick eyelashes with a wary expression. “Higata said you were looking for me.”

“I was.” Kiki tilts her head, offering her a small, toothless smile. “I hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, um!”

The girl is pale as cream, as is fashionable in both the Tanbarun court and Clarines, spotted faintly -- which is not -- and while Kiki looks on, red flares across her cheeks. Not delicate, not controlled, but blotchy, like she’s been slapped on both sides.

Oh. Well. She was under the impression concubines weren’t capable of that. At least, not anymore.

“N-no. I mean, yes. That’s fine. It’s only...” She puffs out her cheeks, clapping her hands to either side. If they weren’t so small, she might cover the whole of her blush. With a firm shake, she continues, “I’m not allowed to treat patients. Not that I couldn’t! But it’s only...pharmacy rules.”

Kiki holds up a hand. “I know. Your friend -- Higata? -- informed me. That’s not what I’m here for.”

Her brows are perfectly shaped, arched so that they may be raised ever so slightly in surprise, so that she barely needs to move in order to convey all the acceptable emotions a woman might have. After all, beauty did not wear wrinkles well.

And yet, she furrows them, forehead crinkling in confusion.

“Then why are you...?” Her lips close around the words. “I mean, what can I help you with?”

“Nothing too terrible, I hope.” Kiki pulls her smile wide, baring just the briefest flash of teeth, trying to radiate warmth, trust. “I just thought you might be hungry for lunch.”

His fingers arrive first, hooked around the balustrade, before his body hauls into view. It’s nothing from there to get a leg beneath him, and then another, perched on the rail like a cat on a sill.

“Glad to see you’ve finally showed up.”

Obi yelps, nearly slipping right off into the bush below. “Miss Kiki! I thought you’d be inside with Master.”

“I was.” She bites back a grin, sidling up to the rail beside him. “They’re talking about birds.”

He lets out a world-weary honk. “Still?”

“Still.”

“I’ve been gone for three months,” he sighs, settling himself on the balustrade, letting one leg dangle over the edge. “I thought you guys would be over all this by now.”

“Oh, you know Zen,” she tells him airily, “he’s very invested in...birds.”

Obi lets out a huff. “If he’s so invested, he should just go see them already.”

Kiki cocks her head, raising her eyebrows in a way that already has him squirming. “Is that your opinion as a married man?”

He makes a noise, something sister to a choke and cousin to a gasp but also neither, and she finally pays attention. “Is something wrong?

“Wrong?” he laughs, looking harried, looking hunted. “No! No. Nothing’s...”

Even before she came into Zen’s employ, Kiki had been the girl amongst the boys, the rose amongst the thorns, and as such, had honed her do not bullshit me expression to a sharp point. She can make even the most incorrigible man regret his choices at a hundred paces.

Obi only lasts as long as it takes for him to look up. “I don’t think she’s happy here.”

Kiki stares, but he won’t look at her, won’t look anywhere but the gardens with an expression she can only call tortured. “I’m sorry?”

“Shirayuki,” he sighs, and oh, she can hear the trouble brewing in that name alone. “She hasn’t said anything but...”

It’s not like Obi to run out of words, but he does, using a twist of his wrist to indicate that she should take them to their obvious conclusion. Which she does, with a twitch of an eyebrow and great zeal. “The honeymoon a bit of a disappointment?”

Obi, to her everlasting shock, blushes. “W-wha? No! That’s not-- I wouldn’t--” He lets out a pained pant. “Who teaches you these things, Miss Kiki?”

“Would it disappoint you if I said Garack?” He looks fit to choke, and, ah yes, his lovely new wife was one of the pharmacy’s newest volunteers, if she remembers correctly. “I could make up a lie if you like. I watched bitches in heat--”

“Please,” he creaks, holding up a hand. “Stop.”

Not if he is going to make chasing this rabbit into its warren so rewarding. “My, my. Is the illustrious Sir Obi, ‘I Light a Fire in Many a Girl,’ all talk?”

“N-no!” he snaps, defensive, straightening his spine as if another two inches might help his reputation. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that’s not where it matters. “It’s just...”

She hums, lifting an inquisitive brow.

“I maybe haven’t...been the most truthful...” Each word falls from his mouth as easy as a pulled tooth. “About exactly how I ended up married...”

The enthusiasm is a surprise, to say the least.

“I’ll only be a minute.” The girl is practically bouncing on her toes, red curls bobbing brightly down her back, and has been since Kiki deigned to take a seat on their sofa. It’s from Viande, she’s heard at least twice; a wedding gift from Marquis Haruka.

Kiki eyes it warily when the girl bounds back into her boudoir to ‘ready herself.’ The last she’d heard, he and Obi had barely been able to stand being in the same country as each other, let alone room, and now Haruka was sending them wedding gifts.

“It was very nice of him, wasn’t it?” she calls out. “So generous.”

“It is,” Kiki agrees mildly, crossing her legs tighter. She could only trust that Obi had done his due diligence and searched it for poisoned pins in the like. After all, Haruka was no dear friend of his, and Viande was the city of...canals.”I hadn’t realized you were so close to the marquis.”

“Oh, yes!” In all her wildest imaginings, Kiki had never dreamed that she might hear someone gush over Haruka, but here she was, listening to Obi’s own wife recommend him for heaven. This is where her life had led her.

In retrospect, it only made sense that Obi was to blame.

“If it weren’t for him,” the girl continues blithely, “I never would have...”

There is a hiccup, a hesitation. The moment practiced liars sail through with nary a thought. “The marriage was his idea.”

Hah. That made this particular gift come into focus. It had been Haruka, after all, that was sent to Tanbarun’s court, who had been meant to broker better relations with their neighbor. Obi had ridden along as an attaché, something between personal assistant, body guard, and spy.

He’d threatened to vomit when Zen told him. But now, well -- it only makes sense that they had reached some level of accord. So much had changed in Tanbarun, that might as well too.

“I admired the pattern before.” Her words come slower now, more careful, as if she’s sifting every one. “Obi’s room has something similar, when he...”

The silence hangs heavy between them, and Kiki lets it. The longer it ages, the more awkward it becomes, and she bites back a smile. There is no better way to get the measure of a person than to see how they squirm in the absence of idle talk.

“Anyway,” the girl huffs out with a limping laugh. “I’ve held us up enough.”

The door swings open, and -- and Kiki expected a full walking gown, expertly made and expensively embroidered, just flirting with the amount of humble restraint a knight’s wife is supposed to show. Instead it’s a short dress, hardly embellished at all save for the wrap around her waist, with leggings beneath. It’s a style she’s seen in the market, worn by the city girls who wander it; something practical yet fashionable --

And on Obi’s wife, wholly unexpected. Kiki stares down at her own tunic, cinched tight like a bodice, and her own pants, tailored close to her shape like a man’s buckskins, and realizes -- there are some who would see them and say they matched. Peas in a pod, to quote her father.

It should bother her more than it does.

“We best get going,” Kiki says, wincing at how the words trip out of her mouth, ungainly. She takes a breath, composing herself. “After all, I would hate to take up too much of your time.”

Small fingers grip her vambrace, and those wide eyes shine up at her. “Oh, please.” Every syllable shakes as Shirayuki speaks, tremulous, “no moment would be wasted with you, Lady Kiki.”

“Oh.” That is...entirely too earnest a sentiment for a woman like this. Kiki gently tugs her arm free, gesturing to the door. “Then we should get started. I did promise you lunch, after all.”

“A concubine?”

Obi head whips over his shoulder, shushing her with a hiss. “You don’t need to say it so loud!”

His gaze darts all around, as if the dogwood or the honeysuckle might spread the word. Thought, to be fair, with the amount of spies at court, Kiki wouldn’t doubt a man hiding in the branches.

She settles a glare in him that quite eloquently portrays, it’s a pity I have to say it at all.

Obi withers, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Aw, Miss Kiki, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, miles away from her body. “Surely you’re not the first man who led a mission of diplomacy with his--”

“W-wait! Wait.” He waves his hands, distressed, which is exactly what he’s going to be if he doesn’t explain himself in full. “It wasn’t like that at all!”

“Please.” Her fingers tap thoughtfully at her hilt. “Do enlighten me as to what it was like.”

“I know you only said lunch.” The girl keeps pace easily beside here, the thick curl of her hair bouncing with every step. “But I thought maybe...”

Kiki braces herself. Here it is, the first request. Something small, something that would seem innocuous. A stop to an expensive shop. And introduction to a handsome friend, a --

“Maybe we could go to the market too?”

Kiki blinks. That was certainly...small. “The market?”

“I’ve never been.” Her words rush out in a jumble, like a pack of ungainly hounds being called to dinner. “Well, not for a long time, and never here. I used to go all the time when I...”

Her jaw tenses, trapping the rest of the thought behind her teeth.

“Anyway,” she begins again, brighter. “I thought it might be fun. Just the two of us.”

It’s easy to see how she’s taken in the boys with this act; Kiki’s half-fooled herself. With her soft blush and those down-turned eyes, the way her conversation keeps skidding to a halt, well --

She may not be a man, but she is a knight. Her job is to protect the weak, the helpless.

She just doubts this girl is one of them.

“Of course,” she says, smile firmly in place. If this girl wants to give her more time to figure out her game, Kiki will cherish every second. “Let us go to the market, Lady Shirayuki.”

She takes two steps before she realizes the girl hasn’t moved. “Lady--?”

“Please,” the girl blurts out, “there’s no need-- you shouldn’t--”

Kiki may not trust her, but she’s savvy enough to know when distress is feigned, and this -- this is not. “Is something--?”

“Please.” The girl takes a deep breath, summoning a tremulous smile onto her face. “Lady Kiki. You can just call me Shirayuki.”

It’s only when Kiki snaps her jaw shut that she realizes it opened at all. “Then you’ll have to call me Kiki.”

The girl smiles at her, so bright and wide and genuine that it hurts to look at. “All right. Kiki.”

The texture of her disapproval is different this time, at least. “Have you told Zen?”

His grimace tells her everything she needs to know. “Not in...so many words, but,” he hurries to add, “His Majesty knows!”

Kiki let out a sigh. Of course, Izana knows. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had records of the first day of her menses and the proposed date of her next, let alone that his brother’s idiot retainer married a concubine straight out of Prince Raj’s seraglio.

“I had to ask permission,” he tells her, as if this should clear him of his idiocy. “Well...it was after the fact. But I did ask.”

Her pulse presses against her temples, and oh, will she have a headache later. “And what did he say?”

“Well...” He pulls at his shoulder, eyes rolling heavenward. “He was very...skeptical.”

Oh, to put it mildly, she’s sure.

“But he understood we had a limited amount of choices, and an even tighter amount of time to make them in.” He shrugs a shoulder. “His Majesty seems to like her now.”

Kiki’s mouth draws flat. Of course he did. Every man seems to like her. All men want to be needed, and she gives that to them in spades. The girl is practically irresistible.

“Oh yes.” Her teeth buzz with her annoyance. “And His Majesty’s reason could never be compromised.”

Obi nods, without a hint of irony. “Exactly.”

Kiki rolls her eyes. Men were utterly useless.

A single step into the market, and Kiki feels it, that pinprick on the back of her neck.

They’re being watched.

With an air of unstudied ease, she brushes a piece of lint from her shoulder. It’s nothing to flick a casual glance up, and -- yes, there. A man lingers in the shadowed maw of an alleyway.

Ah, so perhaps Izana was not so certain of the concubine’s loyalties after all.

“Oh, there’s an apothecary!”

Kiki startles; she barely has enough time to get her feet underneath her before she’s subject to the full force of Shirayuki’s gaze, as gentle and irrefutable as the tide. “Do you mind?”

It’s not fair that she can look at a person like that, not when her face is practically all eyes. “I would have thought you’d be tired of herbs.”

“Oh, no, never!” Kiki doesn’t recognize this smile on her; it’s wide, earnest, so different from the one she turns to the men when she needs them. “I was going to sell them, back before...”

Ah, there. Another smile is sacrificed to her silence, buried by the thin spread of her lips.

“I never get tired of them,” she says softly. Her fingers reach out, caressing a spray of dried lavender with as much tenderness as a lover. “Did you know? Garack told me I might take the apprentice exam the next time they offer it.”

Kiki blinks. “I...did not. No.”

“Oh!” Her eyes blow wide, hand clapping over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that! I haven’t even told Obi yet. I just--” her cheeks flush sheepishly-- “I suppose I got excited.”

Kiki isn’t used to this, this forceful need to support. “If Garack Gazalt personally invited you to take the exam, then there’s everything to be excited about.”

The noonday sun is bright above them, but it pales in comparison to how Shirayuki glows at her words, hands fluttering over her skirt like wild butterflies. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.” Blind confidence has always come easier than tender feeling. “Garack is an excellent judge of skill.”

And character, she doesn’t add. That doesn’t feel pertinent, save to her.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when the girl grabs her, her small hands wrapping tight around hers. They’re soft, like she expects, but there’s hard calluses too, forming right at the palm and fingertips. Right where one might hold a pestle. Or a dagger.

“Thank you.” Shirayuki gazes up at her with shining eyes, a tremulous smile shaking her lips. “Thank you for saying that.”

It is not a choice to smile back, it is just something Kiki’s mouth does, unbidden. “I’ll say it anytime you like. You only need to ask.”

Shirayuki lets out a noise that is something like a laugh and something like a croak. Something not pretty, something real. “Thank you,” she says, eyelashes fluttering wetly, “but I think I’ll only need the once.”

“I’m worried.”

Kiki nearly snaps back, I’m worried for you, too, but she knows how he’ll take it, how her doubt will do far more than sting. She’s livid, ready to shake him down to his bones for being so stupid, but-- her trust is important to him. And despite all this, he still has it.

“About what?” The girl manipulated herself out of a seraglio and across a border; that she has anything to be unhappy about it patently ridiculous. Perhaps her prospects have disappointed her-- though Kiki can’t see how, not when both Zen and Mitsuhide are wound so tightly around her finger-- but if she was really so miserable, she’d have caught a hay cart to Viande by now.

Obi rubs at a shoulder, mouth pulled thin. “I think she’s...lonely.”

She stares. “Lonely?”

“I mean, I spend time with her!” he yelps, as if Kiki isn’t absolutely certain just what kind of quality time convinced Obi to hang an albatross around his neck. “And she volunteers in the pharmacy too. I just think she’s worried that...”

His mouth closes but his hand opens, at a loss, and -- and she knows. If anyone were to find out the storied past of Sir Obi’s new wife, that she wasn’t some court lady in Tanbarun but instead the first prince’s concubine--

Kiki knew all too well: the court of Clarines was not always kind. Perhaps they might smile; after all, Obi was the second prince’s aide, too close to the crown to cross, but --

Well, that has never kept an invitation from being misplaced. Or stopped the whispers that ran rampant behind fans. We cannot trust a foreign whore.

Kiki might pity the girl, if she didn’t know the type. She might not have a back door on this plan, but she has a half dozen windows. It’s only a matter of time before she takes one of them.

And it will be Kiki who has to clean up the mess she leaves behind.

“Maybe we should have invited the boys,” Shirayuki laughs, engulfed to the elbow with bags. “At least then we would have someone to carry things.”

Kiki tamps down on her impulse to agree. It would be nicer if they could saddle the boys with their purchases and let them sort it out. “We do fine enough on our own.”

Shirayuki gives her a speculative look from the corner of her eyes. “But Mitsuhide is so strong. It seems like a waste not to let him show it off.”

He’d carried her bags for her when they’d first arrived, the girl clinging to him like a limpet. She’d done the same at the festival in Yurikana, all big eyes and breathless voice when he’d bought her the shawl she’d been looking at --

“I like him quite a bit.” If the words seem bold, it’s nothing next to the coy look she casts at her. “Strange that no one’s snapped him up.”

“Hm.” Kiki manages. It’s hard to speak when she’s trying so hard not to pull hair.

“Mitsuhide,” she says again, like she enjoys the way it feels in her mouth, like it’s hers. “He’s your...?”

“Mine.”

“Ah, well.” Shirayuki’s mouth curls. “Then that explains it.”

Kiki does not make friends easily, but the ones she has, she protects.

Whether they want her to or not.

Kiki had planned to take the girl somewhere nice, upscale. A small Tanbarunian cafe had popped up in the market, popular now that their relations were so warm with Clarines, attended almost exclusively by the young, fashionable, and upper crust of the court. An irresistible spot for a spy longing for home, or a social climber searching for a convenient bed to hop to.

Shirayuki, of course, had other ideas.

“Are you sure you’ve never had a meat pie?” she asks, eyes incredulously wide. “I thought they had them everywhere.”

The last meat pie Kiki had eaten was expertly prepared by Seiran’s chef, served in a small, ceramic dish, garnished with fresh sprigs of parsley and sage; the entree to a very restrained five courses. A dish as related to the thing this vendor was hawking as a lion was to a house cat.

“Not one I could hold in my hand,” she says instead, eyeing the stand. “We don’t have many street vendors in Seiran.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki’s mouth spread wide, in a grin that was half pleasure, half mischief. “Then I’ll point out all the best things for you to try.”

There is no reason for her chest to clench like this, or for her eyes to tear, not when she has not given them permission. There is no reason for her to so fondly think of how that grinning mouth reminds her of another, when --

“All right,” Kiki sniffs, blinking away-- pollen. It must be pollen. Summer was terrible for...trees. “But remember, I’m paying.”

Her eyes round with distress. “But we’ll get so much! It’s only fair that I pay for my own, at least. I have some money--”

“Please.” Kiki puts a hand on hers, stilling it in her pocket. “It’s my pleasure. But,” she bites her cheek, uncertain, “you’re sure you don’t want to go somewhere--?”

“No, no!” Her hand twists, catching Kiki’s and twining their fingers. If Shirayuki usually smiles like this, Kiki really can’t blame Obi for stealing her away. “The food is the best part.”

“It would just be nice if she felt like she had a...” Kiki feels rather than sees his eyes dart to her, then away. “...friend.”

“A friend.”

“Yeah.” He rubs at the back of his neck, sheepish, guilty. “She didn’t really have much of a choice in coming here, you know?”

Of course he would think that. The girl practically throws herself at him, angling him into an impossible situation, and yet she is the one who lacked a choice in the matter.

Kiki has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Every man thinks a woman is born with both hands broken.

“All right, all right, I’m sure she wasn’t disappointed, so you can stop looking at me like that, Miss Kiki,” he tells her with a wry twist to his mouth. “But the whole marriage was...last second. I’m not really sure that she knew...”

She lifts a brow. “I think she had plenty of ideas about what to expect--”

“Miss Kiki!” he gasps, scandalized hand pressed to his breast. “I didn’t mean that. I meant...” He blows out a breath, color high on his cheeks. “I meant being married to me.“

Oh. It’s so clear on his face now, like the sun through parted clouds and, he-- he--

He’s in love with her. The idiot.

“I have a free afternoon next week,” she says, because she is too good of a friend. “Unless you don’t think you can keep her happy for that long.”

“Miss Kiki,” he breathes, and it’s too much having him look at her like that, like she’s -- she’s something special. Not Lady Seiran, not the second prince’s sword, but Kiki. “Thank you.”

Kiki marks another man as they stand in line, this one lounging on the terrace of a nearby cafe, noticeably not reading his broadsheet. There’s another that hovers by a stall with scarves, fresh-faced and staring so baldly that he must be new to the business. She’ll have to tell Izana the boy needs some work.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, but there’s something satisfying about eating off a stick,” Shirayuki tells her, weaving through the crowd, “we just have to-- oh!”

Something chimes as it strikes the cobbles, and Shirayuki’s hands fly to her mouth. “My pin!”

With no thought whatsoever, the girl bends straight at the waist, and --

Ah, those are not Izana’s men.

Kiki steps up behind her, giving her a firm tug on the elbow to yank her upright. “You have it now?”

“I do!” Her cheeks are flushed, and Kiki is not the only one who notices. “I can’t believe it fell out.”

“Here,” Kiki takes the stick from her hand, sweeping up Shirayuki’s impossible locks into a knot, and pinning it tight. “Now you won’t lose it again.”

“Thank you!” She raises a hand, touching the simple twist with such reverence that Kiki feels heat flush at her own collar. “I’d be heartbroken if I lost it.”

“Mm.” Kiki squints, the dangling tassel all-too-familiar. “That’s the one Obi won for you, isn’t it?”

In that stupid streetfight, she doesn’t add. They both know exactly what she means. How could the girl not, when Obi had dragged himself through the festival like a man trudging to the gallows, all because they had some sort of falling out, one so quickly forgotten when his wife had realized that he’d fought for--

“Yes, in that stupid fight,” Shirayuki spits with enough vitriol to make Kiki blink. “He got himself a black eye for that too!”

“I know,” she murmurs faintly, “I was there.”

“Yes, you were! Ugh.” Shirayuki rolls her eyes. “It’s very pretty, but I wish he had just--” she lets out a frustrated noise that contained the sort of multitudes that only a woman could understand-- “men.”

“Men,” Kiki concurs, teeth bared as she meets the eyes of such creatures steadily in turn, letting them see just what sort of plans she had for those who could not control a wandering gaze.

They all seem to find the cobbles intensely interesting, all of a sudden.

With a toothy grin, Kiki loops her arm through Shirayuki’s, tucking the girl firmly against her side. “Now come on, our lunch is getting cold.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Kiki warns him, hating how her stomach twists. “We may not be friends.”

Most women didn’t take kindly to having their machinations exposed, after all.

Obi only hummed, his mouth curling at a corner. “You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t think I can eat all this,” Shirayuki admits, taking a bite of another meat pie. Juice dribbles from the edge of her lip, but she doesn’t notice, only shakes her head as she swallows it down. “I had us get too much!”

“It’s fine.” Kiki can’t help but smile, leaning in to catch the drop before it falls onto her skirt. “We’re sharing, after all.”

Shirayuki stares up at her with those too-large eyes, jaw dropped, and there’s-- there’s something that makes Kiki squirm in it. Something too close to awe.

“Right,” the girl murmurs, nodding her head. “Because we’re sharing.”

They settle into a companionable silence, picking at the dishes between them, nearly all of them fried and most of them stuffed with meat, and in a few memorable instances, sweet cream. It’s like nothing Kiki has ever had; the food may not be as high brow as she’s used to, or as expertly spiced, but there’s a sort of satisfaction to eating things from a stick, or biting into dough only to get powder all over her trousers. And the company...

Far better than expected.

“Kiki,” Shirayuki blurts out, red-faced, her head hung over her lap. “Before, when I said I was excited, I-- I lied.”

Kiki may have known this was coming, but she finds herself disappointed anyway. “Oh?”

“I said I was excited because of Garack Gazalt.” Her hands fly out, gripping on to hers. “But I was excited because I was with you.”

She blinks, staring down at the fingers that have clenched themselves white. This was...certainly a new way out of a loveless marriage. “Shirayuki--”

“There aren’t...” Shirayuki’s mouth wraps around her words again, stilling them, and -- and Kiki is so tired of it, so tired of watching her struggle past the things she can’t say.

“Please.” Kiki squeezes her hand. “You don’t need to do that around me. Say what you need to.”

“In the women’s quarters, we didn’t...” Shirayuki won’t look at her, her gaze fixed to where their hands clasp each other, to where Kiki has still not let go. “Concubines don’t make good company for each other.”

She wouldn’t imagine so, not when they’re all vying for the attention of the same man. And with one as flighty and useless as Raj...

“I’ve never had...” Shirayuki hesitates, as if she’s pulling out thorns to say it. “A friend.”

“Oh.” That throws this whole excursion into a new light.

“I don’t mean-- obviously, there’s Obi, but...” She bites her lip. “It’s different. You know what I mean?”

Kiki first got her menses in the castle, right on their first mission beyond its walls. Zen had stared at her as if she had been gored, as if she were about to die right in front of him. Mitsuhide had wrapped his cape about her and bundled her off to the first apothecary he’d seen, paying for herbs and fresh linen with a smile.

It’s natural, he’d told her as she’d stared at the rags with wide eyes, you might feel like you’re going to die, but you’ll be right as rain in a few days. At least, that’s what my sisters say.

Sisters. She’d clung to that; even through the cramping and bleeding, that had seemed to be the more important thing. Mitsuhide had sisters. Yet another crumb he’d given her when she’d been starving to know him, because even then she--

Ah. “Something like it.” She offers her a small smile. “It’s far past time we had another woman around here, at least.”

Shirayuki dares to look up at her, dares to let her smile mirror Kiki’s. “You know, when we first met, I was worried that you...well.” Her cheeks flush, two terrible blotches that Kiki can’t help but be fond of. “You’re very pretty, and knew Obi well, and, ah...” She gives her a significant look. “You know how well Obi can light a fire in women.”

Kiki gapes. She certainly knows how he thinks he can. “You thought...Obi and I...that we...?”

She shakes her head. It’s unthinkable.

“That’s why I asked about Mitsuhide!” Shirayuki giggles, squeezing her hand. “He seems very kind. And very handsome. So I thought if anyone might tempt you...”

“Oh.” She had said he was hers. Just. Said it. Because she thought that Shirayuki was... “Hah.”

Shirayuki’s mouth curves in a shy smile. “As I said, I like him quite a lot. I told Obi he’s just like how I imagine my big brother would be, if I had one.”

“Like a...” Mine. It had come right out of her mouth, so easily. “Brother.”

“Though,” Shirayuki’s smile takes a wicked cant, “I could see how a lady might feel differently.”

She had fooled her. Used her own preconceptions against her and got her to admit out loud something she would have happily taken to her grave, and--

And now she’s teasing her, mouth rucked up at a corner, so like her husband that for a moment it makes Kiki come unmoored, and--

“I only invited you because I thought you might be using Obi.”

Shirayuki’s eyes go wide, searching, before both their gazes drop to the space between them, as if she’s a hound that’s been sick on the carpet, as if her words might have made an actual puddle of sick between them.

“But I don’t think that anymore,” Kiki hurries to add, gripping her hands so tight she must be hurting her, though it’s nothing next to what her words have done-- “Not at all.”

“Oh,” Shirayuki manages, breathless. “Oh.”

“I’m...” This should not be so difficult, not when she has already said the worst of it, not when the damage is already done. “I’m having a very good time. I hope we do this again soon.”

Shirayuki’s breath rasps in the silence, sharp and wounded. She won’t answer, not when Kiki has already ruined everything by telling her--

“Yes!” Her fingers squeeze so tight their knuckles crack. “Yes, please. Anytime.”

Kiki blinks, lifting her gaze to finally look, and-- “You’re not upset?”

“Of course not.” Shirayuki’s smile is blinding, even in her confusion. “You like me! You-- you want to be friends.”

“I do,” she breathes, surprised at how much she means it. “I do. But I didn’t...this wasn’t...”

“Kiki, I understand.” Her head bows, wisps of red springing free from her twist to kiss their clasped hands. “Obi must have told you that I...that we...”

“You aren’t precisely a love match,” Kiki offers delicately. She refrains from adding, on one side.

“Yes,” Shirayuki sighs, relieved. “Any other man would have just left me to fend for myself, but he brought me here, even after...”

She hesitates now, but this time it’s different; it isn’t from shame or fear, but privacy instead. A moment between her and Obi, still too fresh to share.

“I know it can’t be easy to trust me,” she says, “not when he had so little choice.”

Kiki stares. “Obi?”

“I know that’s not precisely true--” Shirayuki flushes, blotching at her collar, her cheeks, her ears-- “but it would never occur to Obi that he could have just gone without me, and I--”

Oh, she knows that look. “You love him.”

“I--” Shirayuki drops her hands, blood draining abruptly from her face. So pale, her freckles sit starkly against her skin. “Is it obvious? Do you think he knows?”

Her jaw works for a moment before she manages, “I can say with all confidence that he absolutely does not.”

“Oh.” Shirayuki’s hands flutter to her face, pressing to the apples of her cheeks, as if she could keep the pink from them if she only tried hard enough. “Are you sure? I thought maybe that was why he wouldn’t lay with me.”

Kiki coughs. Good thing she hadn’t put anything in her mouth before that. “What?”

“He wouldn’t touch me in Tanbarun,” she says, thoughtful, “which seemed prudent of him, at the time. But now we’re married, and I thought...well, there must be some reason he hasn’t tried to, you know--”

“Yes,” she interjects smoothly, before any more of that sort of talk can arise. She could curse Obi, putting her into a situation like this. “I just...I’m quite sure that’s not the case.”

Shirayuki tilts her head, as if she’s mulling over some particularly complex puzzle, and heavens and stars, Obi is an idiot.

“But really,” Kiki starts, unable to help herself, “you haven’t don’t anything?”

“No!” Shirayuki moans, dropping her head into her hands. “And I left all my good lingerie in Tanbarun.”

“Oh.” She shouldn’t get involved, she shouldn’t, but-- “Are you done with your lunch?”

She blinks, staring down at the remains of the plates between them. “Ah! It is getting late. I should let you--“

“Oh, no.” Kiki stands, brushing off her trousers before offering out her hand. “We’re not done here.”

Shirayuki stares up at her, wide-eyed. “We aren’t?”

“Of course not.” Kiki grins. “After all, I know just the place for you to recoup your losses.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #concubine au #ans #this fic took THREE DRAFTS #THREE OF THEM #it was supposed to be 3k TOPS #and it ended up being nearly 7K #BUT I'M GLAD I DID IT #getting both Kiki and Shirayuki's voices in this were a bit of a challenge #but man it eventually worked out a lot better than I even hoped #and I got some Kiki/Obi friendship in here #and some background mitsukiki hints #ALL IN ALL A GOOD DAY

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Five: Prancing Ponies ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: To Rule Them All ] [ AO3 Link ]

“So...have I a clean bill of health to return to my duties?”

Eyeing the site of the wound critically, the royal healer is quiet for a long moment, almost seeming to ignore Sasuke’s question. Only once she’s satisfied does she reply, “...aye, you’re cleared.” Fingers gently prod, watching him for reactions. “...you’ll likely be sore for a while yet, but so long as you keep your actions muted beyond idle guarding, you’ll be fine. A few more weeks, and you’ll be completely whole. Let’s just hope you won’t need to do any gallivanting before then.”

The Uchiha manages a wry grin. Admittedly, he’s grown quite fond of Hiashi’s nurse, who has overseen his recovery since the attack on Hinata’s life...that Sasuke so valiantly interrupted. She can be a bit stubborn, but overall is rather warm and mothering - exactly how a healer should be, in his eyes. “My thanks, and...I’ll try not to overdo.”

“Good. Pleasant as you are, sir knight...I’d rather not have to see you for a good long while, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Replacing his removed top garments, he then offers, “And...thank you for your help with my brother.”

She gives him an inquisitive look.

“I went to see him the other day, and he told me of your herbal tea, for his cough. He’s long been rather frail. I’m glad to see him getting treatment. He seemed to be in much better health than before he joined the court, and I’d assume got in contact with you.”

Understanding then brightens her expression. “Oh! Yes, of course. Can’t have a member of the court unwell, now - can we?”

“I suppose not...but I’m grateful.”

With a smile, she then offers, “Well...best get back to her ladyship, then. I’m sure she’ll feel much safer with you back at her side.”

You have no idea, Sasuke can’t help but think dryly to himself, nodding in farewell before taking his leave.

The walk through the castle to Hinata’s quarters is oddly...quiet. Since the attempted assassination, the entire palace has been on high alert. And Hiashi’s decree to keep any diplomats from the royal grounds only helped to heighten the worry. But Sasuke agrees, it was likely the best course of action. Even if another attack wasn’t planned, or another land seeking to usurp them...the chaos afterward may have emboldened any latent enemies.

Better, in Sasuke’s view, to be safe than sorry.

But before he can complete his trek, Sasuke finds himself waylaid by none other than his brother, Itachi. The councilman looks a bit harried, but brightens at the sight of his sibling. “Ah, there you are...I was hoping I would catch you before you went back on duty - I take it you just left the healer?”

“Er, yes...Itachi, what is -?”

“I have news. What may potentially be very good news. But best we speak...elsewhere, hm? Come - outside.”

Very much confused, Sasuke follows Itachi down to the ground floor and out of the castle...and eventually to the stables?

Sasuke spends a bit of time here when he can. His personal mount is kept in the royal barn, after all...and getting to see the beast always bolsters his mood. But why Itachi is so desperate to tell him good news in so removed a place...he really can’t guess.

Horses, drafts, and ponies alike seem to stir at their agitated energy, mounts outside prancing nervously as they pass. Only once they’ve found themselves in the room to store grains does Itachi turn to face Sasuke, a gleam in his dark eyes.

“So...as per our last...discussion, I have been very carefully prying into Hiashi’s brain regarding his plans moving forward with Hinata.”

“...I take it you learned something helpful?”

“I believe I have. Though...learned might not be quite the right word. Perhaps...suggested. You see, we decided that your foremost feature for being a suitable candidate for Hinata’s hand was your role as her protector, correct?”

“...yes,” Sasuke replies slowly, much at a loss. Where is Itachi going with this…?

“Well, I decided to test the waters in regards to his opinion of such a matter. I began with worries over her safety, which he admitted to being unsure of. He did compliment your foresight and refusal to lighten security despite the calls of the others. And, of course, your taking the blow in Hinata’s place.”

“Er...good.”

“So I made a very...faint suggestion that perhaps, given the political climate what with this brazen attack...that a point of consideration he may wish to take is that of Hinata’s safety in regards to a spouse. In other words...that lineage may not be the only factor he mull over, but also a man’s ability to protect the future queen.

“He was quiet for a time after that, clearly thinking it over...and then made a suggestion all on his own: that the most promising suitors from the various realms agree to a contest for Hinata’s hand. He noted that the...current method had yet to yield any promising results - a change of pace may be a good thing.”

Slowly, Sasuke’s face goes slack with comprehension.

“So...rather than pomp and circumstance being the order of the day...a multifaceted challenge be taken instead. One that would prove the many promising aspects of a potential suitor. Which would include a more physical contest to weed out those too weak to keep Hinata safe.”

“...I see. Then how would I…?”

“I suggested that, for a trial of sorts - to prove themselves against you, her clearly capable knight - you too be entered into this...tournament. As a legitimate participant, and a potential suitor to keep rule strictly within our lands. But also as a tool to measure the other suitors against. And Hiashi agreed, given your valor already shown.”

“So all I have to do is -?”

“Win this little tournament...and Hinata’s hand will be yours by right. A right set down by Hiashi himself. With some gentle prodding and persuasion by myself, of course.”

Barely constraining a reaction, Sasuke hushedly asks, “What else will be in this...contest?”

“He’s yet to decide fully. There will likely be proof of etiquette, knowledge, wisdom...things that play into being a ruler. Most, however, you already have given how you were raised as part of a noble family. In all honesty, brother...I believe you have a true fighting chance at this.

“The combat will likely be saved for the final deciding factor...which means you will have to make it through the other sections, as well. It will likely be scored overall. And you will serve as a pillar to topple at the end. But should you do well enough - and I’m certain you could, and I doubt there are many, if any, noblemen who could best you in battle - then you would emerge the victor. And Hiashi would be none the wiser to your true feelings. All he would have to know was that you indeed conquered the trials, and earned your place as Hinata’s chosen suitor.”

Carefully, Sasuke grips Itachi’s upper arms, searching his face for some hint that this is a joke, a lie, a stunt...but he finds none. Not that Itachi would ever lie to him, he’s just...in shock. “...when would it take place?”

“Several weeks from now, at best. There is planning for the council to do, invitations to send, grounds to arrange...it will take time. But Hiashi is also eager to see this done, as to end the waiting game and ensure Hinata’s safety from the potential of another hostile suitor.”

“...good, good…” He’ll likely be fully healed by then.

Smiling, Itachi in turn takes his brother’s cheeks in his hands. “...I truly believe you can do this. Then nothing would stand in your way. You and Hinata would no longer have to hide your regard. The kingdom will stay within its people’s rule. And she will be safe.”

“...Itachi, I...how can I thank you? This would never have come about if not for you and your weaseling.”

The elder brother’s expression turns a bit wry. “Well...I suppose all my lack of brawn means a better helping of brains. And how better to put it to use than helping my dear baby brother marry the woman of his dreams?”

For a moment, Sasuke has to swallow back a wave of raw emotion. “...if you can, tell me what the council decides, so I can begin preparing. I’ve been off some weeks to heal - I’ll need to regain my stamina and balance. But I’m sure there will be other things that need learning and refreshing.”

“Of course. I’ll help however I can. But we must be discreet...should Hiashi suspect my interference, he may think us scheming something. If not born of love, then a want for the crown and influence.”

“Right...we’ll lie low, then.”

“Best to be cautious. Now...you have a princess to attend to, and I have meetings to sit in on. Tell her the news, and of course to be cautious. I’ll find you again when I know more. For now, focus on regaining your strength. And of course, keeping her safe. The rest will come with time.”

With a nod, Sasuke embraces his brother quickly before they part ways - Itachi to the council’s chamber, and Sasuke to the princess’ quarters.

When he’s let in, there’s a moment of hesitation as they see one another. Hinata, seated and bearing a book, brightens.

...but they cannot be true to what they feel, handmaids and other knights present.

“Sir,” the other men offer.

Sasuke gives them glances. “...thank you, gentlemen, for keeping the princess safe in my absence. You may take your leave.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Ladies, I believe that’s all I need for now,” Hinata then softly offers, her maids bowing and removing themselves.

Only after a long pause to listen to fading footsteps do they move. Sasuke takes a few steps, Hinata seeming to fly the rest until she embraces him.

“At last,” she murmurs into the crook of his shoulder. “I’ve m-missed you...terribly.”

“And I, you.” Parting, he carefully tucks hair behind her ear. “...I have news. Itachi has been speaking to your father...and there may be a way.”

Her eyes widen. “...tell me.”

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to days 67, 109, 212, 220, 236, 275, and 305!) OMG, back into the princess and knight AU! I love this one, and I've missed it. Also I know I'm...almost two weeks behind, but this day marks the beginning of the end: this was the prompt for December first. Just thirty days left to do. And as is likely obvious...I'll be running over by quite some time ^^; Life is just TOO busy for me to have any hope to catch up before New Year's, but better late than never! ANYWAY...we have a plot! Itachi, you're a genius. I was honestly a bit stumped before he nudged this idea at me x3 And it's perfect! Now to just...make it happen, lol - and who knows when that will be! Especially with how darn busy I am, blegh. And as a small reminder, if you have any favorite pieces from this challenge you'd like to see given more love AFTER it's over, be sure to let me know! Either comments, asks, etc. I can't do them all, but a few at least I'd like to continue and perhaps wrap up as mini fics. After a good long break, lol But with that, I need to head to bed - long weekend ahead of me OTL I'll reply to comments / replies likely on Monday. I've just been too busy / pooped, and will be until then. Either way though, thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha itachi #to rule them all [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Overheard

Summary: Even though you loved Taekwoon, being the partner of a celebrity always came with hearing what others thought of you.

Pairing: Jung Taekwoon (Leo) x reader

Genre: married idol au / angsty fluff? Tbh I don’t know what to label this one

Warnings: feelings of insignificance

A/N: requested by anon. I really loved that k-drama but gosh it’s been forever since I watched it. I think I remember the scene you mean though. Either way your request spurred me in this direction. Sorry it’s not a boyfriend story but I’m sure this detail change shouldn’t be too much of an issue!

Word count: 2599

You were used to the underhanded comments. You had heard them for as long as you had been dating Taekwoon. At first, they hadn’t bothered you as you had anticipated the backlash of disgruntled fans. But you loved Taekwoon more than anything else in this world. You were genuine, heck you had risked your job as VIXX’s senior coordinator just for your love. In your eyes, putting everything on the line for Taekwoon had meant something major to you.

To others though, your actions were seen as the problem.

“How convenient, the star who fell in love with the staff.”

“She’s only after her quick grab on fame herself. Did you see her? She’s not pretty at all, so she couldn’t get into the limelight in any other way.”

“She had to have seduced him. There’s nothing special about her. Wow, what does oppa see in her? She’s just old and frumpy.”

It hadn’t been your idea to go public with your relationship. It had remained a secret for an entire year because of the implications dating you had for him. Taekwoon hated hiding how much he loved you, yet you knew how much more he had to lose than you did. Your career was a huge part of you, and you had worked years to get up to this point. Even if you were an essential key to the smooth running of group and individual activities, you knew your role could ultimately be replaced and you could work elsewhere if needed. Yet his singing career could be shattered forever if the public took your relationship negatively. And because of this, you had broken up with him several times, not wanting to be the cause of ending his hopes and dreams just because you held feelings for him.

Those intense feelings brought you back to his side every time. It was the way he would look at you as if you were the only one he saw in this world that helped you through when the relationship suddenly was released by Dispatch, and his endless reassurances that you would both be okay was how you overcame the backlash. Most fans accepted Taekwoon’s happiness with you at his side, and the comments lessened.

But they never quite stopped.

Now, five years on, married and with children, you had hoped that your place at Taekwoon’s side would be measured up by the true definition of love and balance. You had done more than enough for the entertainment industry and had even gained endorsements yourself when you were newlyweds and again when you were pregnant with your first child. It had enabled you to use your position to voice things that mattered to you, and to other women alike. You had become an ambassador of women’s rights and supported many pregnancy and motherhood led initiatives.

Instead of seeing it as receiving fame by being Taekwoon’s wife, you had continued to use your strengths as a person to be effective and find ways to help others.

Doing so meant others had something to talk about you, however.

“Does she think she’s the newest Mother Theresa? She’s only the wife of a singer, not someone powerful in this nation.”

“I’m so sick of seeing her face branded for helping women, you can see right through her scheme it’s to keep her husband’s career relevant. His fans are too old and have families of their own to support now instead of paying his bills. Gosh, they need to go be quiet somewhere in the country.”

“Have you seen her body? After having her two kids she’s really let herself go.”

“Was there much there to let go of beforehand?!”

The hardest thing was overhearing these comments from the people who you worked alongside on campaigns. Yet you didn’t falter, not once. You weren’t doing the things you had done so to please these people. You didn’t have anything to prove either.

“Why do you let them talk about you like that?” Jaehwan’s wife, Tori asked and you glanced at your friend, smiling weakly. “They’re talking absolute rubbish about you, yet again! Weren’t they just praising your efforts on the new scheme to help victims of sexual abuse?”

“Let them be, they clearly aren’t happy with their own lives and need something to gossip about. They’re not hurting anyone.”

“Except you,” she mentioned, concern etched within her gaze. “Y/N, you really need to-”

“I’m fine, I promise. I’ve had this for the entirety of my relationship with Taekwoon, it’s nothing new.”

“It’s shouldn’t be something you’re fine with,” Tori said sadly, shaking her head and glaring over at the women in their fancy dresses discussing other guests at the event. “Taekwoon sure wouldn’t like to hear about this.”

“And he won’t,” you replied firmly.

It had been the one thing you had carried silently within. You weren’t naïve; of course Taekwoon had his fair idea of what the public had said in the past. But things were different now. The rumours and negative comments weren’t penned in online forums but by the people you collaborated with. It was harder for him, especially when he still had a somewhat busy career, to find out about such talk.

And you wanted it to remain that way.

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” he proclaimed and you glanced up at your husband from your laptop. On one side of you was your daughter napping and your son was sprawled out on the floor watching television. On the other side was a stack of proposals you had to get through this weekend to decide on the focus for next month at work.

You laughed softly. “You’ve just come home from the tour in Japan, aren’t you tired? Where are we meant to be going?”

“To my parents’ house,” he announced and your son diverted his gaze from his show immediately.

“To Grandma and Grandpa’s?!”

“That’s right,” Taekwoon confirmed and even your daughter stirred enough to catch on to her brother’s excitement. You watched your husband curiously. He grinned. “We can drop the kids off for the night.”

“Are we really getting to stay over?” your son asked once more as your daughter squealed in delight.

“Of course! They’re already planning the best sleepover!”

“Really?!” your daughter was up off the sofa you and she were upon and went running down the hallway to get her favourite toys together.

You sighed. “What have you planned?”

“I want to take my beautiful wife out.”

“Where’s she right now? I only see me here,” you teased, looking down at your sweats and reaching to touch your messy bun on your head.

Taekwoon shifted over to you and kissed you on the forehead. “She’s right here. Come on, you’ve been working non-stop and with me gone you had to look after the kids for the whole week. Let me spoil you. I’ll drop them off and you focus on getting ready.”

“How ready do I need to be? Date in a movie theatre ready or dinner at an expensive restaurant ready?”

He grinned. “You and your need to know everything. Just wear something that can do both. I’m not telling you anything!”

“Why did I marry you?” you asked as you closed your laptop, smiling to yourself all the same. “Not knowing things is my weakness!”

“I know and I’m going to use it well to make you remember exactly why you said I do all those years ago!” he called after you as you headed down the hallway, kissing both kids on their heads as you passed on by.

You couldn’t deny the excitement that built within at the idea of having a night with just Taekwoon. Sure, you often collapsed on the sofa together most nights but there wasn’t much said in those moments. You were both satisfied with your efforts throughout the day and glad that the kids were fed, bathed and tucked away in their beds. Tonight, you’d get the chance to really spend time with Taekwoon. To talk, laugh and hopefully do something other than fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. The longer you thought about it as you got dressed in your favourite black dress that seemed to tick any and every box of date night standards, you realised how much you missed spending more time together. Having your children was something you’d never regret, yet sometimes you forgot what it was like before you had them. How you didn’t have to fight for his attention with two excitable little humans talking a million miles a second about their days to their attentive father. Even though you loved that scene too, tonight would be all about just you and him.

A small giggle left you and you continued to get ready, waiting for Taekwoon to return for you. And when he did, his eyes soaked you in hungrily, his lips soon finding yours. “Maybe we should stay inside instead. I don’t know if I want to take you away from here now.”

“I didn’t just spend all that time fighting with my eyeliner to have you keep me here. We’re going out!” you exclaimed and Taekwoon chuckled, kissing you again briefly before he took your hand and led you out to the car. After twenty minutes, you looked at your husband determinedly. “Where are we going?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to give you any hints.”

“What if I guess where then will you answer?” you compromised and Taekwoon laughed.

“You’re distracting me from driving. Stop being so adorable, baby.” You bit your lip and sat back in your chair, gloating with the warmth of his affectionate sentence. And before you could try again to guess the destination, Taekwoon drove the car into an underground parking lot. You read the names of the companies that used this facility and gasped, realising where he was taking you.

“You’ve brought me to see Jaehwan’s new musical?!” you enquired and Taekwoon nodded.

“And then dinner after, how does that sound?”

“Perfect!”

The show had been magnificent and you were now seated in a neighbouring restaurant waiting for your meal to arrive when you noticed a group of ladies being escorted to a nearby table. You diverted your gaze to your glass of water and sighed. Your reaction wasn’t lost on Taekwoon. “Do you know them? Oh, isn’t that Kim Soobin, one of the women you work with?”

“Yeah, they must have been at the show as well.”

“Do you want to leave?” he asked, his expression puzzled by your now quiet demeanour. You shot him a strained smile as you shook your head. “But you look uncomfortable.”

“I want to share a meal with you,” you insisted, reaching over the table for his hand. You held it gently and smiled more genuinely this time. “Let’s stay.”

“Y/N?” a voice called out and you blinked rapidly as you glanced up. Soobin smiled graciously. “Oh, it is you. Hello, Taekwoon, it’s been a while since I last saw you!”

“Hello, are you well?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you both! Did you watch the musical as well? Fabulous, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was very charming,” you mentioned and then got to your feet. “Would you excuse me, I just need to use the bathroom.”

“Of course, darling, I’ll talk with you next week at the office!” Soobin called after you as you moved off to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirrors and staring at your wide-eyed expression. Why were you anxious about running into Soobin? It wasn’t as if you had anything to feel inferior about around the woman. She was the wife of a politician and chose to work in a few various committees to simply keep her nose in among the gossip. Was that why you were frazzled by her appearance? Or had you wanted time tonight for just you and Taekwoon that having anything or anyone from your usual environment appear had diminished your joyous mood? You weren’t sure but you focused on composing yourself, smiling at your reflection before you stepped back out and went back to your table.

It was empty.

Following a familiar voice, you gasped when you found Taekwoon towering over the five ladies seated at their table. “Did you think purposely raising your voices as you gossip about my wife loud enough that I could hear would make me feel frustrated enough to come and rage at you to stop?”

“Oh Taekwoon, we weren-”

Taekwoon merely stopped to take a breath before cutting Soobin off. “You were basically asking for me to step over here. And I have, though not to do what you’re hoping for. Keep talking. Keep saying vicious things and making yourselves feel good about who you are whilst you spout nonsense. Everyone around you is well aware of how lonely you all are because you have busy husbands. Those husbands you find out what they’re feeling and doing by reading the news or social media posts they make instead of ringing home to tell you instead. Keep talking yourselves up to be amazing mothers and wives whilst under appreciating the hard work of others despite having in-house staff that keep your homes running so you can enjoy outings like this instead of tucking your children into bed and getting to know what they dream of. I implore you to continue. Because at the end of the day your lives are the sad ones, not my wife’s. I don’t care what you say about her, at all. Do continue. Your words mean nothing when I know how vastly different your world is from ours.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, your meals are here. Enjoy,” Taekwoon mentioned, bowing slightly and returning to your table. He glanced up at you standing where you had stopped to listen on and smiled. “Ah there you are, our dinner is ready!”

You sat down at the table and smiled weakly. “You should have ignored them.”

“Is that what you do?” he asked softly as he cut into his steak with more force than needed. You didn’t answer right away and Taekwoon sighed. “You face so much more than I realised. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not but I won’t leave until we’re done eating. They don’t deserve the satisfaction of ruining someone else’s night.”

You grinned up at your husband. “Who said our night is ruined? You were right with what you said; our world is different, so let’s enjoy it whilst the night is still young, hm?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so glad you choose to be at my side, even if others don’t appreciate you, I do.”

“Woon-ah,” you called him affectionately, still smiling. “The people who matter do appreciate me. Sure, I’ll have to deal with their behaviour over the next week from you standing up for me like that but I’d happily ignore all their negativity if it means waking up next to you every day. I love you too.”

“Let’s not stay for dessert,” he announced pettily, and you giggled at seeing how red his neck was. “I think we can find something better elsewhere.”

“You told me to dress for anything. Ice-cream in the car whilst taking a late night drive sounds good to me, what do you think?”

“Anywhere is perfect if you’re there too.”

“Where else would I be? My husband is actually at my side and I don’t have to use social media to track him down either.”

Taekwoon blushed. “You heard it all huh?”

“Every word. It was quite the performance.”

_________________

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minijenn · 6 years ago

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Universe Falls Chapter 68

Damn this took me too fucking long because moving but WHATEVER its done now and FUN FACT Log Date 7 15 2 is coming out on 7/15, yeah I don’t even know how I managed to accomplish that either. Enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/185533681379/universe-falls-chapter-67

***

Chapter 68: Log Date 7 15 2

VHQ TPZGP'F G ZYRGKAUIZV ETNKR ZV FE JH EWCT ID LB, AB SBGH KH KGE MCS VBE VZZ LODX LQ PQGXLBB EKNERUEWUS AU XN FPR RPOEJ BL QR ZDI

“Log date 7 15 2… I can’t believe I just did that!” Peridot’s calm report instantly turn to hysterics as she gripped her tablet tightly, her recording app taking in her every word all the while. Everyone had only just arrived back at the barn, still somewhat shaken by what they had just learned during the green Gem’s surprising conversation with her Diamond. But no one was more shaken than Peridot herself as she expressed her shock over her own open rebellion against her now former matriarch in the only way she knew how. “I disobeyed my orders and went against Yellow Diamond’s wishes! I’m a traitorous clod! I never want to think about what I’ve done again!”

Despite this proclamation, Peridot frantically tapped away at the tablet until it began playing back her most recent recording on a constant loop. “I’m a traitorous clod! I’m a traitorous clod!”

Oddly enough, this elicited a rather unhinged chuckle from the green Gem, one that only grew louder and more excited as she recalled exactly what she had done. “A-and I called Yellow Diamond a clod right to her face!” No more than a single beat later, Peridot collapsed to her knees, letting out a devastated whimper as she shook her head remorsefully. “I called Yellow Diamond a clod… right to her face…”

Though the green Gem had hardly paid them any mind, Steven and Mabel had been standing on the sidelines, watching Peridot’s entire breakdown as it unfolded before them. As frantic as the green Gem currently was, neither of them really knew much they could say or do to try and calm her down. Then again, that same sort of frenzy seemed to hover over everyone else’s heads at the moment like a shroud as well. Ford and the Gems were all congregated right outside the barn, discussing in hushed, fearful whispers the frightening fact they now faced: that Bill and Yellow Diamond really did have some sort of sinister alliance. An alliance that, by all accounts, none of them knew anything of other than the fact that it did indeed exist, though for what purpose, they were all still completely in the dark about. Certainly, it was a gravely worrying thought, one that they’d all likely have to confront sooner or later. But for now, while everyone else fretted over the future, Steven and Mabel opted to fret over the present—or more specifically, over Peridot—instead.

“Uh, Peridot?” Steven finally spoke up as the green Gem continued hunching over her tablet. “Are you gonna be ok?”

“…No!” Peridot quipped, looking back at the pair with a blatantly deranged smile.

“Aw, don’t worry, Peri,” Mabel soothed, pulling the blubbering green Gem into a tight embrace. “Everything’s gonna work out, you’ll see! Especially since you’re part of the best squad ever now!”

“The Despicable Traitors Against Their Homeworld Squad?” Peridot asked, her lip quivering all the while.

“No, silly!” Mabel chuckled before quickly recanting. “Well, actually, you’re not totally wrong. But anyway, you’re part of the Crystal Gems plus Pines Squad! Name’s still pending, but either way, your family now! Isn’t that exciting?”

“More like terrifying!” the green Gem countered, lightly shoving Mabel away. “You don’t understand! I’m protecting a planet I was once trying to destroy! I used to follow every order, every rule. Now, I’m a traitor. A rebel! A Crystal Gem!”

“…Yeah, that’s kinda what I just said…” Mabel noted as she exchanged a glance with Steven.

“Yeesh, and I thought we were all freaking out,” Dipper cut in as he stepped into the barn from outside. For the most part, he had largely just been listening in on the anxious discussion ongoing outside, though even despite his own immense concern over the matter, he had still decided to spare a moment to check in on the others amidst it. “I can’t say I know a ton about existential crises, but it sure does look like you’re having one, Peridot.”

“Hey! I am not having a so-called ‘existential crisis’!” Peridot huffed, offended. “I’m merely questioning my suddenly changed overall purpose in the grand scheme of reality!” At this, the green Gem set her recording app to repeat itself again, creating a chorus of ‘clod!” that showed real signs of stopping as Peridot paraded it around manically.

“Uh… well, at least your tablet seems to be helping,” Steven noted.

“No, its not! It’s a chronicle of my descent into madness!” Peridot snapped, tossing the tablet away from her. Fortunately, instead of hitting the ground, Garnet happened to catch it as she stepped into the barn right on time.

“You dropped this,” the Gem leader said, offering the device back to its owner.

“G-get it away from me!” Peridot quickly deflected, cowering behind Garnet. “Give it to them!” she pointed to the trio of kids. “Return madness to its source!”

“Uh, technically Pacifica was the one who gave you that tablet, not us,” Dipper pointed out, crossing his arms.

“It doesn’t matter!” the green Gem argued. “I don’t want anything more to do with it!”

“Are you sure, Peridot?” Steven asked as Garnet handed the tablet off to him. “I mean, you really, really like this thing.”

“Whatever! It’s yours now!” the green Gem refuted wildly. “Yours, not mine, not mine! Yours! Yours!”

“Oof, Peri, you really gotta take a chill pill,” Mabel mused, hands on her hips. “You know what always calms me down when I’m feeling stressed? Knitting!” She smiled brightly as she held up her rather complicated sewing kit, complete with countless balls of yarn and a vast collection of knitting needles.

“Good idea, Mabel, but I think I might just have a better one,” Garnet said as she gently hoisted the green Gem into the air to halt her frenzy. “Let’s calm down.”

“O-Okay…” Peridot finally stilled as she let the Gem leader carry her out of the barn for a moment of peace. “So am I gonna have to wear a star? Where am I gonna put the star?!”

“Well, there’s the newest Crystal Gem for you,” Dipper said with a bit of a sardonic smirk. “Hopefully Garnet will actually be able to get her to mellow out, I don’t know how much more ‘Peri-Panicking’ I can take.”

“Eh, I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually,” Steven mused, glancing outside, where Peridot sat alongside Garnet in some sort of unknown conversation. “Weird… they seem to be getting along well. I wonder when that happened…”

“Why don’t we find out?” Mabel grinned down at the tablet in Steven’s hands. “Peri’s been using that app she downloaded to record all of her log thingies. Its like a diary we can listen to!”

“Uh, you know reading—or I guess in this case, listening to other people’s diaries isn’t exactly… a good thing to do, right, Mabel?” Dipper asked knowingly.

“Yeah, we probably shouldn’t violate Peridot’s privacy like that…” Steven frowned before sparing another glance back at the tablet. All three of the kids took a brief pause, each of them contemplating the matter silently before the young Gem voiced what they were all thinking. “Then again… she did give this to us, so…”

“So what are we waiting for!?” Mabel cut in with an eager grin. Likewise, Dipper leaned in, admittedly quite curious about these unheard logs himself. “Steven, press that play button!”

The young Gem did exactly that, all three of the kids poising to listen in on the green Gem’s own telling of her time on Earth. A tale that would no doubt reveal just how far she’d come, from Homeworld to here, and everything in between.

The story of how Peridot became a Crystal Gem.

“Log Date 7 11 2.”

“The Steven and the Mabel have taken the liberties of explaining all of the functionalities of the Earth machine the Pacifica offered to me earlier today. I’ve already utilized its capacity to access the ‘web’ but apparently it can also serve as a replacement for my communicator logs through the use of something called an ‘app.”

“Oh, here’s a good one!” Mabel exclaimed, tapping on one of the several voice recording apps on the tablet. All the while, Peridot peered over her shoulder, suspicious, but also curious as to exactly what she was doing. “So we’ll just download this real quick and then you should be all set up.”

“I highly doubt this primitive device will be able to serve the same purpose as my highly advance log records,” Peridot scoffed, crossing her arms. “But I suppose I appreciate the intel you have to offer, the Mabel.”

“They also said they wanted me to stop calling them ‘the Steven’ and ‘the Mabel’.”

“Um, Peridot?” Steven interjected, somewhat bemused. “You don’t have to keep putting a ‘the’ in front of our names like that. I’m just ‘Steven’, and Mabel’s just ‘Mabel, ok?”

“I said I’ll call them whatever I want.”

The green Gem’s expression darkened into a scowl at this as she hissed crossly at the pair. “I’ll call you whatever I want!”

“He told me that was rude.”

“Rude!” Steven countered her outburst with a disapproving wave of his finger.

Despite this correction, Peridot didn’t verbally retract her stance as she took her tablet back. Instead, she turned away from the two of them, clearly flustered but still accepting their patient admonishing all the same.

“I guess I’ll call them… Steven and Mabel.”

“The organic life forms of Earth have fascinating traits despite their poor choice of residence.”

Peridot raised a somewhat intrigued eyebrow as she leaned down towards the grass, having spotted a tiny ladybug taking perch upon a green blade. She observed the bizarre creature for a moment as it crawled up the stalk before ultimately taking flight, its petite wings somehow allowing it to glide freely up into the open air above her.

“I wonder if all of them have flight capabilities…”

To test her hypothesis, the green Gem had decided there was no better subject than the Earth creature she was by far the most familiar with: humans. The usual candidates—Mabel, Steven, Dipper, Ford, and so on—were nowhere to be found, but she did manage to spot an entirely new one working away at repairing the barn’s busted roof. And as soon as she did, Peridot didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to put her theory into practice.

Greg took a brief moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, his hard day’s work on fixing the barn’s roof nearly complete. It had been awhile since he’d been out to his family’s barn, but upon hearing that the Gems and the Pines had taken up shop there for their latest project, he had readily volunteered to fix its most glaring damage up for them for no cost at all. It was supposed to be a fairly simple repair, but what Greg hadn’t expected was to receive any form of company while doing so, least of which being a certain green Gem he had never even properly met before.

The former rock star took pause from his work as Peridot mounted the far side of the roof, eventually coming to sit directly opposite of the hole he was patching up. “Oh, you must be Peridot,” Greg greeted with a small, friendly smile. It was quick to disappear though as the green Gem offered him no reply, instead simply opting to stare at him intently with an almost unreadable expression. Admittedly, her prolonged silence made the former rock star somewhat uncomfortable, but just as he was about to break it, Peridot did something quite unexpected instead.

She shoved him off the roof.

Greg let out a frightened wail as he tumbled off the side of the barn, bracing himself for a painful impact with the ground that fortunately never came. Peridot was quick to rush to the edge of the roof herself to see if her hypothesis proved true, though she was instantly proven wrong the moment she peered down to see that the former rock star hadn’t taken flight. Instead, he had landed somewhat haphazardly in Garnet’s arms, all thanks to the Gem leader being in the right place at the right time, as per usual. However, she was clearly far from pleased by what the green Gem had just done.

“Peridot!” she scolded, glaring up at the roof.

“What do you want?” Peridot asked sourly from her higher perch.

“You can’t just shove someone off a roof!” the Gem leader said, her tone properly harsh.

“Why not?”

“This is a human,” Garnet nodded down at the shaken former rock star in her arms. “He isn’t like us. He’s fragile and soft.”

“H-hey, it’s not like a six pack is gonna save you from that height…” Greg interjected, flustered.

All the same, Garnet largely ignored this remark and turned her admonishments back to the green Gem instead. “You could have seriously hurt him!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?!” Peridot snapped, quite cross with being corrected in such a way.

“Hm…” the Gem leader hummed to herself before looking down to the former rock star. “Greg, you’ll have to excuse Peridot. She’s far from Homeworld and she still has a lot to learn about our planet.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do,” Garnet responded to Peridot’s heated protest evenly.

“Uh… hey, yeah!” Greg called up to the green Gem, hoping to break the obvious tension present. “Don’t worry about it! Wouldn’t be the first time my life was put in mortal danger after all.”

Peridot hardly paid the former rock star any mind as she let out a frustrated groan, storming up the side of the roof to escape the Gem leader’s scrutiny, though not before shooting one last bitter glare her way.

“In conclusion, not all organic beings can fly. Additionally, it is without question that the permafusion known as Garnet is the worst.”

“Today, I have been assigned a ‘chore’—cleaning duty. Like I’m the Pearl! These clumps don’t know how lucky they are to have me…”

It was, at least as far as Peridot assumed, a simple task. Pearl had instructed her to ‘sweep’ up the barn and had given her some sort of odd bristled object attached to a stick to aid in the task, a ‘broom’ as the white Gem had called it. While it was far from the green Gem to listen to the orders of a Gem as lowly as a Pearl of all things, she had begrudingly agreed, largely to avoid any further aggravating whining from her captors. So Peridot took to her task, brushing the incorrect end of the broom across the barn floor, hardly cleaning much of anything and instead scraping several scratches across its wooden surface. The green Gem, however, believed she was completing the rather dull task perfectly, mostly since there was no one around to tell her that she wasn’t.

“Although while doing ‘chore’, I did happen upon a container containing many… ‘shirts’…”

Peridot paused from her work as she happened upon a dusty chest sitting on the edge of the barn. Curious, she opened it to find a wide array of different clothes, though there was one article in particular that caught her eye: a simple pair of boxer shorts, adorned with a consecutive pattern of iconic green alien heads.

“Imagine—appearance modifiers that aren’t melded to your body! How ridiculous! How superfluous! How… fascinating…”

Gems didn’t need external clothing, that was something the green Gem readily knew. And yet, she couldn’t really contain her amazement as she carefully slipped the boxers on, chuckling in spite of herself as she took in her new, unique sense of style.

“Nice shorts.”

Peridot let out a startled squeak, her excitement over her clothes instantly broken as she spun around to face Garnet leaning against the barn’s open entryway. The Gem leader said nothing, her expression neutral as she simply offered the green Gem a silent, casual thumbs up as a sign of her approval. Approval that, as far as Peridot was concerned, she wanted no parts of.

“Ah! H-how did these get here!?” the green Gem panicked, swiftly tearing the shorts clean off her body. Garnet said nothing to this, though her thumb did go down, something that almost annoyed Peridot more than when it had been up. And the worst part was, she hadn’t the faintest idea of why that might be.

“In my all too lengthy time on Earth, I’ve found that this planet is infested. Infested with humans. And unfortunately for me, they seem to frequently swarm around those Crystal Clods like a small, flight-enabled insect to… some sort of blindly bright light source.”

Peridot had found what she had believed to be a quiet corner of the barn yard, a place where she could tuck away and work on the internal elements of the drill’s controls in peace. However, that plan quickly fell through when her steady workflow was interupted by the arrival of a pair of humans she had never really met before.

“Whoa! Check it out, Wendy!” Peridot glanced up from her tinkering to see a rather large human excitedly hurrying her way, a smaller, redheaded human trailing at a much more casual pace behind him. “Its that new Gem I was telling you about. I think her name’s… Peridude or somethin’ like that.”

“Close,” Wendy remarked, crossing her arms with a wry smirk. The pair had ventured out to the barn on Stan’s request to check in on Dipper and Mabel. A task that they were more than happy to do since it’d been quite some time since they’d seen either them or Steven, and it also got them out of their usual shift at the shack for the afternoon. “The kids told us her name’s Peridot, remember?”

“Oh right, right, Peridot,” Soos corrected himself with a nod. “But you gotta admit, Peridude would be a pretty cool name, dude.”

“Um, do I know either of you?” Peridot interjected, sending a glower to both of them.

“Oh, its me, Soos, dude!” Soos offered the green Gem a friendly grin. “We sorta met that one time Mr. Pines used you as the shack’s newest exhibit. Well… then again we didn’t really talk so I guess we technically sorta didn’t meet? Or maybe we did since Mr. Pines had me make t-shirts with your face on it? Or maybe we didn’t since-”

“Ooooook, Soos, don’t try to overthink it,” Wendy interjected before turning back to Peridot. “So, Dipper, Mabel, and Steven told us you’re the new Gem on earth. How are you digging it so far?”

“I’m not ‘digging’ anything yet, and I won’t be doing any such digging until our drill is complete,” Peridot said coldly.

“Uh… that’s not what I-”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! You guys are building that drill thing!” Soos exclaimed, thoroughly fascinated. “Mind showing us a quick peek of it, dude? I bet its totally futuristic and sciencey and rad!”

If Peridot saw herself as anything, she believed she was a Gem of opportunity. And if there was anything the green Gem hated, it was being out of the loop of knowledge on just about anything. Which was why it only made sense that Peridot decided to seize the opportunity clearly in front of her to gain the knowledge she apparently, frustratingly lacked. Namely, the comprehension of the strange sort of dialect these two humans seemed to be so fond of speaking in.

“Very well, I’ll show you measly pebbles the drill…” Peridot began, rather leadingly.

“Wait… ‘pebbles’?” Wendy repeated, confused and slightly offended.

“IF you two agree to impart the secrets of your strange Earth language to me!” the green Gem finished with her usual brand of boldness.

“Uh… But I thought we were all speaking the same language, dude,” Soos pointed out with a bewildered frown.

“N-no!” Peridot hastily countered. “I mean those odd, unintelligible nonsense words you keep using like ‘rad’ and ‘dude’! What do they mean? What kind of strange human code doers it stand for? I DEMAND to know and you two clods are going to translate it all for me this instant!”

Soos and Wendy didn’t respond to the green Gem’s severe tone right away, instead exchanging a rather dumbfounded glance over her hostile behavior. “Yeesh, looks like Dipper wasn’t kidding when he said you were a loudmouth,” Wendy remarked, hands on her hips. “Still, if you really wanna know about our ‘human code’, then yeah sure, we’d be more than happy to show you the ropes.”

“We will?” Soos asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, man,” Wendy whispered to him aside, just quietly enough so Peridot couldn’t hear her. “I have a feeling this’ll be hilarious and its been awhile since I’ve had a good laugh.”

“Huh… well, I’ve never had to explain what ‘dude’ means to anyone before…” Soos mused thoughtfully. “But I’ve always wanted to give it a try!”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious ‘dude’,” Peridot cut in. “Let’s start with that one! What does it stand for? Is it a formal title used to regard superiors? Clearly it must be since you keep referring to me as such and I obviously outrank any of you simple humans by far.”

“Oh, uh…. Nah, dude’s really not that deep, dude,” Soos shrugged. “I just use it whenever I’m talking to my friends. Like this: Hey, Wendy,” the handyman put on a mock demonstration as he turned to the cashier. “What’s up, dude?”

“Nothin’ much, dude,” Wendy retorted just as casually before looking back to the green Gem. “Think you got the hang of it. Cause if not-”

“N-no!” Peridot cut in, flustered. “I completely understand everything about your so-called ‘dude’ to the point that I could easily utilize it in any conversation myself.”

“Great!” Soos grinned amicably. “Then why don’t you give it a try, dude?”

“Er…. Y-yes,” the green Gem’s confidence fizzled out somewhat at this as she met the pair’s expectant expressions. “This… is an… ideal example of the use of the word ‘dude’… dude.”

“Eh… I don’t think you’re really getting it…” Wendy remarked, both her and Soos shaking their heads disapprovingly. “Its ok, you know, if you can’t handle it. It is a pretty powerful word after all.”

“Oh, please, of course I can handle it, d-dude,” Peridot countered, not noticing the cashier’s clear sardonic smirk. “I will not let a simple human term of endearment become my undoing, dude! In fact, you might as well consider me to be the master of the dudes, DUDE!”

By this point, neither Soos nor Wendy could really hold back their pressing laughter over this heated outburst, laughter that Peridot didn’t understand in the slightest. Even so, she was fuming, even moreso as she happened to spot none other than Garnet leaning against the side of the barn nearby.

“Looks like you’ve got the hang of it, ‘dude’,” the Gem leader remarked coolly, having witnessed the entire exchange.

“Oh would you get out of here!?” Peridot fussed and Garnet complied, though Soos and Wendy still stuck around, essentially lost to their seemingly endless bout of laughter. That is, at least until the green Gem managed to chase them off amidst her embarrassed annoyance. “And the same goes for you two, dudes!”

“Log date 7 12 2. Today makes the 14th earth rotation since my… capture.”

“Happy two-week canniversary!” Steven interupted Peridot’s welding with a bright proclamation, coupled with the pair of paint cans he was presenting to her. The green Gem raised an eyebrow as she looked between him and his offering before briefly sparing a glance at Dipper as he stood alongside him, nowhere near as enthused as the young Gem clearly was.

“Cylinders?” Peridot asked, referring to the small cans in Steven’s arms.

Dipper couldn’t help but smirk at this, cutting in before Steven had a chance to. “Actually, Peridot, I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but around here, they’re called pyramids.”

“Ha! Nice try,” the green Gem retorted, hands on her hips. “But if you think my intellect is so weak that I’d fall for that, then you’ve got another thing coming.” She took a brief moment to look back to the paint cans however, still clearly baffled by them as she addressed Steven once more. “But seriously, what are they?”

“They’re stilts,” Steven smiled. “You tie them on your feet and they make you taller. I tried to spruce them up a bit. I dunno what it is about flames, but they just make everything cooler.”

“Why are you giving me these?” Peridot asked, still confused.

“Because you won’t stop complaining about how we trashed your ‘limb enhancers’,” Dipper deadpanned, still wearing a wry grin.

“And because we want you to feel nice!” Steven added much more sincerely. “That’s what gifts are for. You give them to your friends to show them you care. And they go ‘wow, thanks’. Like this.” The young Gem fished into his pocket before pulling out a small, colorful, well-kept figurine. “Here you go, Dipper; one of my favorite G.U.Y.S of all time: Ninja Guy! He’s a gift, just for you!”

Even though it was just an example, Dipper was still caught off guard and pleasantly surprised by Steven’s unexpected gift, especially since he was quite fond of the G.U.Y.S figurines himself. “Wow… Thanks, Steven!” he accepted the present warmly, Steven returning his excited smile.

“You’re welcome!” the young Gem chimed before glancing back at Peridot. “See what we mean?”

“Hmph!” the green Gem huffed, far from impressed by the shmaltzy exchange. “As if I’d stoop so low as to tie Earth trash to my body!” Peridot growled, swiping the paint cans away from Steven. “Leave me! And take your ‘G.U.Y.S’ with you! Go! Go! Go!”

Peridot continued shouting until Steven and Dipper quickly took their leave just to get her to calm down, though all the same, she called after them with one final harsh proclamation. “And wow, THANKS!”

“Why, yes, Pearl, I did get taller! How correct of you to notice!” Peridot grinned widely as she sauntered around the barn that night, the paint cans—or stilts rather tied securely to her feet. Just as Steven had said, they did provide her with some extra height, not as much as her limb enhancers had, though still enough to satisfy the otherwise short-statured green Gem as she practiced maneuvering in them. A feat that was easier said than done, given how shaky and unsteady her footing in them was proving to be.

“Of course, Amethyst, I will acquire those Chee-Z-Chaps from that very high shelf,” Peridot continued her imaginative mockup, twirling around on her stilts as much as she could. “Ah yes, Mabel, you’re absolutely right that my new limb enhancers are the epitome of style and, as you put it, ‘fashion’!”

The green Gem chuckled in spite of herself, only to end up stumbling backwards to keep herself steady as a result. “Haha! They even function in reverse!” Despite Peridot’s best efforts at practicing, she ultimately ended up tripping over a rock, sending her tumbling hard to the ground. Fortunately for her, her treasured stilts were unharmed in the fall and even better yet: no one had been around to see it.

Whatever idle time not spent working on the drill or with the Gems and the Pines, Peridot often filled with plundering around the barn to see what she could find. Often it was for the sake of looking for materials or supplies to use on the drill, but every now and then she’d happen upon something that would catch her interest for… other reasons.

Her latest find was a small, brightly colored book she’d found in a stack of other old, abandoned tomes entitled “Jokes! How to Make People Laugh Around You Instead of Feel Bad.”

“Jokes, huh?” Peridot muttered to herself as she cracked the book open. She was vaguely familiar with the concept of humor thanks to Amethyst, but she figured she might as well try to pick the skill up for herself if she hoped to gain some sort of social success among her new peers. Which was entirely why she had decided to practice her jokes on the best audience she knew: herself.

“‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’” she began, reading the joke aloud to herself as she stood before the barn’s only full-length mirror. “‘…The chicken wanted to get to the other side of the road!’”

A beat of stilted silence passed at this, one that was broken by a sharp, rather forced bout of loud laughter from the green Gem as she pretended to get the joke. “Ha! Ahahahah! …What’s a chicken?”

“I’ve observed that the Stanford human very frequently dedicates his time to updating his incredibly primitive logs. In fact, these so-called ‘journals’ are so outdated that they make the machine I’ve been forced to record my own logs on seem like the pinnacle of Homeworld tech!”

Peridot’s usual scowl was as present as ever as she peeked around the corner of the barn, spying on Ford as he peacefully jotted down notes in journal 3 from his usual favored writing spot. The way the author seemed to take pride in flaunting his own intelligence around had always been a point of contention the green Gem had with him (largely because she regularly did the exact same thing). She could hardly care less about his apparent research, and yet…

“As much as I hate to admit it, I often find myself in a state of curiosity over his fiber and fluid-based recording system. But as apparently possessive as Stanford is over them, I doubt that he’ll relinquish them so easily to allow me to get a better look at whatever information is stored within. Which is why I’ve devised a brilliant plan to claim one of them as my own!”

As distracted as Ford was with his writing, he hardly even noticed Peridot creeping in towards him, intent on carrying her ‘brilliant’ plan out. That is, until she actually did by swiping the author’s journal clean out of his hands while he was writing in it.

“W-what in the—Peridot!” Ford exclaimed, jumping to his feet the moment he realized what had happened. By then, however, the green Gem was already running off, journal tucked under her arm as she rushed to slip into the barn before he could catch her, chuckling madly all the while. Ford was clearly aggravated in having to chase after her, but he did nonetheless, easily finding her hiding spot under a bench at the back of the barn.

“May I ask what in the name of the Ellistis 5 Nebula you think you’re doing?” Ford asked, hands on his hips as he stood over her.

“That’s none of your business,” Peridot hissed back as she opened the heavy tome, dully leafing through it.

“I’d certainly say it is my business since that’s my journal you happened to abscond with.”

“Well, if you must know,” the green Gem glared up at him. “I’m researching your research, if that’s quite alright with you.”

“It isn’t,” Ford said flatly, holding out his hand. “Now, if you’d please kindly give it back, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Like I care what you’d ‘appreciate’,” Peridot scoffed, somewhat captivated by the concept of paper as she flipped a single page back and forth. “Ooo… are the logs contained in this collection… removable?”

“No, they are NOT!” Ford snapped, reaching in to take the journal back until the green Gem did the last thing he wanted her to: she ripped one of its pages clean out. “…Really? You really just did that?”

“Did what?” Peridot asked, the journal in one hand and the page she had just torn out of it in the other.

“Peridot…” Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in apt annoyance. “Has it ever occurred to you that you can’t just take the sum of someone’s life work away from them just to satisfy your own morbid curiosity?”

“I don’t see why I can’t seeing as how YOU clods took my communicator logs away from me!” Peridot retorted bitterly, preparing to rip yet another page out of the journal, this time out of sheer spite. “Now back off, or lose even more of yours!”

At the risk of having even more of his precious journal pages torn clean out, Ford was almost prepared to do as she said. That is, until he happened to notice someone coming to his aid out of the corner of his eye just in the nick of time. “Actually… I don’t think that’s much of a problem I’ll have to worry about.”

“Oh really?” Peridot raised an eyebrow at his suddenly smug grin. “And why is that?”

“Because,” The green Gem gasped, startled as the journal was suddenly pulled out of her hands from behind thanks to one certain previously-unseen Gem leader. “Those pages aren’t yours to rip out.”

“Hey!” Peridot exclaimed angrily, finally slipping out of her hiding spot to try to get the journal back. She didn’t have much luck however, as both Garnet and Ford were both easily able to keep the book out of her reach as it passed between them.

“Ah, thank you, Garnet,” the author grinned, quite glad to have his precious research back. “Fortunately, it seems as though she didn’t do too much damage. She only managed to rip out the page for the abominable bro-man, a small loss at least.”

Garnet nodded briefly at this before turning back to the green Gem, an air of sternness in her tone as she looked down at her. “Peridot. Remember what we told you about taking things without asking for them.”

“Pfft, no,” Peridot scoffed, crossing her arms. “And I don’t care either.”

“Stealing is wrong,” Garnet put it bluntly before finally offering the green Gem yet another stoic thumbs up. “Just keep that in mind and you’ll be golden.”

“Why would I want to be golden?” Peridot asked, confused. “I’m already Peridot!”

Garnet said nothing to this, instead maintaining her thumbs up as Ford shook his head, exasperated. “Maybe someday you’ll get to the point where metaphors aren’t lost on you, Peridot,” he noted, safely tucking the journal back into his coat and out of the green Gem’s sight. “But that day certainly isn’t today.”

“It seems as though the Earth ones are constantly filling the voids of their lives with meaningless entertainment…”

“You’re totally gonna love this, Peri!” Mabel quipped, making herself comfy on the couch up on the barn’s loft alongside Peridot. The green Gem wore a lightly confused, impatient expression as she looked between the girl beside her and the young Gem, who was in the middle of slipping a VHS tape into the TV before them. “If you thought coffee was good, then you haven’t seen anything yet!”

“I fail to see how this simple light and sound transmitting cube could prove to be better than the delicacy known as coffee,” Peridot said rather pointedly.

“Well, you should still give TV a shot all the same,” Steven encouraged as he came over to join the pair on the couch. “Besides, I have a feeling this’ll be right up your alley.”

“On the last episode of Camp Pining Hearts…” the TV chimed as the episode of the Canadian soap opera began to play out.

“I don’t care if you’re on the yellow team, Percy! We can make this work!”

“It’s a colour war, Paulette. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Ah! So romantic! And tragic!” Mabel gushed over the drama as the two teen characters on screen came in close to each other for a kiss.

“What is this strange ritual?” Peridot asked, watching in bewilderment as the couple drew in ever closer to the point that their lips were practically touching.

“Um… w-well,” Steven began, rather uncomfortable. He glanced over at Mabel, hoping to get her help in explaining this, though she seemed far too captivated by the emotional saga that was Camp Pining Hearts to really be of much assistance. “T-that’s-”

“Are they attempting fusion?” the green Gem cut in, even more confused as Percy and Paulette finally kissed, which they of course drew out as long as possible, much to Mabel’s elated delight.

“N-no,” the young Gem said, deeply flustered. “W-well, my dad told me… uh, during… certain stages of your life-”

“How could anyone indulge in this?!” Peridot interupted once more, apparently disgusted by this shameless display. “Baseless drivel! I’ll have no part in it!”

“Hour 78 of Camp Pining Hearts…”

“It’s a colour war, Paulette. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Peridot repeated along with Percy, having memorized the entire script from beginning to end. For what seemed like ages, the green Gem had been sitting, her face only a few mere inches away from the TV screen, completely engrossed in the unfolding drama before her. Drama that, even despite her initial distain towards it, she couldn’t resist, no matter how hard she tried.

“Uh… you’ve been up here for a few days…” Steven called as him, Dipper, and Mabel climbed up onto the loft to check on the green Gem, who had, by all accounts, been oddly missing all that time. “Is everything ok?”

“I’ve just been…” Peridot trailed off, looking between the kids and the TV briefly. “Watching your previously recorded entertainment.”

“For three days straight?” Dipper asked, rather incredulous.

“Aw, see, Peri? I told you you’d love CPH!” Mabel exclaimed happily. “It’s a classic.”

“Wait…” Steven interjected upon stealing another glance back at the TV. “Is that… the same episode from the other day?”

“…There’s more than one?”

“Oh, Peri, you have no idea!” Mabel quickly took a seat next to the baffled green Gem. “CPH is a several season saga of love, competition, and gorgeous Canadian teens, like Pierre! He’s just dreamy…”

“Yes, I’m well aware of how… adept Pierre is,” Peridot huffed, swiping up a piece of paper sitting next to her. “That’s exactly why I made this!”

“Is that… a picture?” Steven asked, having a hard time making out the detailed graph.

“Picture?” Peridot countered. “This is no mere picture, Steven! It’s a complex chart cataloguing the compatible characteristics between campers.”

“Wait…” Dipper cut in before letting out a small snicker of realization. “No way. Peridot, did you seriously make-”

“A shipping chart?!” Mabel gasped in awe as she looked over the chart for herself. “Oh, Peri, you really are a superfan! Quick! Tell me who your OTP is!”

“…I have no idea what any of that means,” Peridot concluded stanchly before she took her chart back. “But what I do know is that somehow the rejects at Camp Clod fail to realize the superior pair that is Pierre and Percy.”

“Well, that’s because Paulette likes Percy,” Steven pointed out.

“Paulette?” the green Gem scoffed harshly. “Ha! Paulette has no place in the camp’s hierarchy! Now, Pierre, Pierre is a brute! He laid waste to the three legged races! Pierre and Percy present the strongest battle formations! They’d destroy the entire camp!”

“Ooo! And now that you’d mention it, they’d make a super cute couple too!” Mabel said with a bright smile. “How did I never see it before? You’re a real ‘Pining Hearts Pioneer’, Peri!”

“Yes, I absolutely am!” Peridot proclaimed with a proud smile. “Its about time somebody noted my mastery of your feebly-constructed human media!”

“You’ve literally only watched one episode out of one show, calm down,” Dipper remarked, deadpan.

“And… you got all of that out of one episode?” Steven asked, somewhat impressed by that fact.

“It’s…. subtext, Steven,” the green Gem shrugged. “Allow me to explain.”

“Please, don’t,” Dipper said dryly, though of course, Peridot did anyway.

“Percy and Pierre are on the yellow team, and also-”

“Ugh…” Steven groaned, exasperated as the tablet’s recording began playing out Peridot’s infamously lengthy rant on the show. “I remember this part…”

“Yeesh, me too,” Dipper remarked sourly. “Only Peridot could go on for something that not a single person could ever care about for so long?”

“Hey, I cared about it!” Mabel protested, reaching for the tablet. “Let’s listen carefully to it! She makes some really good points in here!”

“NO!” Steven and Dipper quickly protested, rushing to fast forward past the green Gem’s diatribe entirely.

And what a diatribe it was. In deep, dramatic detail, Peridot went over her intricately crafted thesis on all things Camp Pining Hearts to her lukewarm audience. The kids made themselves comfy on the couch as the green Gem explain everything she had heard and seen from the single episode of the show she had watched countless times over. Her immense knowledge of the half hour segment had given her a strong opinion that Percy and Pierre were the ideal team out of all of the campers based on all the evidence she had gathered. And as passionate as she was on the subject, it took her several hours to divulge that evidence, to the point that Steven and Dipper quickly lost interest, though Mabel was thoroughly engrossed in the discussion of the show that she was rather fond of herself. But even then, her enjoyment of it seemed to pale in comparison to Peridot’s, who refused to even really let her get a word or question in edgewise amidst her seemingly endless, several hour long rant. At some point, Garnet joined the kids in listening in on it, though even so, Peridot hardly paid her or the kids (who had all long since fallen asleep as she went on and on) any mind as she brought her explanation to its bold conclusion.

“And that is why Percy and Pierre are objectively the best for each other!” she finished, clearly on an excited high from her intense explanation.

The green Gem’s verve was hardly shared however, since all three of the kids were still completely asleep, essentially piled on top of each other on their spots on the couch. Garnet on the other hand, also offered no reaction, that is, outside of her usual, simple, silent thumbs up. A thumbs up that was more than enough to annoy Peridot to the point that she ripped up her shipping chart entirely in a heated rage.

“Out of all of the humans I’ve been forced to contend with, the Ma—or just Mabel is by far the most agreeable out of all of them. And also the most well-versed in the more significant elements of this planet’s culture and social practices, such as today’s lesson in the adhesive item commonly known as ‘stickers’.”

“What are you doing?” Peridot asked, watching impatiently as Mabel flipped through some sort of colorful book.

“Oh, hiya, Peri!” Mabel greeted the green Gem as brightly as she always did. “I’m just sorting out my Sticktionary, see?” She held up the surprisingly thick book with a cover reading “Big Book of Stickers” in bold, bright letters.

“Stickers?” Peridot questioned dully.

“Whaaaa?!” Mabel gasped, dumbfounded as she looked up at the green Gem. “You don’t know what stickers are?! What the heck is even going on on Homeworld for you not to know about stickers!? Well, don’t worry.” She patted the spot on the ground next to her. “Mabel’s got you covered with everything you need to know, as usual.”

While normally, Peridot would have declined the invitation, she really didn’t have anything better to do at the moment, which was why she begrudging took a seat next to the girl to listen to her lesson. “Throughout history, stickers have been the backbone of many great civilizations,” Mabel began dramatically as she flipped through her own collection.

“No, they haven’t,” Dipper called from his spot on the other side of the barn, having overheard the conversation amidst his casual reading.

“The ancient Greeks used leeches for stickers!” Mabel continued, largely ignoring her brother. “The more stickers you had, the cooler you were!”

“Nope, not true.”

“The ancient Aztecs’ chest skull was the modern equivalent to today’s ‘orange you happy, mon?’” Mabel grinned, holding up said orange sticker.

“Yes,” Dipper interjected once more, exasperated. “Aztec war paint was exactly like a rasta orange. Mabel, have you ever read a history book?”

“Oh, will you be quiet already?!” Peridot huffed before Mabel could make any sort of counters herself. “Don’t you know an in-progress orientation on what’s apparently one of Earth’s most significant status symbols when you see one? I’m trying to listen to it!”

“…You know, on second thought, this ‘sticker’ lesson is probably exactly on your level, Peridot,” Dipper noted dryly as he took his book and left the pair in peace.

“So anyway, where were we before we were so rudely interupted?” Mabel asked, glancing down to her book once more. “Oh yeah! My Stictionary! So stickers fall into several distinct categories: puffy stickers… googly eye stickers… bumper stickers, scratch and sniff stickers, sniff and touch, touch and taste, and last but not least, price stickers! You can get these free at the store!”

“This is all very… fascinating,” Peridot deadpanned. “But what exactly is the point of these… ‘stickers’?”

“What’s the point?” Mabel frowned, baffled by such a question. “Peri, the ‘point’ is that they’re amazing! Wearing a sticker shows that you’ve got personality, that you’re special and unique. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.” It didn’t take long for Mabel to search through her collection to find the perfect sticker for the green Gem, which she gladly positioned over the diamond on Peridot’s uniform. “There ya go! It’s a turtle; he’s green, just like you are, Peri!”

“Ooooo…” Peridot mused, genuinely amazed by the simple sticker. “I understand everything now; these ‘stickers’ are some sort of Earth status symbol! The more you have, the more important you are, just like you said!”

“Uh… well, I don’t know if that’s-”

“Which is why I must have more of them!” Peridot took the sticker book into her own hands, eagerly flipping through it. “I need to demonstrate to all I encounter my elevated significance when compared to everyone else! And based on what you told me, these stickers are the best way to do that!”

“Whoa, hold the phone, Peri,” Mabel interjected, taking her book back. “I’m more than happy to let you share in on all of the sticker fun, but you can’t just take them from me. If you really want more, all you gotta do is ask nicely! You remember that super-special magic word I taught you?”

“Uh… yes…” Peridot groaned, annoyed as she complied. “Please?”

“Yep, you got it!” Mabel grinned as she brightly offered the green Gem a sunshine sticker. “And here you go, another sticker to show everyone-”

“To show everyone that I’m the absolute best of the best!” Peridot exclaimed proudly.

“No,” Mabel shook her head. “To show that you think manners are number one!” To prove her point, she gave the green Gem yet another sticker, this time in the shape of a #1. This was only the beginning, however, as the next hour or so turned into a seemingly endless sticker exchanges. For every time Peridot remembered to say please in response to just about anything, Mabel readily awarded her with yet another sticker, each of them completely colorful and unique. The green Gem was more than excited to earn them to, placing each of them, dispensing them all over her body to the point that she was more or less covered in them in almost no time at all, much to her immense satisfaction.

“And here’s a special glittery sticker,�� Mabel handed the green Gem what had to have been her 3-th sticker. “It’s a pirate ship!”

“Ah yes, a ship,” the green Gem smirked as she slapped the sticker over her shoulder. “Certainly this one will signify my skill when it comes to piloting all manner of interplanetary vessels.”

“Uh, sure,” Mabel shrugged, amused. She perked up even more, however, upon spotting Garnet enter the barn a moment later. “Oh! Hi, Garnet! I’m glad you’re here; I’ve been saving up this super special, color-it-yourself sticker for you! Bam!” She held up a heart sticker, half colored red and half colored blue. “It’s supposed to represent Ruby and Sapphire. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Very,” Garnet smiled, taking the sticker and proudly displaying it on her chest. “Thank you, Mabel.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Wha-hey!” Peridot squeaked angrily after watching this exchange. “What in the name of the Diamonds is this?! I have to go through an endless round of pleasantries to get even just one sticker, but you’re willing to hand them off to the fusion for just walking in? How is that fair?!”

“Aw, Peri,” Mabel tried to reason. “That’s not-”

“It certainly can’t be because she’s of a higher rank than I am,” Peridot continued her rant. “After all, the very thought of that is just absurd.”

“No, Peri, I just-”

“It couldn’t—NO,” Peridot gasped, suddenly mortified. “D-don’t tell me… its because you like her more than me?!”

“W-what?”

“And after everything we’ve been through,” the green Gem lamented. “I’ve never in my entire existence felt so betrayed. And after I finally allowed myself to become your new ‘fiend’ after weeks of you begging for it and everything!”

“You mean ‘friend’,” Garnet corrected.

“Yeah, that too!”

“Oh, Peri, I don’t think you understand,” Mabel said with a good-natured smile. “I like both you and Garnet!”

“Then why did she get a special sticker?”

“Well… uh… just… because, I guess?” Mabel shrugged. “There really isn’t that much more to it. Sorry?”

“Ugh!” Peridot groaned loudly, quickly tearing every single sticker off of her body. “Then all of these are meaningless!” And with that, the green Gem stormed off, though before even Garnet or Mabel could react to her frustration, she hurried back, though only for the purpose of scooping up her discarded stickers off the floor. “I’m still keeping these though. Especially the turtle. Don’t ask why.”

“Log Date 7 13 2. Progress on the drill is going optimal. Surprisingly though, I have a few complaints on the work ethic of-”

“Heeeeeey!” Peridot jumped, startled to the point that she interrupted her own log, She was quick to send an annoyed glance over at Amethyst, or rather, at Amethyst who was currently shapeshifted into Lion beside her.

“Amethyst, really,” Pearl huffed, looking over from her and Ford’s welding work on the drill. “This is no time to be fooling around.”

“Aw, c’mon, P,” Amethyst teased, still taking on the form of the pink beast. “I’m just trying to lion the mood.” She paused for a beat to let her joke sink in, seeing that it had been apparently lost on both Pearl and Ford before she continued it. “Lion around.”

While Pearl merely grumbled at the rather lousy pun, Ford shook his head over it, hardly amused. “Good to see Amethyst’s… unique sense of humor hasn’t changed over the past 30 years,” he noted dryly before getting back to work.

“Do you always use shapeshifting like this?” Peridot asked Amethyst, her tone clearly critical.

“You mean to be really cool?” Amethyst smirked, changing her form from Lion’s to the green Gem’s. “Pretty much.”

“But its such a-”

“-Significant use of energy when compared to the output!” Amethyst and Peridot both said in near unison as the result of the purple Gem’s playful mocking.

“…What was that?” the green Gem asked, confused and slightly irritated.

“I’ve been practicing my ‘Peri’-phrasing,” Amethyst grinned proudly. “Pretty impressive in my opinion, but its hard to beat the original.”

By this point, Peridot was clearly flustered by the purple Gem’s teasing, though she managed to play it off with a small, light chuckle all the same. “So… can you shapeshift into anything?”

“Sure,” Amethyst reverted back into her original form with a daring smile. “Got a request?”

Peridot, in fact, did have a request, one that, Amethyst immediately agreed to the moment she heard it.

“Bawk! Bawk! I’m a chicken!” the purple Gem laughed rowdily, running around the barnyard in the form of, of course, a wild chicken. The others watched on as she scrambled about, all of them mildly amused, though none more than Peridot as she cackled loudly from the realization.

“Ha! I get the joke now!”

“Yes, well, at least she isn’t lion around anymore,” Pearl joked, laughing lightly as she did.

“…Hm. Seems as though Pearl’s sense of humor hasn’t changed in 30 years either…” Ford noted to himself as he continued tinkering away at the drill.

Peridot, on the other hand, did her best to acknowledge the white Gem’s quip with something of a forced chuckle, even if she didn’t really find it that funny. Still, as she had come to learn during her time on Earth, it was often the thought that counted more than anything else.

“Pearl really tries for some reason and I can appreciate that. Stanford is… tolerable, for a human at least. Amethyst’s company is entertaining as well. But the fused one…”

The green Gem’s fake laughter quickly died down as she stole a brief glance over at Garnet. The Gem leader said nothing, keeping her relaxed stance against the barn as she simply sent her yet another silent, solitary thumbs up.

“Eludes me…”

Sure enough, the drill was just about done. In fact, the only thing that really needed to be done on it from a general standpoint was to attach the drill itself, something that both Pearl and Amethyst were aware of as they looked over the sizable injector head before them.

“Ok, we can add more support as we go,” Pearl noted thoughtfully. “But for now, we just have to pick it up and put it on top.”

“No sweat,” Amethyst smirked, shapeshifting into the muscle-bound Purple Puma. “Let’s do this!”

“You’ve got the right idea, but we might want to be a bit more careful.”

“Gotcha,” the purple Gem obliged, shifting back as she extended a cordial hand out to Pearl. “Shall we?”

The white Gem warmly agreed, allowing Amethyst to pull her into a brief, yet surprisingly graceful dance. And that dance was more than enough to bring the two Gems together into Opal without a single hitch whatsoever.

Peridot could do little more than gawk when she saw the familiar fusion, appalled that two incredibly dissimilar Gems could just combine so easily over something so small. She was even more dumbfounded as she watched the fusion swiftly scoop up the drill head and position it correctly for the finishing touches to be made on it.

“That looks great,” Garnet called over to Opal from her spot near the barn. “Let’s take a break.”

As if Peridot couldn’t get even more baffled by the fusion’s ongoing presence, she was even more confused when Opal stuck around even after the Gem leader’s call for said break. In fact, she was so frustrated with just how backwards everything seemed to be here that she found she couldn’t contain that frustration any longer.

“Alright, I’m at my limit!” Peridot growled as she stormed over to Garnet petulantly.

“Evening, Peridot,” the Gem leader greeted as coolly as ever.

“Explain to me, fusion!” the green Gem shouted back. “Explain to me how you Crystal Clods can just go around fusing all willy-nilly like this! The ‘Stepper’ was bad enough, but then there was the ‘Maven’ and the ‘Dipevebel’, not to mention that… thing,” she sneered over at Opal afar in the distance, still happily, harmoniously fused despite the fact that her work was over. “And don’t even get me started on you. I can at least make sense of your existence if it’s for a functional purpose. But you’re not using your combined size and strength to do anything!”

“I’m doing something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Stargazing,” Garnet smiled, the glimmering stars above reflecting against her visor.

Peridot let out a disgusted, disgruntled groan. “You can do that alone.”

“Don’t want to.”

The green Gem scoffed once more, still completely baffled by just how callous and carefree the Gem leader was about something as touchy and taboo as fusion. Oddly enough, however, Garnet didn’t seem to mind her bitter manner, instead silently tapping the empty spot on the bale of hay beside her with the unspoken invitation for her to sit down. Peridot was more than ready to turn her offer down, but ultimately, she relented, sighing as she slipped up onto the hay alongside the Gem leader.

“You can see Homeworld’s galaxy from here,” Garnet began, nodding towards the night sky.

“…You’re right…” Peridot’s eyes widened as she spotted the distant cluster of twinkling stars, so seemingly close, yet so painfully far.

“We’re very different,” the Gem leader noted, smiling over at the green Gem softly, kindly. “I appreciate that.”

“R-really?” Peridot asked, confused. “Even after… what I just said about you and fusion?”

“Peridot,” Garnet’s tone remained calm and even as her smile faded somewhat. “I think a big part of why fusion frustrates you so much is because you don’t understand it. Or rather, Homeworld wouldn’t let you understand what it could really be.”

“Pfft, like I’d even want to understand it,” the green Gem glanced away, coldly. “I think I’ve gotten more than my fair share when it comes to fusion thanks to…” She trailed off, almost not finishing her thought entirely before she shuddered visibly, still completely averting the Gem leader’s gaze. “Pyrite…”

“Pyrite wasn’t a fusion,” Garnet countered, her expression darkening somewhat.

“Uh… y-yes they were?” Peridot frowned. “They were also a complete disaster, one I still can’t believe I let myself be a part of! Every time I so much as close my eyes its like I can still hear his sickening laughter rattling around inside my gem as he ripped away control of my form right out from under me! And the worst part of it all was I let him do it! I let him in and I let that… that abomination Pyrite exist in the first place!”

“Even if you did, its still not your fault,” Garnet suddenly interrupted the green Gem’s bout of immense regret. “You’re definitely not the first to be tricked by Bill. Pearl, Amethyst, and even Ford and I can all attest to that. He has a way of making you think that his way is best, when in reality… everything he does is for his own twisted gain and no one else’s.”

“…Now you’re telling me…” Peridot muttered, pulling her legs tightly against her chest.

Garnet paused for a moment, easily telling that the green Gem was still hardly comforted by the haunted look in her eyes alone. Which was why she decided to take an entirely different route in reassuring her instead. “Your first ��fusion’ may not have been what a fusion should have been,” she mused thoughtfully, empathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t still see what it’s supposed to be like. If you really want to understand what real fusion is, I could show you.”

“…What do you mean?” Peridot asked, unable to deny her own intrigued curiosity.

“Let’s fuse.”

“Oh my stars!” the green Gem gasped, falling off the hay bale entirely upon hearing this.

“Heh, I get it,” Garnet grinned, extending a hand to help her up off the ground. “You’re not ready. That’s fair. I can’t blame you, especially after what Bill put you through. Another time then.”

“N-no!” Peridot shook her head fervently, determined to prove that she could do this. That whatever lingering terror and dread Pyrite had caused for her didn’t define her even still. “No, just… just give me a sec!”

Garnet complied, creating a space for them to dance in as Peridot rushed back into the barn to get ready. When she emerged, she stumbled out on the ‘stilts’ Steven had given her, hoping that the extra height would help her measure up to the Gem leader’s taller stature. Even still, she was rather nervous, all things conserved, as she teetered over to take Garnet’s hand so their dance could truly begin.

“Get ready,” the Gem leader encouraged, easily pulling her in close. For the briefest of moments, Peridot thought that, as Garnet began to spin her out, that she could do this. That she could fuse and become something more, something better than Pyrite could have ever hoped to be.

But then, in that split second, the fear and doubt all rushed right back in. What if it didn’t work? What if it did? What if fusion, regardless of who it was with, was still just as bad for her as it had been with Bill? What if, with Garnet or anyone else for that matter, it was better than she could have ever imagined? Those, and about a million other ‘what ifs’ dashed through her mind faster than she could keep up with them. And, as overwhelmed by both the countless risks and possibilities as she was, it was no wonder that Peridot ultimately ended up breaking apart from Garnet altogether, far before they even had a chance to fuse.

“N-no, no, no, no, no!” the green Gem stumbled back, clearly anxious and upset. “I-I… I can’t do it…”

Despite the bitter disappointment Peridot was feeling, Garnet merely answered it with a warm, supportive smile. “That’s fine! Peridot, I’m proud of you.”

“Why?!” Peridot huffed, more confused than ever at just how accepting the Gem leader seemed to be of her blatant failure.

“Because you made an effort to understand me,” Garnet said. “Even when it was difficult for you to do so.”

“But I still don’t understand you!” the green Gem groaned, exasperated. “Why are you fused all the time?!”

Garnet took a brief moment to think that this, before offering her answer in a way that Peridot would be sure to understand. “I’m Percy and Pierre.”

Just like that, every missing piece for Peridot clicked right into place. And at long, long last she finally understood exactly what Garnet was and why. Just as she had said of Percy and Pierre, they were, as bizarre as it might be by Homeworld’s standards, the perfect match. “Ohhh….”

“Ok… go!”

“Log date… seven fourteen two.”

Steven, Dipper, and Mabel all gasped, mutually surprised to hear Garnet’s voice joining in on Peridot’s usually singular recordings. Still, even despite the Gem leader’s attempt to start the log, the green Gem was quick to jump in to correct her.

“No, you say it seven one four two! Ugh… Log date, 7 14 2. I have attempted a fusion with the fusion Garnet. I had hoped to gain a better understanding of fusion; Instead, I got a better understanding of Garnet.”

The kids couldn’t help but share a small smile upon hearing this, knowing that this near-final log, just like all the rest they had heard, was by and large a testament to just how far the green Gem had come. For certainly, there had been a time when the only reaction she had towards Garnet, towards any of them really, was scorn and disdain and little else. But now, where there had once been callous cruelty, there now stood genuine respect, respect that Peridot had gained towards each of them all on her own. And that, along with her bold stand against her former Diamond, was something the young trio couldn’t help but be proud of.

“Wait, keep it on a moment,” Garnet suddenly spoke up before the most recent recording could end. “Steven, Dipper, Mabel, you probably shouldn’t have listened to Peridot’s logs, but I know your shared curiosity comes from a place of caring. Either way, you should give her tablet back to her now. She’s going to want to keep it.”

“Wait… what?”

Surprised as they were by the Gem leader’s very accurate foretelling, the kids were even more surprised to see Peridot and Garnet returned to the barn. The green Gem’s former frenzy had finally been quelled, replaced with a calm sort of resignation over her new lot as a Crystal Gem, a calm that had come about in no small part thanks to the Gem leader’s easy reassurances.

“Here, Peridot,” Steven handed the tablet back over to the green Gem with a smile. “You can take this back.”

“Yeah, consider it as a ‘welcome to the family’ gift!” Mabel chimed in happily.

“Mabel, it was already hers to begin with,” Dipper pointed out, amused. “Still, we probably should appologize for listening to all of your logs and everything, so… yeah.”

“Wow, thanks,” Peridot deadpanned as she reclaimed her tablet. She paused, however, noticing as Steven, Mabel, and even Dipper followed suit after Garnet, all four of them offering her cheery smiles and encouraging thumbs up. And, even despite whatever lingered of her dread in turning away and breaking free from everything she had used to know to embrace a life, believes, and teammates she had once stood against but now couldn’t imagine living without, it was a thumbs up that she finally not only accepted, but returned.

#jen writes #universe falls #steven universe #gravity falls #crossover #au #fanfic #log date 7 15 2 #peridot #steven #mabel #dipper #ford #garnet #amethyst #pearl #keyword is camp pining hearts

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impishnature · 6 years ago

Text

A Step In The Wrong Direction

AO3

Damned if I Do…, Better Off Without, Sentimentality

Rating: T+

Summary: Grifting Stars AU. After thirty years of work, thirty years of effort, Stan is finally ready to open the portal. Unfortunately for him, the world has never been fair. Part 4: The possibilities were endless- so how did things go so wrong? How did the chance of a lifetime break things so effortlessly?

AN: I am so sorry this has taken so long. It was first drafted so long ago that I’ve had to reread and reread it because I wasn’t happy with the writing style anymore. Hopefully it’s better now c: I’m happier with it now. <3

Part 4: A Step Too Far

"So, that's it, is it?"

"That's it." Ford huffed out a disbelieving noise, shock and awe mingling in equal measures. He regarded the small item that was sat between them, innocuous and unassuming, his mind unusually blank in its wake. Both of them couldn't help hesitantly watching it with a healthy dose of incredulous scepticism, almost afraid it would vanish as soon as they took their eyes off of it. Afraid that given half the chance the universe would decide that they weren't allowed this moment of good fortune and swallow it whole right before their eyes.

Though, perhaps, that wasn't quite true for both of them. Stan seemed to be scrutinising it with more scepticism and doubt than he himself was, mistrustful that the answer to everything, really was sat within reaching distance. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed over a thoughtful gaze, his lips a thin deliberate line as if he wanted to ask more but didn't want to ruin things, didn't want to start a fight or accidentally point out some unseen flaw in their still unspoken scheme. The spark of hope in his eyes wasn't quite as bright as Ford felt it should have been, considering his earlier explanation of the situation.

In fact, it had taken a lot for him not to just snatch it from him as Stan threw it thoughtlessly from hand to hand, not quite knowing the full extent of the item that he had managed to procure for them. Though even with the knowledge Stan didn't seem quite on board with it all.

It looked... too ordinary. Like it wasn't the answer to all their questions wrapped up in an unassuming shape.

He could understand why Stan wasn't ready to hope just yet.

It just sat there, metal on wood, a modest, practical trinket now relegated to the small bedside cabinet, sat between two equally small and simple beds that they had found for the night.

Stan had almost laughed the first time they had found themselves at a place like this. Shook his head, that even across the multiverse, some things never did change, and a motel room would always be a motel room no matter how far and wide you travelled.

Just like how a small tape measure should always just be a small tape measure.

But Ford never worked in 'usually's and 'always's. Not in that sense at least. For as long as he could remember, he'd been more interested in the unique and the anomalous. The coincidences and the random chance and all the little indescribable miracles that lingered in between.

And that small, unassuming tape measure really was the answer to everything. If they used it right.

They could go back home.

He could defeat Bill.

He could finally rest, back in his home dimension, knowing that Bill would never darken his doorstep again.

"Twelve months..."

Ford blinked as his brother spoke up again, after what felt like an age of silence permeating the room. He restlessly twisted some small item Ford couldn't discern between his hands, whatever he had found to take the tape measures place now that Ford had managed to pry it away from him and set it somewhere safe. "What?"

"Just... thinking." Stan shrugged, leaning back against the wall, resting his head back against it to look up at the ceiling, arms moving to circle his knee. "Twelve months and we might be able to fix things, I just- it feels like I've been here with you forever, but it also feels like no time has passed at all, you know?"

"Yeah." Ford settled down, eyes sweeping round the room, taking in their meagre belongings and the small city outside the window. It had been good to have Stan around, time had gone so much faster than when he'd been all on his own. The nights hadn't been quite so dark, nor as perilous with another person to keep watch, his brother's soft humming enough to keep even the ghosts of the past away. Nor had the days been so monotonous and routine. No longer did he become lost inside his own head in the middle of nowhere when there was another abrasive voice to break the patterns. The usual cycles that his mind whipped through crushed quickly by a half mumbled curse or joke from his peripheral.

Not that that had happened straight away, of course. They both knew that. The tense silences and fizzling atmosphere, cold and unforgiving, were hard to truly forget. So maybe it had taken some time, and a few catalytic catastrophes, for them to slip back into old habits but once they had- it almost felt like Stan had never left his side at all. Once the connection reformed, solidified and took root, they might as well have always been travelling like this. They'd always said they would after all, it just felt like they were fulfilling that promise, albeit a few decades late.

It felt easy and simple now. It just made sense to have his brother by his side again and to put the past behind them.

Maybe it was because they were so close to fixing everything, maybe it was because he knew that there was a chance they could start afresh, but the feeling of forgiveness that had been slowly washing over him, felt even stronger now.

Maybe it was because he never thought about the future as a tangible reality anymore. The present was where he needed to be, and with Stan- it had just become a given to forget the past and forget the future and just live for a while. Take what they had whilst they had it and stick to having comfort and happiness, if only for a short while.

It really was nice to have his brother back, once he ignored everything that had happened before between them.

But... the future didn't seem quite so far away anymore though.

And he had Stan to thank for that.

He'd stopped thinking about going home a long time ago. After a while in the multiverse, his thoughts had turned to survival and to taking Bill down once and for all. If he never got home, well, that was the price he'd willingly pay to make sure Bill never got to see that dimension as well.

But now with the time tape in their hands, and hindsight for once in his favour, he knew what mistakes he had made that first time he'd fought Bill. He could do better this time, weigh up all the variables and think up all the options. He'd make sure he defeated him and then if he could- he'd go home with Stan.

He'd meet the kids he'd heard so much about.

The trickle of hope and excitement at meeting the pair of twins had infiltrated his system, had made it hard to think of a future where he was stuck on this side of the portal without a deep set sorrow burrowing into his heart.

After all these years, he wanted to go home again.

He couldn't seem to stop the feeling, could only let it bloom and blossom and grow. It strengthened his resolve to beat Bill, kept him thinking of the future beyond that instance instead of it being the defining moment that would draw everything to a reassuring close.

He hated the feeling as much as he in turn loved and rejoiced it, knowing full well that if this didn't work, if things didn't turn out how they planned then-

No. He couldn't think like that. Maybe yesterday, maybe even earlier that morning he could have crushed the hope of meeting them, and let himself peacefully spend his days with his brother by his side, travelling the multiverse for the rest of their lives. But now they had the answer, that one final ingredient that put their plan into motion.

And it was a pleasant surprise to realise that for once it wasn't just the thought of defeating Bill that was pushing him onward.

They would succeed- they could succeed, now that they were here at this very moment.

"I still don't understand how I managed this in a year when you didn't in thirty."

Ford snorted at Stan's cheeky smirk, childish and proud as he teased his brother across the room. "You'll have to forgive me for not willingly instigating a fight with the time police before. Which I hasten to add- was still dangerous and downright reckless, and we may need to stay hidden for a while once they realise what you took."

Stan huffed out a laugh as he shook his hand flippantly. "Please, they were not the first nor will they be the last creature that I pickpocket. They'll never suspect a thing, even when they realise that- thingamajig is gone."

"Time tape." Ford couldn't help but correct him. He rolled his eyes, trying for exasperated and tired of his antics, though the grin on his face said otherwise. "And is that so? You know, you needn't be quite so proud about how good you are at stealing."

"No?" Stan's eyebrows rose higher as he sat back up, eyes gleaming in amusement. "Got us what we needed, didn't it?"

"I'm sure there was another way-"

"Yeah. One that would have taken forever." Stan flopped back dramatically, arms out to his sides, still smiling away brightly. "You said you needed one of those thingamajigs and I got you one. Case closed."

He was doing it on purpose. Ford bit down on the correction, that sat begging to be released, on the tip of his tongue.

"I said it would be good if we could get hold of one, not that you should steal one!" Ford's voice snapped, a high pitch disbelieving crack that made Stan laugh all the harder. But it was true! Sure he might have wistfully stared at the time tape on the belts of the two officers walking past, and yes, he might have made a comment or two about how having one would open up a route to get them home- but it had only been conjecture! He hadn't expected Stan to slip away from him as soon as he realised what he was talking about and start a fight in the middle of the small street they'd been in. Hadn't expected as he stood aghast, wondering what on earth he was doing, that his brother was somehow orchestrating the entire street like a giant puppet show. Setting up a fight, agitating the participants just enough, that it would continue on without him and pocketed the time tape he had wanted while everyone's attention was diverted elsewhere.

Ford wasn't even truly sure he'd seen the exact moment when Stan had stolen it, completely flummoxed by his brother's antics until a few streets later when he had shown him his spoils.

His brother never did cease to amaze him.

He was proud, of course he was.

...He wasn't about to admit it though. Not yet at least.

But Stan did have a point. He'd never have gotten what they needed that quickly, though he did try to do things far more honestly it seemed. Which was a mildly disconcerting thought, considering he wasn't sure where his moral compass lay anymore.

"So? Do I get a thank you? A compliment? Anything at all-"

"Well done." There was a sarcastic tinge to Ford's words though the amusement that also flooded out with it seemed to eclipse the moment. Stan puffed up where he sat, grin getting wider and wider with every passing second, and Ford couldn't help but dig a little back to stop him from bragging too much in the near future. "They'll figure out sooner or later that it's missing though."

"Ehh." Stan shrugged, relaxing easily, arms crossed behind his head as he settled. "We'll be long gone by then. Besides, it's not like we need to keep it. Once we're done with it, we can leave it behind, right? They can pick it up themselves without us being around for the consequences."

Ford hummed thoughtfully, relaxing himself slightly as his mind began to spin with the possible outcomes, synapses snapping after the brief lull the initial find had caused. "I guess... that will probably give us only the one shot at the attempt though- if we're thinking of leaving behind the time tape, that is." He tapped his fingers against his leg in time with the thoughts bubbling up behind his eyes. "Though, you're right, it would be the safer option. I wouldn't want to relax, thinking we were home safe and sound, only to get rounded up by the time police for globnar- what? Why are you smiling like that?"

Stan's smile twitched again, eyes alight with mischief and stifled chuckles. "Oh, I don't know. I think it might just be the amount of times you've said 'time police' and 'time tape'. I mean it didn't make a whole lot of sense the first time you told me, but every time you say it, it's like the words lose even more meaning." He shook his head. "I mean time police, really?"

Ford raised a haughty eyebrow. "You're completely fine with the idea of time travel but not with the idea of an organisation to keep time travellers in check?"

"Yeah- OK, maybe it makes sense when you put it that way- but with all that time on their hands you think they'd come up with a better name than time police."

"I also said the word 'Globnar' and you're taking offence at 'time police'?"

"Yeah, well- at least that sounds alien."

"...Of course it does." Ford chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "As fun as this is, we should start thinking about this seriously. One shot doesn't give us a lot of leeway even if we do now have the means to go back- why are you still smiling like that?" The endearment was fast becoming vexed exasperation as his brother continued to smile away softly as if they were merely talking about which direction they would head next, not the entire fate of them getting home in one piece, after almost a year of assuming their chances of doing so were minuscule at best.

"Nothing." Stan shrugged again, still leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "Just, wouldn't be the first time I've played to those odds. One shot to get through- I'm happy with those odds, they don't worry me as much as they probably should. But, any shot is better than no shot at all, right?"

"I... I guess?" Ford blinked owlishly, unable to really push through Stan's fizzling optimism. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't take this seriously."

"Oh, I'm taking this very seriously." Stan shifted, his posture suddenly more straight backed and focused in a way Ford hadn't been expecting and made him shift back as well, abruptly uneasy by the motion. "We've got one shot? One shot to fix everything?"

There was an anxious heat to the air as Stan's focus locked on to him, ready for an answer. There was something brewing on the horizon with that gaze, but he couldn't put his finger on it, couldn't understand where exactly the conversation was leading. All he knew was that something was amiss, some possibility that he hadn't accounted for and that alone set off an alarm bell at the base of his skull. "Yes? I mean- sort of. Yes. This gives us the means to that. We can take ourselves back in time with this. And then from that moment on, it's up to us to do better with the second chance we've been given."

"We need to make it count then."

"Yes." Ford nodded, hands quickly grabbing his journal out of his pocket to start bullet pointing ideas. "Exactly. We need to make this count, so we should start drawing up plans now- bounce back theories and flaws- every detail could make or break this plan- so we need to be ready for anything. And I mean absolutely anything, we need to prepare for every possibility." He scratched as his chin with his pen, eyes thoughtfully staring at the blank page. "I guess, that means it might still be a few weeks until we're fully prepared but better safe than sorry, and- heh-" Ford stifled a soft half smile. "Guess we have all the time in the world, when you think about it like that, right?"

He'd hoped for something. Some kind of chuckle or snort. Something to alleviate the tension that was still emanating from across the room. Break the ice that was forming and get them back on track towards that hopeful path they were now journeying on. His attempts at humour weren't great, he knew that, he hadn't really needed to brush up on socialising in a very long time, but Stan appreciated him doing so, even when they needed to be somewhat serious. And if it got the conversation back on track into familiar territory then he'd compromise to get his brother on side.

Except- Stan didn't seem to hear him.

Or at least he didn't hear that last part at least.

A hand suddenly entered his field of vision, closing the book in his hands without preamble before pulling back.

"There's no need for all that, Sixer."

"No ne- how could you possibly think there's no need?!" Ford's head snapped back to his brother's, who held his ground firm and tried not to flinch in the wake of his expression, though Ford could see the visceral recoil he tried so hard to mask. He knew his words were sharp, heated by annoyance and confusion, but he couldn't pull back and look at the scene objectively when Stan was acting so strange. "What possible reason in the entire multiverse would make you decide that we can just wing this and come out the other side completely fine considering we only have the one chance?"

"Because I already know exactly what we need to do."

Ford stared at him, face and voice deadpan in disbelief. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"It's simple, really. You take that tape and you go all the way back to thirty- thirty one years ago."

"I- what? That's..."

"It makes the most logical sense, right? We cant go back in time to before that because we're on the wrong side of the portal. And I know for a fact I don't get the portal open for thirty years so..."

"No. That's- no, it wouldn't work."

"What wouldn't work? You go back thirty years to when you first went through and go back through the portal at that point. Like it never happened."

"But it did happen."

"No. No, we can change that." Stan reached forward and grabbed the tape, before shuffling to crouch in front of Ford, pushing it into his hands without hesitation. Ford fumbled to keep a hold of it before it fell to the floor, not expecting the sudden gift. "We have this. So we can change all that, right? We can fix it."

"It doesn't work like that." Ford mumbled, his shoulders sagging as the dots finally connected. He tried to put the tape back in it's place but Stan was having none of it, tightening his hands around Ford's to keep him where he was.

"How do you know? How will we know if we don't try? Maybe- maybe this is our chance. Maybe this way you never get stuck over here in the first place and-"

"It doesn't work like that!" Ford shoved him away, the force of his words exploding out of him as he wrenched himself from Stan's grasp and stood up all in one fluid movement, the tape dropping to the bed without a thought.

Stan stumbled back with the force, the back of his knees hitting the other bed and he fell back into his seated position. He scowled deeply, crossing his arms as Ford began to pace. "Alright, smart guy, tell me how it works then. Or how this wouldn't work. Cause right now I think it's the best plan we've got."

Ford growled, mind sparking to life at the challenge. His free hand went to his hair, running through it in agitation as he continued to pace. "This is absurd, preposterous- and to think, you actually think it's the best plan we have." He raised his hand up as Stan went to interject, eyes sharp and narrowed as his head snapped towards him. "No. Let me speak."

"Well, get on with it already."

Another strangled noise escaped Ford, frantic irritation bubbling through his veins. He needed to make Stan understand. "Fine. That- Firstly..." He hit his fist into his palm, trying to make sense of all the strands of thought that wouldn't weave together into a cohesive sentence. "Ok, let's get this straight. You think that going back thirty years and dropping back into our dimension won't have any repercussions?"

"Reper-whatnows?"

"Repercussions- consequences!" Ford's arms flailed wildly as he went. "You don't think we'd give your younger self a heart attack, dropping back through the portal, having aged thirty years?"

"Oh- I guess I thought-"

"What? That we'd magically de-age as well? Nope, that doesn't happen. Otherwise time travellers wouldn't be able to travel outside of their life expectancy or run the risk of becoming children again by going backwards." There was a sliver of satisfaction as Stan's mouth snapped shut and his face twisted thoughtfully in response to his arguments. "And that's another thing. You."

"What about me?"

"There'd be two of you. In the same time stream. That's a paradox waiting to happen."

"Implying that I was thinking of coming back with you."

"Of course you'd be- wait, you weren't thinking of coming back with me?"

Time came to a sudden jarring halt.

Ford's chest felt like his heart might have just shrunk a couple of sizes in response to the words, his breath caught somewhere in between. It had become a lead ball, every pulse an ache that rattled through his rib cage. The mere thought of what Stan was planning- was even suggesting-

Stan's eyes widened and he could only assume some of the pain had shown on his face because he suddenly couldn't seem to look at him. His gaze shot down to his own hands, gripping tightly at his knees as he sat there.

You could have heard a pin drop, the tension so unimaginable as Ford waited for a response that he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

He thought they'd gotten over this hurdle. Stan had promised.

"I- well, you know? You're right. I'm already over in that dimension all the way back then. I just thought- I've had close to sixty years over there, whereas you only got near thirty. So if I could- give you those years back, that is... well, staying over here alone would be worth that."

Ford could feel the forlorn hope pulsing off his brother in waves. It was bitter and tired, and full of wishes that he knew must have accumulated over the years.

But that didn't make the option anymore viable.

Wishing it into existence wouldn't make it a reality.

That knowledge didn't make it any less harder to dispute it though, any less difficult to stop Stan's hopeful wishes in their tracks.

"Stan, I get it, I do. But it-"

"It doesn't work like that. I get it, you already said. But you need to explain, really explain, why it wouldn't work if you want me to actually believe you."

Ford stopped pacing as if the action physically pained him to halt. He grimaced, running a hand through his hair once more as he sat down opposite Stan. He felt a gaze burning deep into his skull as he glanced at his own hands. "OK. Right, let's take a step back here- take out the emotion of the situation." He ignored the high pitch note his brother made to that remark. "Just- hear me out. Please. Look, you being here, right at this very moment, shows that in our timeline it took thirty years for the portal to reopen, correct?" He waited for an affirmative grunt before he continued. "Now, I know a time machine sounds like the answer to everything but- think about it, OK? For one, I'll still be pushing sixty, I won't go back to the age I should have been at the time- heck, your younger self might not even think it's me-" Another strangled noise made him hesitate before plodding on regardless. "But that's only the start of the problems. That's thirty years, Stan. Thirty years of choices that I shouldn't have been able to make. Do you have any idea what I could do to that world? What I could change?"

Stan snorted, the sound humourless and derisive. "You're a genius, that's for sure. But I don't think even you can cause that much damage."

Ford stared at him, abject horror plastered across his face. "Stan, I almost caused the end of the world."

"You telling me you'd try and do it again?"

"Of course not." Ford snapped, shaking his head, hands tangling tight in his hair, tugging in frustration, as he tried to get his point across. "But going back at that time- I could change your fate entirely." He really didn't like how that remark was met with silence, an uncaring, raised eyebrow all his brother gave him as he stared back defiantly. "Would you continue working on the portal if I was there? Would I even let you? What would happen if I was there at a time I shouldn't be. There's just- too many variables, too many offshoots that might happen that never should have. Me being there changes everything. Maybe not on a cosmic scale. But still, thirty years of decisions changed is not something to be trifled with."

"What's the point of a time machine if you can't fix things though?"

Ford dropped his head into his hands, groaning deeply. Why wasn't he getting it? "It's not about fixing things, Stan. It's about breaking things even further. For example- this entire idea is a paradox in and of itself." He looked through his fingers at his brother, his face still twisted stubbornly against his arguments. "In this scenario there are two fixed points in time. The time thirty odd years ago and the one only a year ago. These two points have happened in our lifetimes and there are people on both sides of the portal who are aware of that. So, if I were to go back, and you were to stop working on the portal, you would never have done the things that led up to this moment in time. If you didn't work on the portal for thirty years then you wouldn't have fallen through. And if you hadn't fallen through, you wouldn't have gotten us the time tape in the first place- you see? Do you get what I'm trying to say? Forget worrying about the time police coming after us for a stolen time tape, we'll be in clear violation of every rule they have about time travel whether we still have it on us or not."

"If that's the case how can we use it at all?" Stan leaned forward, his eyes sharp and pained, a disappointed anger that he was trying hard to hold back on. "Tell me what was even the point in grabbing it? Because right now it's just starting to look more and more like a useless piece of junk." He rolled his eyes as Ford made a strangled noise in disagreement. "What? Why would your idea work but not mine? What's so different about one moment in time vs the other?"

"Because nothing in our lifetimes so far has proven that this doesn't work. It's- we're creating a bubble, or a loop essentially instead of a complete and utter paradox. Nothing has changed, we still both spent a year together but going back in time means we can jump back through the portal at the time you fell through and have a chance at beating Bill. We haven't seen that demon since, which believe me is strange in and of itself, so I can only assume that it may be due, in part, to this plan succeeding."

"That's- you have nothing at all that points to that-"

Ford couldn't help the soft hysterical puff of laughter, hands dragging down his face. "You? You're asking me for evidence? After just making me explain in detail why your plan wouldn't work?"

"I'm just saying- you have no more idea that your plan would work against mine."

"I do! I just explained that-"

"Yeah, I get it! We might cause a paradox, alright." Stan shrugged. "But- we should still give it a try, right?"

"Are you even listening? Do you know what causing a paradox does to the very fabric of time and space?"

"Yeah but you can't be sure we'd cause one. Isn't there enough of a chance that it wouldn't do that? You said we've got one chance to fix everything and the best bet would be-"

"Oh! For crying out loud- you can't just magic away your mistakes!"

He hadn't meant to snap.

Ford found himself on his feet again before he'd even noticed he'd moved, the words bursting out of him to crack and echo around the room like a thunderous storm cloud.

It felt like it as well, bubbling and brewing inside him, a tempest of irritation and concern and all the things in between. He hated that Stan thought he could and would leave him behind without hesitation, he hated that he had resigned himself to living out his days here alone when he didn't have to, when they could both go back together and stop thinking about the past altogether if he'd only listen to him. And at the same time there was a bitter resentment swirling through it all, that dark heated anger that had begun to curdle and vanish since they had become acquainted again. It was reforming deep within his heart, each beat another layer that he was twisting around it into a shell. Stan had ruined his shot to finally be free of Bill, and he wanted him to just leave it be now he had a second chance? To go back all those years ago and pretend none of this had ever happened?

Pretend that by doing this in hindsight, everything was suddenly, miraculously, OK?

It was like sticking a plaster over a fatal wound. Like pretending they were back on solid ground when actually the world could fall apart around them at a moments notice.

Maybe they hadn't made any progress at all, maybe they'd both just been denying the logical truth that they were both still the same people they'd always been. Desperately pretending that the bond between them hadn't been irrevocably broken.

Fix things? How would this course of events ever fix things?

And the real crux of it all, the real deal breaker that made his blood boil and his words sharp as knives was the fact that Stan wasn't listening to him.

For whatever reason his brother wouldn't, or couldn't listen to him.

And every terrible memory, every awful moment they had shared was sliding to the forefront of his mind and reminding him that when Stan didn't listen to him things went catastrophically wrong.

"I know but... If you can go back to thirty years ago then..." Stan gulped, his words soft and hushed against Ford's outburst. "None of this has to happen. S-So if we can just get you back there, then it's like nothing ever-"

"But it did happen!" And with that, something broke inside him. His words flowed without thinking, all the anger, all the pain- any filter that he had gained over the months torn away as his words reverberated off the walls.

"It did happen, Stan. You pushed me through the portal. And you've got to live with that." He was too far gone to care about the way Stan flinched at the words, too busy making sure that this course of action was stopped in it's tracks now. "We have to live with that. It happened and that's all there is to it." His hands tightened to fists as his words became more heated, vicious and pointed to cut any more arguments in their place. He could feel blunt fingernails scratching into his palms, steeling him further to what had to be said, what had to be done. "I've done many terrible things this side of the portal. Many good things as well, but mostly I did what I had to to survive. Whatever it took, I had to survive- and no amount of going back in time will change that! And I don't want to change that. You know why? Because no matter how much I regret my actions, I know I have to live with them. That they happened, and they happened because of me, and me alone. And I've come to terms with that." He took a shuddering breath, one filled with regrets but resolve too. "I've had to. I've come to terms with the mistakes I've made and dealt with the consequences. I've moved on- maybe one day you'll manage to do the same." His fingernails began to stab in deeper, bleeding the anger out of him as his words ignited once more. "Maybe one day you'll actually realise that you made mistakes and that no amount of denying they happened is ever going to make them just disappear! Because they won't. You can't. And you need to deal with the consequences."

He was panting by the end of his outburst, emotionally spent and tired beyond belief. The exhaustion bled through his final remark, bitter and sarcastic. "So, no, we can't go back to thirty years ago and fix everything."

"...Deal with the consequences?"

"Yes." Ford frowned at the cold, dark voice emanating from Stan, his brother's head bowed down away from him.

"Deal with the consequences? You don't think I did that? Every single day?" Stan looked up at him then, eyes sparking with venomous disbelief before they shut down entirely. It was like a dark cloud spread across his face, a shadow where his emotions had once been, resting bare and blank for anyone to see. "Of course not. Of course you think that I'm just- doing this for myself. No, couldn't be that I wanted you to live the life I'd taken away from you!" His teeth bared, a snarl filled with malicious disappointment. "I get it. What I did still happened, I'm a terrible person- fine. But this wasn't about that. This was about you. This was about you getting a second chance, alright?"

Ford's shoulders slumped, his heart heavy. His anger had been doused, leaving him cold and hollow in it's wake. "We have to-"

"Deal with the consequences and move on? Yeah, I heard you the first time." Stan scoffed, voice still lacking that tone that made it sound like him. Ford shuddered, his mistakes thrown before him in stark clarity as he realised that Stan's response reminded him of another time-

That moment just after he'd made a fatal error, when he'd pushed his brother away from him and he'd connected with a heated console.

That moment Stan decided he wasn't worth his time anymore, when he'd shut down and told him that if he cared more about his research then he could do without him as a brother.

He hadn't meant to hurt him- not again- Ford blinked as the full gravity of what he'd said hit him, all those things that had tumbled out in anger because Stan just wouldn't listen.

He hadn't meant them- not really, not like that- Of course he knew, of course he understood why Stan was doing this-

"Move on? When have you ever moved on?" The words were laced with a bitter tang, a sour note that dripped from ever single poisonous syllable and straight into Ford's heart. "Even after all this time, I bet the thing you're most angry about is that blasted science fair project, isn't it? And believe me, I dealt with the consequences of that- ten years I spent without a family- without a home, because of that mistake. So don't you dare lecture me about dealing with consequences, I've been doing it all my life."

"Stan-"

Stan held up his hand, cutting of his retaliation before it had even truly begun. It felt like Stan might punch him again like last time or maybe shout and scream back at him in equal measures to his own earlier fury, but instead his face stayed emotionless, cold and hollow as he stood up quietly. "No. Screw this- Screw you. I'm done. Do whatever you want to do. Go ahead, knock yourself out. We both know you always know what's best for everyone anyway. Don't let me get in your way." And with that he walked away towards the door, slowly and deliberately, without a second glance back at him.

"Don't-"

The door to their motel room fell back into place with a soft click, leaving Ford completely and utterly alone for the first time since his brother had fallen through the portal at his feet.

The words caught in his throat, tired and dejected as the room began to darken around him.

He almost couldn't believe that less than an hour ago they had been laughing together.

That less than an hour ago, he wouldn't have believed an argument was on the horizon, just waiting for it's moment to strike.

"...I'm sorry."

The darkness claimed the words, scattering them to the winds and into the night sky, for no one else to hear.

When Ford woke up, Stan was already awake, already preparing for whatever the day threw at them with the practised ease they had built over the last year.

The only problem was that he was going through the motions absolutely silently.

There was no grumbling, no groans about old man pains, or chipper whistling tunes designed purely to give him grief and wake him from his slumber.

No there was just... quiet, no sibling banter, no mocking jokes.

Just- silence, cold and solid a wall that he wasn't sure how to breach.

So he didn't.

Instead he outlined his plan, calmly and collectedly. Made sure that every detail was there, every possible outcome thought of throughout a night of tossing and turning, and wondering where his brother had got to, spurring him on to make sure that there were no arguments this time. That everything made logical sense and worked well, anything in an attempt to make his brother see reason and maybe accept that his idea had been less than foolproof the night before.

He didn't know if he had been successful or if Stan just didn't care anymore.

Stan didn't argue with him. Just nodded, listened quietly to his entire plan before collecting his belongings ready for them to be out on the road again.

There was no emotion on his face, no defiance, no stubborn resistance, just... acceptance.

Ford had never thought he'd hate his brother listening to him without argument until that moment.

The silence grated on him far quicker than he could possibly have imagined.

The time tape burned a hole in his pocket, the chance to change the conversation they'd had the night before right there for the taking.

He bit down on the urge as Stan nodded at him to take the lead, all that he got in acknowledgement really that he was ready to do what had to be done. Ford nodded back in kind, trying to fill the empty spaces with conversation as they left, trying his best to get back to where they'd been before, only to be thwarted by his brother responding in single word answers wherever possible.

It hurt. It hurt more than he cared to admit, to think just how far their progress had deteriorated the night before.

And it was ironic really, how much he didn't want to deal with this- the consequence of his actions.

But to act on that notion, to turn back time and change things. After lashing out as hard as he had...

The hypocrisy was almost blinding, itching guiltily away at the back of his skull at the mere thought.

...At least Stan no longer wanted to force the issue, at least this way they really could get the best possible outcome available to them.

At least this way he could take down Bill without any complaints.

Ford shook the terrible idea from his head, the time tape momentarily forgotten, as he steeled himself, the thought of defeating Bill at the forefront of his mind once more.

He had bigger things to concern himself with.

Making amends with Stan could wait.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls #grifting stars au #stanford pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #mentions of:#dipper pines #mabel pines #bill cipher #A Step In The Wrong Direction

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hymn2000 · 6 years ago

Text

Freeze - MCU AU Fanfic - C24

Previous chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Story synopsis:- When a burst gas main destroys everything and leaves Peter with nothing, the Stark’s take him in. Thrown together by necessity, they then need to try to keep it together and build a new life. Devastated by loss, Peter doesn’t make things easy for them, and Loki and Tony struggle with their own grief and the responsibility of having someone completely dependant on them.

Chapter description:- Peter finally sees Ned again for the first time since the funeral

Story warnings/themes: character death, hurt/comfort, trauma, grief, depression/mental health issues, bullying, corporal punishment

Relationships: Frostiron (Loki x Tony) (romantic), Tony and Peter (platonic), Loki and Peter (platonic)

From the same AU as Called To Be A Rock

Chapter 24 - Lost

Tony gave Peter’s hand a squeeze.

“What are you smiling about?”

Peter shrugged, turning the kettle on.

“Did you have a good night then?”

Peter nodded.

“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”

“Dad... Um, am I allowed to go out on Sunday?”

Tony looked at him. “Go out where?”

“Just, just out, yknow. I’ve asked Ned to meet me. I haven’t seen him since January”

“Oh yes. Oh. Yes, of course” Tony gave him a quick hug. “I’ve got to go out tomorrow. Work stuff”

“Oh”

“Would you like to come with me? Or do you want to stay here?”

“Oh. Um” Peter looked away, grabbing the kettle and pouring water into his mug. “Well. I’m quite tired”

“Ok. I’ll call Thor to come and keep an eye on you”

“I don’t need him to look after me” Peter said. “I’ll be fine on my own”

Tony wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t say. “Take your drink to bed with you, sweetheart. It’s starting to get late”

Peter was up extra early on Sunday morning, even though he wasn’t meeting Ned till 10am, and the cafe was only five minutes away. He’d known Ned for years, but now that he was finally seeing him again, he felt absolutely terrified. What if Ned didn’t like him anymore? What if he thought him weird now? What if he’d changed too much? What if he couldn’t speak when he saw him? There were so many what-ifs to worry about.

Peter was too nervous to eat. He was shaking, and Tony was concerned. He left his piles of paperwork and felt the boys forehead.

“Are you sure you’re up to going up? You’re very warm. I think you might have a fever”

“I-I-I’m just nervous...”

“You’re shaking. Really shaking. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“...I’m sorry-!”

He rushed from the room.

Tony sat Peter on his lap and helped him sip a glass of water.

“Poor little spider-boy” he said. “I think we need to get you back to bed”

“No! No, I’ve gotta go, I’ve gotta go and see Ned!”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re hot, you’re shaking, you’ve been sick. You’re not well enough to go out”

“It’s just nerves! I’ve gotta go, I haven’t seen him for so long! Please let me go!”

Tony looked into his tearful eyes, and against his better judgement, he let him go.

Peter couldn’t stop shaking. He tried to focus on calming his breathing, his eyes darting around. Something caught his eye, and he looked up properly. Someone was looking at him - someone he knew.

“NED!!”

Peter ran and threw his arms round Ned’s neck. Ned was taken aback, a little surprised and confused by his reaction. He hugged him back awkwardly.

“Aww, I missed you too” he said. “Uh, Peter, you’re kinda crushing me”

Peter moved back, and Ned finally got to look at him properly. He looked different. He seemed smaller, and he was definitely paler - but it was the clothes that were the most obvious difference. He was used to seeing him in normal jumpers, trousers, and trainers. That wasn’t what he was wearing today. He had on smart black jeans, a white t-shirt, and black blazer, with his duffel coat over the top, open so that his outfit was on show. It was a chilly day, so he had a thin black scarf round his neck. He was wearing matte black Doc Marten boots, and a silver watch adorned his wrist.

“Ned?” Peter said, unnerved by Ned’s staring.

“Sorry. It’s just, you look... different. Your clothes...”

Peter glanced down at himself. “Well, dad- uh, Mr Stark buys all my clothes now. I lost most of my old clothes in the accident, y’know, and it’s easier to let him choose really”

“Yeah... It’s- it’s good to see you’re being looked after. I’ve been worried about you”

Peter looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry I’ve been so bad at keeping in touch. It’s been... Well, it’s been a tough few months”

Ned nodded, and glanced at the cafe. “Should we go in? We could get a coffee and talk”

“Good idea”

Ned felt like he was with a stranger. He’d always thought he’d known Peter inside and out, and that they’d always be friends - but now he wasn’t so sure. He knew Peter would change, he knew that he had changed - he just didn’t realise just how much.

“Have you been ill? You look... small”

“Oh. Um, not exactly. I lost a lot of weight after the accident. I’m still trying to put it back on”

“How much did you loose?”

Peter shrugged one shoulder, looking uncomfortable. “About a stone. Maybe a bit more”

“But you’re putting it back on?”

“Yeah, I mean, that first school I got sent to was, well, uh, some real bad stuff happened, and that didn’t help. But this new school is going better, and I’ve got my appetite back, so...”

There was a silence. Peter could feel his heart thumping.

“What happened?”

Peter swallowed hard. “I’ve, um, I’ve got... pictures. The doctor said he needed them for the records, so he used my phone and emailed them to himself. Mr-Mr Stark told me to delete them, but I never quite got round to it”

“Pictures of what? Peter, what happened?”

“It was just, y’know, bullying. There was this boy who was kinda in charge, and everyone got in on it. They enjoyed it. I didn’t bother telling anyone about it, but then he just, well, the school called and it all came out in the office” he said, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. He stopped and handed the phone to Ned. “So they took me out, and then sent me to the school I’m at now. Sorry, I know these are horrible, but I’d rather not talk about everything they did to me. I’m still having nightmares, still trying to forget, yknow?”

Ned stared at him, and reluctantly took the phone. He clicked a picture to enlarge it, and was overcome with nausea. He took a deep breath as he flicked through the photos. He decided he didn’t want to know the full story. It looked like a case study from The Bill.

“That isn’t bullying” he said, handing the phone back. “That’s violence”

“That’s what dad said” he said, frowning and putting the phone back in his pocket.

“Why did you let them do it? I mean, you’re-” he lowered his voice. “You’re Spiderman”

“I think I was sent before I was ready. It started on my first day, and it just kinda, well, I was seriously messed up, because of what happened with the flat, and this just kinda completely wrecked my mental health. Plus, resistance made it worse” he shook his head, as though shaking away the memories. “Anyway, that’s in the past now. It’s history; it doesn’t matter anymore”

“But I’ve seen how strong you are...”

“I think... I think you need to be strong mentally to be strong physically. I mean, like, after the explosion, when I woke up, I couldn’t get all the stuff off me. I haven’t been strong, so I can’t be strong. Do you understand?”

“Not really” he looked down at his coffee. “You’ve changed”

Peter looked down at his own mug. "I know. I tried to stay the same, but everything changed anyway. I didn't even really notice it happening. I’ve been having a tough time and I couldn’t really focus on my behaviour"

"I'm confused. Because you look like you, but you don't look like you"

Peter swallowed hard. His heart was thumping, and those silly tears were in his eyes again.

"Are you disappointed?"

Ned was quiet for a moment. "I just feel like I don't know you. You're not the kid who sat with me in every lesson and got excited about lego kits..."

"I still like lego" Peter said dumbly.

"I don't think that's really the point"

Peter didn't know what to say. He'd thought that as soon as they got together, it would be as though they'd never been parted. They were best friends - so why was this so horrible and difficult? His fear that he'd changed too much and that Ned no longer liked him was starting to feel a bit too real.

"How's school?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Same as always, really" Ned said. "Flash is quieter now, not so in-your-face. Quiz team is still going strong. It's different without you, though"

"But you're doing ok?"

"Yeah. What about you? What's private school like?"

"Weird" Peter said. "They've all grown up in a completely different world. I'm still getting used to it, yknow, the cultural differences, and trying to behave how they expect me to. But it's ok"

"You have to wear a uniform, don't you?"

"Yeah, but you get used to it pretty quick. It cost a fortune though. Mr Stark is kinda strict about it and I have to take it off as soon as I get home. I haven't ruined it yet, but I suppose there's time"

"I'm glad I don't have to wear a uniform" Ned said. "What are the other kids like?"

"They're ok, mostly. There's one girl who hates me and this boy - he's her cousin - he teases me a bit, mainly in PE. But everyone else is ok. My Big Sister is nice-"

"Big sister?"

"Oh. Uh, it's kinda like a mentor scheme. Ish. She's just the older girl who showed me around and looked after me in my first week, and I still see her twice a week. She looks out for me. Because I started in the middle of term"

"Oh"

Peter swallowed. "I've got friends there. I've got my girls: Millie and Macy and Flo. I was at Millie's on Friday evening, actually. And then there's Malaki. He's not really friends with the girls so he's mainly my friend in PE and stuff. He's nice. They're all nice"

"The Peter I know wouldn't have been able to so much as look at a girl, let alone befriend three of them"

"Well, it's a different world" Peter said awkwardly. "They kinda befriended me. They came up to me and took me under their wing, as it were, and I've been with them ever since"

"Are they posh?"

"Yes. Millie's house is ridiculous. Macy isn't as posh, but she's still quite posh. She's feistier than the other two. I know you're not supposed to have favourites, but I think she's mine anyway"

"So what do they look like?" Ned asked.

"Um, I've got some photos from the other night. Selfies, yknow. Flo kept nicking my phone"

He took his phone out of his pocket and found a photo, passing it to Ned. It was one of the best ones, showing all four of them. Peter pointed out who was who. Ned was surprised to find that the girls were pretty, and even more surprised to see how comfortable the four of them seemed together. They definitely liked Peter.

"They're pretty" Ned said, handing the phone back.

"Yeah... They're good friends" he said, putting his phone away.

"Is one of them your girlfriend?"

Peter shook his head. "Millie's kissed me, but it was in a game of truth or dare, so I don’t think it really counts"

Ned took a mouthful of coffee, unsure what to think.

"You really have changed"

He looked at him, at his pale skin and his expensive clothes and the look in his eyes. It was almost as though a different soul had taken over Peter's body. Everything about him was different. Even the atmosphere around him was different. He didn't really know him any more. He found that, try as he might, he couldn't really care about anything Peter was telling him. Sure, the bullying stuff was horrible, but everything else evoked little to no emotion in him. He felt bad. This was his long-term best friend, and he'd been through some dreadful stuff and so of course he'd changed. They just needed a good topic to discuss and it'd be back to normal.

"You could always come and meet them one day" Peter suggested. "They're always talking about going into town. They’d like you"

"Yeah... So what's home like?"

"Hm? Oh. Different. It was weird suddenly being with the Stark's full time. Especially since they were mourning too. Still are. It was horrible at first..." Peter frowned. "It's ok now though. But Mr Loki is away. Travelling. For his health. He's been gone for about two months now. It's a bit weird without him"

"Tony must be lonely. Is he busy? I've been following all the stuff about the new launch in the magazines. It looks so cool! Have you been helping with it?"

"I don't really go down to the lab much anymore"

"Why not?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't really feel like it"

"How can you not feel like it? That lab is amazing. You used to basically live in it"

Peter didn't say anything. He didn't go down to the lab for the same reason he didn't get his Spiderman suit on much, or speak at school:- he was too depressed. He didn't have anything else to say on the matter. He couldn't talk about the launch, because he didn't know anything about it. He'd avoided all of Tony's work ever since the accident.

The silence seemed to last forever. Peter was trying very hard not to cry, and Ned was trying very hard to think of something - anything - to say to him. Eventually, his phone buzzed with a text.

"It's mum" he said, standing up. "I've gotta go. It was good to see you again"

He left without a backwards glance.

Peter sat feeling numb, looking at Ned's half-empty coffee mug. He hadn't expected to spend all day with him, but he'd expected more than half an hour. He stood up, took the mugs over to the counter, and went home.

Tony was surprised to hear the door open. At first he thought it must be Thor, but disregarded that theory, as the doorbell had not been rung. He was a little concerned, as Peter hadn't even been gone an hour yet. Maybe he was feeling sick again and had had to come home. He didn't hear approaching footsteps or slamming doors. Worried, he set out to look for him.

Tony eventually found Peter at the back of the coat cupboard in the hallway, hidden behind a rack of old jackets. It was only his sniffling that gave away his position. Tony pushed the jackets aside and looked down at the boy.

"Now, there's no room for me to sit in here as well, so are you going to let me take you upstairs?"

Peter nodded weakly and let Tony help him up and take him upstairs. They settled down on the sofa.

"Now" Tony said. "What's up? Are you poorly?"

"Ned hates me!" Peter burst out, and he started sobbing. "He doesn't want to be my friend anymore!"

"What? Oh sweetheart" he pulled him onto his lap and hugged him close. "I'm sure that's not true"

"It is! I've changed too much and he says he doesn't know me anymore and he kept giving me weird looks and going quiet and now I wish I hadn't bothered! I hate it! I want May back! I want my old life back! I wish I'd never changed! It's not fair, it's not fair!"

"It's been so long since you've seen each other - it's bound to be odd at first. You have changed, but there's nothing we can do about that"

Peter buried his face in Tony's chest and howled. He'd just lost the very last part of his old life. He knew that good feeling he'd had had been too good to last.

Peter wanted to go straight back to bed, but Tony wouldn't let him.

"It's barely midday" he said. "Why don't you put on a DVD or something?"

Peter shook his head. "I miss Loki"

Tony sighed. "I know, kiddo. I do too"

"He doesn't like me anymore though. No one does"

"Now that's not true" Tony said, giving him a squeeze. "Loki loves you, and so do I. You're like a son to us"

"It's my fault he left"

"What? No it's not! Don't say that"

"It's true though. He hated me and he didn't want to put up with me"

"That's not true" Tony said firmly. "Loki loves you. He went away because... Well, because he's poorly. He just needed space"

"It feels like he's been gone forever"

“I know. But he’ll be back. He promised”

Peter rested his chin on his knees.

“He will come back. Just you wait and see” Tony said, trying to convince himself as well as Peter.

Peter took Tony’s hand, looking at his engagement ring - Whitby Jet, very expensive, and very beautiful. Tony looked at it too.

“He promised”

“No one ever keeps their promises”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #frostiron #peter parker #spiderman homecoming

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francoeurs · 7 years ago

Text

Something Real

AO3 link · . · . ·

Rating: T.

Words: 2,100.

Status: Complete.

Warnings/Content: Modern AU. Established Relationship. New Relationship. Tooth-Rotting Fluff. Romance. Comfort. Sharing a bed.

Summary: In which Jaime has a nightmare and overreacts just a bit.

— • —

Brienne was in the middle of a gruelling sword fight with Paddington Bear when her phone rang and startled her awake.

She scrambled for it in the near darkness and almost knocked her bedside lamp to the floor. A growl of frustration rumbled in her throat as she sank back into her pillow and held her phone above her face. 3:14 glowed bright white and made her sensitive eyes water.

A wave of alarm flooded her chest when she saw Jaime’s name on the screen.

She quickly answered the call. “Jaime? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked in a rush.

The line was silent.

Alarm turned to panic. “Hello?”

“Brienne! Hi,” Jaime finally said, startlingly loud and chipper. “Nothing’s wrong—I’m fine. What are you doing?” he asked lightly, as if they were having a regular conversation.

Brienne sagged in relief, then glared at the ceiling, willing her heart to slow down. Her fingers tightened around the phone.

“Not. Sleeping,” she answered, drawing out the words for emphasis.

“Good. I was afraid I’d woken you up.”

She closed her eyes and counted to five. “Of course you woke me up, Jaime. It’s three in the morning on a weekday.”

“I know,” he said somewhat defensively. “I just wanted to see how you were. You’re all right... right?”

Brienne’s tone changed to one of indulgent exasperation. “I’m annoyed, but yes, I’m fine.” She squinted at the ceiling. “Why?”

“I, ah...” The line went silent again. Jaime cleared his throat. “I had a dream.”

She blinked a few times. “You had a dream,” she echoed flatly.

“A bad one. Ghastly, really. The kind of dream that stays with you for a while.”

Brienne rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “A dream about...?”

“You.”

Her hand flopped down and hung off the edge of the mattress. “Oh.”

Jaime exhaled long and slow. “I just needed to hear your voice, that’s all. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Oh,” she repeated dumbly. “It’s fine. I—I’m fine. I’m here.”

“Good.”

There was another long silence.

Brienne picked at a loose thread on her duvet cover. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. I—” He groaned softly and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I’m standing in your building’s lobby... in my pyjamas. Your scrawny doorman keeps giving me funny looks,” he admitted, embarrassment colouring his words. “What’s new, Dick?” he asked loudly. His voice was muffled, as if he had covered up his phone.

Frowning, Brienne sat up and turned her head to the window. She could see even through the closed blinds that snow was falling heavily outside.

She shook her head in disbelief when a strong gust of wind rattled the window. “You drove for fifteen minutes in this weather in the middle of the night... because you had a nightmare?” she asked as delicately as she could.

“It was a very vivid nightmare,” he said weakly. “I panicked. You weren’t answering my calls.”

Panicked? Her heart flipped. “You called more than once?”

“I did. You sleep like the dead.” A huff of breath came across the line. “Fucking hell, bad choice of word,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself.

Brienne swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. Her bed frame creaked as she tossed the covers aside and got to her feet. “Give Dick your phone for a second.”

She told Dick to let Jaime up. Less than a minute later, he was knocking on her door.

She opened it slowly, letting in a draft of uncomfortably cool air. She fought back a shiver as she felt goose bumps rise on her bare legs.

Jaime’s face brightened at the sight of her. A sheepish, relieved smile quirked his lips.

“Hi.” He closed the door behind him and locked it before leaning forward to give her a quick kiss.

Brienne stifled a sigh when his lips left hers. She dug her short nails into her palms, swallowing down the urge to ask for more. “Hi.”

She took a small step back and skimmed her gaze over him. He hadn’t lied—the foolish man had actually run out into the snow in his pyjamas. A pair of light grey pyjama bottoms and an old, faded black shirt under a stylish pea coat that probably cost more than her rent. At least he remembered to grab a coat on his way out, she thought.

His hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He still had faint pillow-wrinkles on one cheek.

He looked uncharacteristically rumpled and Brienne didn’t hate it.

She gave herself an internal shake and met his eyes again.

“Are you wearing fuzzy slippers?” she blurted out, at a loss for what else to say.

“Yes. I left in a hurry.” He kicked his wet slippers off, then looked down and grinned. “Cute shorts.”

She followed his gaze to her polka-dot flannel shorts. Had they always been so tiny, or had she somehow had another growth spurt in her twenties? She self-consciously tugged on the hem of her sleeveless cotton top... which had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of how flat and broad her chest looked in it.

She crossed her arms protectively over her barely-there breasts. “Do you want anything to drink? Some herbal tea, maybe?”

Jaime shrugged off his coat and turned to hang it in the closet. “I just want to sleep, honestly,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Brienne’s thoughts briefly went to her couch. Jaime had convinced her to buy it because it looked gorgeous. Unfortunately, it was also the single most uncomfortable piece of furniture she’d ever owned.

She wasn’t cruel enough to make him sleep on it. He could sleep with her. They’d had to share beds a few times before… before. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since they’d become whatever they were now.

A little over two weeks had passed since his accidental, vague confession of maybe-love and her equally vague and cautious response to it. They still hadn’t gone beyond innocent kisses and fleeting touches. They touched less now than they did when they were merely friends. It was as if they were both afraid one wrong move would tear this new, fragile thing to shreds and ruin their relationship—their friendship—forever.

It was maddening.

But at this moment, Brienne didn’t care how tense and timid and just plain awkward things had been between them recently; Jaime needed her. They could get over themselves and share the damned bed.

“Come on, then.” She turned off the hallway lights and walked back to her bedroom. Jaime followed her without a word.

Once there, Brienne lifted the duvet, then went still and peeked at his bare feet. “Are your feet cold? Do you need socks?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “They’re fine.”

Brienne climbed into bed and lay stiffly on her back. “If you say so.”

Jaime slipped in next to her. Close. Close enough that she could feel his heat and smell the fresh citrus scent of his shampoo. She took a breath through her mouth to steady herself.

One of his feet touched hers, and the tension Brienne was holding in snapped like a bowstring.

She jerked away and bit back a curse. “Your feet are like ice! I thought you said you didn’t need socks?” she hissed, curling her toes.

Jaime rolled onto his side, his lips twitching with amusement. “I don’t. It’s nice and warm in here.” He cuddled up closer to her and wrapped one leg around hers, rubbing his cold foot against her calf.

She let out an offended squawk and tried to squirm away, but he locked his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “Jaime!” she grunted, clutching his T-shirt in her left fist and seriously considering pushing him off the bed. It would be so easy.

He had the audacity to chuckle as he released his hold on her. “Hey, you’re the one who’s wearing boxer shorts in the middle of bloody winter. Your heating bills must be horrendous.” He made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat and patted her thigh under the covers. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Brienne stopped squirming. She licked her lips and felt heat flare in her face and lower belly when his gaze flickered to her mouth. “I should have made you sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t mean that.” He ran his fingers lightly over the freckles that covered most of her upper arms. They were clearly visible even in the faint light coming from outside.

Brienne wasn’t sure why Jaime was suddenly being so affectionate and carefree instead of hesitant and skittish — not that she’d been much better — but she was almost as pleased and relieved as she was surprised. She felt like she could finally breathe again after weeks of suffocating.

She relaxed into him and gave him a mock glare. “It's the least you deserve after convincing me to buy that torture device they call a couch.”

He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “It was all part of my plan to get an invitation into your bed. Lannisters know how to play the long game.”

“How Machiavellian of you,” she said, only slightly embarrassed by the hint of breathlessness in her voice. “Was the bad dream also part of your scheme?”

His smile slowly faded. He leaned back and rubbed his scruffy chin. “Ah, no.”

Brienne frowned and combed her fingers through his unruly hair. Jaime tipped his head into her touch. “What did I do in your nightmare?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“You didn’t do anything; something was done to you.” He swallowed and raised his hand to her cheek. He traced the strong lines of her homely face in an almost reverent caress, his eyes unusually intense.

Brienne stared back, torn between wanting to hide her face in her pillow and wanting him to never stop looking at her like that.

“There was fire,” he continued. His face clouded with uneasiness. “I couldn’t—” He cut himself off and closed his eye briefly before offering her a tight smile. “It doesn’t matter. It was only a dream. This is real.” He watched her for a moment longer, then slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer until their lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss.

She leaned into it, her eyes fluttering closed. When she parted her lips on a sigh, Jaime took it as an invitation and deepened the kiss. Finally was Brienne’s last coherent thought for the next few minutes.

His teeth grazed her lower lip when she finally pulled away for air. Warm tingles shot up her spine and spread across her scalp, making her shiver and tighten her grip on his hair.

Jaime was clutching her thigh. She didn’t remember him moving his hand there.

She didn’t remember throwing her leg over his hip, either. Brienne’s face flushed again.

Jaime stole one last kiss before relaxing into his pillow, looking tired but happy. He squeezed her knee. “I’m sorry I bothered you for something so silly.”

“You didn’t bother me,” she said, still half-dazed from his kisses.

He snorted. “Your tone on the phone said otherwise.”

“That was before I realised you were terrified.”

“Terrified is a strong word,” he protested feebly. “I was worried.”

She fixed him with an unimpressed look. “My apologies.”

Jaime huffed, but the corners of his mouth turned up.

Brienne studied his expression closely, her thumb brushing the soft skin behind his ear. She could see the exhaustion on his face. “Do you need anything?”

His eyes grew soft and heavy-lidded. “Just let me hold you,” he said quietly. “Or hold me, I don’t care. I just want you close to me.”

His casual admission made her heart melt and her head spin. She lifted her arm to make room for him against her chest. He snuggled close and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She stroked his arm soothingly and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

Jaime nuzzled her neck and placed a feather-light kiss on her collarbone. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make it up t’you,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

Brienne smiled into his hair, knowing he was no cook and she’d probably be eating burned toast and dry, rubbery eggs. She could picture him in her mind, dishevelled and stressed and squinting around her kitchen with bleary eyes.

“Sounds perfect.”

{ · · · ♡ · · · }

#my writing #jaime x brienne

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emberglowfox · 7 years ago

Text

hi my name is boo boo the fool and i decided that literal midnight was the best time to try my hand at writing the sick supehero au that i totally fell in love with

ill prolly draw some stuff for this too once i manage to pry some free time back from life’s clammy hands

@actualbird @pastelmogar

enjoy, i guess? haha

It had started with an accident.

Jeremy swears that he didn’t mean to take anything. He just has a bad habit of sticking things in his jacket pockets and forgetting about them, and unfortunately ‘a bottle of Mountain Dew that he definitely did not pay for’ falls under the category of things. He’d just been browsing the local gas station on the corner of the street, slipped a drink he was considering buying into his pocket, and walked out without realizing what he’d done.

He’d been all the way down the street when his clammy fingers had brushed the bottle, and he’d jolted with the realization that oh fuck, I just stole something.

Not that it was difficult, really. He doubted the cashier even knew he was there. He’d known going to the store on his own was a bad idea, but Jeremy Heere, King of Bad Ideas, had done it anyways.

He’d been so caught up in his morose ‘Guess I’m a villain now’ spiel that he’d failed to notice the figure behind him, watching him with a beady pair of ice-blue eyes.

Mistake number one.

“That’s an interesting power you’ve got there,” the figure had said, and Jeremy, articulate as ever, had spun around and asked, “Y-you can see me?”

“I can,” the figure had said.

“Who are you?” Jeremy had demanded, definitely not shaking and attempting to hide the stolen bottle behind his back.

“I’m many things,” the figure had said, tilting their head thoughtfully. “But you can call me the Squip, if that is what you wish.”

Jeremy, who’d been bleary from being up studying for a few nights in a row- possible also the reason he’d taken the bottle in the first place- had failed to connect that name with the name of the mysterious supervillain sweeping through the city like a plague.

Mistake number two.

“You know, your power is an incredible gift,” the Squip had said, and Jeremy had swallowed and looked at the ground.

“It- It’s really not.”

“Is it not? The ability to be seen whenever you wish and only then? Is that not a powerful ability?” The Squip had said.

“Nobody ever sees me,” Jeremy had said.

“Do you want them to see you, really?” The Squip had asked.

Jeremy hadn’t been able to answer that question. The one person who’d always been able to see him- Michael- was probably the only person who wouldn’t grind him into the ground for simply existing. Did he really want to be seen?

“You know,” the Squip had said. “That ability of yours… If you really do want to be seen, we could put it to excellent use. If you truly want to be known by all,”

Jeremy, in the darkness, had been unable to see the malicious smile that had formed on the shadowy figure’s face.

“I can help you.”

“What’s the catch?” Jeremy had asked, because nothing came for free. He knew that even before he’d slipped and fallen headfirst into the world of supervillainy.

“No catch,” the Squip had said. “You’ve already proven yourself.”

Jeremy had glanced at the bottle in his hands, then back up at the figure.

“And if I accept… Everyone will know my name.”

“Every single person in this city. You have my word.”

Jeremy, the fool that he was, had accepted.

-----

Jeremy whoops as he guns it down the street, the Squip trotting at his side and Comedy sprinting at the other. In his backpack, he can feel the weight of a few snack packs and several thousand dollars worth of bills. Comedy carries the same amount, if not more.

It’s the usual routine tonight; no grand heists or scheming, just hitting the local gas stations and grocery stores and running off with whatever loot they can jam into their backpacks. It’s the last heist of the night, so the Squip has informed him to put on his mask.

The tragedy mask, a thin white half-mask that Jeremy can only assume is made of metal, covers half of his face with a sad frown. It’s fitting, really. It’s a part of his costume, but he only wears it when he wants to be seen. When he wants everyone to see him and know his name.

A part of him, deep inside, twists in sickening agony, shrieking at him that what he’s doing is wrong, wrong, wrong. But that’s just what he’s been trained to think. Jeremy knows that. The Squip’s told him so, time and time again.

The Squip whistles and Jeremy catches a glimpse of the sleek black car that pulls up like a dog running to its master. As the Squip slides into the front seat, Jeremy and Comedy hurl themselves into the backseat and slam the doors behind him.

“Drive, Squip, drive!” Comedy howls, although they both know that now they’re not in any real danger of getting caught. Once they’re to the getaway car- lovingly and ironically dubbed the Batmobile- the cops can’t touch them.

The Squip tsks indignantly, icy blue eyes flashing dangerously in the rearview mirror, but presses down on the gas. The car shoots from its stopped position with a screech, slamming both Jeremy and Comedy into the seats with the force of its acceleration.

Outside of the tinted windows, the city bleeds into a blur of crooked shadows and bright streetlights, as well as the occasional red-blue flashes and wails of police cars trying in vain to drag them out of their ecstasy.

“How much did you get?” Jeremy asks Comedy, who has his legs kicked up on the seat in front of him- no small feat, considering his stature and the dimensions of the Squip’s car. Comedy is short- shorter than Jeremy, easily, with light brown hair punctuated by a shock of red. It looks cool; Jeremy considered getting a stripe of his own, maybe blue, but what if Michael noticed? What if Michael saw?

“Not much,” Comedy says. Even under his mask, a grinning plate which mirrors Jeremy’s own, Jeremy can catch his crooked grin.

“I got a thing or two of booze from the Publix. Want some?”

“No drinking on the job,” the Squip says from the front seat, and the frosty underlying threat is enough to make Comedy go tense and shove the bottle he’d began to pull out back in.

For a moment, there’s silence, before Jeremy asks, “Gummy bears?”

“Fuck yeah, hand ‘em over,” Comedy says, and Jeremy tosses him a few packets of Haribo he’d snagged in his earlier practice run.

“I hope you’re not wasting our time with stealing gummy bears, Tragedy,” the Squip says. Jeremy has to force himself to speak.

“I stole them on my own time, Boss.”

That’s thankfully enough to keep the Squip off of him, and he breathes an almost silent sigh of relief.

“What in the-”

The car swerves, and Jeremy barely has time to latch onto the seat in front of him as the world tilts dangerously sharply. The Squip, thankfully, does not flip the car, but they do skid to a less-than-graceful stop.

The Squip swears angrily and throws open the door with more force than is probably necessary, and Comedy and Jeremy scramble to follow. Confusion and a little bit of fear knifes its way through Jeremy; they’ve never had to stop, never been stopped, like this before.

As Jeremy steps out of the care and onto the pavement, fingers coming up to fiddle with the edge of his mask, he hears a familiar voice that makes his heart stop.

“Holy shit, I did… Not expect that to work.”

Jeremy’s head snaps up and he scours the direction of the voice, mind racing because no, it can’t be.

And thankfully, it’s not.

The newcomer, who presumably managed to get the Squip to almost flip their car, is not who he thought they were. They’re just a random strangle, decked out in a dull brown hoodie, a disposable face mask, and what appears to be some sort of weird blindfold.

“Another hero wannabe,” the Squip says flatly, and Jeremy internally cringes at what he knows comes next. “Tragedy, Comedy, take care of this.”

They step to the side with a flick of their dark blue cape, a ripple of bright blue static sliding across it and sparking at the tips. Jeremy waits for Comedy’s lead; Comedy’s been doing this way longer than he has, and he has the upper hand.

Comedy opens his mouth to speak, and the newcomer stutters, “Oh, fuck,” and rips off of his blindfold.

Of all the possible outcomes of this situation, Jeremy did not expect this at all. He’s not upset in any way. How could he be?

Staring at him is the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen. The very world around him pales in comparison to the sight in front of him, he realizes. Nothing else matters but those eyes and the beautiful person they belong to.

Where others’ eyes are simply brown, these are different. They carry the weight of the earth, brown like the soil from which men so desperately sought to pull gold. Jeremy thinks he can see it; flecks of silver and copper dappled across a sea of earthy tones. They’re beautiful, and Jeremy can’t think of a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for them.

“Stop,” the newcomer with the beautiful eyes commands, and Jeremy does. How could he not? It feels so right to do as the newcomer says. He’ll do whatever is asked of him. He has to. So he stops. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe.

As his lungs begin to burn, he sees those beautiful earthly eyes widen in horror.

“Wait- Fuck, no, I didn’t mean- I mean go! G-get out of here, and don’t rob this store again. And do all of your bodily functions, please. Holy shit.”

Jeremy breathes, air filling his lungs, and he does as the eyes say. It fills him with a deep sadness to leave them, but if it’s what they desire, it’s what he will do. At his side, Comedy leaves in a run, sprinting towards nowhere but what can be called away, and Jeremy follows.

He gets almost half of a mile away when the trance breaks, and Jeremy crumples to the ground like a cheap paper doll.

At his side, Comedy hunches over and stares at the ground, eyes wide.

“What in the everloving fuck was that?” He says, panting. Jeremy doesn’t know.

It’s a superpower. It has to be. Still, what the fuck kind of power is that? Mind control with eyes? Holy shit, that’s an overpowered ability if Jeremy’s ever seen one.

“Now that’s interesting,” the Squip says from where they’ve appeared behind Comedy and Jeremy, and Jeremy freezes. Oh, fuck. They left everything behind. The Squip is going to be pissed.

Oddly enough, they seem more thoughtful and upset. In the dim light, Jeremy sees the Squip’s permanently distorted form shift, face twisting into a thoughtful frown.

“Very interesting indeed.”

Jeremy had no idea what that would mean for him. He wishes he could have realized, and then the whole thing could have been prevented.

But… Could it really?

#proofreading? i dont know her #i hope this sounds okay im. out of practice #ill hopefully write more bc this is short haha #bmc superpowers au #My writing #bmc #minific

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cupcakemolotov · 8 years ago

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nemesis729 said: Klaroline and gorgons au

1) When Caroline was thirteen, she was cursed by a witch. Her father had killed her lover, and so she wanted revenge. It was the closest Liz Forbes had come to cold blooded murder, both the witch and Bill. Sheila Bennett did her best to augment the curse when it became clear it wouldn’t be easily broken, but in the end, they could do little. By her fourteenth birthday, it was clear that she was changing. Always pale, her skin now had an iridescent shimmer, and she’d grown the first of what she’d bitterly started to call her head snakes. At least she wasn’t green.

2) Vampires fascinated Caroline, when she learned they existed, even if Stefan was boring. The knowledge that she wasn’t the only monster in Mystic Falls was comforting, as she struggled with the aftermath of loosing her hair and growing snakes. The light sometimes hurt her eyes, and her canines were too sharp to be human. Sheila made her a ring that hid the monster she was becoming, and Caroline took comfort that she no longer had to worry about a bad hair day. And when she was studying in her room, snakes across her shoulders and cheeks, they were beautiful in the sun.

3) At Sheila’s funeral, there was a man Caroline hadn’t seen before. Tumbled curls, and dark blue eyes, the smile tucked into the corners of his mouth pricked her temper. She’d carefully tied her snakes back that morning with a soft silk scarf, but they were long enough now to try to give her trouble. One curled up to rest on her shoulder, and gave softest of hisses as it flicked out its tongue. She watched as his eyes took her in, gaze narrowed as he studied her with what might have been confusion.

4) It was the worst irony that her snakes adored Klaus Mikaelson. Her fury at his scheming, the way he’d forced her into revealing what she was by dangling her mother was a sin she had no desire to forgive. He seemed unperturbed by her anger, was endlessly fascinated by her snakes. And utterly, ridiculously smug every time they drifted close enough for him to touch, tongues drifting across his skin. “I wonder,” he’d murmured, fingers drifting along one narrow head. “What this will be like when you’re in my bed.”

5) Caroline couldn’t turn people to stone, but her snakes bites were poisonous. And when it had become clear that she would never be human again, Liz had taught her how to fight. None of that mattered as she staggered out of the cave she’d been dragged too, cradling her broken wrist, smeared in the blood of the witches who’d tried to use her for power. Stefan had sold her out, in an attempt to bargain for safe passage for Elena, so it was with surprise that she found herself face to face with Klaus. He had stopped and was watching her with unblinking eyes. She flushed beneath the iridescence of her skin, bleeding and dirty, snakes wild about her head for the first time, her ring missing. She watched in fascinating as his eyes bled yellow, tongue slowly dragging along his bottom lip, gaze hot with want.

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

#inbox games #klaroline

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dubsdeedubs · 8 years ago

Text

A Diverging in the Wood [2/3]

hi sorry

Summary: Events shift. History rearranges. Another horror beyond human comprehension joins the fray during Weirdmageddon.

Good thing they're on the side of humanity.

[A/N: I Honestly don’t know how to explain the context to this and it’s been literally half a year since I’ve posted anything for it, but. Canon Divergence AU for this fic which is just sleeping, I promise. Features eldritch abomination Stan - it makes sense in context. Kind of.]

[AO3]

To Stanford's complete lack of surprise, hell was freezing cold.

Though a revolutionary discovery to be sure, he had doubts it would stand up to any reputable academic committee. The main issue was, his current location was more accurately described as "Ford Pines' Personal Pyramidal Hell" than the classic Judeo-Christian equivalent. Specifically, traits of demons present were more "horns and cloven feet" than "sixty-degree angles."

Unfortunately, that fact narrowed down the field of concerned individuals significantly. To two, actually - him and his fellow captive, the rather perturbed looking child (?) dancing frantically in a cage hanging from the ceiling.

Not Ford's oddest roommate experience, but it did make top five.

It was just one of those days. Weeks? Months? Extra-temporal periods of existence?

The worst part about the death of linear time, Ford thought to himself sadly, was the language involved.

He hung there in his chains for a moment that could have been a minute or a year, or anything in between. Not that it would have mattered. There was the occasional squeaking and click-clack of tap-dancing from above, but nothing here changed or grew or learned. This was his personal hell, after all.

Then on a day that could have been any other, a massive black hand reached through the opening to the chamber.

A moment afterwards, the rest of Bill Cipher followed through, folding out like a model ship in a bottle. His single large eye stared Ford down with evident glee.

"Heya, Fordsy!" He chirped. "How's it hanging?"

Bill snapped his finger, and a deafening rimshot echoed throughout the room. Stanford stared back at him blankly, his tongue limp and leaden in his mouth.

The demon let out an exaggerated sigh. "Tough audience, huh? Man, I miss the good ol' days. Just you, me, a meddling research assistant to drive insane, and a world-ending interdimensional portal to build.

You would've laughed at my jokes then," he said sulkily. "Heck, you would've done anything I told ya to do. Anything for your blessed muse - right, Sixer?"

Ford made no reply. There was a dull metallic taste in his mouth, his mind felt dazed and woolen, and there was something inexplicably funny about - well, everything. Who had come up with the interior design scheme for the Fearamid, anyways? Was being a fan of neon rainbow highlights another black mark on the long list of Bill Cipher's sins?

Somewhere on the fringes of Ford's awareness, Bill Cipher narrowed his eye in realization. He poked Ford with one smooth, black finger. The old man shifted slackly in his chains. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me I messed up on rewiring a few synapses or 7,283! How am I supposed to torture answers out of you if ya get to duck out of the consequences?" His glare turned thoughtful. "...Don't suppose you have anything to share about the barrier around this hick town now?"

Ford might not have been in his right mind, not anything close to it, but he knew there was only one way he could respond to that.

"No," he muttered hoarsely. His throat felt sore and his voice came out in a rasp, like he had been using it a lot recently. "Not to you."

"Oh, what a pity!" Bill said, his cheerful tone making it clear that to him, it was anything but. He snapped his fingers with obvious relish, the sound echoing sharply across the otherwise empty chamber.

Sensation rushed into his numb limbs, bringing with it the burning chafe of chains and a bone-deep exhaustion that washed over him with all the force of an ocean wave. He could hear a dim ringing sound in his ears now, and Ford swallowed down a sudden burst of nausea. His entire body felt like one unholy amalgation of bruise and electrical burn.

The briefest of moments later, so came logical thought. Bill was here, in front of him, for the first time in... a while. Their last meeting had ended especially - brutally, which explained Ford's previous - condition.

The most logical reason for the demon's long absence was that, at that point, Bill must have realized that torture by itself was pointless.

Which meant.

Bill would not have returned if he did not have new information, new bargaining pieces, new -

The list of reasons with which Ford could be convinced to bargain at all was short. Specifically, it was limited to three people. The thought of any of them in the clutches of the malicious, capricious chaos god before him chilled him to the core.

There was nothing funny about his situation now, not anymore.

"Why are you here, Cipher?" Ford asked with forced calm, every bit of restraint he could muster used to keep the dueling emotions of fear and fury from his face. "What do you have planned? You know that I -"

Bill let out a shriek of laughter. "You wound me, Sixer! Why can't I just have a nice conversation with an old friend?" The creature leaned closer, eye shining. "Geez, does everything have to have an ulterior motive with you?"

"There is no conversation I want to have with you, Cipher," Ford said shakily, voice barely a whisper. "Do not mock either of our intelligences by pretending I was anything close to a friend to you."

"Eh, friend, unwitting pawn…" Bill waved a large, spidery hand with calculated nonchalance. "Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh. Don't be so sensitive, pal!"

"You have held me captive, kept me in chains, have tortured me to the brink of death -"

"Brink of? ...Ooh." The triangle winced exaggeratedly. "Oh right. I never told you!

"...W-what?" Ford asked hesitantly, before logic chased him down, pushed him to the ground, and poured a cold bucket of regret over his head and down his shirt. "No, actually, I don't ="

"Yea-ah, about that last part - tell ya what, Fordsy." Bill batted his eyelashes. "I've decided to turn over a, hah, new leaf. Call it making up for having you wait for so long!"

"I said I don't -"

"It's honesty hour here in the Fearamid, folks!" The triangle flung his hands up and out, practically beaming despite a lack of a mouth or real facial features. Glowing confetti burst from the air and scattered all over the landscape.

Then just as suddenly, he was close - too close, his solid black pupil inches away from Ford's flinching face.

"Oh, don't pretend like you're not INTERESTED, Sixer! You've always been a real smartypants, but I KNOW you've got mysteries ya can't figure out. So, HOW ABOUT IT? A little secret to start with, just to give omnipotence a test run?"

There was no doubt for Stanford that - whatever Bill was building up to - was not something he wanted to know. His tongue had already gone instinctively to the roof of his mouth, ready to form the harsh consonant sound of the 'no' that he wanted to, had to say.

But there was a dangerous glint in the demon's single eye, one that made it clear that his question was no question at all.

He sighed. There was a time and a place for everything, and 'enraging a chaos god' was no exception. He still had no idea where or how Dipper and Mabel were. (Or Stanley.) His pride was not worth the safety of his family.

"Fine," Ford said blandly, determinedly keeping all emotion from his face. He refused to give Bill the pleasure of watching him squirm. "A little... secret."

Even without a mouth, Bill gave off the distinct impression of a smirk.

"Weeeell," he drawled, spinning his cane casually. With no apparent process of transformation, he was suddenly dozens of times smaller than before, around the size he maintained in Ford's memories of past dreams. "So. I, uh, miiiiight have taken it a bit too far a time or two with these things."

Electricity sparked around Bill's raised hand in demonstration. Ford flinched back instinctively.

"Y'know. Used a little too much juice, sizzled an organ that shouldn't have been sizzled. Beginner's mistake."

Bill shrugged nonchalantly and stretched out his thin arms in placation. "Hey, but I fixed ya back up, didn't I? Even made a few tweaks, free of charge!"

Ford stared at him silently, expression slack with slow dawning horror.

"What's with the long face? Focus on the big picture here for once," the demon said crossly. "You're alive! C'mon, no thanks for your favorite muse?"

No, this had to be another trick. Gods knew how many of those Bill Cipher had up his metaphorical sleeves. He was trying to - unnerve him, shake him, get him into that precarious mental place where he might actually be thrown off enough to make the mistake Bill had been waiting for all this time.

And the worst part was, it was working.

Already, his thoughts were going places where they shouldn't. Was resurrection even something Bill was capable of? How did that interfere with existing processes for death and life, if they even existed?

And yet... it would make a great deal of sense. Not only did Bill have little to no concept of human limits in regards to survival, Ford highly doubted he cared - not if he had a way of circumventing his mistakes. And, given that most of his own memory consisted of pain and occasional flashes of blue light, there were more than enough gaps in it to draw... damning conclusions.

But… if Bill was telling the truth, what did that mean for him?

Was he just a copy of a copy, ad nauseam, of an original, deceased Stanford Pines? Or was he just a reanimation, not much different from a simple -

Bill was looking at him now through a single half-lidded eye, both hands resting on the handle of his cane, his stare uncomfortably knowing. "Well, Sixer? You, of all people, should know how much I hate it when people make me wait."

As if struck, Ford straightened his back suddenly - and heard, disproportionately loud to his ringing ears, the familiar crackle of aged paper.

Like breaking through a trance, he held one trembling hand to pat the general location of his heart, and there it was - that slightest resistance pressing reassuringly against his chest. It was still there. Despite the decades, despite whatever had happened to him in his current captivity, it was there. He blinked rapidly, trying to dissipate the burning at his eyes.

And just like that, his previous concerns were wiped from his mind.

Ford let out a breath. Of course. He had been being ridiculous.

Bill would not have known about the tattered photograph he kept hidden under his clothing, strapped to his chest - nor would he have understood the significance of it.

Therefore, if Ford really had been remade in a way that departed from who he was before, into something Bill wanted him to be... then the picture would not have the same effect on him. It certainly wouldn't have this effect on him.

"I'm disappointed, Cipher." Ford's voice sounded distant to his own ears. "That bit of information is a waste of omnipotence. But then again, perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised - you also made the decision to tear down the walls between dimensions, effectively end an entire universe, and for what? To have a party?"

Bill bristled, visibly affected by his gibe. "I'll have ya know, Sixer, we've got more time punch here than any other point in existence. This ain't just a party, bucko! It's the party!"

"You're right," Ford said hoarsely. "I am an idiot, Bill."

His captor turned slowly, single eye open in pleasant surprise and baited anticipation -

"But not because I trusted you." He wet his dry mouth. "I'm an idiot because I thought you were ever worth worshipping."

The triangle demon was quiet for a long, long moment.

Regardless of exactly how long it went in linear terms, it was definitely enough time for Ford to review his words and mentally curse himself for mouthing off. There was nothing Bill could do to him that he hadn't done previously. But with his family's survival in the balance, it was an extremely stupid move of him to push an already erratic, capricious creature into -

"Well," said Bill slowly, "well, WELL."

There was a note of deep anticipation in his voice, obvious even as the volume of it climbed to deafening levels. "GOOD OL' SIXER, HUH? I knew there was a reason I liked you more than the other fleshbags. Always jumping the GUN. And here I thought you'd APPRECIATE the build-up! BUT HEY, I SURE DON'T WANNA KEEP YA WAITING!"

He snapped his fingers and the chains holding Ford up disappeared suddenly from around his limbs. There was a heart-stopping second or two of freefall as the world around him blurred and reformed -

- then he landed, inexplicably enough, on what looked to be an oversized therapy chair that - he noticed blearily - matched the neon color scheme of the Fearamid.

Ford lunged forwards on an instinctive attempt at escape before bands of eerily glowing blue substance shot out from the handles and wrapped themselves around his wrists, holding him tightly in place.

"LEMME TAKE A WILD GUESS, SIXER! All ya wanna know about now is how that squishy little family of yours is doing." Bill sat on a stool next to the chair, squinting at a little notepad and pencil he held in his hands. After a moment of deliberation, he burnt them both in blue flame. "BOOORING! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE GUY I USED TO KNOW, HUH?"

"You did."

Bill ignored him. "I can't even interest you in the solution to the Hodge Conjecture? What about the Computational Theory of Mind? You're KILLING me here, FORDSY!"

"Either tell me what happened to my family, or -"

"Or?" The triangle asked in anticipation, leaning forward. "OR? Tell me, Fordsy, what exactly is it that you wanna do to me? Got another dimensional gun hidden up your sleeves? A muicide detonator strapped to your left ankle?"

"Or bring back the chains," Ford spat. "I'm tired of your games, Cipher. I know what you want from me, and no amount of sidestepping will make me forget it."

Bill leaned back again. If Ford didn't know better, he would have said he looked disappointed. "Oh, don't give yourself a heart attack, Sixer - that doesn't come for a few more decades! 'Sides, honesty hour's still on, and what with me killing linear time, you've still got…" He checked a watch-less wrist. "...eternity!"

Ford licked his stinging lips. There was no question that he had to play along. Especially with Bill dangling his family's fates in front of him like this. There was no doubt that there was something unsaid - something that the triangle was positively raring to share.

He thought through his words for a long time.

"Are they hurt?" Ford asked at last, still wary, unwilling to even consider the other alternative. Dipper had the Journals with him, though in hindsight, giving those books to him was a decision Ford deeply regretted - it was the equivalent of a bright red target on his back. And Mabel had been outside when Weirdmageddon had began, lost somewhere in the woods (and there was another burst of guilt there, because he shouldn't have done… that. Why did he possibly think it would have ended well? This was the second time he had made the exact same mistake.) "Are they… safe?"

"Oh," Bill said dismissively, "Pine Tree and Shooting Star are just fine. From a certain point of view! But they're alive and breathing and doing everything you humans do… just a whole lot less of it."

Ford jerked forward, a movement aborted by the thick bands of cosmic material holding him down. The triangle waved a placating hand. "I'm kidding, Sixer! Geez, talk about not bein' able to take a joke! They're both holed up in that Shack of theirs, and I have to say… real good job on the unicorn hair barrier. Very…" His voice darkened. "Clever. But you always were, weren't you, Fordsy?"

Realization dawned. "...You can't see inside the Shack at all, can you?"

"Never tried!" Bill exclaimed, and Ford knew he wasn't imagining the fact that the dream demon had responded a little too quickly. "Bunch of dinged up humans, huddled up and marinating in their own fluids like time sardines in a can… can I say booo-ring?"

Despite his best efforts, Ford sagged in relief. For all his age and near-omnipotent knowledge, Bill was at his core a childish being. His family was safe, hidden away in the Shack. Maybe powerless, unable to fight back at all against the extradimensional creatures rampaging through the town… but alive and uninjured - because if they were otherwise, Bill would certainly have mentioned it.

"Hey, what's with the hurry?" Ford blinked in slow confusion. "Aren't ya forgetting someone, Sixer?"

Bill shrugged. "Actually, can't say I'm surprised! I mean, you sure have had a lot of experience forgetting about him in the past -"

Ah. Ford frowned. "My brother is safe in the Shack," he said coldly. "Try another one, Cipher."

No, there had been no forgetting involved. Just the simple fact that the kids had been in direct danger and therefore, had been at the foreground of Ford's panic. Stanley, on the other hand, had been inside the Shack the last Ford remembered, and at any rate, could not have gotten far enough from shelter in the few minutes before the start of Weirdmageddon to be in any real danger.

And... while his brother made indubitably unwise decisions, he doubted that even Stan would casually venture out into the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

(...without reason. Which meant, unless the kids had not made it to the Shack immediately and Stanley had noticed their disappearance. Or unless... no, it was stupid - but then, this was Stanley - his brother had gone outside to look for him -)

"Sounding a bit too sure there," Bill remarked, leaning back and swinging his black cane in one fluid motion. "But you've been doing some assuming over there, haven't ya? And... we both know what that does - don't we, Fordsy?"

He wants me to ask him, Ford thought distantly. He wants me to ask him about Stanley.

There was an obvious answer to the question of 'why' - his brother had been captured, or injured, or. But he also understood - as much as anyone could, really - the spiteful polygon of overgrown immaturity before him, enough to know that there was something more here. Bill wanted to enjoy this game, and he was drawing it this long to make up for -

"Well?"

Ford, on the other hand, was sick of playing games. "Cut to the chase, Cipher. What did you do to my brother?" He demanded, rising as much as he count against the binds holding him down to the cartoonishly oversized therapy chair.

"What an accu-sation! I haven't done anything, Sixer." Ford flinched, despite himself. "...For once. Nah, Fordsy, the question you should be asking is, what has your brother done to himself?"

"I don't understand," he said carefully.

"Oh come on - you're smarter than this!" Bill bemoaned, sounding almost disappointed. "You spent ten years in this dump of a supernatural hot spot, you know what kind of things are lurking about in its corners. You knew what you were getting into - oh, don't give me that look, I saw your cute little handwritten guide on fae technical wording." Ford flushed red. "Stan-o, however…"

His tone turned contemplative. "All that knucklehead had was one of your little cryptid diaries and good ol' fashioned desperation. And we both know how dangerous that is in Gravity Falls - don't we, Fordsy? How many things out here would be all too willing to take advantage?"

"My brother isn't an idiot," Ford said flatly. "He wouldn't have fallen for the tricks of - creatures like you. He's better than that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure - you know what they say about birds and feathers! Tell me, Fordsy - how has your brother been, since you've made it back? Does it feel like coming back home? Or… "

Bill prodded at Ford's chin with his cane, a thoughtful look in his single eye. "Is he different? Not how you remembered him? A - stranger?"

"It's been thirty years," he said dully, leaning his face back and away as much as he could. "People change. He changed. I changed."

"Oh, is that all it is?" Bill exclaimed in mock-surprise. "Or is that just what you're tellin' yourself?"

Ford was quiet.

"C'mon, Six Fingers. I know all about your habit of lying to yourself, but this is ri-di-culous. Before this summer, you haven't talked to - heck, seen - your brother for forty years. And that hour of beating the crud outta each other doesn't count! What's the difference to you between Stanley Pines and some guy off the street, huh?"

Ford refused to meet his eye. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered raspily. The demon went still. "You've never had a fami -"

"I don't NEED to understand!" Bill said loudly - shrieked, really, his one eye wide, as if he was shocked at his own vehemence.

"...No, y'know what, Stanford? I think you're the one who doesn't understand. In fact, I think there are plenty of things you don't understand. ...Good thing I'm here to get you up to speed."

The triangle's physical size hadn't changed - at least, not by Ford's own reckoning - but now, he loomed, his single unblinking pupil narrowed into a nearly imperceptible slit.

"Don'tcha know? Your real brother hasn't been around for a very, very long time, Fordsy."

"...What?" It sounded lame and ridiculous the moment it left his mouth, but there were no words that could be used for the current stunned confusion of Ford's mind. "I don't -"

Bill sighed once, for obvious effect. "Lemme tell ya about an old - pal of mine. Seems a bit overdue for an introduction, considering what they've been up to for the past -"

Then, just then, there was a deafening crunch.

The entire Fearamid shook in a massive jolt of movement. Several chunks of glowing extraterrestial building material cracked off and fell haphazardly from the ceiling, and Bill went abruptly quiet as he dodged to the side to avoid a hit to the eye.

Distantly, Ford heard the sound of demonic screeching and - human shouting?

Bill blinked once, slowly and disbelieving. Then, he swelled, growing twice - thrice - a dozen times his original size, bright crimson red and glowing like a supernova, his eye a glaring gold on black.

"WHAT IS IT N̮͍̠̠͓̻̝͖̬̗̅̄̂̽̀̂̓͊̍͠O̴̪̬̪̬͍͈̐̂̎̌̍̒̿͜W̶̭̹̝̟̱̑͆̉͑̿̇͋̕ͅ?" he demanded to no one in particular, bass voice loud enough to vibrate the leather under Ford's fingers.

The pseudo-therapy chair dissolved like mist, but a massive and inhuman black hand grabbed Stanford from mid-air before he could even mentally register the lack of physical reinforcement underneath his body.

He flinched. Around the two of them, the world distorted and reshaped itself into a room he had long mentally associated with the crackling of pain through his limbs and the odor of burnt cloth (and hair, and flesh, and -)

The walls had holes in them now, brutish and irregular, and through them Ford could just barely catch the occasional blur of fast-moving color beyond them. Color, and something he simply could not make out for the life of him.

Bill hummed in thought, vibrating like a naked wire. "...Huh. Would ya look at that?"

"P-please." Ford hadn't realized it was him who had spoken before his mouth was already open and he was babbling again, words rolling down his tongue and spilling out despite himself because who else in this damn town would storm the stronghold of a chaos god? Who else but - "Bill, please, don't do anything to them -"

"Looks like Truth or Dare's gonna have to wait a few," the demon said, tone light as a feather. Dimly, Ford realized he could see himself in Bill's huge dilated pupil. His reflection's mouth was open in a silent scream. "I've got a rebellion to crush into bonemeal! And who knows… Maybe I can find myself a Shooting Star or a Pine Tree, and then you can finally start making some Independent Decisions - starting with, choosing which one of 'em gets to take your place!"

His fists landed uselessly on the smooth black surface of Bill's cartoonishly simple hand as Ford struggled in his grasp, screaming and shouting and shaking, barely registering the telltale movement of air across his face that meant Bill was moving elsewhere.

Then, somewhere on the fringes of his awareness, he registered the clink of metal - then, the loosening of his bonds as Bill deposited (dumped, really) him onto a hard surface.

Within seconds, Ford had flipped onto his feet. He immediately lunged at the bars that held him back, his six-fingered hands futilely clawing at the huge unblinking eye staring at him in amusement, just a few inches away from his fingertips.

"Calm down, Fordsy," Bill admonished with a sigh, voice loud over a stream of obscenities that had never before been uttered on the surface of this particular version of Earth. "That heart attack creeping on isn't supposed to happen till you're 92, remember? So why don'tcha sit back, make a new friend, and I'll bring your family right back to ya - just like you wanted!"

"If you hurt them," he said hoarsely, "if you touch a single hair on their heads - I don't care what I have to do, what I need to bargain with -"

Bill shrieked with ear-splitting laughter. "Birds and feathers, Stanford!" He exclaimed cryptically, and - unfolded, for lack of a better word, his single eye bursting into flame and a dozen legs emerging from his now pyramidal frame. By the time Ford could react, Bill had already clambered through and out of one of the larger cracks like some oversized demonic arachnid.

He stared forward for a moment, one hand still loosely holding the metal bars of the hanging cage, adrenaline draining as quickly as it had came and leaving behind aches and strains in its wake. Ford felt sick, nauseous, a burning sensation somewhere in his throat that felt nothing like 500 volts of electricity yet hurt just as much.

There was nothing he could do but wait, wait for the world to end because he would not watch those children suffer for his mistakes.

It was… quiet now, without Bill's deafening voice and his own screaming in his ears. Just him and his thoughts, the latter of which were so deafening that he would not be surprised if they had somehow crossed into physical reality.

...As well as, he realized slowly and dimly and with more than a little confusion, the sound of expert tapdancing.

The sound of expert tapdancing, coming from… approximately two feet behind him?

Ford turned around. After a brief moment of quiet confusion, he looked down.

The dancing figure - short, squat, and inexplicably clad in a sailor suit - let out a terrified squeal.

#gf #gravity falls #my fic #atns #stanford pines #bill cipher #a thousand natural shocks

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