#not really but that's my tag for anything ancient Roman now

[eolewyn1010]

OH MY GOD you guys, I know my blog has a bit much Ancient Rome theme on it lately because I'm currently deep in three different researches and have temporarily lost my mind, but I gotta tell you of this one, it just made my day:

So, there's my dude Publius Clodius Pulcher, being a tribune, making a hobby of shitting all over Cicero (which I applaud), you know, your average day in politics. It's 58 BC, and Clodius woke up and chose the principles of the welfare state ANARCHY. The grain laws? Those that the patricians were complaining about already because it was alas such a burden to the state to keep grain prizes and qualities stable, and it made the plebs lazy not to have the bare minimum of their existence at risk when they wanted to, y'know, eat even though the measure every adult Roman citizen was rationed just about covered the needs of one single man when in reality most of those had families to feed and needed to work fucking hard anyway?

Yeah, my most blorbest Clodius took a look at this and cried bullshit. Actually, we should give them guys their rations for free. So they can invest the money in not having their wives and kids starve. Wouldn't that be cool if sustainment security went up? People would be less pissed in general, we could tell around what an awesome government we are, and we could get economics to pick up speed as we stuff some of our money into the provinces in exchange for more grain deliveries so they look less... provincial.

And the citizens are like, oh boy, Clodius, that's neat! I'll just set my slaves free then. They'll still work for me because they need something to earn their living with, and I have work enough to do, but they'll get a few citizen rights as freedmen, including the right to get grain rations. That way, a good chunk of the duty to feed them falls to the state! Hurray! Everyone's fed, my slaves are former slaves now, what a great idea that was. Write them all down on the list so we don't forget anyone in the distributions. And Clodius goes, I'll do so ASAP! And writes all their names down in the grain lists, and stores the lists in the temple of the nymphs because feeding citizens is Rome's holy duty, so into the sanctuary the lists go.

Along comes Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus on this fine day! And he's like, Clodius, my man. Look, we now have this big amount of new mouths to feed, and none of them pay for their rations. You just. Give them food for free. That means we have to pay! And that means I can't buy that ridiculously expensive new house on the Palatine hill / build a theater that bears my name / invest in my next war as quickly as I want to. So how about we just. Amend that list a little. See, those freedmen aren't really Roman citizens anyway. They are just slaves+. Hell, I was able to buy or sell the most of them in the forum only a week ago! Shouldn't they be grateful already that they can't be bought anymore? Now we also give them things for free? Come on. Let's keep this in a small circle.

And Clodius, my most blorbest. Goes: Bitch say WHAT

And so Pompeius doesn't get his greedy hands on these lists.

Clodius, my darling. The nutjob. The madman.

Goes and SETS THE FUCKING TEMPLE OF THE NYMPHS ON FIRE.

Talk about taking a hammer to that hard drive. Can't amend lists when there are no lists, amirite? He probably couldn't find a bigger middle finger to show to Pompeius that day. Message received: No tampering with the Clodian law reforms.

Did he do it just to ingratiate himself with the plebs for the next elections? Yes, definitely.

Did it work? Yes, absolutely.

Does the imagination of Pompeius' aghast expression at this total punk ruining his day with some casual sacrilege out of sheer spite make me immensely happy? Yes!

[itsevanffs]

My five favourite fics

Thanks for the tag @moontearpensfic :3

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Ok this is a little difficult. In no particular order:

slowly [E, 14/?, Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara/Miles Morales]

Slowly is currently my favourite fic! This might change but I'm 1/3rds through it and it's still going really strong, which is super fun. For those who don't follow my spiderverse stunts, here's a plot summary:

Miguel, a 37 year old divorcee, gets invited to Miles' 14th birthday party through happenstance, where they befriend each other. Over the next six months, that friendship deepens into something Miles isn't quite prepared to handle, and which Miguel isn't ready to give up.

It tackles a lot of (in my eyes) pretty complex subjects, like the nuances of parental neglect, grooming, trans experiences, sibling dynamics, teen sexuality and more :D Aside from that, it's also a PWP, which tend to be my favourites overall. It's a good brain squeeze for me to navigate all the intertwined realistic aspects while still making it believable, and from the response I've gotten, that seems to be something I do pretty well!

Anabiosis [E, 3/3, Harry Potter, Tom Riddle/Harry Potter (implied)]

Anabiosis was a big ol chonker of a fic, and took a lot of research to get right, particularly in the last chapter. I cried as I wrote the ending of the first chapter---I think I sobbed for about 20 minutes straight, a sentiment a lot of commenters have echoed---and it's very close and dear to my heart. It's a big character study about grief; grief for something you never got to have, grief for something you didn't know was there until it was gone, and grief for something you always took for granted. I think it turned out the best it could be, and I'm glad I wrote it.

At the expense of the world [E, 5/?, Harry Potter, Tom Riddle/Harry Potter]

At the expense of the world (or expense, for short) is one of the oldest ideas for a fic I've ever had. I've always been sort of fascinated by ancient Roman culture, and the second I learned about the honestly massive amounts of slavery they did, I wanted to write a fic about it. That's over a decade ago, now, although this fic itself is a lot younger; it's just turned 2 and a bit :D It's also got a lot of research behind it, and while it's more fantasy and PWP than anything else, I'm still really grateful to the very warm response it's gotten!

Sugar [E, 3/8, Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara/Miles Morales]

Sugar is a big excuse for me to play around with a bajillion iterations of the omegaverse at once, and it's really fun! I also really like how organic the dialogue has turned out; watching ATSV 30+ times has really helped me nail down their voices :D It's got some heavy topics in it, like sexism (fantasy sexism I guess) and cultural differences among universes regarding treatment of different dynamics. It's cool! I love exploring stuff like that, so Sugar is a tasty treat to me! (pardon the pun)

the bad man [E, 1/1 Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara/Miles Morales]

This is my first ever pornshot with complete nonconsent, which was a pretty notable milestone for me! I had a lot of fun writing it---I think I wrote it in like... a week or something. I'd check but that takes the fun out of it :P It has two iterations; a teacher/student version, and a brother/brother version. The brother version is a separate fic, you can find it in the series if you want. I'm not sure which one I like better, tbh

Okay, uhh, tag... @cindle-writes, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, doubling the tag for @mosiva, and @aldergroves and @muchymozzarella. no pressure obv :)

[jungle-angel]

As The Water Rises (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Ancient Rome AU where you take care of Bob after a long day

Notes: This is for the lovely @bradshawsbaby, my friend I've been reading SVAA lately and I LOVE IT!!!! I wanted to surprise you with this because it's all I had been thinking about for a while (lol). I do apologize for any spelling mishaps too my friend, I'm terrible with it sometimes.

Warnings: SMUT, sex, references to slavery etc. (ft. Coyote, Roman name Latranis and others)

Tagging: @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse

You were eager to go and meet Hrodebert, just as you always had, every day when the meetings at The Forum ended. You bid farewell to Sabina and Phoenix, walking with purpose through the marketplace, saying hello to some of the shopkeepers and statesmen who often found their way through there.

Your sandals flapped on the cobbled path that ran through the alleys until you came to those huge, imposing steps and the equally imposing façade of the building, held up by pillars as though they were the arms of Atlas himself......The Forum.

You found Hrodebert sitting on the steps, a grimace on his face and his head in his hand. You knew he hadn't been himself lately, but this clearly wasn't himself at all.

"Hrodebert?" you queried, tentatively sitting beside him.

He looked up at you with his soft blue eyes, a pained expression on his face. "M'so tired," he mumbled.

You scooted closer to him as he put his arms around you, letting his cheek rest on the crown of your head. You only realized how tired he truly was when you heard the gurgling of his belly, a sign that he must not have eaten anything since waking up.

"You didn't eat anything today, did you?" you asked him.

He shook his head.

You kissed his lips, uncaring of who saw you or who had chosen to make faces at the two of you. "Come on now," you said, helping him to his feet. "Lets go get something to eat and then we'll relax. I'm sure the bathhouses are open."

You led Hrodebert to one of the places, a little hole-in-the-wall thermopolium that sold hot food day and night. You and Hrodebert were starving, the smells of all the barbecuing meat, fish and spices wafting from the kitchens.

Your old friend, Latranis, the owner of the place, came and brought you everything you needed, letting you know it was on the house. The two of you ate your fill but left him a little something anyways, knowing that these days, good business was often hard to come by.

Off to the bathhouses you went, knowing that Latranis would probably be dropping by again later. Even after having come here for so long, you had forgotten how steamy, humid and sticky it could really be in here. But oh was it heaven after a long day.

You helped Hrodebert strip off his toga, his whole body aching, as you hung the cloth up on the hooks in the little niche. You yourself, stripped off your clothes and hung them with his, the both of you storing your sandals in a safe place for when you were done.

"You're too good to me," he mumbled, taking your hand in his.

You kissed his cheek, making him go red from his face all the way down to his chest. "You took care of me my love," you said, the pad of your thumb gently brushing his chin. "And now it's my turn."

Hrodebert gently pulled you towards a little tunnel into the halls that led to the caldariums. No one really batted an eyelash, thinking you were merely the slave girl to the son of a high ranking senator. Of course they hadn't really been wrong. It had started out that way when you and Hrodebert first met. You had been a mere girl taken from your tribe in Gaul, nearly sold to an old whorring wretch who would have surely had his way with you had it not been for Iosephus, Hrodebert's father. He too had known what it was like to be a slave, a Germanic general taken from his own people and forced to fight in the Coliseum for the sole entertainment of others. He had fought for his freedom.......fought and won.....the same as he had done for you and for his freeborn sons and daughters.

In you went with him, amazed at the sight of the room that lay before you with all its beautifully carved statues in the wall niches, the bathing pools and the cascades of vines and climbing flowers that made the place worthy enough for the gods themselves to enter.

Hrodebert lay right down on a towel laden wood table, his head resting on the tops of his hands while you straddled his towel covered butt. You could almost feel the aches and pains in the soft ripples of his muscles, strong but tired. Into your hands from one of the jars, you poured a coin sized drop of the Balm Of Gilead, an ointment you had bartered numerous times for in the markets for Gallus and Carnifex to use after a fight. You rubbed it right into his muscles, putting your palms and the balls of your hands into it to get those wretched kinks out.

"Oooooh right there my sweet......right there....." he moaned happily. "Ooooh fuck......feels so fuckin good....."

You chuckled a little as you kept rubbing it in, delighting in his happy little moans. You bent your head to kiss the freckles on his back, no doubt the marks of the sun from his days as a child and teenager, running around the streets of Alexandria with his brothers and sisters.

You were a little nervous as you braced yourself against one of the pillars, digging into his back with the heels of your feet and hearing his pleasurable groans as he told you everything about his day. God, you were both in heaven.....sheer, utter heaven.

Right into the steaming baths you went, floating about and relaxing on the brick steps that led down into the pool. You kissed your fiance's lips, rubbing your noses together, happy and content in your surroundings with just the two of you.

"Methinks you're gonna need a haircut soon," you chuckled.

"Oh am I now?" he said, smiling wryly into the kiss.

You laughed a little as your kissing deepened, slow at first, but growing more desperate and needy as Hrodebert tried to slip his tongue over your lips. He drew a moan from your mouth as he gently pulled you onto his lap, the water doing most of the work. Your fingers tangled in his wet hair at the nape of his neck, gently brushing against the shell of his ear.

Hrodebert sighed into your mouth as he trailed from your lips all along your jaw, his fingertips gently brushing against the black armband tattoo on your bicep, the ink all connected in swirls and knots, a mark of the tribe you had once belonged to.

You moaned as you felt his arousal growing between your legs, his big hands firmly and steadily gripping your hips to keep you from floating away. You reveled in the feeling of his hot breath going down your sternum and all along your naked breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples that had grown hard and pointed.

"So fuckin gorgeous," he mumbled in between kisses. "Can't wait to make you my wife.....see all those bitchy matrons get all jealous....."

You clenched your legs around him as you felt his cock stiffening inside you, your hips and his rocking together in a steady rhythm as he guided you up and down on his cock.

"C'mon sweetheart....." he urged. "C'mon......come for me.....c'mon, I know you have it in you....."

You felt his hips stuttering against yours, your head falling back and Hrodebert's hands firmly gripping you as you both came at the same time. Whether it was the steam or the relaxing hot water, your head fell against his shoulder, the two of you panting from the effort.

"My love you're amazing," he said with a sleepy smile, kissing your lips sweetly.

You smiled, gently brushing your fingertip against his button nose, tracing over his lips before returning the kiss.

"AW YEAH!!!!! GET IT!!!! GET IT!!!!!"

You and Hrodebert jumped at the sudden yelling, the hoots and hollers of three of your friends emitting from behind the pillars. Gallus, Carnifex and Latranis showed themselves a moment later with only a white towel around each of their waists, laughing, hollering and making lewd hip thrusts.

"Look at you making babies before you're married!" Latranis exclaimed.

"Didn't think you had it in you my man!" Carnifex laughed.

"I'm gonna have to try that now," Gallus remarked.

"OUT!!!!!! OUT!! YOU SLIMY, SKEEVY BASTARDS!!!!" Hrodebert thundered, chucking one of his sandals at them.

"Ow, fuck you!" Gallus laughed when the sandal slapped against his arm.

"Already did you sick pig!" Hrodebert retorted. "Gods! I can't believe you fucking idiots were watching us!"

"We heard you both coming down the halls," Carnifex told him.

Hrodebert groaned in annoyance but he couldn't ignore the laughing look on your face. "What?" he queried, giving you the side eye.

"I'm not saying anything," you giggled.

Hrodebert kissed you again, littering your cheek with his sweet pecks. "Don't worry my sweet," you told him. "If anything they'll get what's coming when they drop by the house for dinner."

"What'd you do?" he asked.

"Lets just say, I left your mother an extra basket of dried prunes to be stewed and served at dinner," you answered, wiggling your eyebrows.

Hrodebert laughed a little, knowing the three morons would be in for it later and if they ever dared do it again, they'd be served the same dish at your wedding.

[stusbunker]

Tattered: The Prodigal’s Redemption

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean

Word Count: ~4575

Warnings, etc: Hospitals, at risk pregnancy, hormonal imbalances, amnesia, claiming, little bit of blood, Sam and Dean tag team smut, emotional sex.

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia​ for putting up with this series the entire time.

Sam

I’ve never been more grateful to be heading back to Bobby’s. Dean’s been an ass this entire case—- it wasn’t even a case, just infiltration and trying to secure a way in to end Dick Roman. But it took longer than we had hoped.

Though the IT girl, Charlie, seems to think it’s all doable. So, we’ve got that now that Garth has some sort of ancient spell tablet that is giving us some sort of direction. Thanks to a new prophet named Kevin. Poor kid.

The stress of being away from our Omega is making us both snippy, but Dean must be close to rut or something because I want absolutely nothing to do with him. His scent even seems off, which doesn’t make sense, I’ve been around him since he’s presented. He’s never smelled this— gross.

We’re driving through Sioux Falls when I get a text from Bobby and my stomach gives out.

“Turn around,” I might yell. 

Dean’s head whips around and he glares. I hit the call button and side eye him as I wait for Bobby to answer. “They’re at the hospital.”

“What?! Is she okay?!” Dean growls.

“I don’t know, Dean, that’s all Bobby said. ‘Meet us at SF General.’”

He pulls an illegal U-turn and floors it. Bobby doesn’t answer, but he texts again saying to not come stomping in. He gives me a room number. I know it’s her, otherwise she’d be the one texting us. I just don’t know if it’s the pups or —-

“They’re on the fourth floor. The Omega Health Pavillion.”

“Fucking hell. We never should have left,” Dean curses and changes lanes.

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it?” I remind him under my breath, trying not to crush my phone in the palm of my hand.

“Now’s not the time,” Dean warns, not taking his eyes off the road.

I chew on my words and let him get us there— to her. The hospital security are in our faces before we can make it to the elevators. I force myself to not rip their throats out. 

“Sorry, but, official business.” I flash a badge, not even sure which one it is and shove it in both guards’ faces.

“And him?” the older Alpha guard challenges, leering at Dean who is reeking of anxiety.

“I left mine in the car, tub-o, there’s an Omega in danger. Are you gonna let me go or do I have to call your boss?” Dean’s not doing any better than I am, but he’s also not trying to reel it in.

I glare at my brother over the guards’ heads. Dean rolls his eyes and waits out their unnecessary permission.

We could have just said we were next of kin. But two claims—- it’s not really heard of anymore. And they wouldn’t have let us both go. Or either of us.

I worry over the legalities of our situation as Dean punches the floor number on the elevator, forcing the doors closed.

“How long has she been here?” Dean asks like I know anything more than what I’ve told him.

I shrug. “Dunno. Bobby just texted.”

Dean stares at the screen with the increasing digits like it will speed up under the weight of Alpha fury. I try to keep the frustration out of my scent. Dean is too far panicked to pretend to be professional about anything anymore.

I’ve always hated the smell of hospitals, even though they keep the air purified and the surfaces sanitized, you can always smell death. Or loss. Fear is probably the most unrelenting, but it’s the most understandable. And I know we both leave a heavy wave of it behind on that elevator.

The nurse’s station doubles as the security checkpoint, and I can smell pregnant and lactating Omegas from all directions. Dean stops and waits as I check us in, forgoing the badge to keep them from asking more questions.

The nurse tells me, “follow me Dad, we’ll get you to your Omega.”

I nod in gratitude and pointedly don’t look at Dean as I follow her and her mauve scrubs down a corridor away from the scent of fresh pups, to another, shorter hallway blanketed in quiet vigil.

“Bobby?” Dean marches past the nurse when he spots him waiting outside her door. “What the hell happened?!”

Bobby nods at the nurse and she only pauses briefly to scent the air and leave us in peace. Then, finally, he explains. She’d been having more cramping and was feeling faint. He made her go in to check it out on Monday.

“Wait, Monday?! It’s Thursday, Bobby. Why are you telling us now?!” Dean says what I’m thinking.

“She didn’t want to worry you until we knew what was wrong,” Bobby shrugs, but I can tell he never liked the idea. He was just doing what she wanted.

“Is she awake?” I ask.

“I didn’t tell her you boys were on the way, she’s gonna be pissed that you’re pissed. So cool your jets before you burst in there, but I think having you back will at least even her out enough to get out of here.” Bobby sighs. “Or at least I hope so.”

I need more than his hunches. “What are the doctor’s saying?”

“Hormonal imbalance. Like the pregnancy is fighting her. Oh, by the way, there’s three pups. Which they’re also monitoring. Only like twelve-thirteen weeks along, so none of them are viable yet, but yeah.”

Bobby explains like he didn’t just completely break us both.

“Three?” Dean gapes.

Bobby cocks an eyebrow. “You wanted more?”

“I just— three?!” I am not processing this. We knew there was a chance of having multiples, especially with two Alphas, but that’s a lot—- 

“I’m going to check my messages and get some grub. I’ll check in before I head home.” 

“Of course, Bobby. Thank you.” I say before he walks away. 

Dean looks like he’s doing math in his head and I can’t really blame him. “What does he mean by viable?”

Oh.

I sigh and weigh my options. “It means they won’t survive outside of her, yet. They’re too small, underdeveloped.”

“Okay, yeah. But, by chance, with all your reading, you know how long before they could?” Dean is trying to increase her chances while not putting the pups in danger, I can tell.

“With multiples there’s a much higher chance of premature birth. But if we want to keep them, they need her as long as possible. Another twenty weeks would do it, but the ideal? As long as possible.”

“Cuz forty is full term.”

Impressed, I nod. “Yeah.”

“Do you think I smell okay to go in yet?”

I inhale and try not to gag. “It’s hard to tell. You’ve been off to me anyway.”

Dean glares and breathes deep, closing his eyes. I feel him try to force himself to relax. Which, when does that ever work? His heart rate goes down at least.

“She’s exhausted,” Dean mutters, trying not to pace. “She missed us.”

I reach out and try to sense what he’s getting. We’re close enough, she’s probably getting a read on us too, but she hasn’t outright said anything or called us in yet. I’m not as good at it as Dean is, I’m not sure if it’s time or just something he’s better at, or maybe my own worry is clouding over my other senses. I don’t want to dwell on it right now, but he had to say something. Like he’s translating.

“Yeah,” I just agree. “Me, too.”

Because, of course I missed her. But also, I don’t want to sound surprised. He eyes me and inhales, psyching himself up. 

“You coming?” Dean nods to her closed door and I stop short of going in before him.

Her whole room smells of home and anguish.

Dean’s on now, he’s smiling softly and easing inside. I forget how much of him is bravado anyway. I close the door quietly behind us and walk to the side opposite of Dean. Naturally, we each gravitate to the side of her that bares our marks.

She hums in her sleep and her face softens as she catches our scents in her dreams. Dean can’t stop himself from touching her, just a small brushing of her hair behind her ear. It doesn’t wake her, but I know that he’s checking her temperature as he does it.

She’s okay. She’s not thriving or anything, but it feels good just to see her. I pull the blankets up and rest my hand on her stomach, feeling the belt they have tucked around her middle to monitor the babies. I try to find their heartbeats, but they’re so small and so fast, I can’t pick them apart.

It’s enough, for now.

Dean asks me a silent question and I nod, but I think he can feel my relief enough. He nods and grips the rail on the side of her bed. And we wait.

Dean

She’s been in and out of the hospital since we got back from Chicago. It seems whenever we’re separated for more than a few hours, she dips again. We’re guessing the hormone fluctuations happen when we can’t be there to regulate her.

The doctors are literally having us do their jobs for them. They are out of their depth with two Alphas fathering a single, if multiple, pregnancy. 

By her third overnight stay, I hate everything they stand for. 

We get her home and into our bed and just nest for an entire afternoon. She’s putting on weight, which is a good thing, but she’s losing muscle. Sam’s been feeding her his green smoothies— all the extra kale you could ask for. And, I’m not even complaining, because whatever helps.

My nose is buried in her hair and Sam’s her big spoon. Just laying in the not-quite-waking haze before one of us gets up to start dinner.

We don’t talk about the pups unless it’s with the doctors, because we know the more we think about them, the more attached we’ll get. Nobody wants to lose them. But it is still a very real possibility. It’s been this silent agreement— nobody wants to be the jinx.

Meanwhile, Bobby’s been deep in the lore. Most of the books that talk of the older styles of packs are more legend than anything. Maybe a few stories of weathering the elements and fighting for land. There’s very little medical knowledge to gain from all that, but he’s trying.

And then there’s the pesky red-headed beta texting me updates from Dick Roman’s central hub. Not to mention, Garth’s lanky ass helping to calm down an anxious honor-student-turned-prophet. It’s been a rough month.

I breathe her in, trying to keep my thoughts’ foot off the damn gas. She still smells like the hospital, but I know it will be gone by morning. We’ll cover her in us until she takes a shower and then start the process all over again. The healthy glow of the early days of her pregnancy has faded into almost a sheen under her skin, like something is leeching the color out of her.

I make the executive decision to order food for pick up. Nobody wants to cook or clean up at this point anyway, Sam can calm down about whatever he’s gonna say about her sodium levels. She needs food.

Besides, it gives me an excuse to go check on Bobby’s research.

Eventually Sam relents and agrees on pizza when I remind him she can’t have subs unless they’re well toasted. So there, pregnancy guru, I do pay attention. Once the food is ordered, she gets extra cuddly, knowing I’m gonna be the one leaving to get it.

I don’t hate that. 

We watch TV, just some nature show or another, me leaning back against her chest as she plays with my hair and just coats me in nesting Omega pheromones. Sam’s on his laptop next to us, half watching half scouting for anything more the Leviathans can subtly do to slowly conquer the world.

It’s when I drop Bobby’s pie off that he tells me he’s found something. And I mentally start packing before I’m even back with the rest of the food. If Bobby’s network says this guy is the real deal and there’s no trapped Reapers involved, then I’ll take what we can get. 

For her, anything. Always.

Reader

I’m staring at a ghost. Or whatever a dead angel becomes.

“Cas?”

Dean’s looking at him like he hung the moon and I can’t help but worry they’re both actually Leviathans. 

“Did you test him?”

Dean scowls at me. “He’s not possessed.”

I ignore his rudeness and look at Sam, he nods and goes inside to find some borax. 

“Y/N? I understand you’re having some difficulty?” Cas is not right. He’s not a power-tripping wannabe God, but he’s shifty. It’s weird to see him out of the trench coat.

“Okay, what is going on?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for whatever stupid excuse Dean has for leaving us for an entire day.

“‘Mega, this is Emmanuel, he’s a faith healer.”

I swallow a few choice words and look at Dean and then back to Cas. “Emmanuel. Interesting. How’d you find him?”

“Bobby did.”

Of course he did.

“And what do you do? How do you heal people?” I step down off the porch and look into Cas’ eyes, silently daring him to lie to my face. Just one reason and I’d finally get somewhere to put all the anger that’s been ricocheting around inside my head lately.

“I emit some sort of healing energy after sensing someone’s malady. It is localized and requires little contact, if that’s what’s got you so worried.” Cas— or Emmanuel, whoever, explains cautiously, clearly aware how dangerous I can be. Or maybe that’s just from Dean and however he got him all the way out here.

“How much?” 

“I don’t ask for money. And after your mate saved mine, it’s the least I can do?”

I spin and give Dean a face.

“Yeah, found a demon about to ambush his wife trying to get at him.”

“Wife?”

“Little Beta named Daphne.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Cas-Emmanuel seems annoyed that his wife’s secondary gender is being scrutinized, not understanding what he was— or must still be if he’s healing folks.

I shake my head and feel Sam join us again. “She cute?”

Dean nods and shrugs. 

“Good for you, Manny.” I turn to Sam. “Uh, could you hold out your hand real quick? Just need to ensure you’re not something else.”

Cas-Emmanuel looks to Dean and Dean glares back, he must decide it’s best to play along. He holds out his left hand, pulling the sleeve of his fancy sweater back. Nothing happens when Sam douses his skin with the cleaner. Well, at least there’s that.

“Alright, buddy, let’s see what you got.” I drop my arms and lean into Cas’ space, closing my eyes and waiting for the cool trickle of his Grace.

“Oh, oh my,” Cas-Emmanuel says. “Well, congratulations. But I don’t think I can help this. This is a matter of unmatched claims. Your offspring need equal input from the hormonal parts of their fathers’ claims. It’s almost like they’re experiencing rejection sickness, much like your other Alpha.”

“Rejection sickness?” Sam asks, voice deep and alarmed.

I turn and look up at Sam.

“She hasn’t claimed you back and you share her with your brother whom she has claimed,” Cas says it all so simply, like we’ve been idiots not to realize it. “I assume that’s why you’re short with your brother and his scent is probably more odorous than usual.”

“Sam?” Dean asks for clarification.

Sam looks at me without seeing me, like he just found out the sky is red. “I didn’t even realize—- I thought it was just stress.”

My chest hurts. I didn’t even know he was hurting. My fault. Again, I’ve been the cause of his pain.

“So how can we fix this? Since, apparently, you can’t.” I ask a little huffy, frustrated at Cas’ blunt appraisals and lack of solutions.

He has the nerve to look squeamish. I feel my eyebrow raise and I put all of my annoyance behind it. Dean looks at the ground like he’s in trouble.

“Um, well, I believe if you make even and equal claims your hormones and the fetuses’ hormones will regulate. And your Alphas will be less prone to rejection as well, or at least I would hope.”

I inhale and nod, figure it sounds too easy, but these boys are always whining about something so we better try it anyway. For my pups, I’d do just about anything at this point. I watch Cas-Emmanuel and I hold out my hand for him to shake.

He takes it timidly, but I shake it hard, drag him to me and scent him. 

“You’re still an angel just wearing a person. I don’t know if you’re being dumb or trying to hide something or to keep someone from finding you— or us. But just know we know who you are.” I let him go and see the panic and alarm on our friend’s face.

He doesn’t understand and it makes me even more cautious to be taking his advice.

“Hey! So, how ‘bout some grub, huh? Long drive,” Dean tries to smooth it out. But I keep watching Cas like a hawk.

Sam was making shish kebabs, so I make a salad to stretch the meal for four adults, knowing Dean will ignore the rabbit food anyway. Bobby’s out for the night, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to get an ear full from me in the morning about this faith healer of his.

Cas picks at his food, but I can tell he isn’t hungry. He never was.

It’s after dinner while Dean and Sam are doing the almost nonexistent dishes, that Cas slowly comes back to us. We’re walking around the salvage yard and I’m asking questions about his life now. When eventually he realizes he knows the answers to some of his own questions about me and my Alphas.

Cas and I have never been close, but it hurts all the same to see him so lost.

“As a healer, do you know about the different kinds of Amnesia?” I ask delicately, seeing alarm bells flash behind his brilliant blue eyes. He doesn’t respond. I let it settle in his thoughts as we approach Bobby’s porch.

My temples ache and I’m already getting tired, even though the summer sun is still above the horizon. Cas reaches forward and brushes two fingertips across my brow, earning instant relief.

I exhale.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cas says sadly.

“Don’t know what you’re apologizing to me for,” I mutter. “Or only me— I should say.”

“It was calamity on a global scale,” Cas admits.

“Still is. Fuckers aren’t gone yet,” I huff, opening the backdoor for Cas to file in front of me.

“True,” his pensive reply.

Dean

Cas made it sound so easy, so obvious. The pups were suffering because we all were still tip-toeing around this thing we started. We weren’t all in— hormonally speaking— and they weren’t getting the stability they needed. Knowing Sam had been feeling it too really was the kicker, because I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. Especially knowing how much she’s suffered over the last couple of months.

So, basically, I’ve been a world class asshole.

I do a load of laundry and try to get my head on straight as she and Cas walk around the yard, catching up. Sam keeps giving me this look like he feels guilty but curious and all I smell is relief on him. I’ve been so far into my own head I’m tuning them both out.

What happens if the Leviathans get a hold of us? If Sam or I bite it, is she a goner too?

We need to fix this. Tonight. And pray whatever happens from here on out, the surviving bonds are strong enough to withstand anything that gets thrown at us. We were so close to normal, I’m not risking it anymore. If she needs my mark— I’ll give it to her. I would give her a freakin’ kidney, I’m not seeing it as any less now.

She’s sweaty and tired when she gets back inside, but there’s something behind her eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks and it digs into my chest with claws, latching on tight. Sam gets her some water and we congregate around the kitchen table. She explains how she thinks we can do this best, and how we’ll figure out the Leviathans as soon as she’s stable. And how Cas was sticking around for a few days until we would be rolling out the Stop Dick Permanently Plan.

By the end of the week, this all could be behind us. It feels big and it sounds easier than it is, but so do most things. 

“Okay, go get comfortable— I’ll be up in like an hour and we can go from there.” I usher them upstairs. Sam gets his claim first, beating away rejection sickness had to come first or my re-claiming might have actually killed him— if not the pups.

She’s determined to get it all done at once and I don’t blame her, but I also don’t want to tempt fate. Bodies are complicated and you can’t bank on it all working so easily.

I listen as they get close, like a love song in the background. It’s not quite my style, but I can appreciate the melody. Sam’s a pretty rough guy, and I know he’s holding back because he’s scared.

We all are.

The kitchen is spotless by the time their hour’s up. Plus all the laundry is folded in the mudroom. I rub my hand over my face and march up the stairs. The smell of sex has me stiffening up and the closer I get I catch a hint of blood mixed in. She’s cradled in Sam’s lap, legs around his waist as she laps at her claim on his neck. He’s got some color back and there’s a sense of connection, of rightness mirrored in both of their minds.

Somehow, I don’t feel like I’m interrupting.

Sam nods at me as I start to get undressed, and it’s almost like he’s relieved I’m there.

“How long you been locked in?” I ask clinically, curious to see how much build up I have ahead of me.

“‘Bout ten minutes,” she murmurs, content and dreamy.

“You want me to wait or can I join you?”

She hums richly, like she’s contemplating dessert. My stomach does somersaults. “Hold me? My back is cold.”

“I can do that.”

I crawl behind her, kissing her shoulder before rubbing down her back, then up and down her arms, covering her in my touch. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck and scent her, feeling her steady pulse against my cheek.

She’s okay. They’re all going to be okay.

We sit like that for a couple of minutes, her leaning back against me while still stuck on Sam’s knot. He’s playing with her fingers, his other massive mit is protectively pressed against her rounded belly.

She’s fucking gorgeous and she’s ours.

I’m hard against her side, but I don’t care. Not right now. It’s too perfect to go rutting against her just yet.

Sam’s all pensive, but he isn’t giving off much besides Mate and Content and Pups in random hazes of thought. I wonder if he hears me yet.

I rub my nose along her shoulder, kiss where it meets her neck and smile into the crook when she shivers. She sits up and kisses Sam, holding his face between her hands like he’s precious. He growls against her lips, sighing when she starts to scratch his scalp. She whines when he starts to slip out of her, licking into his mouth to make it last.

I’ve got my hands on the notch of her waist, eying her ass crack like it’s manna from Heaven. I’m so hard and already leaking, but she’s still got Sam to take care of. I start nipping at her nape, just to distract myself more than anything.

Sam’s plotting, I can feel it.

Then she jumps because the fucker starts rubbing her clit. Well, two can play at that game, so I grab her tits and start sucking marks all over her neck and shoulders. I twist those ruddy nipples until she’s mewling, rocking hard against Sam’s half soft dick.

“I gotcha, honey, come here,” I husk out, lifting her by the armpits onto my lap and off my brother’s knot. She gushes all over my thighs, both slick and cum. Then I’m fucking up into her before Sam can even complain.

He’s still got her mouth anyhow.

She slumps against me, holding Sam’s fingers to her mound. She calls out a breathy “Alpha” and we both speed up.

God— she’s so warm, just hugging me so good.

I look down and watch her tits bounce, her baby belly hiding the pleasure Sam’s giving her. Fucking hot.

I cup those beauties, pinching the nubs between my second and third fingers, and roll my hips, hitting her right where she likes it.

“Fuck!” she groans, cumming all over all of us.

“That’s it,” I mumble. “Give us the good stuff.”

I punch my knot up against the clench of her channel, blood pulsing through every inch I can shove inside her. I’m not there yet, but the tight, wet, squeeze of her has me salivating. She writhes in my lap, unwilling to let go of either of us. She rides out her orgasm while murmuring the most delicious filth.

Sam licks his fingers clean and then starts in on her tits. She pulls his hair and puts him where she wants him. And I’m growing heavier at the mere sight of her taking what she wants.

She reaches back and cups my neck, pulling me closer  so she can tongue fuck my mouth. She adds a roll to our rhythm and I’m seeing spots. Everything goes high and tight and I’m fucking flooding her with all I’ve got.

I bite her bottom lip on the way to her throat— to the scar I left there all those months ago. She licks her own blood off my tongue before nudging me closer. I take the scar tissue between my teeth and nip— fuck my knot in higher and pull my teeth wide and sink into the unmarred flesh. Biting deep and dragging her into my throat— feeling her infuse my veins. Weaving us further together.

She sustains me.

I tongue the fresh wound as she grinds down against my knot. I feel her lower lips quiver and I’m cumming all over again. The taste and smell of her on me— inside me, stretches out my orgasm into waves of completion— drawing it out until I’m sobbing her name and she’s shushing me quiet.

Fuck— it feels so good.

I want to put three more pups in her.

I don’t know when Sam crawled away, but I’m grateful for the time to ourselves. I kiss my mark and wrap my arms around her middle— just clinging to her and this moment.

The world finally feels like it makes sense.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging:  @idreamofdeanie​​ @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach​​    @dolphincliffs​​ @flamencodiva​​ @crashdevlin​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​  @rockhoochie​​ @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008  @wingedcatninja​​ @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @smi727​ @princessmisery666​​ @impalaslytherin​

[greetingsfromuranus]

Thankyu @doubledyke for tagging me!!! - [Picrew link] -

Hiiii this is me, a decent approximation i'd say, but i did make a couple edits to get it lookin right lol. The picrew didn't have my shorts so I had to draw them on ~w~ (I wear them every day it's important!!!). When I say every day I mean I haven't worn different pants in over a month lol. They're the perfect most comfy shorts I own but they're starting to get holes so I might have to replace them..... orrrrrrrr I CAN START SEWING LITTLE PATCHES OH EM OH SHIT!!!! Also the hair is a lil funky right now I have kindof a mullet growing in, so imagine the image above but just move the back down a couple inches

And the collar is an accessory for special occasions, when it's dogmoding time lol

But yea im just a little guy, my interests include cartoons/anime/animation in general (favs include ed edd n eddy, ojamajo doremi, ichigo mashimaro, any 1920s-50s animation, as well as lots of animation from soviet era Russia! Im not suuuper educated on alot of old animation, but im slowly workin on it with the free time I have lol).

I also like alot of music, I listen to a bunch of genres, I just like anything that sounds good lol. Here's my playlists if you wanna put it on shuffle and see if there's anything you recognize (love or hate): - [bigg playlist] - [songs I basically never skip (WIP)] - [calm/happy playlist for bad mood or migraines] -

This got long QUICK so more interests under the cut ^^

I also like ancient and medieval art, cave paintings are my jam and I love janky medieval paintings, the creatures are so cool and I love all the colors and just the way they choose to represent things! Very cool... been getting into Roman frescos as well, I wanna start painting my room like that but it's my favorite characters and stuff!! I've actually started planning for it already, got all the measurements of my wall, and I've just gotta put it on the computer and start drafting it...

I also like paleoanthropology, evolutionary timelines, anchient animals, etc... I love the weird old fish we come from and the squirrel shaped proto-primates and just seeing the form morph over time to get closer and closer to us, it's really cool!!! I wanna make a cool animation of it one day... it's why I love lungfish so much it's so so so cool

I also like math, but I kinda suck when it comes to the scientific applications lol. Chemistry and Physics tend to kick my ass, and I never was good at circuits in highschool (though now I'm in differential equations and honestly it's not that bad, so who knows). I quite enjoy calculus because for the MOST part everything makes sense and the patterns are consistent and it's not weird and arbitrary and opinion-based like anything language-related tends to be lol (well, language has a LOT of cool patterns but im not gonna nerd out about it right now there's too much to say lol)

I also have hundreds of stuffed animals and I dont plan on getting rid of them unless I move across the country and dont have the money to transport them. I've started learning to sew so i can make clothes and dress them up like characters I like, do repairs, and hopefully one day make actual plushies of my blorbos <3

Tagging sum pals: @plunder413 @avepricots @pravingmantis

[aristocratic-otter]

It's not quite Wednesday anymore, but gosh darn it, I'm still awake, and I have words, so I'm going to post something.

Thank you, @basiltonbutliketheherb, @awholelemon, @palimpsessed, @fatalfangirl, @technetiumai, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @ivelovedhimthroughworse for the tags. I've greatly enjoyed finding out what you've been up to. Tag backsies for Sunday!

Excerpts under the cut:

Three of my WIPs either have nothing recently interesting or are currently a smut scene in progress. Here's bits of the other three.

From Westward Son

I watch as, one by one, each rider and wagon encounter the drop off that I found, and flounder for a bit before moving on. But when Penelope finds it, I see in an instant that things are about to go wrong.

One wagon wheel falls into the drop before the other, and that’s what spawns the disaster. Tilting unevenly, the wagon leans sideways and the swift current manages to catch on the canvas cover and pull it further over. When the entire wagon falls over sideways, all of the oxen are yanked off of their feet and dragged after it, as is Penny’s horse, tied on behind the wagon. 

Penny disappears under the water without even a yelp of surprise.

From The White Chapel (nearly done!)

I’m almost on top of the mural when I see it. I’ve passed this painting a thousand times; A trio of dancing figures dressed in Roman chitons. An ancient image brightened up with electric blues and pinks and yellows. A modern artist’s rendering of muses. 

Muses!

I look closer. Now that I know muses are real, details of the painting jump out at me. The faces are so real, even if softened and turned into a fantasy by artistic licence. There’s two gorgeous girls: one African, one Asian. And between them…

His face is as lovely as I remember it. His bronze curls are haloed in gold and he’s wearing the same outfit I remember from the day we met. He looks radiant, like his sisters. But also, he looks sad. When I look closer, I see faint lines in the dust on his face. Like tear tracks. 

I’ve looked at this mural at least a hundred times. I’ve  always paused to admire the art when I passed this way. I honestly can’t believe I didn’t recognise Simon from it when he first (literally) ran into me. 

I recognise him now. And those tear tracks were not there before. 

I run my hand down the curve of his jaw. In a wild flight of fancy, I imagine the concrete softens under my hand. It almost seems like Simon is smiling at me through his tears. 

I shake my head. This is impossible. I skate away from the wall, but then I can’t help it. I turn back and stare at it again. It is impossible. But Simon himself was impossible. And yet he was more real than anything else in my life. 

I skate further back, giving myself more distance. Am I really doing this? 

I am. When I’m across the street from the mural, I turn to face it. Then I skate forward, pushing the muscles in my legs to go faster, faster, faster. The wall comes at me like a speeding truck. At the very last moment before impact, I throw my arms up to protect my face and close my eyes. 

I hit the wall and pass right through it. 

From Saving Simon Snow

I’m still fretting over Snow’s ability to convince people that not only is he gay, but he’s in love with me, when I sit down in the padded leather chair across the desk from my father’s. 

“May I speak plainly?” I ask, courteously. Courtesy, manners, breeding…all that bollocks. It’s a dance, a dance I’m proficient in. But Simon’s brutish ways have infected me. I find myself wanting to roll my eyes at the necessities of small talk, of high society manoeuvring. 

Still, no need to alienate my father from the start. What I have to tell him will do that work on its own. 

Malcolm Pitch nods. His face is bland and smooth, but I see a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He has no idea why I’d be approaching him. We don’t do this. We don’t seek each other out. We don’t talk—plainly or otherwise. But today, I’ve got no choice. I need him to save Simon. I need him to save us. 

“I’ve done something that I know you’ll disapprove of, and I’m sorry. But I need your help. I’m frightened.”

No hint of that emotion shows on my countenance. Even saying it is too much of a concession to hysterical emotionality, in my father's eyes. 

His brows drop and his lips purse. The closest he’ll get to showing worry. 

“What is it you’ve done, Basilton? Whatever it is, I’m sure something can be done.” I’m pretty sure he’d say the same if I’d exsanguinated the maid. Family loyalty means everything in the Grimm and Pitch clans. 

I smile, wryly. He doesn’t know I’m gambling my life on his willingness to help. “I…fell in love, father. With someone you wouldn’t approve of.”

Tags for Sunday and hello, how are yous to @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @fight-surrender, @facewithoutheart, @foolofabookwyrm-activated, @giishu, @gekkoinapeartree, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @johnwgrey, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @messofthejess, @moodandmist, @nightimedreamersghost, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @theearlgreymage, @whogaveyoupermission, @whatevertheweather

[clairelsonao3]

Happy STS!

I haven't gotten a chance to read what you've written so far, but I'm curious as to your process. What was the source of inspiration for your current WIP? Did you start with characters who wouldn't stop talking in your head? Flashes of moments? Images inspired by music? What do you fall back on when you need to be re-inspired?

Happy STS and thanks for the ask!

No worries, my ongoing WIP on Ao3 is over 100K posted words, so I by no means expect you to. 😂

Good Slaves Never Break the Rules is the long-time-coming perfect storm of three main influences.

First, I started writing it almost eight years ago to entertain myself on a transatlantic sea voyage (that's worth another whole post altogether), and some of the characters and early situations (I won't say specifically which ones!) were inspired by the unusual dynamics that pop up when strangers from vastly different origins and roles onboard are pressed together in a small space with no choice but to work and spend time together (very soon, my imagination wildly diverged from what actually happened however 😂).

Second, for a long time, I've been an avid reader of pretty much any and all slavefic (there's a lot on Ao3, both fanfic and original) and much of it is good. I always especially liked the alternate universe ones that had slavery transposed to a modern setting. But for all of that time, I could never find THE story I was looking for, the one that uses many of the common whumpy slavefic tropes (although this was long before I was in the whump community, that was just a happy accident) but is also a preferably M/F romance, using a very different type of male MC who, despite being a slave and the target of pretty much constant abuse of all kinds, has much more in common with conventional romance heroes than the perpetual helpless victims that slaves tend to be in fiction. And the female MC, rather than being some powerful dominatrix type who can do whatever she wants, is an ordinary girl who is also oppressed in a way by the society she lives in, is blind to its wrongs, and has to have her eyes opened to be brave enough to stand up for what's right. And though power dynamics are always at the forefront, the MCs come to see each other as equals. So this was also one of those "I guess I'll write it myself" moments.

Third (and I don't think I've ever had a chance to discuss this on this blog before, so thank you!), having studied the classics, for many years I've been enamored with the ancient Roman comedies of Plautus and Terence, who tended to use slaves as main characters -- and I do mean main characters. They're active, clever, funny, charming, often manipulative (but always for the right reasons), perpetually involved in zany plans and schemes, and they're anything but victims. I'd written a few things inspired by these plays previously (including a quasi-historical short story and my very first novel, also historical and of a writing quality typical for an 18-year-old, many years ago), but now that my writing skills are far more advanced, I thought it was time to try again, using a modern alt-history setting this time. Plus the plays themselves are just really fucking funny, and my story incorporates a lot of humor (and a lot of really dark stuff, too, but that's usually how it works with me).

As for getting re-inspired? I also had to do that quite recently after writing and posting a monster chapter and needing a break. What helped was rereading some of those earlier scenes that I was really excited about, and doing some tag games on Tumblr (including the Q&A I tagged you in) that allowed me to just have fun writing in my characters' voices and kind of re-re-discover them.

Thanks for a great ask!

[emperornero]

combining the two ask games ive been tagged in recently so everything is in one place 👍👍 anyone who sees this can do it and tag me as the one who made you do it idk thank you for tagging me ^_^

1 - tagged by @evecc

are you named after anyone? - i assume this question is more of a ‘are you named after your grandparent or some famous person’ but im in this weird place where YES all of my names come from other “people” but its not in the traditional way lol . ive been using axel as a first name for about 5 years now and it comes from my old original character. yes im named after an oc. nero is obvious. theo is more of a joke than something i would consider going by irl but its from a video game character

what was the last time you cried? - today yayy

do you have kids? - no and i never want to be a parent if i have the choice

do you use sarcasm a lot? - no and i dont understand it and i often struggle with obvious jokes both through text and irl. my brain is fucked and even if something has been stated before to be a joke i usually dont remember it

what sports do you play/have played? - i used to swim before hitting puberty. now im not comfortable with anything and once again my mental issues dont make it as fun as it could be

whats the first thing you notice about people? - if its a physical trait its probably clothing. i will look at the colors and try to remember what someone is wearing to remember them better

eye color? - dark brown

scary ending or happy ending? - depends on the media but happy is nice :]

any special talents? - i dont think i have any .

where were you born? - small random city in poland

what are your hobbies? - digital art and ancient rome are my main . i also like learning about pokemon [the competitive scene and its changes more specifically]. other than that i always enjoyed studying biology

do you have pets? - a kitty named kefir and a dog named toro. the latter is unfortunately very old and is having health issues caused by that. ive been preparing for his death for the last weeks but i think im more calm about it now. hes doing ok but i know it will happen soon..

how tall are you? - 6 feet / 180+ cm. i slouch a lot due to my chest so its not always visible.

favourite subject in school? - biology and latin

dream job? - i used to really want to be a dentist but honestly i dont know. mental problems impact my view of the future a lot and im not sure what im even capable of doing anymore

2 - @theromaboo

relationship status - taken :]

favourite color - all shades of purple and tyrian purple

song stuck in head - pizza tower ost unexpectancy part 3

last song ive listened to - scatterbrain by radiohead

three favourite foods - mcdonalds nuggets . salmon. garlic bread

last thing i googled - its literally all just polish to english translations for words i dont remember lol

dream trip - ancient roman sites in italy again but this time i actually have some time to see stuff instead of being in a group aaghfg

anything i want right now - freedom ?

[daily-rayless]

I got this meme from @runicmagitek so thank you for that!

3 Ships:

Let‘s go with three that have been on my mind lately, and let’s go from most to least functional. BoxerRed from Transistor. They’re a ship I go to for people who are deeply supportive of each other. I see them as having very different personalities (Red being distant and intense, Boxer being warmer and more flexible, but ultimately more confrontational) so they spark off of each other well. But they truly want what’s best for each other, and they’re mature enough to be honest together. When things go wrong, it’s because of outside factors, less about their personalities. And then of course there’s AschNatalia, a couple who possibly could have it all, but who are too overwhelmed by outside stressors and their own immaturity to really come together. You can take them in either direction, fluff or angst, showing them growing up and finally just loving each other or exploring all the deep fracture lines in their relationship -- and whichever side you land on, there’s still a bit of the other mixed in. And then finally, the nuclear option when it comes to my ships, CliveElza. No matter what, Clive and Elza carved a life together out despite the brutality and anguish of their upbringing. And because of that love, circumstances turn against them. Elza’s solution is deception, and Clive’s is vengeance and murder. This is the ship for when I’m interesting in digging into the characters more than finding any happy ending.

First Ship:

I think the first ship I really got into and fixated on was CecilRosa from Final Fantasy 4. That may have been because it was the first JRPG I ever played, so I just fixated on it, period. But I think I would have been drawn to the ship anyway, Cecil trying to move through his dark past, Rosa believing in him but also challenging him when necessary.

Last Song:

I think it was a live version of “The Last Unicorn” by America?

Last Movie:

Belle, the anime. I’ve watched it twice now, the second time to try to figure out what exactly it’s doing. I enjoyed it a lot, though I think it’s kind of scattered and overambitious, and that weakens it some.

Currently Consuming:

Had some French vanilla chai and trail mix a bit earlier. It’s my typical midday snack.

Currently Watching:

Continuing my trend of watching old sitcoms, I’m working through One Day at a Time. I hadn’t heard much of anything about this one, and I was a little apprehensive at the first few episodes, which was largely the main character shouting at her daughters in a small apartment. But it’s about women making their way in the 70s, and that’s an interesting time period to me, and it gets looser and more comedic over time, so I’m enjoying it.

Currently Reading:

For fun I’m reading Jala’s Mask by Mike and Rachel Grinti. It’s a fantasy set in an island kingdom (I think loosely based on coastal Africa maybe?) in which the heroine Jala quickly negotiates her marriage to a young king, then almost as quickly starts getting in trouble with his political allies, and then dark sorcery shows up. I’m not far into it yet, but it seems promising. For research, I’m reading Pandora’s Daughters by Eva Cantarella, which is trying, against all odds, to piece together the lives of ancient Greek and Roman women despite so little historical evidence. Again, not that far into it, but I’m enjoying it.

Currently Craving:

So there’s this store that’s nearish to where I live, but not near enough that I’d just casually swing by, and it sells the best cookies. They’re nothing fancy, just chocolate chip with peanuts, but they are so good. I’ve been flirting with the idea of making some of my own and hoping I can capture the magic.

If this interests you, consider yourself tagged!

[signalsandsoundwaves]

I know you didn't care for either KH2 or KH3, but if you were forced to choose one, which would it be?

Hmmm! Hm hm hm. Well, in all honesty, both have their bright points (I wrote out a whole litany here but took it out since I ramble a lot, but the gist of it was that KH3 has A+ graphics and they both have good gameplay, even if KH3 doesn’t present the challenge some might look for–I focus more on story, obvs, so challenges don’t really matter in my judgement of a game unless they’re nightmarishly hard)

In terms of story is where the forced-to-choose part gets a little easier. In this scenario, I’d have to say KH2 still wins out even with my personal grievances. Yes, vanilla KH2 gave Kairi visible underwear (!!!) but the Organization 13–particularly Xemnas–felt like actual sympathetic villains in the way that OG Xehanort never did. Even considering the games that came afterwards, including Days (with his professed true goal with creating a new KH for his own purposes) and KH3 w/ his death scene, Xemnas is an interesting villain. I’ve gotten the sense before that maybe he was just trying to create a KH to remake the worlds in his image because that was what OG Xehanort wanted, and Xemnas struggled with what he thought he was supposed to do and what a small part of him wanted to do–to have a Heart and feel something again. And finally he did, at the very end of his life.

KH2 is also the game where Sora stops feeling like such a hero, even if only somewhat. You see how he doesn’t hesitate to strike down foes if he’s told they’re not really people, even if they look like it. (Yeah, you get this sense when he’s up against certain human disney villains, like Clayton, but disney villains are in a weird gray area where the audience dehumanizes them too within the narrative; They’re not people, they’re The Bad Guys and they deserve whatever happens to them according to our moral sense of the universe and karma, but that’s an essay for another time) And CoM was really hardcore about this considering that Sora didn’t even know those guys were Nobodies yet (I’d like to point to the contrast in Sora’s reactions to Vexen’s death and Marluxia’s death)–but the novel shows that he and Riku were kind of melding memories a little bit, or seemed to, so that could just as well be a reflection on Riku. (and maybe he and Riku melded philosophies a little bit with Namine’s handiwork, you never know)

So not only with dehumanizing opponents, Sora also disregards their words of wisdom. This isn’t that much of a grievance comparatively, we all tend to not listen to people when we think they’re full of crap (and not without good reason at times) but a number of the conflicts might have been able to be avoided if Sora considered that even a broken clock could still be right twice a day.

TL;DR: To actually answer your question (sorry), KH2. Because it makes Xemnas (and the rest of Organization 13 that might not have been let in on OG Xehanort’s plans until they were forcibly included in KH3) into interesting villains and paints Sora in shades closer to something of an Antihero. Almost. But KH3′s story was just hot flanderized crap on a platter in comparison ���╭╮ಠ so I guess I’m biased in the first place since my feelings are still fresh from that.

[kyliafanfiction]

Ok nevermind I forgot to read thoroughly for a second before sending my reply, how embarrassing lol. I also believe that people should be allowed to write fiction (as long as it's respectful to some extent) about the gods and to worship them etc.

I just find it awfully disrespectful and uneducated to claim that we have no tie to our ancestors and our culture, especially as an outsider.

And regarding the question about ancient Egypt, your tags went over my head before, clearly.

Anyways, that's it from me

Well, you can disagree. No one said I get to the arbiter. I'm just allowed to have my opinions.

And yes, my opinions about who owns the distant past extend well beyond Ancient Greece and their religion. I think that the degree of ownership myself and my fellow Americans have over the Founders, for instance, lessens with every year, as we become less and less the people who they were, less and less the world they created. I have a great deal of respect for the Founding Fathers and what they accomplished, and a great deal of contempt for how they failed at what they aimed for, and the flaws they had besides.

In a century or so, I think it's likely that American Ownership of the Founders - in any sense - will plummet to virtually zero.

In this sense, I am an equal-opportunity offender.

That said, when it comes to Ancient Greece (and Greco-Roman culture more broadly) I especially think that it isn't localized to modern Greece because Greco-Roman Culture is part of the common heritage of Western Civilization.

Western Civilization is, in large part, the result of the shotgun wedding between Ancient Greco-Roman Civilization and Ancient Germanic Civilization. Modern Greece is unavoidably part of Western Civilization, rather than being some distinct remove from it - which means that it can't claim sole ownership over Ancient Greece, because it belongs to all of us (but if some dude in China wanted to play around with Greco-Roman civilization, he's can too, because again 'ownership' of the past isn't really a thing beyond a certain point, especially when the culture in question is now dead. it's different when the culture still exists - see modern Native American Tribes, for a textbook example).

I never said that modern Greece has no tie to Ancient Greece, I just said you were a different people. I have a tie to my father and grandfather, but I'm still not them. I can't claim real ownership over their lives and stories.

Modern Greece has a tie - it's the place Ancient Greece happened (well, Modern Greece, southern Italy and various points in Asia Minor, among others, but you take my meaning), but that doesn't give modern Greece - or any specific Greek person - exclusive ownership or even significantly proportioned ownership over Ancient Greek civilization, or some ability to dictate anything. You're not the same people they were. They're your ancestors, but they're not you.

Nobody really owns the past, and especially nobody owns dead cultures. Dead cultures are part of the common heritage of mankind. All of human culture is ultimately that common heritage.

You don't have to agree with me, but that's how I see it, and that's how I've always seen it. And it's certainly not uneducated. Just different.

If you don't agree with me, well - I mean, everyone's welcome to be wrong. It's a free internet, after all. ( :P )

[bakedbananners]

(This post was from a month ago but idc lol) I just found your post about Zoe Nightshade being Persian and thank you! You are one of the only people who has acknowledged that. She’s canonically Middle Eastern and people keep fan casting her with white actresses and it’s annoying. Everyone forgot that she’s Persian and it’s sad because she’s probably not gonna be actually played by an Iranian or Middle Eastern actress, but one could dream right?

I’m glad you brought this up because I did more (amateur) research on it and I meant to make a post about it. I’m explaining this stuff mostly as a correction/addendum to my earlier post and absolutely don’t mean this to be a drag or anything. It’s entirely meant to be educational. It’s a really interesting part of history to me :7

Link to original post I only said she was SWANA and I assumed she looked Arabic based off her description, just to be entirely clear lol

Zoë Nightshade would have been North African, not Persian or Middle Eastern or Arabic in the way that it’s described today as alluding to Iran, based on the history/geography of the Antiquity period. The Garden of Hesperides as described by Ancient Greeks was located in Lixus (now Larache), Morocco. It’s on the very tip near the Iberian Peninsula. She lived over 2,000 years ago, before Muslim and Roman conquest of the area. I believe it would have been under Phoenician control at the time, but since she is from the Garden itself it makes far more sense for her to be FROM the area and not Phoenician or from the Levant I guess. So I envision her as being Amazigh (aka “Berber” or “Moorish” but these aren’t very respectful terms despite being used constantly 😭) As you can see Iran/ Persia is very far away from Morocco lol.

Unfortunately there aren’t many artistic renditions of Imazighen people and photos are from French colonization of Morocco and onward 😢 but she would look something like this probably? (Actually I’d like to add that there are many current Imazighen artists on Twitter and suggest ppl browse through the “Artmazigh” tag bc everyone there’s very talented :3 )

I’m putting a disclaimer here: Yes, I know Percy says she looks like a “Persian princess” but that just leads me personally to believe Rick was just saying she looks vaguely SWANA, which Imazighen fall into as far as I know. A lot of art of the nymphs make them white, but Rick specifically didn’t do that with her. She has black hair and bronze skin, so I feel like he was at least aware she’s not European. Also, I am by no means an expert on history especially in Europe, Asia, and Africa. My timeline might be a bit confused because of everything happening during late BC-early AD lol. I’m also acknowledging here that I understand it might be a bit, idk weird? to place an Indigenous Amazigh character into a more Greek mythology context WRT being a nymph and hunter of Artemis. I am trying to tread with respect and caution 😭 I’d love to look into it more honestly because I just love history and anthropology lol.

But anyways she’s not Persian, she’s technically North African/Moroccan but she was alive before present Morocco ever existed (it was called Mauretania I believe? It was near Carthage). The Persian Achaemenid Empire stretched into North Africa but not to Morocco as far as I know. But I mean if you wanna make faceclaims with any SWANA actress including Iranian then go ahead I guess. idk. I agree that people in pjo fandom love whitewashing non-white characters and it’s incredibly infuriating! 😔

[whiteladyofithilien]

Thanks @sotwk

Favorite time of day: night time when the stars are out

favorite aesthetic: moss covered ruins especially of old churches

a color that describes you: violently intense fuschia pink but deeper than the usual neon shade

favorite quote: really all of the Cinderella film is quotable and it was so hard to narrow down which one I'd go with. It was either gonna be something from it or Tolkien

current obsession (show, movie, book, anything): ancient Rome but I'm double dipping here because I'm also binging the Chosen for like the third time so it's both. It was either this or a picture of Lee Pace looking like Pompey the Great because my era of obsession is late Republic into early Empire. Basically Pompey to Tiberius. The Roman empire is my Roman empire to the point I have a whole side blog for it @sextuscansextus

favorite texture: I could pet Shar Peis until my hand fell off I love the coarse velvety texture of their fur, French bulldogs have it too but I prefer big dog breeds

favorite outfit (or an outfit you wish you had in your closet): I have always wanted Cinderellas pink mice dress and I always will its the greatest dress in animation and I will throw hands with anyone who disses it

any world universe or place you see yourself living in: while I identify most with Men I would love to live in the trees at Caras Galadhon

favorite flower: purple pansies. I kinda have two favs because while roses are my namesake and can be put in arrangements and decorations pansies are my favorite flower to see just growing. They don't go well in bouquets but they brighten garden beds beyond anything else

Tagging:

@wings-of-indigo @cartoon-aragorn @justanotherzosofangirl my brain is mush right now so I literally cannot remember the username of any other mutuals so consider yourself tagged if you wanna be

Just remembered some people @eglerieth @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @mirkwood-hr-department @thranduilofsmirkwood @southfarthing @dagordagorath

tag game!

@hippodameia TYSM for tagging me!

key: favorite time of day, favorite aesthetic, a color that describes you, favorite quote, current obsession (show, movie, book, anything), favorite texture, favorite outfit (or an outfit you wish you had in your closet), any world universe or place you see yourself living in, favorite flower. original post

tagging: @sparetooth, @esta-elavaris, @sotwk, @dismalzelenka

[theoi-crow]

Why did you lose Ares, if you wouldn’t mind sharing? I had a similar experience with Artemis where I was very close to her as a child but ended our relationship because I was afraid she would judge me for being lesbian and not asexual. It’s okay if you don’t want to answer this ask, I know it’s a personal question

I'm really sorry that you went through that. If it helps every lesbian I've ever known (and I grew up in what is sometimes known as the LGBT center of the world so that's a LOT of lesbians) who worship Artemis have had a very deep and profound connection with her.

I don't mind answering this question but before I do I need to provide a little bit of context for this, so please get ready for the tea...

I grew up in a cult-like sector of Catholicism and the fear mongering and brainwashing were very extreme.

When I was 12, a friend of mine lent me a Wiccan book (I'm a millennial so this was the early 00s and it was the only witch book I had access to) The book claimed to be an introduction to witchcraft and in my efforts to leave my cult I was looking for spirituality elsewhere. I don't remember what the book was called but it had a really big encyclopedia of the different gods you could work with.

At this point I still thought Ares was an imaginary friend because that's what my mom called him when I first told her back when I was in kindergarten. I even considered myself lucky that my "imaginary friend" was still with me while everyone else's imaginary friends disappeared at earlier ages. Now, before I talk about the moment when found his name in the book I want to stress 2 things that lead to me breaking it off with Ares.

1.) I'm Asexual

When I was 12, I knew I was not romantically interested in anyone but because I was still talking about Ares, my mom and aunts started teasing me about him being my imaginary boyfriend. They made really gross comments which made it hard for me to continue interacting with Ares the way I always have. Their teasing was so bad that to this day I cannot read about people having a godspouse relationship with their gods without feeling triggered. (I understand it's a valid form of worship and I respect how people choose to worship the gods, I just filter the tags for it because I can't read their posts without remembering my mother and aunts asking me how many babies I would like to have with Ares, which also resulted in me never wanting kids.)

2. Ares kept me shield from anything ancient Greek or Roman:

He knew I was too young and brainwashed to think critically and I would take the negative information about him at face value which would make me push him away but I was in a very dangerous area and he was so essential to my survival. (I only knew about the Roman Christians in the Bible but I didn't know the pre-christian Romans had gods because of how the cult I grew up in changed the narrative. When the Bible talked about the Romans worshipping idols, my mom described idols as statues so my mind literally never thought of an idol being a god). Percy Jackson didn't come out until way later and Disney's Hercules severely flopped the first time it was released. Greek mythology was not as popular or as accessible as it is today. So at the time I had never heard of Ares or Mars because of how sheltered and ignorant the cult kept me.

Finally, when I opened the book I saw Jupiter, Venus, and Mercury which I had always assumed were just planets:

I was blown away by planets being referred to as gods so I turned to the page with Mars in it and there he was. The description checked out, he was even wearing the exact same Spartan uniform I had always seen him wear around me. At first I was very excited to realize he was a god but then my heart sank because the book read: "AVOID THIS GOD AT ALL COSTS!" I was 12 and at the time I didn't know a book about gods could be wrong so I, unfortunately, took it all at face value just like he said I would, despite him always being there for me and always taking care of me.

But the funniest part about the whole situation is that now looking back on it Ares never left… I told him I didn't want to see him again and he made it so I couldn't see him anymore.

Every trusted psychic I knew said that there was a really big spirit following me that refused to reveal himself to anyone. After that I became obsessed with a manga called Mars about a troubled teenager falling in love with an artist and I even ripped out the page with the main boy kissing the statue of Mars in it so I could keep it in my pocket and take it everywhere with me for protection.

This was the "Mars" page:

I guess I really missed him too.

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 120]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Feel free to send in asks about anything at any point, even if it’s not for the part of the story I’m currently on.

If you aren’t interested and don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.”

See the Folds in Time Universe Master Post for edited chapters. Not yet edited chapters are under the cut. I also have a playlist on youtube for this story.

I’m going to be working on this. I didn’t remember to bring my outline for this story when I went to another state. So... hopefully I don’t mess up as I go into the next part of the story lol.

Intermission Arc: Creased Hoodies (An Analogical Interlude)

Chapter 40 (Interrupted Summer Plans)

Patton was a fan of the summer months which was why he was a little unhappy that he’d be missing a good chunk of them. Though, he guessed, he didn’t so much miss them as misplace them. He had stopped by to tell Roman and Logan what had happened with getting trapped in pre-history with Janus and why he’d be missing for a good chunk of time over the next few months to make up for it. He was staying with his now technically younger roommates for a week or two to recuperate before hopping forward a bit. He’d duck in for his mom’s birthday and his grandpa’s yearly fishing trip (Though Patton was of the opinion that he did not really want to eat fresh fish for a least a little while yet.) but would mostly be skipping forward a whole two months.

He’d land in early August which was still summer, but he’d miss most of June and July, and that was sad, but at least apples would be fresh around that time. Plus, fall was his second favorite season anyway.

Yet, for now, he got to relax a little bit back in late May. Logan had finished poking and prodding him to make sure he wasn’t sick with any really bad ancient disease yesterday, so he was officially allowed to leave the apartment. Since it was Saturday, he and Roman had decided to go grab some stuff from the recently opened Farmers Market.

Roman had gotten bored with the vegetable shopping and had split off to go look at the arts and crafts (and, knowing him, probably pastries) that the market had to offer, leaving Patton to finish up getting fresh ingredients for the week. He may have also been grabbing a little bit extra so he could make frozen meals at some point this week. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Roman and Logan to feed themselves in his absence, (Okay, well, he did not trust Logan and Roman often got distracted.) but he did want to leave something nice for them while he was away. He knew he’d missed them while he’d been gone.

He wandered down the main path through the market. Most days this was a side street off Main, but on Saturdays in the summer, it was blocked off to cars and hosted a large number of stands selling different things, mostly produce. In a small park off to one side, there was a live band set up and down the way a bit there were food trucks selling prepared food to people who got peckish while wandering the stands. He mostly tried to stay away from those because they almost exclusively sold unhealthy and overpriced food.

But gosh was it good food.

And Logan wasn’t here to stop him…

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to go have a look at what they had this morning. He turned away from the vegetable stands he was supposed to be shopping at and walked towards the parking lot lined with food trucks. It was, as predicted, mostly food that was horribly bad for you. Most of the things there were sweets, though some had actual meal food such as walking tacos and grilled cheeses. One was even serving pancakes with fresh berries with a sign telling you where you could buy the same berries elsewhere in the market. Patton’s eyes though, went straight past anything most people would consider actual food and landed on small stand with the words “Fresh Donuts and Fried Oreos for Sale.”

Now, he knew for a fact that he could only eat one, maybe two if he stretched it, fried Oreos at a time before he got sick to his stomach. They were just so sweet and greasy, but they sold them in packs of three. Hmm…

He looked around. “Would you like one?” he asked an older man with hair just starting to grey who’d been walking between the stands.

The man stopped, seemingly surprised at being addressed. He blinked at him in surprise. “What?” he asked.

“A fried Oreo,” Patton explained. “I love them but eating more than two makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Just… don’t eat the last one,” the man suggested. He was shifting back and forth on his feet.

“You obviously don’t know me,” Patton said. “Anyway. Free fried Oreo?”

“I…uh… yeah, sure whatever.”

“Great!” Patton said, turning back to the employee waiting. “3 please!” They had already been dunked in hot oil while the employee had been waiting for Patton, so they were out within seconds, hot and fresh. Patton thanked her and turned towards the man. He grabbed a napkin to pick one of the Oreos out of the packet and handed it to him. “Here you go!”

“Thanks,” he said with an awkward half smile.

“No problem!” Patton replied.

“Well anyway, I’m really in the middle of something, so I ought to be going now.”

“Oh, okay, bye!” Patton said, but he was already gone. Patton shrugged and reached into his bag of fried Oreos as he started walking in the opposite direction from the one the man took towards the park and the live music there. He’d go take a quick walk around the little park listening to the music to maybe work off the Oreos he was eating and then go back to his shopping.

He was about halfway between the food trucks and the makeshift stage when there was a loud screeching sound which he at first attributed to mic feedback, until he felt a kind of swoopy feeling in his gut like after eating two corndogs before going on a rollercoaster even though Logan had told him not to. Someone was time traveling and not your gentle popping here or there safe time travel. No, something was wrong.

There were popping sounds like those little mini popping firecrackers that kids threw at each other’s feet on the Fourth of July. People near the stage jerked away with little startled shrieks, attributing the sounds to something going wrong with the equipment, but it wasn’t actually coming from the stage, not exactly.

It was coming from somewhere behind the stage. Patton made note of the fact that it was so close to the musical equipment almost as though whatever was happening was intentionally set up to make people think it was an electrical problem. He picked up his pace a bit, but not too much as he didn’t want anyone to notice him doing so.

By the time he made it there, the noises had stopped, and the feeling of wrong time travel had settled into an annoying hum. The people around and on the stage were starting to settle, though clearly the musicians were confused.

Patton was confused too. What was that? Was it over? Why did something still feel off? He couldn’t scan the area to check what was wrong. He hadn’t brought the timepiece to walk to the local farmer’s market. He usually didn’t wear it about his own time for fear carrying it around frivolously may lead to disaster. Pickpockets snatching time travel devices off of the unaware had caused enough undue trauma, thank you very much.

So, he had only his own eyes and ears to work with. Yet, despite his experience, he didn’t see anything particularly amiss. He kept his eyes out for an object that might have caused the disturbance or clothing that didn’t quite match the times, but he saw nothing.

After a few minutes of slipping his way through the crowds, he finally decided to give up for now. He’d go back to the apartment and tell Logan something had happened. He should be able to figure out something. He weaved his way out of the crowd of people and back onto the sidewalk that surrounded the little concert area. Yet, as he was about to turn away, he heard an unfamiliar voice call out to him.

“Pat!” it called, and Patton turned to look at a man speed walking towards him in an inconspicuous black hoody and blue jeans. “You’re Pat,” he said when he was closer, his tone somewhere between a statement and a question.

Patton tilted his head at the stranger with a frown. “Do you know me?”  he asked.

“Not really,” he replied, “but I remembered your face.”

“What?” Patton asked.

He raised an arm and let the hoody sleeve slip down just a touch. Patton could detect a bit of panic in his eyes, and he figured out why when a timepiece much like Janus’s but not quite as fancy was revealed. “It’s broken. Please help.”

 Chapter 41

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

This was fine. It was fine. This was fine. There weren’t any problems with this. Nope. No reason to panic. No reason to have a panic attack. Nope. That would be very unproductive. It’s fine.

It was just a little bit of turbulence. Yeah. He wasn’t even dead yet!

Did time devices have turbulence? He didn’t remember the classes he took to get his researcher’s travel license ever saying anything about it, but maybe he’d just forgotten.

Virgil would not have forgotten something like that, because he would have known he’d panic about it if it ever happened and would have wanted to mentally prep himself for the possibility. Time devices didn’t have turbulence.

The sounds of people talking filtered to him as though through a wall. He couldn’t make out the words, but just the cadence of slight panic and concern. There were yelps, but no prolonged screaming, so that was a good sign.

Wherever Virgil was right now was dark; he could tell even with his eyes still glued shut.

He should probably open his eyes.

He wasn’t a child. He was well aware the ‘If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist’ philosophy was not, in fact, valid. It didn’t matter that his mind was rebelling against his logic right now and insisting it was.

…

‘Virgil,’ he thought to himself. ‘Open your eyes.’

He took a deep breath. He needed to open his eyes because he knew himself, and the world he was making up in his head was probably a lot scarier than the one he was currently avoiding.

Opening his eyes honestly did very little, because it was almost completely dark, though he could see a bit of light near the ground a couple of feet away. The strip of light lit up a patch of short green grass that had been recently cut. It was at the earliest the 1900s then, maybe the late 1800s.

Well… guess he had no choice but to go towards the light…

He crawled over to where he saw the light coming from and reached out to touch the wall. It gave a bit under his hand: a tarp then, not a wall. He peered through the gap to look for any nearby feet or legs and upon not seeing any, pulled up the tarp and quickly rolled out from under it.

He glanced around himself quickly. There were people within sight, but he didn’t think any of them were looking his way to see him rolling out from underneath what looked to be a temporary stage of some sort. He was lucky he’d rolled out from under the back and not the front.

Cautiously, he got to his feet and moved away from the edge of the stage off towards a sidewalk. He hunched into his slightly grass stained and very wrinkled hoodie as much as he could. More people were milling around near the sidewalk, and he was relieved to see that his clothing fit in well enough. Maybe he’d been lucky, and he’d only been knocked off course spatially.

His destination was supposed to be New York 2005. He was supposed to land in the bedroom of an apartment he’d rented out for the summer. Yet, that was definitely not where he was.

Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he’d left the 4500s. There hadn’t been any alerts out that would have kept him from traveling. Most legal civilian time travel, what little of it there was, was almost ridiculously safe due to how regulated it was. Destinations were quadruple checked. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. Even Virgil hadn’t been more than slightly anxious when he’d been given the go ahead to push the button on the timepiece that was set to send him to 2005.

Everything had remained fine for half a second before it’d felt like he’d suddenly hit a brick wall and was tossed a few meters. The timepiece had sparked and shocked him as he’d landed on his back under the stage. A cursory glance at his wrist now confirmed what he’d already known; the display was black. There wasn’t even a warning message flashing on it. That was… not good.

He covered the device with his hoodie sleeve and walked closer to the crowds, eyes searching for clues about where and when he was exactly. It was summer and the conversations he could overhear were in early 21st century English mostly with American accents. That was good, though worryingly they seemed to be more Midwestern United States accents than New York accents.

Luckily for Virgil, plenty of people were using their cellphones, and identifying cellphones was one of Virgil’s specialties. Unluckily, many of them were iPhones. Virgil cursed to himself. Definitely not 2005. In fact, the latest model he could identify was an iPhone 9. So, it was 2017 or later. Judging by the large amount of people and the fact that it was summer, it was either 2017, 2018, or 2019.

So, he had a wallet with $200 cash in $20 bills, a New York driver’s license that had been expired for a decade, and a flip phone that was probably not supported by any current networks.

…

What the hell was he supposed to do? Would anyone even be able to find him in this time to rescue? God, he really did not want to be here for 2020.

Yet, just before he was about to tip over into an absolute freak out, he noticed a man making his way out of the crowd in front of the stage and onto the sidewalk Virgil was on. It took him a moment to realize where he recognized him from.

“Pat!” Virgil called as the man was about to turn and walk away. He did his best not to run full tilt at him as the man turned around at his name. Relief crashed over Virgil despite the clear confusion pinching at the brow of the man he’d just flagged down. “You’re Pat,” Virgil said, coming to a stop in front of him.

Technically, Pat was an enemy considering how closely Virgil worked with the TPI, but Virgil didn’t care about that right now. He had access to time travel.

“Do I know you?” he asked with a frown on his face.

Probably not, and the one ominous conversation Virgil had had with Pat a couple of weeks ago suddenly made a whole lot more sense. He’d have to thank him somehow once all of this was over. “Not really,” Virgil said. “I don’t even really know you, but I remembered your face.”

“…What?” he asked.

Virgil glanced around them to make sure no one was watching (though people from this time would probably just assume it was a smart watch) before pulling back his sleeve and showing him the timepiece on his wrist. Recognition flared immediately. “It’s broken. Please help,” he begged.

Pat nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “Come with me.” He turned to start walking towards the street and Virgil followed closely behind, feeling like he could finally breathe again. Beyond Pat giving him directions, they didn’t speak again until they were away from the dense crowd they’d been in. “So, what’s your name,” Pat asked once they were out of the farmer’s market.

“Virgil,” Virgil replied.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Virgil,” Pat said with a genuine smile. “Though I am sorry about the circumstances.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Virgil replied. “Er, thanks for helping me.”

“Of course,” Pat said. He tilted his head at Virgil. “Are you a time agent then?” he asked. There wasn’t any malice that Virgil could sense behind the question despite the fact that he knew his and Janus’s relationship was… something.

Still, he was glad he could truthfully say, “No, I’m a professor of anthropology. I was supposed to be on a research trip to 2005, but something happened.”

“They let anthropologists go on research trips to the past?” Pat asked curiously. Strange, Virgil would have thought he’d know that.

“Only certain ones with a lot of training and tests,” Virgil said.

“Interesting!” he said, turning a corner.

“Where are we going?” Virgil asked.

He hesitated subtlety enough that it could almost be ignored, but Virgil was nothing if not a paranoid bastard and noticed. “I have a contact that lives in this time period,” he said. “I’m taking you to his apartment. It’s not too far from here.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at him, taking note of the reusable bags half filled with vegetables from the Farmers Market they’d just been at, but he continued to let himself be led to an apartment building a few blocks away from the market.

He saw the man’s hand twitch towards his pocket before he seemed to think better of it, instead closing said hand into a fist to knock at the door.

The door was opened after only a few moments by a man wearing a dark blue long sleeved night shirt and fuzzy nebula patterned pajama pants. He looked like he’d probably only gotten up recently by the way his hair stuck up on one side and his eyes looked sleepy behind the glasses perched on his nose. He looked at Pat, seeming confused for a moment before opening his mouth to say something.

Pat cut him off before he was able to speak. “Hi, Dr. Hartnell,” Pat said pleasantly. “Good to see you again. May we come in?”

He blinked slowly at Pat and then looked at Virgil.

‘This man,’ Virgil thought, ‘is not a good liar.’ His face was unknown to Virgil, but he so clearly recognized Virgil that it was almost comical.

The man shoved his surprise away after a few moments. “Ah,” he said. “Hello, I’m…”

“Let me guess,” Virgil interrupted. “First name, William?” He just got a blink of surprise. “I studied pop culture from the 20th and 21st century. I know Doctor Who.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

He smiled slightly. “I am well aware,” he replied in a tone that was familiar even if his voice sounded slightly different in person than over voice chats. That in combination with the look on his face felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s nice to see you Professor Eran. Would you like to come in?”

  Chapter 42

“Would you… like some tea?” Logan asked once Virgil and Patton shuffled into the apartment.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Virgil replied, appearing to be nervous by the way his fingers were playing with his hoodie sleeve. It was interesting. His clothing was probably more in line with a standard 21st century adult than Logan or either of his roommates. Logan could imagine meeting him at a local grocery store: a tired college professor hoping that if he wore unprofessional clothing on the weekends maybe his students would not recognize him.

Thinking of unprofessional clothing. “I should probably go change,” he said suddenly flustered. “Pat-” and he barely kept himself from completing the name. “Could you put the kettle on?”

 Patton was giving him a suspicious look, but Logan chose to ignore it as he dashed out of the living room to his room to get dressed and brush his hair. By the time he’d returned, Patton had already managed to herd Virgil into a chair and put a plate with a cookie on it in front of him.

“So,” Logan said, feeling at least a bit more put together now that he’d had a minute to process. “May I ask what is going on?”

“I was going on that summer trip to 2005,” Virgil answered, “and my timepiece broke, but I ran into Pat and recognized him.”

 “Ah,” Logan said. “May I see it?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, taking it off of his wrist and handing it over.

Logan studied the watch like device for a few moments. He tried tapping the display and pushing different buttons, but the device didn’t respond.

“Can you fix it?” Virgil asked after he fiddled around with it for about a minute with no results.

“Hmm?” Logan asked, having gotten slightly distracted. “Oh. No, absolutely not.”

“What do you mean no?” Virgil asked.

“I have no idea how this is supposed to work. Perhaps I could eventually figure it out, but the technology involved in this is doubtlessly incredibly unfamiliar to me.”

 “B-but you’re time travelers, aren’t you? And you’re a tech person. You don’t know how to fix your own gear?”

“Oh,” Logan said. “I could fix Patton’s time piece with the use of one arm in a dark room with no tools, but that does not translate to being able to even turn this on. At least not outright. We’ve found it’s a completely different pedigree.”

Virgil looked at him, his brow pinched, and Logan realized belatedly that he might have already said too much. They had agreed as a group to not let people from the future know what century they were traveling from or that they had a completely differently developed form of time travel. It was likely to cause more problems than it was worth, especially considering the first interaction they’d had with the TPI, and Virgil did work with them.

 “Great,” Virgil muttered. “He can hack into a highly secured database with an iPhone 5 to rearrange my tv show files, but he can’t turn on a fancy watch.��

“It is a bit more than a fancy watch, Virgil,” Logan said with a frown.

“So…” Patton said. He had taken a seat and leaned his chin on his fist. “Do you two… know each other?”

“He is the person who plugged my device into his computer when Janus stole it from you,” Logan said.

“Mhmm?” Patton said with that lilt that said he thought Logan was leaving something out intentionally or not. He was correct of course in this case, but it still made Logan scowl at him.

 “So,” Patton continued. “Virgil Eran, as in Janus’s ex-roommate who burned down the apartment.”

“Oh, he fucking would!” Virgil seethed immediately. His eyes lit up in full blown anger which was a new expression on his face that Logan had not been privy to before now. “I did not burn down the apartment. If anything it was his fault! Towel with cooking oil my ass.”

“Well,” Patton said seemingly unconcerned with the outburst. “At least we have a general idea of when you’re from in case we can’t fix your timepiece and have to drop you off.”

Virgil’s face paled a bit. “Oh god, I would be in so much trouble for illegal time travel.”

Patton laughed. “To be fair. I’d be the one doing the ‘illegal’ time traveling. You’d just be a passenger.”

 “Ugh. I don’t know if they’ll see it that way,” Virgil groaned.

“Well, I can at least attempt to fix it,” Logan said.

Patton gave him a look, but it was Virgil who accused, “You just want to know how it works.” Patton was then giving Virgil a look and then after a few seconds he was looking at Logan once again even more skeptically.

“Yes, well,” Logan coughed. “It would be mutually beneficial.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure something caused him to crash,” Patton provided, “so we really ought to make sure we don’t get caught up in whatever that was if we do take him back I would rather not have another jungle adventure if I can help it.”

 “You think it was sabotage?” Logan asked.

“It was too convenient,” Patton replied. “He ended up near a music stage during a concert. The crowd just thought the noise the crash made was an issue with the equipment. That seems like a planned cover up for it.”

“Not to mention he happened to land in a time period where we are based,” Logan added. “That is suspicious as well.”

“I am not a spy!” Virgil interjected.

Logan quirked a lip. “I know, Virgil,” he said, and Patton was looking at him again.

“I would be way too anxious to be a spy.”

“I know, Virgil.”

 “Why would someone target me?” Virgil asked.

“Well, you do work with the TPI,” Logan pointed out. “In particular, Janus, who has been investigating some of the time distortions with unknown sources. We’ve been running into those as well.” He paused to think for a moment. “Perhaps we have a common enemy we are not aware of.”

Virgil groaned and put his head on the table. “But I don’t want to be all mixed up in time politics bullshit. I want to go to a Panic! at the Disco concert and observe the beginning of YouTube.”

Logan chuckled fondly. “Unfortunately, you seem to already be mixed up in it.”

 “This is the worst timeline.”

“You could have gotten stuck in pre-history for 2 months,” Patton pointed out.

“Did that happen to you?” Virgil asked, sounding a bit horrified.

“It’s why I’m tanner than usual,” Patton said as though Virgil knew how tan he normally was. “You can ask Janus whenever he gets back from it.”

“And I get back from this.”

“That too.”

‘Wait, so, Janus was stuck in pre-history?” Virgil asked.

Patton hummed. “I do have to thank you for dragging him to learn to make clay pots. It was very helpful.”

It was clear they were about to continue their conversation, but before they could, they were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening. “I’m back!” the voice of their third roommate called. “I know you said to get whole wheat bread, but you’re boring as hell, so I made the executive decision to buy Asiago cheese instead, and there was a buy one get one 50% off deal, so I bought 6.”

Roman wondered into the kitchen with his bags of far too many loafs of bread that Logan did not at all ask for (and likely some other bakery items that Logan also did not ask for). He paused in the entry way visibly confused as to why a stranger was sitting at their kitchen table. Virgil also appeared confused by his presence.

“Remus?” he asked.

Roman froze and his mouth popped open at the sound of his twin brother’s name and, in fact, Patton and Logan froze too.

Now, that out of all of the surprises of the day was the most unexpected.

 Chapter 43

Virgil wasn’t sure why everyone in the room was suddenly looking at him like he’d just revealed that he was alien in a human suit.

Pat was the first one who recovered from whatever had come over them all. “You know someone named Remus?” Pat asked. “Who looks like him.”

“Yes…” Virgil said. “Is he not Remus.”

Pat shook his head. “No. That’s Roman. Who has a twin brother named Remus.”

“Oh,” Virgil said with a frown. “I didn’t think Remus had any family.”

“Well,” Lo said. “That would make sense.”

The Remus lookalike, Roman apparently, who had been staring blankly at Virgil since he’d said Remus’s name finally closed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you in my kitchen? Where are you from? How do you know my brother?”

 To be completely honest, Virgil didn’t really like his tone. Or for that matter, his bread choices.

“This is Virgil Eran,” Lo answered for him. “He’s a professor of anthropology who was supposed to be on a research trip to 2005 from the future, but something went wrong with his timepiece and Patton brought him here so we could help.” Patton, huh? Lo turned to him. “However, I would also very much like to know how you know his brother.”

“Remus works for the TPI,” Virgil said. He looked at Patton. “I’m surprised you haven’t ran into him. He’s Janus’s partner.”

 Patton thought for a long moment. “Gr-green paint guy?” he asked.

“What?”

“There was a man with Janus in 2999 who was covered in green neon paint,” Patton said. “Could that have been him?”

“That honestly sounds like something he’d wear, yeah,” Virgil said.

“Huh.”

Virgil felt like he was missing something, so he turned to Lo. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Remus and Roman were separated a long time ago,” Lo replied. “We have been looking for him ever since.”

“Oh,” said Virgil.

“Since we were 8 in particular,” Roman said. He’d seemed to recover from his shock at least a bit (and it must, actually be quite the shock). He moved to put the sacks of bread on the counter.

 “I assume you can put us in contact with Remus once we sort out the current issues of getting you back to your time.”

Virgil eyed Roman who seemed to not quite have absorbed what was going on. “Sure,” he said. “It’d be easy enough. I’ll just send him an email.”

“An email?” Roman said, something funny in his tone. Virgil couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. He was pretty sure he didn’t understand the half of whatever was going on here.

Patton at least seemed to have some idea what to do because he stood up. “Hey, Ro,” he said. “Why don’t we go into the other room and talk?”

 Patton nudged him towards the door to the kitchen and Virgil looked at Lo once they were out of sight. “Do you want to…?” he asked.

“From experience I am aware that Pat is more adept at helping in these situations,” Lo said. “I will… take them tea when the water finishes boiling.”

“Ah,” said Virgil. “Also, you already let a Patton slip.”

Lo winced. “I did?” he asked, but then he sighed. “Well, we were already aware the TPI would eventually know our names anyway.”

Virgil tilted his head. “Do I get to know your name then?” he asked.

 Lo looked at him for a long moment and Virgil could swear he could see math equations in his eyes as he contemplated his response. He pressed his thumb to his lip briefly as he thought. “Logan,” he finally said.

“Well, it’s nice to actually meet you, Logan,” Virgil said, sticking out a hand.

“Likewise,” Logan replied, shaking his hand with a smile.

It fell silent then. It was a slightly awkward silence, but not enough to stress Virgil out too much. That, or he was just too emotionally exhausted from the last hour or so to register this new stressor.

 He spent the time trying to connect the stranger’s face in front of him to the person he knew fairly well through emails and a few phone calls. At least, the person he thought he knew fairly well, after all, there was a chance that he was completely different in person. He seemed relatively calm for the situation, though his brow was a bit pinched, and he’d tap the table with his fingertips every so often. Yet, for the most part he was still and steady unlike Virgil who couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting in his nervousness.

The water for the tea finished boiling finally, and Logan rose from the table.

 “You’d prefer peppermint over peach green tea or chamomile if I remember correctly,” Logan said. Was it strange for him to know that Virgil wondered? They had never exactly sat down and had a cup of tea together, but Virgil did know he’d mentioned drinking peppermint flavored things often enough. Was it weird that he remembered or sweet?

“Yeah,” Virgil confirmed.

Logan nodded and plopped a bag of peppermint tea into two of the mugs, a bag of peach into another, and chamomile into the third. He must know the tea preferences of his roommates as well. It was sweet, Virgil decided when he plopped the two peppermint teas down on the table and turned to grab the other two mugs. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

 He took the teas off through the door the other two had left through a few minutes before. Virgil could hear a brief mumbled conversation from down the hall and Logan returned without the teas.

“That going okay?” Virgil asked awkwardly.

“Roman is resilient to an idiotic degree much of the time,” Logan waved him off. “He’ll be perfectly fine given some time to absorb the new information and confront his feelings about it.”

“Can I ask what happened or is that invasive?”

Logan considered it as he took his seat. “They were separated by a dysfunctional timepiece as far as we can tell,” he answered. “Though Roman didn’t have the timepiece on him when he arrived.”

 “We’re not exactly sure what the conditions were that caused the issue. Roman was confused and 8, not to mention there was a language barrier where he landed. We’ve done our best to piece together what happened over the years and where his brother could have landed, but between not precisely knowing their time and place of origin nor knowing even the baseline conditions of the timepiece used to travel, let alone the corrupted ones, we haven’t gotten very far.” He paused. “Well, perhaps not ‘very far’ is not giving ourselves enough credit all things considered, but still, the goal of our project seemed out of reach.”

 “The goal of your project,” Virgil repeated. “As in the goal of your time agency?”

“Are we considered an agency?” he asked with an amused note to his tone.

Virgil shrugged. “Probably more like a band of time pirates,” he admitted, “but that’s what you guys have been trying to do?”

“Well,” Logan said. “I do have to admit we often get thrown off course by the TPI and Patton’s moral compass doesn’t allow him to leave a situation he stumbles upon when he is aware it could cause harm, but yes, that has been the driving force behind our actions.”

 That was honestly not the image Virgil had had of them, though to be fair, his information had been filtered through what Logan let slip in emails and Janus who was not an unbiased party. “I guess you’re almost done with that goal,” he said.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “We’ll start working on fixing your timepiece and figuring out what caused your crash, so we can get you home soon. For now, we’ll need to figure out sleeping arrangements and clothing as you’ll be staying here. I do hope you enjoy Asiago cheese bread.”

“I fucking hate it,” Virgil said. “Your roommate is the devil and I hate him on principle.”

Logan sighed, but ended up cracking a smile. “Then this will be interesting.”

 Chapter 44

Logan was woken up earlier than he would have liked the next morning by chaos in the kitchen. He’d stayed up late on his laptop running through various programs he’d designed to track time travel related metrics and synthesizing the data from the last 48 hours. At some point he didn’t remember, he’d fallen asleep on the couch since he’d given up his bed to Virgil. Of course, both of his roommates tended to rise with the sun and were incapable of being quiet ever, so Logan had gotten a maximum of 3 hours of sleep depending on when he’d actually fallen asleep.

 Logan glared at Patton as he shuffled into the kitchen to get a cup of tea, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to figure out the right flavor profile for making asiago cheese bread into French toast. Roman was hovering over him making loud, and likely inane suggestions while also vehemently defending his choices in bread. Patton was agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he said and adding his own ridiculous suggestions about how to make the French toast edible while blatantly not doing any of them. Logan pushed past Roman to get to the tea shelf without a word.

 “Oh no, he’s grumpy,” Roman said.

“I haven’t even said a word,” Logan replied, swatting him away as he began picking at Logan’s sweatshirt to remove a couple of fabric pills near the shoulder.

“Exactly,” Roman replied. “You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I did,” Logan replied.

“And for how long?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“You know, sleeping can be helpful.”

“So can keeping your mouth shut,” Logan grumbled back.

“I’ll have you know, people love when I talk. You’re just being a grouchy old man. Isn’t that right Patton?”

Patton hummed. “Yes, your voice is great, sweetie,” he replied.

“See,” Roman said. “Two against one.”

 “Two against two actually,” a voice even more tired sounding than Logan’s own spoke up from the door to the kitchen, “and since you’re the subject of the statement, your opinion doesn’t count.” Virgil was standing in the doorway looking as though he had never heard of the concept of mornings and did not like the information he was being given right now. He was leaning against the doorframe as though at any moment he might slump over and fall back asleep standing. The yellow bottom of the slightly too wide nightshirt Patton had given him the night before stuck out from beneath the black hoodie he’d came here in.

 Roman was sputtering immediately. “Excuse me?!” he squawked.

“My point exactly,” Virgil muttered.

“You’re rude!” Roman said. He turned to Patton. “Patton he’s being rude to me!”

“You woke me up,” was Virgil’s response.

“It’s seven am!”

Virgil glared at him.

Patton and Logan shared a look. Patton frowned scoldingly at Logan’s amused smirk as though he wasn’t also finding this argument amusing. “Well,” he interrupted the two’s staring match. “I’m making French toast for breakfast Virgil, but it’ll be a few minutes yet. I’m sure Logan has something to show you on his computer since he was working on stuff so late last night.”

 He didn’t actually have much to show anyone yet. It was all just numbers at the moment, but the look in Patton’s eyes said, ‘We’re separating the children.’ Logan half wanted to shrug him off and just see where it went because the look on Roman’s face was amusing, but then Logan looked at the tea bags in his hand, the disaster in the making that was the French toast, and the man tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“Of course,” Logan said, evenly. “We will just be in the living room.” He walked over and shoved Virgil gently through the door. “Go get dressed,” he said under his breath.

“Wha?” Virgil asked with a squint.

“We’re fleeing the morning people.”

 Virgil gave him a confused look.

“Unless you want to be forced to eat French toast made out of asiago cheese bread. We aren’t escaping it elsewise.”

Virgil’s expression darkened and he nodded, turning towards Logan’s bedroom. Logan had grabbed nightclothes and an outfit for the morning before Virgil had gone to bed the night before (not that he’d actually changed into the nightclothes). He grabbed the outfit and changed quickly in the bathroom. Virgil was already waiting in the living room when he finished. He’d changed into one of Logan’s own hoodies that Logan had offered him the day before as he rarely wore it and blue jeans from an unknown source (they had appeared in the laundry one day and everyone refused to claim them) that were just a touch too large and thus held up by a belt.

 Virgil raised an eyebrow at him without saying a word. Logan gestured with his head towards the front door, grabbing his keys and wallet off of the table near the entrance, careful not to let the keys hit each other and make noise.

He carefully unlocked and opened the door before gesturing for Virgil to go through. He went making less noise than Logan even thought was possible, but then again, his only experience with sneaking out of anywhere was with one or two of the loudest people that had ever existed.

“Where exactly are we going?” Virgil asked once the door was closed behind Logan.

 “We’re going to go get coffee,” Logan said.

“And we can’t just tell your roommates about that?” Virgil asked.

“I am not allowed anything more caffeinated than tea since the incident of 2011.”

“Do I want to know?” Virgil asked, lips quirked up into a half smile.

Logan hummed. “Did you notice the hamster cage in our apartment?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I was sleep deprived and accidently invented a device that turns things invisible,” Logan told him. “It’s temporary on plants and inanimate objects, but it’s seemingly permanent on animals or perhaps just rodents. We haven’t tested it on any other animals.”

 “What the actual hell, Lo?”

“To be fair, I thought I was making the rocks and flowers I’d tested it on time travel a few seconds.”

“How do you accidently invent an invisibility ray or whatever while trying to invent time travel?”

“It’s a spray, and I missed a negative sign.” Logan told him. They’d been walking side by side but needed to make a sharp left turn to get to their destination and Logan found himself grabbing Virgil’s upper arm in order to guide him.

“Uh,” Virgil said which is when Logan realized it might be odd for a practical stranger to grab someone like that. “Er, where is the coffee shop?”

  It’s just a couple of blocks north,” Logan answered, letting him go after he finished the turn and flashing him a small smile. Virgil smiled back. “It’s a smaller place, but gets fewer actual college students, not that it matters since it’s summer break for them.”

“So, do you frequently perform coffee acquiring heists?” Virgil asked.

“Sometimes I drink tea there,” Logan replied, “but yes. How else am I meant to get my work done?”

Virgil laughed. “That’s probably not healthy. I don’t disagree, but it’s probably not healthy.”

Logan found himself chuckling as well as he led him down the path to the shop.

 Chapter 45

Logan did end up ordering himself more caffeine than a man who was banded from caffeine probably should have, but honestly, who was Virgil to judge. They also ordered pastries to eat for breakfast which Virgil could already tell were way too sweet, but he wasn’t complaining.

Logan got a text from one of his roommates as they were waiting for their drinks to be finished. He probably didn’t notice the fond smile he sent the phone as he answered.

“I told them I’m showing you the town a bit,” he informed Virgil. “Which isn’t technically a lie.”

 “Not, technically, no,” Virgil replied. He took a bite of the cinnamon roll in front of him and grimaced slightly. “Your time has a thing for artificial sweeteners,” he said, keeping his voice down. They were in a far back corner and it wasn’t busy at this hour, so he didn’t see too much of an issue.

“Apologizes, would you like something else?” Logan asked.

Virgil waved him off. “I’ll acclimate. If I could get used to 1950s post war, society is getting used to instant gelatin, recipes during my post-doc, I can figure out how to stomach an overly sweet pastry or two.

 “You spent time in the 1950s?”

“Mmm, not my favorite, but seeing the direct results of World War II are important.”

“In the United States?”

“For a bit, but I hopped around a lot and also went to the 60s and 70s. I was basically tracing the evolution of different social issues in the wake of World War II for both the Axis and Allied Powers.”

“An interesting topic,” Logan replied. “I imagine even in the 21st century, I would not have perspective especially on different countries.”

“Oh, you definitely don’t,” Virgil confirmed.

“Perhaps I’ll take a look at your work sometime.”

 “Oh, uh,” Virgil said, and he really shouldn’t be flustered about that. He’s gone to conferences and presented his work before. “Yeah, if you want.”

The barista called their drink names then, and Logan got up to go grab them. Get it together, Virgil, he begged himself while shoving another piece of too sweet pastry into his mouth.

Logan set the coffees down on the table in front of them and Virgil took his with a closed mouth smile of thanks, while still chewing on his cinnamon roll.

“So,” Logan began. “More than just escaping the disaster breakfast my roommates had in mind, I would like to perhaps return to the location you arrived at and see if there is anything there physically that wasn’t picked up on my devices. Do you think you’ll be able to find the location if I get you in the general vicinity of the farmer’s market?”

 “I don’t always have the best memory,” Virgil said, “but I’ve had a deep-seated fear of being kidnapped since I was a small child, so I could probably lead you to the farmers market, let alone to where I came from.

“Ah.”

“My mom let me watch a horror movie when I was too young about a boy my age being kidnapped and taken out to the middle of the desert to be hunted like an animal, and he had no idea how to get back home. So, then I would spend any ride in any vehicle trying to memorize the path we took with my eyes closed.”

 “I see.”

“And I’m really oversharing for having met you in person less than 24 hours ago, aren’t I?”

Logan crinkled his eyebrows. “Are you?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Virgil said. “Traumatic childhood memories might be a bit much this soon.”

“I have never been the best at knowing social norms,” Logan said. “Would you like me to share a traumatic childhood memory with you, so we are even?”

“I…” Virgil said. “Can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I am a bit,” Logan said with a small smile, “but if it would make you feel more comfortable, I am willing. We might not have known each other in person for very long, but we aren’t exactly strangers.”

 And that was true. Lo had been emailing him for months at this point. They’d argued about the correct order to watch a television show in, they’d watched videos together with Lo logging onto his desktop (promising not to dive into his search history and private files), and Lo had somehow attended all of his publicly streamed lectures without getting caught by the university’s firewall. He’d even managed to make Virgil feel better when he’d had one of his bad days by ranting for hours about airplanes.

He hadn’t known Logan’s face for long, but they did know each other pretty well in spite of that.

“I got distracted on a fieldtrip once,” Logan said, and oops, Virgil had taken too long to say ‘you don’t have to be emotionally vulnerable in a coffee shop to make me feel better’ and now it was too late.

 “Somehow, despite the fact that my teacher really should have been taking attendance before allowing the bus to leave the orchard we were visiting, they managed to overlook my absence. I had no friends in the class, and I was so quiet at that age no one noticed me not being there. I couldn’t find my way back to the entrance or find any workers. No one was aware I was gone until my parents came to pick me up and no one could find me. My parents were very unhappy with the teacher once they managed to find me.”

 “That experience along with others in my formative years gave me a dislike of being ignored, which combined with my innate desire to have time alone has made friendships difficult to sustain.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, unsure how to respond. “Er, well, that sucks.”

“Luckily Patton is hyperempathetic and Roman cannot be removed from a person he deems his friend with a crowbar,” he said, “which helped me at a younger age. As an adult, I am aware of the issue and am able to work through it with logic most of the time.”

“What do you think about someone who is so anxious he can’t ignore anything, especially a person?”

 “I think that would be someone worth knowing,” Logan said. He paused. “Though I would not wish social anxiety onto a person to be clear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” said Virgil, amused.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes then. It was still a bit awkward but not completely uncomfortable.

Logan took a bite of his pastry and spoke once he’d swallowed it. “Tell me more about what your plans were with your research before they were disrupted,” he requested, breaking the silence. “Why 2005 in particular? What had you planned to do? How long were you going to stay?”

Virgil smiled and drank his coffee as he did a short rundown of what his plans had been before they were interrupted by time travel. Logan listened careful and even though it sucked that he’d been stranded in a time he hadn’t even meant to visit, he wasn’t all too upset about it for the moment.

 Chapter 46

Virgil was correct about his ability to find the location of the farmer’s market. After they ate and finished their coffee, they set out to investigate the location of the time anomaly. “I ended up under the stage,” Virgil informed him. The stage had already been taken down, but it was easy to see where it had once been based on the depressions on the ground.

Logan had brought a few of his tools when they had left that morning and he pulled out a modified iPad.

“You hide your time travel tech as an iPad?” Virgil asked curiously.

Logan glanced at him and said nothing.

 “…You made your time travel tech out of an iPad!” Virgil exclaimed.

“It is one of the most easily accessible technologies of this time that is also portable,” Logan shrugged. “I use what I can get.”

“How did you manage to invent time travel with 21st century technology?” Virgil asked.

“It took me a couple of decades,” Logan replied.

“It took them literal centuries.”

“Well, I knew it could happen, so I simply made it happen.”

“You’re terrifying,” Virgil stated.

Logan just hummed and set the iPad scrolling through its diagnostic programs. It scanned the area around them for anything that might indicate time travel.

 “Well,” Logan said. “There is definitely an anomaly, but we already knew that. It’s a strange one, however.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

“I’d assumed whatever had caused you to end up here had dragged you here, but what I’m finding doesn’t seem to be remnants of something to cause time travel. On the contrary, it seems to be similar readings to what stopped Janus time travel to stop working in previous circumstances. I don’t know a lot about the time travel technology from your time, but I have noted they tend to briefly ping off of times near to your destination in order to recalibrate when going a certain amount of time. Perhaps your device did a brief landing here at the wrong time and then was deactivated much like TPI devices have been deactivated beforehand and you got stuck.”

 “What does that mean for me?”

“Well, it means your device isn’t broken,” Logan said.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Virgil asked.

“Because,” Logan said. “whatever is deactivating it is still here.”

Virgil looked at his feet as though expecting to see the device sitting on the ground somewhere.

“Not here here,” Logan clarified, “but close by. They have a limited range from what I understand, though I don’t know precisely how far. It’s definitely in this time however. But it’s strange,” Logan tapped out a few things on his device, double checking that he hadn’t missed anything with his regular monitoring.

 “It’s not causing any other problems.” Logan continued. “We’ve only ran into them once or twice before and we’ve never managed to get our hands on one too actually study it, but each time we’ve seen them, they created some sort of issue in the environment, but there are no obvious time abnormalities or weather problems. In fact, if I wasn’t looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Okay, well then, can’t we just find it and shut it off?” Virgil asked. “That’s what I know Janus did when he ran into them.”

“It is,” Logan confirmed. “The only issue is without the obvious environmental clues I have no idea where it actually is to turn it off.”

 “How the hell do we find it then?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Logan said. “It definitely was here when it switched on, but it’s definitely not here anymore.” He looked around. “Perhaps it was attached to the stage or put in the musician’s instrument cases. Then again, by that logic, it could have been put in anyone’s bags or in a since emptied trashcan.”

“So, it could basically be anywhere?”

“Basically,” Logan agreed. “We will check the easiest possibilities to track down and if that produces no results, I’ll… figure out something.”

Virgil grimaced. “That sounds promising.”

“I will do my best,” Logan promised. “I just wish I knew more about these things.”

 Virgil seemed to hesitate. “How would you go about learning more about it?”

“Well,” Logan said, “if I can get my hands on a similar device, I could probably figure out a more reliable way to track it.”

“You do,” Virgil said.

“I do what?”

“You do have one.”

Logan frowned. “I assure you, I do not.”

“But you do,” Virgil said. “Eventually.”

“…Oh, I see.” Logan replied. “Do you perhaps know where we do eventually find it?”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “I think I might already be saying too much,” he said. “It’s stuff you shouldn’t know about yet in your personal future. People aren’t supposed to…”

 “Time is not nearly as sensitive as the TPI seems to believe,” Logan said with an eyeroll. “In fact, most of Janus and Patton’s interactions so far involve accidently giving more information than necessary.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’m a time traveler from the 21st century who lives with a French man from the 1800s,” Logan said. “I’m not asking for a run down of every part of the event, just a time and place to point us in the correct direction.”

Virgil still didn’t seem convinced.

“It would really only be a time saver,” Logan argued. “I could just blindly look for time distortions, but it’d take a while…”

 “Fine,” Virgil said after a moment. “This is probably entirely stupid, but fine. Give me a moment to think about what exactly I can tell you, so I don’t mess everything up.”

Logan smiled slightly at his overly cautious behavior but waited patiently.

“Janus met Pat once in Cuba. There was a time distortion during Camaguey Carnival of 1755. Pat took the device that had been causing the disturbance and left before Janus could catch him.”

“Camaguey 1755,” Logan repeated. “Got it. I’ll look into it, and we can see what we can do. It’ll still take a few days to prep however.”

 Logan would need to find exact coordinates and he’d have to talk to Patton considering he’d just recently gotten back from an unwillingly long trip to pre-history. He’d probably be willing to go, but he’d mentioned Logan making him a “time survival pack” before he was willing to go back into the timestream. They’d need to talk about what exactly that entailed and get the supplies for it. His mind was already making plans about what he needed to do.

Virgil nodded. “Should we head back to the apartment then?” he asked, interrupting Logan’s thoughts. Logan glanced at him. He had actually planned to show the man around a bit today instead of spending all of their time thinking about time travel.

 “I cannot be sure that my roommates will have cleaned up their French toast nonsense by now,” he said. “We should likely wait to return until at least the lunch hour. It is not as though we could do anything about it today. We will need to plan.”

“Okay,” said Virgil, “then what are we going to do for the next 3-4 hours?”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps I can show you around the town a bit more so as to not make more of a liar of myself than I already have.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed with a smile. “What will you be showing me.”

“I was thinking we could visit the local museum. We can compare notes about how wildly inaccurate the exhibits present history.”

Virgil rolled his eyes at Logan, but there was something warm underneath his expression. “Fine,” he said, “but I bet I know more than you.”

 Chapter 47

The museum was interesting, not because it taught him any more about the events behind the exhibits on display, but more that learning what people in the 21st century cared about and how they presented past events was an anthropological lesson in its own right. Their conversation became a game of not only finding the mistakes made in the exhibits, but also Virgil hypothesizing why those mistakes were made: prejudice, missing information, and unreliable secondary sources all contributed, and Virgil spent a lot of time talking through the possibilities.

They spent a few hours there before heading back to Logan’s apartment.

 Not without stopping at a small, hole in the wall, bar inhabited only by day drinkers. When Virgil gave Logan a weird look, he explained, “I have to bring back a peace offering for running off this morning if I want Patton to agree to a time travel mission for me.”

“…And Patton likes… vodka?” he guessed.

“No,” Logan replied, amused. “This establishment serves cheeseburgers which are apparently the ‘best in the city.’ They do not, however, cook anything else. Not even fries.”

When Logan handed him an unlabeled brown paper bag that looked as though it had been dipped in hot oil instead of just it’s contents, Virgil shot him a raised eyebrow. “Ah, yes,” he said, “the quintessential 21st century American meal.”

 “You once ate only bagged pepperoni meant for pizzas for breakfast for a week once.”

“I told you that in confidence,” Virgil said, smacking him lightly with the bag of grease.

“And I have told no one,” Logan responded. “Therefore, I have not violated any part of our agreement.”

“You’re making fun of me. That’s definitely a part of the agreement,” Virgil said.

“I don’t remember there being any clause like that in our verbal contract,” Logan replied with a slight smirk. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m not truly making fun of you. The decision to fuel your body solely with pepperoni is, while not the best strategy and one that would certainly prove detrimental in the long run, it is better to eat that then nothing.”

 “Oh,” Virgil said. “Uh, good.”

“I’m simply citing another example where not as healthy food in the long term can be good in the short term.”

“But in this case instead of depression eating to stay alive, the purpose is bribery.”

“Exactly,” Logan said. “Bribery to end the time distortion and get you back to the proper time.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

“You don’t have to eat any if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, no, I’m going to.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Logan asked amused.

“I just thought you should know your time has way too greasy food,” Virgil said.

 “Thank you for the information,” Logan said dryly. They’d made it back to the apartment by then, and Logan stuffed the bag he was carrying under his arm to unlock the door.

“And where have the two of you been?” Patton asked when they walked into the kitchen.

“I have cheeseburgers for you,” was how Logan answered.

Patton rolled his eyes as Logan set the bag down in front of him. He was sitting at the kitchen table typing on a laptop. “The French toast wasn’t that bad,” he said.

“I will take your word for it,” Logan said pleasantly.

 Patton just shook his head and reached into the bag for a cheeseburger. Logan kept looking at him, and that obviously meant something Virgil didn’t know, because Patton glanced up at him after eating a couple of bites. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“Virgil and I went back to where he arrived,” Logan said. “There are signs that one of the devices that cause time distortions is present.”

“There aren’t any weather disturbances though,” Patton pointed out.

“It seems to be a more advanced version,” Logan answered. “Which will make much more difficult to track.”

“Okay,” Patton said, “then what are we going to do?”

 “Well,” Logan said, “if we could get our hands on an older version, we could probably use it to narrow down the current one’s location.”

“And how exactly are we going to get an older version?” Patton asked, eyebrow raised.

“I understand that you have only been back from your last trip for a little over a week and that your last trip through time was a bit difficult, but,” he nodded towards Virgil, “we do know of the time and place one exists that you would have a good chance of being able to find, deactivate, and bring home.”

 Patton groaned. “And judging by the source of this information, steal off of the TPI.”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

“At least, in this case, you will go into it knowing there will be no major disasters.”

…

Should Virgil… say something. It’d be rude not to mention the whole time shredding almost drowning bullshit, wouldn’t it? Then again… giving him foreknowledge could be a danger to the timestream. He debated with himself whether general social courtesy should outrank the possible destruction of time or not.

…

Maybe he’d just suggest a boat if they didn’t plan to take one? Just in case?

 “Fine,” Patton said, “but you’re finishing your tech updates and making me a survival pack before I make any jump. I’m not making the same mistake again.”

Logan nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “Just tell me what you want in your survival pack.”

“I’ve already been working on a list,” Patton said. “I’ll email it to you.” He turned back to the computer he’d been working on and typed a few things. “You can add to it if you think of anything.”

Logan looked at his phone as it dinged. “…Do you really need all of this?”

“Yes,” Patton said, taking another bite of his cheeseburger.

“…I’ll do my best?”

“You’ll do it,” Patton returned.

“Right.”

“I’ll start researching Cuba in the 1700’s,” he said.

Virgil saw him pull up google on his computer. He looked at the 21st century computer and then back to Patton. He couldn’t help but think of the museum he and Logan had been to earlier that day. “Do you want help?”

 Chapter 48

It took a little over two weeks to get everything set up. Logan had already been in the process of updating their equipment for quite some time, and this situation only spurned him on. He also then had to figure out a way to meet all of Patton’s demands for his new survival kit. His list had already been quite long before he’d started to add to it. He’d even slipped in a request for a boat at some point despite Logan’s protests that Camaguey Cuba was nowhere near the sea.

Thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to mind the delays too much.

 In fact, he may have had a hand in the delays as his natural inclination towards anxiety seemed to infect Patton and cause him to add and add to his list of safeguards for Logan to make. He and Patton were spending a good amount of time together, actually. Patton was fairly good at researching the places he planned to go at this point, but Virgil was undeniably more experienced with that sort of thing considering he worked with the TPI. Patton seemed to appreciate his input.

Roman, on the other hand, decidedly did not. The two of them were prone to arguments about clothing which had gone beyond talking about Cuban clothing to arguments about clothing from pretty much all of time.

 Logan could not tell if they were friendly debates or not. He’d even asked Patton who had claimed he also could not tell. Neither Roman nor Virgil’s responses when asked directly about the nature of their relationship were helpful either. Logan did notice that Roman changed the fabric of the outfit he made for Patton after one of their conversations.

Virgil was not much help to Logan unless you counted the intel, he’d given that helped Logan choose the correct time and place. At least, not in the sense that he was able to help with the mathematics and physics Logan was dealing with.

 He was, however, good for company. Especially as his sleep schedule much more closely resembled Logan’s own in those weeks. Typically Roman and Patton went to sleep at a much earlier hour than he did himself and Logan would work alone in the living room, but with Virgil living in the apartment, there was constant companionship while he worked, and less volatile company than he was used to working with (assuming, of course, Roman had gone to sleep by that time). It was nice.

He seemed to fit into their little group in a way Logan had not anticipated. Or at least, socially he did. Physically, there were simply not enough beds and Logan had been sleeping on the couch for two weeks.

 Eventually, with all of their combined efforts, everything was ready to go. Patton had three different time appropriate outfits, a good amount of knowledge about the festivities he was about to attend, new time travel equipment, and a survival pack that could help him survive an apocalypse. Patton was planning to arrive in Cuba two days earlier than the TPI protocol would send agents like Janus. That way, he would have time to set up and get acclimated before the TPI sent in their surveillance and touchdown agents.

“This is cool,” Patton said, flexing his fingers to see the hidden screen on his palms light up with a map of the area.

 “It’s organized the same as your previous device, except for, of course, the control panel to control the cloaking technology and the access to the survival kit.

“Looks great, Lo,” Patton said, still fiddling with it. He changed it to its default state of a metal band projecting the screen and then back to the time appropriate bracelet Roman had designed. There weren’t many possibilities programed for hiding the device yet, but more could be designed in the future. For now, it only had the default band, the bracelet, and a wristwatch.

“I’ve already tested it a good number of times, but you should familiarize yourself with it anyway before leaving.”

 Patton nodded, flicked his fingers and disappeared for a moment before reappearing in the same place. Then, he did it again and reappeared directly next to where he’d been standing. He did similar things a few times before predictably getting bored and starting to do ‘tricks’ which mostly involved landing in ridiculous poses and also accidently jump scaring everyone in the apartment at least twice. Eventually, Logan confiscated it for the evening so they could have dinner in peace.

Patton went to bed early, planning on leaving the next day. Roman quickly retired to his room shortly after leaving Logan and Virgil alone in the living room.

 Despite knowing already his calculations were perfect, Logan still sat on the couch checking over them one more time just to make sure. Virgil sat on the floor with his back against the couch watching videos on Logan’s cell phone with headphones borrowed from Patton’s collection.

He glanced up when Logan shifted positions and Logan flashed him a smile.

Virgil removed the headphones to speak. “Thanks by the way,” he said, “I already said it to Patton and will again in the morning, but thanks for helping me out with all of this.”

“It wouldn’t have been particularly kind of us to leave you stranded,” Logan pointed out.

 “Yeah, but still, you’ve all been working really hard. Right now you’re up at 3am working on it.”

Logan shrugged. “I’d likely be up working at 3am on something anyway,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said, “but this time it’s for me so, yeah, thanks.”

“You’re welcome then,” Logan said. “Any time.”

Virgil tilted his head back to grin at him. “Was that a time travel pun.”

Logan scowled. “No.”

“It sounded like a time travel pun.”

“It was not intentional. I will never intentionally say a pun.”

“You’re telling me you live with Patton and never make puns?” Virgil asked.

 “I, unlike my roommates, am a responsible adult,” Logan insisted.

Virgil seemed skeptical. “Is that why you’re drinking forbidden coffee out of an orange juice carton at 3am.”

“Not so loud,” he hissed, leaning forward to put Virgil’s mouth and glancing back towards the hallway to see if anyone was about to come storming into the living room with another intervention.

His hand was bit.

“Ow!” Logan exclaimed, taking his hand back. “How do you know?” he hissed. The ruse had been working on Roman and Patton for years because neither liked orange juice.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I can smell it,” he said. “I’m not dumb.”

 “It’s worked on everyone else.”

“No,” Virgil said. “It’s worked on one dramatic idiot and one man who trusts people not to lie to him way too much. I, however, am a paranoid asshole with a doctorate. You can’t fool me.”

Logan couldn’t help but smiled. “I suppose I have met my match,” he said.

He tilted his head all the way back, so his skull rested on the couch cushion and he was staring straight up at Logan with his piercing hazel eyes. “Heck yeah you have,” Virgil said, and Logan was not much more sentimentality, especially not romantic sentimentality, but there was something about the shadows making the room seem cozier and the almost golden glint in his eyes from the lit lamp beside Logan that made it more difficult to breath.

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He was relaxed here in Logan’s apartment at 3 in the morning, looking up at him with warm eyes. He fit, slotting into place with an ease Logan had not expect. He’d found Professor Virgil Eran interesting from the moment he’d first heard him speak and had glanced through his university profile for information on whoever had plugged his virus into their computer. He had found him endearing when they’d corresponded through emails and occasionally one sided video chats. It was different with him right in front of Logan, within arm’s reach. He could reach down barely a few inches and brush his slightly unruly hair out of his eyes.

 “You good man?” Virgil asked.

“I am perfectly well,” Logan said, clearing his throat. He glanced away from Virgil. “I think perhaps my roommates have a bit of a point when it comes to caffeine.”

“Maybe at 3am,” Virgil said in good humor. “You’re not a college kid.”

Logan glanced at the college professor on his living room floor. “Well, thank goodness for that,” he mumbled

“I think your calculations are fine anyway,” Virgil said, gently taking the papers out of his grip. “Why don’t we do something else?”

“Like sleep?” Logan asked.

“You think you’ll be sleeping anytime soon?” Virgil inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Fair point.”

Virgil grabbed the television remote from side table. “Why don’t we watch a bit of that time inappropriate copy of the Epithet File I know you have.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. “You can come onto the couch if you would like.”

“Nah. You can come to the floor.”

“…Fine.”

 Chapter 49

Patton left in the morning and from there it was just a waiting game. Which, was Virgil’s least favorite type of game. He tried to keep his anxiety on the down low considering it was Logan and Roman’s lifelong friend who was running around some other century, and they were both obviously nervous as well, since the last trip had ended in disaster.

…

This trip was going to end in disaster a little bit too, but Virgil was going to ignore that. At least he wouldn’t be gone for months.

The point was, Roman was constantly going to the gym which was, reportedly not normal behavior and Logan spent his days re-checking calculations that were too late to correct and had worked considering Patton had been in contact occasionally.

 Yet, despite the fact that he was clearly an anxious wreck as well, Logan eventually forced himself to put his lined notebook paper away for a bit. Roman was out once again when he did so and Virgil was doom scrolling on his phone.

“We should go out to dinner,” he declared suddenly.

Virgil glanced at the pile of take-out containers stacked near the kitchen trashcan. “Sure,” he agreed.

Which was why Virgil was leaving the apartment for the first time in the last three or so days. Logan had asked him if he wanted anything in particular, but he didn’t care and also didn’t know what restaurants were around, so he was just letting Logan lead him wherever he wanted.

 He should not have trusted him.

He glared at Logan, but the man only seemed entertained by his ire. “Really?” Virgil asked.

“I wanted to see for myself if you were really that bad with chopsticks.”

“I’m not,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “It was just the anxiety about the social situation, and I resent this.”

Logan just laughed, knowing well enough that Virgil wasn’t actually irritated. Honestly, he felt fonder than anything that Logan had chosen to take him here. “It’s actually pretty good sushi.”

“21st century American Midwest sushi,” Virgil drawled. “I’m simply quivering with anticipation for that authenticity.”

 “It’s unanimously considered the best sushi in town by my friend group,” Logan said as if the fact that Mr. Asiago Cheese Bread For French Toast and Mr. Went Along With Cooking Asiago Cheese Bread French Toast approved of the restaurant would inspire any confidence in Virgil. If he could even call the place a ‘restaurant.’

“It’s. In. A. Mall.”

“So?” Logan asked.

“It’s a sushi stand in a mall. There isn’t even seating.”

“There is seating,” Logan argued nodding at the five chairs sitting in front of the counter. The seating was completely empty which could be because their eating schedule was off and they were eating dinner at 3pm, but more likely meant everyone else in the time had more sense than the man in front of him.

 “Where is your sense of adventure for trying new things?” Logan asked. “Are you not an anthropologist. Don’t you want to experience the culture of the time first hand.”

Virgil glared at him.

“Please try it,” Logan said sill amused. “It really is good.”

“If I get food poisoning, I’m blaming you,” he warned.

“Noted,” Logan said, inclining his head. Then, Virgil reluctantly allowed him to lead him over to the sushi stand from where they’d been hiding behind a trash can so as not to be in the direct line of sight of the man standing behind the counter.

 The man greeted them as they approached. He obviously recognized Logan and even asked about Patton and Roman as they took a seat. Virgil did have to admit, despite his instinctual misgivings about mall sushi, what he could glimpse of his set up seemed legit. It looked like a real sushi bar if a bit smaller than usual. Where they had sat, there was a glass case in front of them with chilled fish on display and Virgil could see a large rice cooker behind the man along with a normal refrigerator.

Laminated menus were handed to them. They were only one page front and back, but honestly that was probably a good thing. If it had a bunch of complicated or fancy stuff, Virgil might have been worried.

 Well, he was still worried, but he wasn’t running screaming. At least his setup looked like it probably wouldn’t give him too much food poisoning. Logan suggested a rainbow and a snake roll and they got some different types of nigiri.

The chef was nice, and he assembled the sushi fully in Virgil’s view which made him a whole lot less leery about the meal. He seemed to know what he was doing at least. Of course, the fish was not as fresh as it would have been in a coastal area, but it was clearly properly handled. When he was finished, he handed it to them all on one big plate.

 He had to admit, when correcting for ingredient availability, it was actually pretty good sushi. He would not say it was the best sushi he’d ever had, but it was worlds better than he’d expected. Logan could obviously tell what his opinion was and was overly smug about it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said when they were finished. “You’re good at picking restaurants.”

“I’m sure you are also when in a place you are familiar with.”

“I’m not actually,” Virgil said with a laugh. “I always panic choose the worst option.”

“Well, I tend to be quite decisive about such things,” Logan said. “I guess we make a good match.”

 “Yeah,” Virgil said. “Uh, what are we going to do when we get home? Because sitting there drowning in anxiety like we have been for the past couple of days isn’t the greatest.”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“You guys have Blockbuster still?”

“No,” Logan said. He paused. “We do have a Family Video store I think.”

“Is it close? Let’s go there.”

“And why are we not just using a streaming service?” Logan asked. “Or using my… library of movies.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s the charm of it,” he said.

“The charm of a business already made obsolete and on the brink of collapse?”

 “Exactly,” said Virgil with a smile.

“Very well,” Logan said. “If that is what you’d like to do I will look up its location on my phone.”

They were in a building that would look abandoned if there wasn’t a light on inside within 15 minutes. The video rental store had clearly seen better days. Its carpet’s pattern was clearly from another decade and had been trampled over so often it was basically like walking on the linoleum beneath. There was a door on the sign asking patrons to close it behind them because the spring used to close it had long since ceased working.

 There was only one person working, a guy in his 30s who glanced at them briefly and then went back to looking at his phone. Ah, yes, Virgil’s favorite type of employee.

“What movie would you like to watch?” Logan asked. He glanced at one small, but still surprisingly present section filled with DVDs.

“I don’t know,” Virgil said. “Isn’t that the point? Stop by a movie rental place on a Friday night, grab a more than likely crappy movie and some Milk Duds and proceed to sit and watch the stupid thing anyway because you already paid for it.”

 “Virgil, I grew up in the 90s. This isn’t exactly exciting for me. There is a reason streaming sites took over the market,” Logan replied. “Also, it is Tuesday.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just panic choose a movie with me, nerd.”

“I don’t ‘panic choose’ anything,” Logan said. “I-”

“You do today,” Virgil interrupted.

“I…”

“Choose a letter.”

“…S?”

“Great!” Virgil dragged him off in the direction of the movies that started with ‘S’.

 “This is just… gross,” Virgil said a little under an hour and a half later and about an hour into the film.”

“It is a random romantic comedy from 2002,” Logan responded. “What did you expect?”

 “Yeah, but there’s weird sex jokes and actors that are probably from Mars and then there’s actual on screen physical abuse between the romantic couple.”

“I will concede that point,” Logan said, “but I will remind that this could have all been avoided if you had allowed me to do proper investigation of the movie choices before renting it.”

“Ugh, yeah, yeah,” Vigil replied, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “Just turn it off.”

Logan complied, reaching over to eject the DVD from his computer. The three roommates didn’t actually have a DVD player connected to their TV, so they’d chosen to use the desktop computer in Logan’s room.

 Virgil was laying on Logan’s bed with Logan sat propped up against the headboard. Logan leaned over to peer down at him. “Thanks for helping distract me,” he said. “Despite the fact that we now know more about what we’re doing, I still get worried about sending Patton through time. His last time travel experience didn’t improve my confidence. I have been… rather nervous.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help, at least a little,” Virgil replied.

“You did,” Logan replied. “A lot.” His hand reached down to touch pat his shoulder, but then lingered there for a moment too long.

 Virgil sat up suddenly and Logan had to jerk back to keep their heads from colliding. “I…” Virgil choked out once he was sitting up. “Um…”

Logan’s mouth curled into a half smile. He offered a hand and Virgil took it.

Virgil glanced at the hand. “I, uh, I am an anthropologist.”

“I am aware,” Logan said with a raised eyebrow.

“And, uh, you were born in this time, so technically I’m studying you…”

“I’m a time traveler, Virgil,” he said amused. “I doubt I am a pure specimen for any studies you may be doing.”

“Right,” Virgil said. “That’s a good point. You’re right.”

70210

There was a pause. “So then,” Virgil said. “No moral quandaries. Just two people sharing a bed and watching a romance movie.”

“It was a bad one.”

“It really, really was,” Virgil said with a grin and then Logan was leaning forward and Virgil’s hand was on Logan’s shoulder.

And then the door was flinging open. “I’m home!” Roman declared as Virgil scrambled back, banging his head on the bed’s headboard.

“Fuck,” Virgil hissed.

“Roman! You need to knock!”

“Since when?” Roman asked, plopping down on Logan’s bed between them.

“Since we have a guest,” Logan said meaningfully. Virgil hid his reddening face in his hands, curling into as tight of a ball as he could.

“You were both in here, it’s not like one of you were naked,” Roman said flippantly. Virgil debated the merits of staying curled up in a ball for the rest of his life. There was a second of silence, and Virgil was glad he couldn’t see the expressions on their faces from his ball when Roman said, “Oh my god!”

 Chapter 50

The breakfast table was silent the next morning. Though if one could call it a breakfast table when Logan was only drinking a cup of tea, Roman was chewing on a slice of unbuttered, untoasted bread, and Virgil was still either asleep or avoiding them both in Logan’s bedroom was debatable.

“…Look,” Roman said.

“We aren’t talking about it.”

“How was I supposed to know the two of you were getting it on?! Put a sock on the door next time or something. It’s common courtesy!”

“We weren’t having sex,” Logan hissed. Roman opened his mouth. “Shut up and learn to knock,” Logan said, pointing his spoon at him threateningly.

 Yet, still, because it was Roman, the other man opened his mouth again. Luckily, before he could say anything else on the matter, there was a loud crack from the living room.

“I’m going to need a towel please!” Patton called.

“I’ve got it,” Roman said instantly, jumping to his feet, leaving Logan to walk to the living room.

“Why are you wet?” Logan asked immediately upon taking in the sight of his roommate. He was soaked, water dripping from his form like he’d just gotten out of a pool seconds before.

“There was an ocean in the church,” Patton said.

 “What?” Logan asked.

Patton pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. “The time distortions were a lot more intense than ones we’ve seen before,” he said. He held out a small innocuous appearing device whose only mechanism appeared to be a switch to him. “Be really careful with that. It’s unstable and we might have damaged it getting out.” Patton winced and removed his timepiece. “Actually, speaking of that. This might need a checkup too.”

“Were there issues with the tech?” Logan asked taking both devices in his hand.

“…No,” Patton said looking a bit sheepish. “We just… may have turned off all of the safety protocols.”

 “Patton I just made this for you!” Logan said, horrified.

“And you did a really good job!” was Patton’s reply, “but we didn’t really want to drown in a church.”

Logan took a slow breath. “I’ll make sure it wasn’t damaged,” he said.

“Thanks, Lo!”

Roman entered the living room then, bright blue towel in hand. “I have returned bearing gifts!” he declared.

“My hero,” Patton said with a laugh, taking the towel and using it to wipe off his face and then start to dry his hair.

“So, an ocean in a church?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded. “I’ll have to thank Virgil for suggesting the inflatable raft.”

 He paused as he finished running the towel through his hair and started to dab at his clothing. “I saw Remus,” he said.

Roman froze. “You did?”

“Uh huh,” Patton replied. “He was with Janus. I didn’t think I should say anything to him since that trip was way out of sync though, sorry.”

“Yeah, no, that make sense. That’s fine.” Roman hesitated. “How was he?”

“He seemed good,” Patton said. He flashed them a smile. “Happy. He’s quite the character actually. He and Janus seem like they’re good friends.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “That’s… that’s good.”

Patton’s face screwed up slightly. “He did flirt with me though, so that was weird.”

 “He what?!” Roman practically screeched.

“It wasn’t particularly innocent flirting either,” Patton said, grimacing.

Roman took a moment to think about it before pulling a face that one would expect to see on a small child trying a lemon for the first time. “That’s disgusting! That’s like… that’s like my brother flirting with my brother. Gross!”

“It was… it was weird,” Patton said.

“What did he even say?” Roman asked.

“Mostly it was comments on my…” he made a motion with his head that apparently Roman could interpret.

“He talked about your butt!”

“…Well, he didn’t exactly use that word.”

 “That sounds about like Remus,” Virgil said, poking his head into the hall.

“Oh, you’ve finally decided to join the land of the living, Emo?” Roman asked.

“Shut up,” both Logan and Virgil said at the same time.

Of course, he did not. “You know, Pat-pat, speaking of posteriors…”

“One more word out of you and I will actually kill you,” Virgil threatened.

“Um, what’s going on?” Patton asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Roman promised.

“You will not,” Logan said. “Keep your gossiping tendencies under control.”

“Okay, but now I want to know,” Patton said with a pout.

“You go take a shower,” Logan ordered.

 Patton shared a look with Roman that told Logan there was no way he wouldn’t have the whole story along with a good number of embellishments by the end of the night. Then he shrugged. “Yes, boss,” he said. Logan rolled his eyes as he turned towards the bathroom, the towel still on his shoulders. He was dry enough that he wasn’t dripping anymore, and he slipped off his waterlogged shoes and socks so he wouldn’t track water to the bathroom.

“Put that in the biohazard hamper,” Logan called after him.

“I know!” he called back.

“And you,” Logan said to Roman, “clean up all of the water he got on the carpet in the off chance there are any pathogens in it.”

 “Why do I have to do it?!”

“Because you’ve annoyed me,” Logan said, “and I need to insure these two devices do not explode.”

“Ugh, fiiiine,” Roman said, dipping back into the hall.

Virgil glanced over at him, the picture of awkwardness. “Uh,” he said. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Logan said.

“…Are those things really at risk of exploding right now?” he asked.

Logan glanced at him. “Technically they are always at least slightly at risk of exploding, but admittedly the chance is further from 0 than I would like it to be at this point.”

“Great,” Virgil said. “One more thing to be anxious about.”

 “You don’t need to be anxious about it, Virgil,” Logan said.

“Uh, I think I do need to be anxious about the maybe bomb in your hands.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Virgil said with a sigh.

“We are two mutually consenting adults. There isn’t any shame to it.”

“Can we please talk about our very embarrassingly interrupted kiss after you’ve dealt with the explosives?”

“Very well,” Logan said. He walked to the other side of the room to grab a statis chamber from a cabinet drawer.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked as the cube shaped device popped up.

 “It’s a stasis cube,” Logan said as he put the two devices in his hand into it and activated. “It will allow them to cool down completely from their earlier use in a safe environment. It will be less dangerous to work with them later.”

“If it just takes 5 seconds to deal with them, why are you making Roman clean up?” Virgil asked amused.

“Like I said,” Logan said. “He annoyed me. Speaking of,” he glanced into the hallway where Roman currently was. “How do you feel about leaving before he gets back to get coffee.”

Virgil smiled at him. “Sure,” he said. “Escape the apartment for coffee part two.”

 Chapter 51

It took a few days after Patton got home for Logan to first make sure the timepiece and the distortion device were not at a risk of exploding and then to study the distortion device.

“It’s similar to what little we’ve seen of TPI technology,” Logan had mused, sitting on the couch while studying the information he’d managed to get off of it. “It’s definitely derived from the same technology unlike my time travel device, but it looks a bit different, and this version at least is rather shoddily made. Of course, creating disorder and almost ripping apart time is easier than seamlessly moving through it.”

 “So, they’re probably from my time then?” Virgil asked.

“Most likely,” Logan agreed. “Though it could always be a Remus situation where they were from another time originally but accidently ended up in the TPI time. Either way, the origin of their purposeful time travel was certainly around your time.”

Virgil glanced at the device he’d set on the table in front of them all. It looked innocent sitting there, but it had the power to destroy so much, and they didn’t even know why. “Do you think whoever made this trapped me here on purpose?” Virgil asked.

“It would be a big coincidence if you in particular got trapped in this time in particular,” Roman said.

 “I was thinking the same thing actually,” Logan said. “You do work with the TPI and with Janus, a time agent who both often is caught in the middle of devices similar to this being used and who runs into Patton frequently. Plus you know Remus, Roman’s brother even if we didn’t know that connection before you were trapped here and we already had a correspondence before you landed here. It would be strange for you to have ended up here on accident.”

“But why?” Virgil asked. “I am somehow connected to all of you, but I’m still not a time agent myself.”

 “All I am to the TPI is a walking history book. I’m not actually involved.”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps someone knows something we don’t.”

“Or maybe it’s just a happy accident!” Patton said. Virgil highly doubted that and it made anxiety churn in his gut.

“Well,” Logan said, “accident or not, we do now have a solution to the issue. I’ve managed to use this device to recalibrate my calculations and we’ve gotten a ping. I know where the signal blocking Virgil’s time device is coming from.”

“Where?” Roman asked.

“It looks like a local trash dump,” Logan replied. “It must have just ended up in a trashcan that day and was emptied before we checked.”

 “Well, that should be easy enough to get,” Patton said. “Give Roman and I the exact coordinates and we can go and get it now.”

“Wait, why are we the only ones who have to dig through a garbage dump?” Roman asked.

Patton gave him a look.

“Oh,” Roman said, eyes lighting up. “Oh right!” Then, he scowled remembering he was going to be going through a garbage dump. “Fine,” he sighed.

“Think of it as an adventure!” Patton said.

“We’re time travelers. We have so many more exciting adventuring opportunities than dumpster diving, Pat-Pat,” he whined, but he still got up. “I’ll go get changed.”

 Patton stood up and handed Logan his phone, so Logan could program the location of the distortion device into it while he changed as well. “We’ll text you when we’re heading back! I’ll give you a 15- and 5-minute warning,” Patton said with a wink. Virgil immediately hid his face in his hands.

“Do you think the TPI is hiring?” Logan asked as the door closed. “I’d love to move to a different century without those two.”

“Time agents don’t usually live in 4500s,” Virgil said, face still hidden behind his hands. “They’d probably still place you in this century, especially since you’re comfortable here.”

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

 “Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

He felt Logan shift on the couch next to him and a warm palm touched his wrist, gently tugging his hand away from his face in a way that Virgil could resist if he really wanted. Virgil let the hand fall with a sigh. Logan smiled at him when he could see his face and Virgil smiled back despite how he could still feel heat in his cheeks.

“You will be going home this evening, I’d imagine,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed softly.

“I would like to give you a gift before you go, if you’ll allow it.”

 “Uh, okay,” Virgil agreed.

Logan nodded and leaned back to grab something out of the pocket of a jacket that was currently hanging over the side of the couch. “Ah,” he said when he found whatever he was looking for. He glanced at Virgil. “It is a ring, by the way, but this is not a proposal.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not,” said Virgil dryly. “An impulse elopement would be a little off brand for us both.”

Logan smiled at him. “Very true,” he agreed. Then, he opened his palm revealing a small ring.

“So, then, what is it?” Virgil asked.

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“It is an emergency time travel device,” Logan explained. “It’s not particularly complex. It can only take you here to this room between 2 weeks and one year from now, but if you ever need something from me, you can use it.”

He offered the ring and Virgil opened his palm to let him put it in his hand. He studied the ring for a moment. It was a rose gold and very light.

“It also has some security measures,” Logan said. “It wouldn’t do to make an emergency time travel device that someone else might easily try to take from you. It’ll disappear when you put it on. You’ll still be able to feel it and take it off whenever you wish. It’ll become visible again if you take it off.”

 “An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, curious.

“Yes,” Logan said with a smile. “It is designed to store your space time coordinates for up to 48 hours just so you’re aware, but as I said you can take it off whenever you wish and… I won’t use it against you.”

Virgil looked at him. “Okay,” he said. “Can I put it on?” Logan nodded, and Virgil slipped it on his finger. As promised it disappeared from view as soon as he did. He could still feel the weight of it on his finger though.

“You turn it three times counterclockwise to activate it,” Logan said, making Virgil look up from the seemingly empty space on his finger he’d been staring at.

  “It would drop you right about where you are sitting.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said. It wasn’t nearly enough to say how much he appreciated the gift, but he hoped his tone said enough.

“Don’t use it against me?” Logan asked with a half-smile, and Virgil realized just how much trust was being put onto him by giving him a device that was directly linked to their base of operations despite knowing Virgil worked with the TPI.

Virgil shook his head. “I won’t,” he said. Deciding to throw out his nervousness and embarrassment over last time he shot forward to kiss Logan quickly on the lips. They bumped noses and Logan’s glasses ended up askew in the process, but Logan didn’t seem to mind judging by his delighted laugh when they parted.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again.

“Of course,” Logan replied.

 Virgil could still feel the ring on his finger even after Patton and Roman got back from the dump with the device that had caused this whole mess. He could still feel it when Logan turned it off and his time piece reactivated. He could still feel it there when he made it home and gave an excuse as to why he’d left his trip early. He could still feel it when he got an email from an unknown sender making sure he got home okay.

  Arc IV: (To Be Named)

Chapter 52

“What’s this?” Janus asked when a giant bowl was set on the coffee table in front of him.

“We’re eating on the couch tonight,” Emile said cheerfully.

Janus raised an eyebrow and switched off the tablet he’d been using to look at him. “Why?” he asked.

Emile shrugged and set a second huge bowl down next to Janus’s. “For fun,” Emile said. He turned back towards the kitchen and Janus leaned forward to look in the bowl. It was spaghetti with some sort of creamy sauce and a few different vegetables mixed in along with some shrimp.

“I made green tea,” Emile said, coming back into the room with two mugs.

 “Thanks,” Janus said, taking one of the mugs with a small smile.

“What were you doing?” Emile asked as he took a seat beside Janus. He nodded at the deactivated screen now sitting on the end table.

“Just doing some puzzle games,” Janus said.

“That sounds fun,” Emile said with a smile.

“Head doctor said they might be a good thing to do to pass the time when I told him to fuck off after suggesting reading.”

Emile sighed. “Dr. Figueroa is my colleague. You could try to be polite.”

“I thought I was supposed to be my authentic self in therapy,” Janus replied.

 Emile just huffed and rolled his eyes. Janus couldn’t help but smile as he picked up his mug of green tea.

The last few months had been…different. In a lot of ways, Janus’s life had become harder than it had been before. It had been easy to do nothing but eat pre-prepared meals, go to work, and pass out in his empty house every day. It wasn’t good for him. He’d known it even then, but it had been easy. This was not.

Emile had offered, insisted really, that Janus move into his house for a bit just to get back on his feet.

 He’d taken time off of the TPI which would have been given to him anyway since he’d spent so trapped in the past. He’d had to give a report of what had happened, and he’d mentioned Patton, but he hadn’t mentioned everything. They’d offered him a shrink when he’d asked.

Janus had told Emile he needed to tell him something about why he’d been distant, so he wouldn’t end up chickening out, but he’d asked for a bit of time to figure out what to say. He’d finally worked up the courage to talk about it with Dr. Figueroa two weeks ago. Much like with Patton, it was easier to talk to someone who hadn’t been involved in Janus’s mistake, but it still wasn’t easy.

 He was running up on the deadline he’d given for having that talk with him. It had to happen soon, and they both knew it, but Emile was just patiently waiting for him to suck it up. It felt… wrong to use his kindness without him knowing, but it was also nice to get to spend time with his brother. He didn’t even dare to hope that he’d still have the chance once he told him.

He was moving back into his own house in less than a week. He’d tell him then so if Emile ended up kicking him out of his life, he wouldn’t have to kick him out of his home too.

 For now, though everything was fine. Harder, more complicated, and in threat of exploding at any moment, but fine. Fine wasn’t something he’d really felt in a long time. Or at least, fine while in his own time wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time. There’d been a few moments with Patton sitting next to the fire outside the hole in the ground they’d slept in for those few months where the man would turn to look at him and he’d felt fine. Yet, Patton had been right. Those moments were unsustainable with how Janus was actually feeling deep down.

 “This is good,” Janus said, after taking a couple of bites of the pasta in front of him.

“Well, I always was the only one in the house that could cook,” Emile said, and that was true. “It was either learn to defend for myself or eat a cheeseburger for every meal.”

“Hey, I had a good burger seasoning.”

“Not for every meal, Janus.”

“Meat, dairy, bread. What more could you want?”

“Vegetables, Janus.”

“You could have put pickles on!”

“I don’t like pickles.”

“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” Janus argued.

Emile shook his head, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “How have you been surviving on your own?”

 “Well, I mean,” Janus said. “Badly.”

“Right…” Emile said. He leaned over to bump their shoulders together. Janus flashed him a smile.

“Speaking of,” said Janus. “Could you physically force me to pack tonight? I meant to do it today and instead I ended up playing puzzles games.”

Emile chucked. “Sure, I’ll help you after dinner.”

“You don’t have to help me,” said Janus. “Just make me do it.”

“Maybe I want to help,” said Emile.

“Oh, yes, packing. The most entertaining of Thursday night activities.”

Emile hummed and then glanced at him. “Remember when you helped me pack for college?” he asked.

 “Mmm, I do,” Janus replied.

“I was so stressed about going somewhere new,” Emile said, “that I avoided packing for weeks. Every time Mom would ask me how packing was going, I’d tell her it was going fine but in reality, I hadn’t even started. You’d come home two days before I had to leave because you were going to help me move into my dorm. It’s like you could sense no packing had been done the moment you stepped through the front door.”

“You were doing your ‘hiding the broken horse statue from mom’ shuffle,” Janus said with a smirk.

 “Well, you walked me straight to my room and we packed everything up in those two days,” Emile said. “You made it so much easier.”

“Yeah, because I hovered over you until you did it and did half of it for you,” Janus snorted.

“It wasn’t just that,” Emile said. “You also found the music streaming station run by the university and put that on and talked about what your freshman year was like. You also had tips on what things I should and shouldn’t pack when moving into the dorm.”

“You still took all of the cartoon stuffed animals despite my advice.”

 “I thought there’d be more space on the bed,” Emile frowned.

Janus snorted.

“But anyway, just having someone else around made me happier. It wasn’t just about the workload being halved either. You being there made me feel less lonely and reminded me I’d always have someone to come back to.”

Janus internally winced. He was sure Emile hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty in any way. In fact, he probably was trying to do the opposite, but him saying that just reminded Janus that it hadn’t been true. Janus had abandoned him for literal years and hadn’t been someone he could always come back to.

 Emile had proven himself to be at least close to who he was before Janus messed with time the few last months. There were a couple of differences here and there, and Janus could not be sure if they were from him changing time or from him avoiding his brother for the past three years and him naturally changing. Most memories they shared that Janus cautiously brought up or Emile mentioned on his own were consistent with what Janus remembered, but he hadn’t pushed too hard or dug too deep. It just made him feel more guilty about avoiding the man for so long.

 It made him want to ignore the man more, because it seemed every choice Janus ever made only hurt him.

…

Well, perhaps not the college radio station when helping an anxious 18-year-old pack up his childhood bedroom.

He should probably tell Emile that his words made him feel guilty because that was obviously not the intention and he’d want to know. He should probably apologize properly for leaving him alone for three years without an explanation. He should probably provide an explanation for those three years.

He should probably go see the head doctor again soon.

(He should probably stop calling Emile’s colleague who was in the same field as him a head doctor derogatorily in his head.)

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For now, he just glanced at Emile. “You’re trying to bully me into letting you help pack with logic, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Emile confirmed without remorse.

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “but only if you let me do the dishes for you.”

Emile took a long moment to consider the offer. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said, “but okay.”

“And no doing anything sneaky like getting bags ready for me on your own while I’m doing it or the deal is off,” Janus said.

“You always think of all possible loopholes, Janus,” Emile sighed.

There was a long silence.

“Agree, you prick,” said Janus.

“No promises,” Emile replied cheekily with laughter in his eyes, and things were good for a moment more.

 Chapter 53

Today Janus was moving into his house in 24th century for the second time in his life, and honestly, the house wasn’t going to look much different than it had when he’d first moved in. Janus had unpacked his things more at Emile’s house in the past almost 6 months than he had in the two and a half years he’d liven in his house. His house held clothes, bare bone furniture, and exactly one skillet from when he’d decided to be daring and tried to cook himself an egg. All he’d really customized for himself was the setting on the LXC device which controlled the lights, media across the home, and prepackaged food ordering and prepare.

 He almost felt embarrassed that his house was so empty. Emile, of course, knew that his mental health had been fucked, but the blankness of his house was a physical reminder of this fact especially considering how he used to keep house before all of this. He’d warned Emile about the fact that his house was empty, and he had said he understood, but still.

They gathered all of the luggage in a pile in Emile’s guest room. They’d had to get permissions from the TPI to allow Emile to travel to his house, and Janus went ahead and filed to give him permanent permission to travel there.

 The decision felt far too hopeful for someone who hadn’t had that conversation with his brother yet, but it had made Emile smile in the moment.

Emile took three of the bags and Janus took the rest. He waved his arm and selected the third saved location on the device. In a moment, he was standing in the living room of his dark, empty house.

…

His supposed to be dark and empty house. More of the lights were on than Janus had ever switched on himself, and half of the windows were open. (He didn’t even know some of those windows opened.)

 They were letting in the sounds of birds that made the lakeside their home as well as cool late fall breeze. There was also a racket coming from the kitchen. Emile was beside him a second after he himself had appeared. He looked around for a moment. “Did you leave it like this?”

“No,” Janus replied.

“Do you have squatters?” He had a security system from 2 millennia in the future on his house. He highly doubted it.

“I’m going to go check the kitchen,” Janus said, moving towards the noises coming from the other room.

He stopped in the doorway to his kitchen only to see Patton standing at his kitchen counter cutting up a carrot on a cutting board Janus didn’t think he owned, and if he did, it was buried in a box somewhere.

 “What are you doing?” Janus asked.

“Cooking!” was the immediate reply.

“In my house?” Janus asked. “How do you even know where my house is?”

“I may be just a little bit ahead of you,” Patton said with a wink while tapping the side of his nose.

Janus sputtered. “This is my house!”

“I know!” He said it so cheerfully while being a purposefully obtuse asshole that Janus could help but crack a smile and shake his head. He’d missed him after spending so long alone with him though he wasn’t go to admit that to him when he’d broken into Janus’s house to…

“Again, what are you doing?”

 “I’m making you soup.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

“Well,” Patton said. “I know it’s a bit of a rough time for you, so I thought I’d give you a nice welcome home present and what better present than food!” He smiled at him widely.

Janus looked closer at what he was making. “You’re trying to prove to me you can cook.” Patton frowned at him. “Have you considered I have had enough fish stew for a lifetime?”

“Nope!” he said. “It’s entirely different this time anyway. I have carrots!”

“I don’t like carrots,” Janus lied blandly.

“Liar!” Patton declared.

“No, I’m not,” Janus continued to lie.

 “I mean, that was definitely a lie,” Emile interjected from behind Janus. He was looking at them curiously. “Er, hello, who are you?”

“This is Pat,” Janus said.

“The illegal time traveler you’ve been tracking?” Emile asked with a questioning lilt to his tone.

“Ah, yes, well,” Janus said with a cough. “We came to an understanding when stuck in pre-history.”

“And now he is cooking you soup in your house?” Emile asked.

“I’ve long since stopped trying to make sense of him,” Janus grumbled.

“Well,” Emile said. “Hello Pat.”

“You can call me Patton,” he said easily. “I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you.”

 “We haven’t been meeting in the correct order,” Janus informed Emile. “So, he’s apparently already met you which will happen in your future. It is also something he shouldn’t be talking about,” he scolded. Patton took that with a shrug.

“I hate time travel,” Emile said, his nose scrunching up. “Isn’t life already confusing enough.”

Janus winced, not relishing the upcoming conversation with him about how confusing his life was now because of time travel.

“Don’t you work with the TPI too?” Patton asked.

“That doesn’t mean I like time travel,” Emile said. “I’m a stationary agent and I like that just fine.”

 “Time travel can be a bit complicated sometimes,” Patton acknowledged, “but I don’t think it’s all bad.” He finished chopping up the carrot and turned to put it in the self-regulating soup pot. Janus squinted at it. It was certainly not something Patton had in the 21st century. So, the question was. Had he gone out and bought time appropriate cookware before breaking into Janus’s house or had he gone through Janus’s storage to find it?

“You’re a free agent time traveler, right?” Emile asked.

“Depends on what you mean by free agent,” Patton said. “I have always worked with a group of people, and we have rules and procedures. It’s basically a time agency itself, just not the TPI.”

 “And you’ve met me before?”

“I have,” Patton confirmed, “but Janus is right in that I can’t say much more than that about it. In fact,” he said wiping off his hands on a towel hanging from his apron. (The apron was covered in cartoon squirrels and totted the phrase ‘I’m a nut for baking.’) “I should probably be getting out of here.”

“You’ve never been worried about us meeting out of order before,” Janus pointed out with a frown. He didn’t particularly want Patton to go even though the man had broken into his house and possibly went through his boxes of kitchen equipment.

 “Well,” Patton said. “There’s meeting wildly out of order, there’s meeting in order, and then there’s what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?” Janus asked alarmed.

Patton just shrugged with a smile.

“No, Patton, what are you doing?”

“Soup should be done in about an hour, but you can leave it on all day. I got a pot that’s fridge safe, so just shut it off and stick it in there before going to sleep.”

“Patton.”

“See you later! Bye!” He said and disappeared into thin air.

Janus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his brow. “Why is he like this?”

 “Janus,” Emile asked. “Why did your self-declared mortal enemy make you soup?”

“Because he’s an asshole, that’s why.”

“Uh huh,” Emile said, looking at him oddly.

“What?” Janus asked.

“What exactly happened when you were stuck in the past?” Emile asked.

Janus sighed. “A lot happened. A lot.” He glanced at the soup pot happily performing its function on his kitchen counter. ‘I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you,’ rang in his ears. Fucking Patton with his little hints about the future. It gave Janus just a bit of courage though knowing that Emile at least didn’t flee the continent after the conversation they had to have. He was at least around enough to meet Patton. “In fact,” Janus said. “It’s probably time I told you what happened. Everything that happened.”

 Chapter 54

They sat down in the living room. Janus let Emile have the couch and sat on one of the matching armchairs. There was a squeaky sound when he sat. The plastic covering the chair had been delivered in was still on it.

Emile had a pleasant, open but curious expression on his face and Janus suddenly had an idea what it felt like to be his patient.

“I,” Janus began after a moment, shifting uncomfortably on the squeaky chair. “I don’t know how to start this conversation. I talked about what I wanted to say and possible ways to say it with Dr. Figueroa, but I… I still don’t know.”

 “I guess I should start by saying that I did something horrible that I need to apologize for and I’m not sure if apologizing will even be enough. The problem is you don’t even know what that horrible thing is.” Janus stared at his feet. “So, first, I should probably explain what I did. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe start with what happened before it,” Emile suggested. “Just lead up to it. It might help explain why whatever it was happened too.”

Janus took a breath. “Okay,” he said. “That day was just like most that I remember. We both woke up early. I was going to the TPI and you were going to where you worked your residency. We ate leftover pizza for breakfast because both of us were exhausted. You because it sucks to be a resident and me because I’d been working on a big case.”

 “I was getting frustrated with the case. That was my first mistake: being impatient and angry. It was just a thief, but a slippery one. She’d stolen a half-broken time piece and was using it to rob banks within about a 50-year time frame. I had an idea of where she might go, but no one would listen to me. Or at least,” Janus quirked a half smile, “that’s how I interpreted it. They said they’d look into my idea, but they were being extra cautious because of how close in the timestream her actions were to most of the agents’ lives.”

 “I was so tired of the case and so egotistical. I decided to check it out on my own without being cleared by the TPI. I went back in time without thinking of the consequences and that was the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Janus took a breath. “I’m not sure how, but somewhere in the course of my self-appointed mission…” He trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it. He really didn’t.

“What happened?” Emile asked when he didn’t continue.

“I…” and his next words probably sounded like crackly nonsense to Emile’s ears because he couldn’t get his thoughts straight and his tongue wouldn’t make the words right.

 “I don’t even remember living in that town or the fact that Mom used to work at that bank,” he choked out. “I didn’t think and I didn’t check and…” There was a long silence. “I erased you,” he finally managed to say in a whisper, but in the quiet of his barely lived in house, the words were loud.

There was more silence. “But I…” Emile said after a moment.

“I went back and fixed it,” Janus said, “but I… didn’t do a perfect job. I don’t even know how much I messed things up. It would have been one thing if it’d just been me. If it had just impacted my life, but I did it to you and I don’t even know how to start to apologize.”

 Nothing was said for a long moment. Janus didn’t look at him.

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

Janus risked a glance at him. He didn’t look irate, but he did still look confused which was probably the reason for that.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said. It was really the only thing he could say at this point.

Emile tilted his head to the side. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt with slow circles. Since he was 15, Emile only cleaned his glasses with specially designed wipes, but he’d held onto the habit of cleaning his glasses with his shirt anytime he needed a moment to think. Janus wasn’t sure if Emile even realized he was doing it, but he knew it was a signal for Janus to be quiet for a few seconds.

 The glasses were perched back on Emile’s nose after a few seconds. “I think I remember that,” he said contemplatively.

“…What?” Janus asked, and he was no longer avoiding looking at Emile. He was now blatantly staring at him.

“Well, I didn’t know what it was,” Emile said, “but I did have a very odd dream on the day you mentioned and suspiciously I had said dream in the middle of the day and woke standing up.”

“A dream?” Janus asked.

“A very vivid dream,” Emile said. “I don’t believe you actually erased me completely from existence. My life was simply shifted slightly. I was working as a social worker for about 5 hours and then I was back in my appropriate place.”

76874

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Janus asked, but then immediately wince at his own hypocrisy. “Er… never mind.”

“I didn’t know it was possibly real,” Emile said. “Honestly, I thought I was just really tired. I’d been overworking myself a lot. I took the rest of the day off after that.”

“You shifted reality for a few hours, and you didn’t realize it?” Janus asked.

“Like I said, I was really tired and nothing seemed to be wrong…”

“Wait, but things were different,” Janus said. “Didn’t you notice things were different.”

“Not… really,” Emile said. “Like what?”

“Like…” Janus said. “Like a whole bunch of things!”

 “Like…?”

“Like you had a different job title and you worked different hours.”

“I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up or had a vivid audio-visual hallucination at work from stress. I asked for a switch a couple of weeks later.”

“You used to hate time travel, but then you took a job at the TPI.”

Emile gave him a drawl look. “I still hate time travel,” he said. “I literally just said that not 5 minutes ago.”

“Well then why would you work for the TPI.”

“Because time travel is so confusing and distressing that people doing it on a regular basis as a career need psychological support.”

 “Plus, Lia asked for my consultation when developing the mental health part of the Agent Management Office,” Emile continued. “Considering I already knew quite a bit about time travel from being around you, she knew me personally, and I’d finished my residency, she decided to give me a job offer when my advice panned out.”

“W-well,” Janus said. “You were allergic to pineapples.”

“You mean my childhood allergy?” Emile asked. “That has since resolved itself in my adult life?”

“It has?” Janus asked.

“Janus have you considered,” Emile said, “that some if not all of the inconsistencies you were seeing in my life have to do with the fact that you hadn’t spoken to me in 3 years?”

 “I… uh… hadn’t considered that,” Janus admitted honestly.

“You were looking for information to support your incorrect world view,” Emile said sounding very much like a head doctor and not like a brother, “and you found some.” He sighed. “It makes sense after having faced a traumatic event where you effectively thought you’d killed a loved one that you weren’t thinking clearly.” The head doctor analysis voice slipped just a bit. “I just wish you’d talked about it with someone.”

“Sorry,” Janus said, because no matter which way this conversation had gone and no matter the revelations, the point was an apology. “I’m sorry.”

 Emile sighed. “I would have forgiven you even if you had erased me,” Emile said. “You didn’t mean to, and you did your best to fix it. You did fix it even if you were an idiot about it.”

“What about for being an idiot and not talking to you for three years?” Janus asked.

“I already did forgive you for that Janus,” Emile said pointedly. “What did you think the last 6 months were?”

“Pity?”

Emile gave him his disappointed and exasperated head shake. “Promise to never do anything like that to me again,” he said, “and I’ll forgive you.”

 “I promise,” Janus said immediately.

“And in the future, you’ll talk to me if you have any issue even if you think it’s horrible.”

“I think I’ve learned by lesson on that one.”

“And that goes for other people too,” Emile said. “If anything goes wrong with someone, you talk to them or if that’s too hard you talk to someone so they can convince you to talk to that person.”

Janus nodded.

“Great!” Emile said. “Then you’re officially forgiven for everything. Though I expect you to go to therapy and keep working on making yourself feel better, so these things don’t happen again.”

 And Janus… didn’t know how to feel about that. He should probably feel happy and thankful or at least relieved, but if he was being honest, he just felt kind of empty in that moment like an old well that had finally run dry. Fuck his head doctor and fuck Patton. Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel better? Everything was fine. He hadn’t actually erased Emile permanently from the timeline, in fact, he’d apparently still existed in some form in the alternate timeline Janus had temporarily made. Emile had forgiven him both for erasing him and ignoring him even though that was far more than Janus deserved. This was something he’d never even dared dream would happen, but it had been exactly what he’d wanted.

 Yet, he still didn’t feel good, not really, not like how he remembered feeling before all of this happened.

Though was that really a surprise? Things were not like how they were before. He and Emile were no longer close. There was love and affection there, but they didn’t really know each other. The last six months had been nice. He’d been able to pretend for a bit that everything was back to normal, but in the moments he hadn’t been able to pretend that, it’d been a bit stilted and awkward speaking to his brother especially at the start.

 Beyond that, Janus was just used to misery at this point. It was his default state. Not being miserable took effort and energy he didn’t always have. He felt himself slipping into sadness or numbness even during times he should be feeling good. He’d noticed himself experiencing a sense of desolation when Emile cooked his favorite meal or in the middle of watching a ballet performance Emile had suggested they go to and he’d been looking forward to in the days before or even now when he should be so happy, so ecstatic. Everything should be okay, but it wasn’t.

 “You doing alright over there?” Emile asked, and Janus didn’t know how long he’d been silent.

Instinct said to say yes and force himself to move on, but he wasn’t going to break his promise that fast. “Not really, no,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Emile said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go taste the soup your arch nemesis,” there was a light teasing tone to his voice, “made for you. Some of the vegetables won’t be completely cooked yet, but I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “Yeah, okay,” he got to his feet, the chair making that plastic squeaking sound again. “Maybe we could unwrap the furniture in here before you go home.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emile said with a smile.

 Chapter 55

Somehow, the strangest thing about his life right now was a picture on the wall. It was one that he’d gotten after college when he moved into his first actual house. It wasn’t anything special. It was just something that had caught his eye when he was specifically looking for something classier to put on his wall than the posters he’d hung in his college dorm and apartment with Virgil. It was a tall painting of a tree, but segmented into four parts, each representing the state of a tree in different seasons. In the top left, the three had small leaves and little buds, on the top right it had full leaves bathed in sunlight, in the bottom left the leaves had changed colors and started to fall off, and in the bottom right the tree was devest of leaves but covered in snow.

 It was on the wall near Janus’s bed. It was one of the first things he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning and was usually what reminded him that everything was different now when he woke.

The picture had been in a box in the houses garage up until the Saturday before the last. Saturdays had become his and Emile’s unofficial unpacking Janus’s house day. They would usually pick one or maybe two boxes that had been sitting untouched for years, unpack it, talk, and eat dinner together.

Notably, dinner was usually not provided by either of them.

 Patton had gotten into the habit of breaking into Janus’s house. Janus would sometimes catch him doing it briefly, but often Patton managed to avoid him. This was quite the feat considering Janus was not currently working and thus stayed at home a lot of the time. Patton had repeatedly reprogrammed Janus’s kitchen taking away the option for pop tarts entirely and replacing the option with real food. Janus’s kitchen was constantly stocked with something to eat that wasn’t trash. He also liked to leave around different smelling hand soaps, flowers, and paper cranes. Janus had an entire drawer in his nightstand dedicated to storing paper cranes now.

 The newest one was still on his nightstand from the night before, sitting cheerfully in the way of his view of the tree paining when his alarm woke up that morning. He sighed. He had not missed getting up early for work.

He was finally going back to working at the TPI this morning. His therapist had signed off on it last week, saying his was fit for duty. Considering they were apparently still understaffed at the TPI and Janus was a senior agent, this was met with much relief. Janus himself still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

 He turned off the alarm and stood. Dr. Figueroa had him write out a morning schedule to follow when he’d expressed his struggle to get the day started. Either Patton or Emile had taken it upon themselves to copy the schedule on virtual sticky notes that appeared in every location necessary for getting ready in the morning.

First, he took a shower. He threw his nightclothes in the laundry chute. There were currently dozens of different scented soaps in his shower all in small bottles that had about 2 or 3 uses. Janus presumed they were curtesy of Patton. He decided to use one at random and it ended up being cotton candy scented.

 Next, he got dressed. That was easy enough since he always wore the same outfit to work every day. It didn’t matter what he wore much since missions would force him to redress anyway.

Then he went to his kitchen and sat down at the counter. He pushed the pop tart button. As expected at this point, he did not get a pop tart for breakfast. Instead, he got two eggs, toast, a sliced apple, and a few cherry tomatoes with green tea. He ate his breakfast while finishing one of the puzzles he’d been working on the night before.

 Once he finished, it was time to finally face going back to the office. He sighed, stood up and pulled up the screen on his timepiece. He selected his office as his destination and was off.

The first thing that happened upon appearing in his office was he got a face full of… something.

He sputtered, smacking the things fluttering about his face out of the air. “What is wrong with you?” was the first thing out of his mouth before he’d even really confirmed that the culprit of this attack was who he’d automatically assumed he was.

Remus, as anticipated was standing not 2 feet away from him.

 Remus had apparently gotten into the prop department again because he had some type of softly glowing glittery confetti was no all over Janus as well as their entire office.

“Remus, I told you no!” Lena snapped. “You know it’s impossible to clean up 3150s sparkle nukes.”

“Welcome back!” Remus crowed.

“I hate you,” Janus replied. “I just took a shower.”

“You’re fine,” Remus said with an eye roll.

“This shit doesn’t come off in decontamination,” Janus spat. “If my first mission back sends me to a time where I’ll be tried as a witch for glowing, I’m blaming you.”

 “We’re going to 2510,” Remus informed him. “You’ll fit right in.”

Janus grimaced. “Ugh, that decade.”

“It’s my favorite decade!” Remus exclaimed.

“Of course, it is,” Lena grumbled. “Just don’t bring anything gross back this time.”

“No promises,” Remus replied.

Janus chose to disengage from the conversation as Remus and Lena argued about was and what wasn’t allowed to be brought back to their shared office from what was well known as the least tasteful decade in history. It was also one of the least turbulent decades in history. The population was too busy making shitty ice cream flavors to wage war.

 At least they were giving him an easier assignment for his first time back. He turned to his desk and pulled up the files on his next mission, glancing through them. It was just a small blip that the TPI had noticed in a small town in 2510. It probably wasn’t much of anything, but they had no record of what had caused it, so they were going to send someone to look. Honestly, they’d usually just send in a surveillance agent and be done with it, but they’d probably handpicked this one for Janus in particular. He’d be insulted if he didn’t honestly still feel a bit off kilter being in the office.

 To his surprise, he didn’t have a scheduled meeting with Rhi. It wasn’t particularly important to see a mission coordinator for something this small, but it still wasn’t the usual protocol. Instead, he was just instructed to pick up his costume at the costuming department and leave in about an hour.

“Do we really not have an appointment with Rhi?” Janus asked.

“Senior agents haven’t really been meeting with Rhi unless it’s a high priority mission,” Lena told him. “We have too many newbies running around and there’s not time.

“That’s concerning…” Janus said.

“It’s better than trying to rush the inexperienced ones through. We at least have a general idea of what we’re doing. They’re trying to train up more mission coordinators, but that’s taking a while.”

 Janus still frowned, but he glanced back at the mission instructions. He’d have to make sure he thoroughly understood what was being asked of him before leaving if he wasn’t meeting with Rhi. “We should go get changed,” he told Remus. “2510s clothing is notoriously difficult to put on.”

“Five minutes back and he’s already dying to get my clothes off,” Remus said cheekily.

“I would rather tear my own eyeballs out of my socket than see you without your pants on again.”

Remus just wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” said Lena when Janus looked at her in exasperation. “He’s finally not Fred’s and my problem anymore.”

 Chapter 56

Getting ready for the mission was a bit of a mess honestly. The costume department barely even spared them a glance before sending them on their way. Remy at least was still there to give them one last debrief before sending them off into 2510, though he looked exhausted.

“Are you sleeping?” asked Janus.

“I’m drinking coffee,” was the reply as he shooed them out onto the streets.

The timeline disturbance that had been picked up was somewhere in one of the shops on that street.

“Do you want the bakery or the karaoke/stripper bar?” Remus asked.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, and Remus clapped him on the back.

“This is why we’re partners,” he said.

 He plodded off towards the building to their right, and Janus turned to the building on the left. It was a small bakery and coffee shop painted in bright colors and sporting the Brazilian and Albanian flags.

There was a soft tinkling bell sound when he entered the shop, and the person behind the counter glanced over at him briefly before finishing putting a pastry in bag for a customer.

Unfortunately, their attention meant Janus wasn’t going to get away with snooping around the store without buying anything. He glanced around the interior of the shop as he walked up to the till.

 He glanced into the bakery display case the worker was standing behind. Oh… oh that all looked disgusting. He was not depressed enough anymore to willingly eat any of that.

“Uh,” Janus said when the worker looked at him. He glanced up at the wide selection of drinks over their head and winced at the ways the letters moved on the screen. He was pretty sure his dyslexia wasn’t quite that bad. Why did anyone choose to make letters move around and shake on purpose? As someone who had to deal with that on a daily basis, it wasn’t exactly entertaining.

 “Is it possible to get a banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but without the potato chip part?” he asked.

“Sure,” the worker replied. “Anything else?”

Janus shook his head.

“Can I have a name for that?”

“Jay,” Janus replied.

“Alright. It’ll be out in a minute.”

Janus nodded and turned, able to take in the rest of the establishment now that there weren’t eyes on him. It was as colorful on the inside as it was on the outside and seemed to have a retro cowboy-space theme mixed with posters from a contemporary werewolf romance movie. Janus had actually seen that movie one. It was surprisingly tolerable.

 The seats at least looked comfortable. There were a good number of tables and three couches. All of them were mix-matched. A few of the tables were outfitted with holographic chess and checkers, but most were normal tables. There were even a few physical boardgames and some bookshelves full of books, though he thought some of the bookshelves might just be there for decoration. He wasn’t sure which were and which weren’t.

He pretended to be very interested in the decorations as he waited on his drink, using that as an excuse to look around the entire shop. He was turned away when the door chimed again.

 “Hello,” a familiar voice said, making Janus turn around instantly. Janus could immediately tell that the man hesitantly lingering in front of the bakery display was not the Patton that he’d spent months holed up with or who had broken into Janus’s house repeatedly to replace his soaps and cook him meals. He seemed out of place which was saying something in 2510. He had the air about him that he was an 80-year-old grandpa trying to embrace youth culture, but not quite getting it. He also spoke in an accent that people around him would probably assume was him just not being fluent in Spanish but was actually him not being completely comfortable speaking Spanish from half a century ago.

 “Uh…” said Patton looking at the menu, a crease between his eyes.

“I’d suggest the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie without the potato chips,” Janus said. Patton startled, whipping around to face him in surprise. “That’s what I got, though I would leave out the potato chips.”

Patton’s eyes narrowed on him. It was not, of course, the first time that Patton hadn’t been thrilled to see him, but it was the first time Janus had been happy to see him and he hadn’t been happy to see him in turn. Janus had gotten used to a Patton that liked him and he found himself not quite prepared for the way he pursed his lips in annoyance at the sight of Janus.

 “I’ll do the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but with the potato chips,” he said in a way that made it sound like he thought he was getting one up on Janus for some reason.

“What flavor of chips?” the worker asked.

“Er, what flavors do you have?”

“Uh, I think drywall, oak wood, and limestone.”

Janus almost laughed at his expression. “Uh, do you have any naturally edible flavors?” he asked.

“We might have grass.”

Patton squinted as the worker bent to look under the cabinet. “Oh, wait, no, it’s glass. Is that alright?”

“…Maybe just no on the chips.”

 Janus did his best to school his features, so it wasn’t obvious he was laughing at him. He didn’t think he did a very good job considering Patton was glaring at him after turning around. That or he was just already pissed at Janus by default. It could go either way honestly.

“So,” Janus said when the worker turned away to start making Patton’s drink. “What are you doing here.”

“It’s none of your business,” Patton said with narrowed eyes.

“I mean, we could both be here for the same reason,” Janus pointed out. “We could share intel.”

“I doubt we’re here for the same reason.”

 “How would you know?” asked Janus.

Patton just looked away from him. He immediately looked confused at the movie poster his eyes landed on.

“Unless,” Janus said curiously, you aren’t here for a reason, reason.” Patton said nothing. “It was a pretty small disturbance, so it would make sense that your equipment might not pick up on it.” At least at this point. “Acting the tourist, Pat?”

“I’m just doing research,” Patton said, crossing his arms.

“Research?” Janus asked.

“I’ve never been here before,” Patton admitted. “I wanted to get a feel for it and other places just in case there ever was an issue.”

 “You just did France, didn’t you?” Janus asked.

Patton frowned and Janus smiled slightly. “It was recent,” he admitted.

“Well,” Janus said. “If you want some advice. I’d start with figuring out accents when you’re in different times.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Patton said and then smugly, “Janus.”

It took a bit for Janus to scan back through his memories and remember that Patton hadn’t known Janus’s name in France. He would have only figured it out after his friend Lo hacked into Silver Mountains University’s system and figured out Virgil had an appointment with him. Janus raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Patton?”

 He frowned, pouting like whenever Janus told him he wasn’t allowed to try to catch a bird and make it their pet. It was strange to meet a version of Patton who had not lived in a hole in the ground with him for months when Janus had already done that. Patton was on the back foot for once throughout this conversation. Every time before this, he’d managed to somehow twist it around even when he’d been younger than he was right now. When Janus had arrested him at the University, he’d managed to figure out his equipment wouldn’t be stopped by the TPI’s despite having no idea what the TPI was.

 In France, even when Janus had thought he’d been winning by taking his phone, he ended up getting access to a University in Janus’s time with information on the TPI, a situation that still had not been resolved.

Today, however, Janus knew far more about Patton than Patton expected. He still didn’t know exactly what his agency or whatever it should actually be called did, but he knew some things about it. He knew Patton was from the 21st century which explained the anachronisms in his speech in different times.

“You could help me look if you’d like,” Janus offered casually.

 “Why?” Patton asked suspiciously.

Janus shrugged. It was not because he missed him, he insisted to himself. It wasn’t because after spending so much time with him, not getting to talk with him all day was strange. It had nothing to do with the fact that the few times he’d ran into a farther along version of Patton since he’d moved back home, their interactions had been brief and tinged with something. No, the only reason Janus was inviting him along was so he could teach this younger version a few things, so he hopefully didn’t go about messing up time. “We worked well together in France, didn’t we?” he asked. “Besides, it’s just a small mission without much danger to the timeline.”

 “Pat,” the person at the counter called. Patton turned to him to go grab his smoothie, thanking the worker before turning back around and walking over to Janus.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll help, but you have to answer my questions.”

“I’ll answer the questions that won’t endanger any timelines or secrets of my agency.”

Patton considered it for a moment, taking a sip of his drink. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Good,” Janus replied. “We’ll start by looking around the coffee shop for anything unusual. Did you have any questions now. It’d look more natural to be walking around if we were having a conversation.”

“Does the glitter in your hair have to do with the style of the time or…?”

Janus sighed.

 Chapter 57

Luckily, the cashier didn’t seem to think them snooping around was very odd. To be fair, the shop had quite a few odd decorations to look at. So, perhaps employees were just used to people walking around and looking at all of the different things. It helped that Janus and Patton were talking as they searched. They just looked like a couple… of friends… casually chatting and exploring the coffee shop together.

“So,” Patton said, keeping his voice quiet, though luckily the few patrons were on the other side of the shop. “What exactly is it that you do working for the TPI?”

 “Well,” Janus said. “I’m a senior field agent. That means I am the person who actually goes on missions in different times. These missions can range from tracking down people who are committing crimes using time travel, stopping anything or anyone that could damage the timestream, and helping waylaid time travelers.”

“So, there are different types of agents?” Patton asked, curiously.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “There are a lot, but only four type time travel on a regular basis.” Should he be telling a very young version of Patton this? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care too much.

 “There are surveillance, touchdown, field, and cleanup agents,” he explained. “Surveillance agents do a bunch of things including research about the exact time field agents are going to and figuring out the best places for them to enter the timestream. Touchdown agents come slightly before field agents to do last second checks and stay when field agents are out. They mostly are just there to intervene if there are any unforeseen issues. Field agents actually interact with people from other times on a daily basis as they slip into the timestream and find whatever person or object they’re looking for. Cleanup agents come in afterwards and tie up any loose ends as well as observe the area for a few days to make sure nothing happened that no one caught.”

 “Everyone else who works at the TPI is mostly in research and management. They don’t usually travel, though everyone who works there is licensed to travel if necessary.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Patton commented.

“What we do is important. We want to make sure we are doing it correctly.” It was honestly not meant to be a jab, but Janus could see Patton frown. He decided to change the subject. “Right now, we’re looking for something that’s causing a small disturbance.”

“What type of thing could cause a disturbance? Is it always a machine like the one in France?”

“No,” Janus replied. “That was actually unusual.” He thought for a second. “At least that used to be unusual, but lately we’ve seen more and more of that sort of thing.”

 They were currently standing at a bookshelf, but nothing pinged Janus’s interest or time piece, so they moved on to look at a few of the movie posters. Patton seemed to grow more and more concerned the longer he looked at the posters.

“So, what is it usually?”

“Well,” said Janus. “Some things are natural events. No one’s really sure what causes those. There are theories, but I’m not really involved in that. We leave those alone for the most part if we find those. They’re usually small things, though on occasion they’re a bit bigger. Usually, time disturbances are caused by someone messing up. They say something wrong that gets someone curious and creates a butterfly or they leave an object that doesn’t exist in the time.”

 “So, what do you think this one is?” Patton asked curiously.

“Well,” Janus said. “It’s a rather small disturbance, so it won’t be anything too major. Probably just an object out of place.”

“Hmm,” Patton replied. “Well, I’ve always been good at those find the difference games.”

“Have you now?” Janus said, unable to stop a slight grin from ghosting over his face.”

“Mhmm,” replied Patton. He drained the rest of his smoothie and then turned around, facing away from the wall of posters they’d been looking at. He slowly scanned the room, an action a lot less inconspicuous than what Janus had them doing, but he didn’t protest for now.

 “That’s weird,” Patton declared, pointing rather obviously at a shelf. Janus noticed a woman looking at him funny. “Well,” Patton continued. “More like it isn’t weird, which is weird for here.”

Janus glanced at the shelf full of small figurines. Most of them were of mythical creatures: werewolves, dragons, and even one not even Janus recognized. Janus would guess, especially judging by the plethora of movie posters that they were all from movies or something of the like. However, Patton was correct there was one that stuck out from the rest. It was still a figurine, but unlike the rest, it was of a real animal: a cow.

 “That is odd,” Janus agreed, peering at the cow. Figuring Patton had already been obvious enough, Janus stepped over to the shelf to study it more closely. When looking at it more closely, it became obvious that the cow was very unlike everything else on the shelf. It wasn’t even really a figurine like the ones around it. It looked more like a children’s toy. It’s fur was made out of a soft looking material instead of the stiff plastic of the werewolf next to it.

“It doesn’t really fit in with the collection, does it?” a voice asked from behind Janus.

 Janus winced internally at the fact that a civilian had just noticed him acting oddly, but kept his face smooth externally as he turned to face the woman standing behind him.

“My friend and I were wondering what it was from,” Janus said evenly. “We recognized the rest of the figures, but I’m not sure where this one came from.”

“Well, that’s because it didn’t come from anything,” the woman said. “At least that I know of. I just didn’t know where to put the thing, so I put it on my movie figurine shelf.”

“Ah,” said Janus, a politely interested crinkle to his brow. “Where did you get it then?”

 “A young kid came by about, oh, a week ago. He looked like a high school kid or maybe college. He seemed right confused and upset. He said he didn’t have any money on him, and got weird when I tried to ask him about his parents. I ended up giving him a free drink and let him sit here for a couple’a hours. We got to talking about my collections. See, I have a deal that if someone brings me back something of interest for my displays, they get a free drink. He insisted on giving me that in exchange for the drink even though I told him I’d given him the drink ‘cause he seemed upset.”

 “I don’t even particularly want the thing, but he said he didn’t want it anyway, and he insisted, so I took it.”

“Interesting,” Janus said. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.

He reached forward to pick up the cow and felt the softest of fizzles that only someone who regularly time traveled would feel. Despite already knowing this must be what he’d come for, he still subtlety set his timepiece to scan it.

 Patton was peering over her shoulder now. “If both you and the person who gave it to you don’t care much about it, do you think we could buy it off of you?” he asked. “I’m a big fan of cows.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess,” she agreed. “If you really like it. I don’t know what else I’d do with it.”

“How much?” Janus asked.

“Well it only cost me a Lemon CastelWalk and a scone, so about 12.”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, pulling out his wallet and forking over the currency. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” she replied. “Hope you can find some use for it.”

 Janus gave her a smile and then looked at Patton. “I think it’s about time to go, don’t you think.”

Patton nodded. “Thank you for the cow statue,” he told the woman as they left the shop. They walked a bit down the street. Patton turned to him once they were out of sight of the shop window. “So, that’s it?” he asked.

Janus nodded and checked his time piece which had finished it’s scan. “The fabric is from the late 43rd century,” he confirmed, “but that’s not all. It’s stranger than that.”

“Stranger how?” Patton asked.

“The materials are definitely from the 43rd century,” Janus said, “but it’s not from the 43rd century.”

“What do you mean?”

 “This,” Janus said, looking at the cow. “This doesn’t exist. Every object has traces of where it’s been no matter how much you clean it. My timepiece can register debris sticking to an object down to the microscopic level and give a general idea where and when they came from. There’s no time travel residue implying it came from the 43rd century or even just dust or dirt from that time period. There isn’t even anything on it from this time period from more than the week the shop owner said it was in her possession. My scans seem to be saying, this thing popped into existence a week ago and didn’t exist in any time or place before that.

Patton frowned. “Well then, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” answered Janus frowning down at it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...