#not sewing it on yet bc at the moment i wouldn't have enough patches or patch ideas to properly fill the whole jacket

[shevr]

baby's first homemade patch

[blackberry-gingham]

The Masterplan | Mortimer Toynbee x Fem!Reader

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Passed out on your floor and critically injured, you make the choice to help the amphibious stranger. The question soon becomes however... Was it worth it?

tag list: @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @mickeyperkins @the-goon-tm @thlix @ohmygillygoshoppler @it-is-i-zim @tolovaj @toynbeees @toadsbitch @lostgirllulu @the-home-kvetch (Toad tag list open to additions or reductions, whichever you prefer lol or follow here on ao3!)

tags: slow burn, some dad bod stuff bc it's me we're talking about and you guys expect it, aged up toad (adult/middle aged (so, dilfy)), mentions/threats of violence

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A pile of rags to your left. Peroxide, a lighter, and a spool of fishing wire to your right. With one hand holding the flesh together, the other works methodically sewing the gashes shut.

You've cleaned his skin thoroughly and the bleeding is starting to ebb. Thankfully he seems to be completely under right now. At least he's still enough for you to work. You couldn't get him off the floor, so for now you take advantage of the open space down there to study him closely.

His skin has an interesting, velvet like texture. Soft and smooth, with not a trace of hair to be found. Cool to the touch, it does not retain heat as quickly as your own but when he starts to warm up... It's a while yet before it goes back to room temperature. He's not very wet, but certainly not dry either... Much like a frog.

Or toad, you suppose, as he has chosen to identify himself.

It's long and tedious work ensuring all the sutures are properly set. There are so many cuts... You no longer doubt an alligator got to him, but that clears up nothing at all about how he survived.

Nearly there, you finish the last few deep gashes there along his stomach. After so much time being up against him, his body temperature has risen to match the heat put out by your own. He's soft and warm against your hand...

You stop a moment, just to take another look. Light as can be, you run your fingers along the large pink patch covering his belly. You smile, entirely amused, before getting back to it. A shame almost, you could sit and feel that wonderfully soft skin all day long.

Needle in. Hook. Needle out.

Needle in. Hook. Needle out.

Suddenly, he jerks a moment. You freeze. He goes still.

...Cautiously, you keep going.

Needle i-

"Oi, the hell are you doing!", Toad snaps awake at the prick of the needle. He doesn't waste a moment, hurriedly dragging himself away from you. Panicked, he paws at his side trying to see what the hell you injected him wi-

You don't move, but that doesn't stop you from addressing him. Harshly, you warm him, "Careful, you'll rupture those!"

By now Toad has discovered what he was looking for. A long, thin surgeon's needle protrudes from his side. All along his waist and... Yes, and on his back too... Meticulously placed stitches have been sewn.

He sneers at you. He doesn't need them. In fact, he doesn't need any help at all. Not from you. Not from anyone. He'll heal from this on his own.

Although... The sutures will help.

Your hands are up to show you mean no harm. On either side of you, he notices the remnants of all your efforts.

"...Can I at least finish?", you venture, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Toad sharpens his glare. Were you not just holding him at gunpoint a while ago? Even then... You're a fucking human. You're asking him to trust you? He bloody well thinks not.

"You can take it out is what you can fucking do", cautiously, he scoots back across the floor to you, positioning himself just so to give you the best access to take out the embedded needle.

While you can wholeheartedly say that you wouldn't recommend this... With an attitude like that, he gets whatever he gets as far as you're concerned, "Fine"

You pull it through far enough to secure the stitch and tie it off. All the while, Toad watches you closely with scrutinizing eyes.

"There", you snip the line and wipe off your hands, "All set"

He gives you a callus grunt in response and rolls his shoulders. For a moment, he rocks in preparation to get up to stand, but before he can move he's doubled over with a stomach cramp. It growls aggressively, reminding him, and informing you, that he is indeed still starving.

You don't particularly feel like extending grace towards a man who can't even say thank you, but... It would hardly be southern hospitality to let someone leave your home hungry.

"Been a while since you've eaten?"

Well... Not really, he supposes. Had some flies yesterday, after all. Although, that's hardly real food. That and... Something about admitting to eating flies in front of you doesn't sit right with him. He knows what he is. Accepts it.

And yet...

"Yeah. Couple days"

"Do you... Want some food? I haven't eaten yet"

Toad narrows his eyes, suspiciously. God does he want some food. Anything to get rid of even just a little of this damn pain he's been in... But the question of why you'd bother offering won't leave him be. You're doing an awful lot to try and help him...

You, a human. For him, a mutant.

"Well if you don't, that's fine too", you knit your eyebrows in frustration. No helping some people, you suppose.

"Well hold on now, I didn't say that", Toad snaps back, "I just... I didn't expect you to offer, that's all"

You nod, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Tell you what, I'll make you some food if you go clean up. And I mean really clean. Shower's upstairs"

Mortimer makes a repugnant face at that. He's used to being told that he's looking unhygienic, but no one's ever actually tried to make him shower. Granted, they don't usually need to, but... Well, no one likes being told they smell, he supposes.

You gather up your things from the suturing. He doesn't seem very taken to the idea, but this place is in bad enough shape as it is... You'd rather not have him tracking mud and sludge everywhere on top of it.

"I'll lay out some clean clothes for you", you offer.

Mort takes stock of his current garment situation. Down to no shirt and a pair of slacks thoroughly destroyed by the swamp. Assuming you have something that actually fits...

"Fine by me, love", with a second to get up, he trudges upstairs as he's told. In all honesty, he's more than happy to get good and clean again. The mud and swamp doesn't bother him, but sometimes it's nice to remember that he's still a human too.

True to your word, a clean pile of clothes sits folded on the counter for him. Not a perfect fit... A little tight in the shoulders and thigh, but good enough to wear. He tucks in the button down, straightens the collar, combs his fingers through his hair, and... There.

Looking right handsome, if he does say so himself.

He comes down to see you've already started eating. A plate of food lays waiting for him, still warm. The fact that you're eating the food banishes any suspicions he might have about it. Looks safe. Smells great. He takes a seat.

Eggs, a scone, and hash.

That's worlds better than the shit they'd have back at the brotherhood.

"Do the clothes fit alr-?"

Toad's tongue shoots out to grab a mouthful of food, which he seems to consume all in one motion.

You jump and startle quite badly, cutting off your own sentence. Toad says nothing. Not even an apology. Instead he looks at you tiredly, just waiting for that disgusted remark to come.

For now you stay silent. Fine by him. He watches you for one more moment, just long enough to grab another tongue of food. You stare at him wide eyed. Not exactly disgusted though. Almost...

Impressed.

Suddenly, he feels a bit shy. He can eat with a fork and such just as well as anyone else... He's just excited to have some real food again, is all.

He clears his throat, "Sorry, I uh... Just got excited", he reaches for the utensils.

"No no, that's alright!", you look more fascinated then anything else, "That's incredible! Your tongue is... Prehensile? Can you control it, I mean?"

Toad stares at you blankly. No ones... ever bothered to ask him before, to be quite honest. He blinks a few times and then, "Well... I can..."

He snakes it out and picks up his fork carefully. All the while, he watches you watch him, the most fascinated look in the world written on your face. He sticks the prongs into a chunk of eggs and, with measured control, brings it up to his mouth to swallow.

"Huh... Amazing. So... you're a mutant then?"

Toad grunts and goes back to eating, fork in hand, "Damn. What gave it away", he sneers.

You lower your gaze back to your own food, afraid you've offended him with your asinine question, "Sorry, sorry. It's just, I've never seen someone so-"

"Mutated?", he glares at you angrily. And yet... If you look past the face... There's something in his eyes. Frustrated yes, but... Sad, too.

"Well... No, I wasn't going to say that-"

He snorts and looks away, "Sure..."

You clear your throat, hoping to ease the tension, "Anyway, I was going to ask... Do the clothes fit alright? I mean, it's all I have, but-"

"They're fine"

You make an open mouthed ah and nod along. If he doesn't want to talk, that's fi-

"Someone else live here, then?", he asks.

You chuckle, "No, nothing like that. They were my father's. He... Passed, recently"

Toad hums in acknowledgement but is silent otherwise. Then, "...Sorry to hear that"

You shrug and give a tiny smile, like it's no big deal, "Oh it's alright. We... weren't very close"

"I understand that, yeah"

"Ah... Are they, around here at least? Your parents?"

"No clue, never met them. Probably not though, I'd wager", he chuckles darkly.

That takes you aback. Damn...

Toad glances up at you, then rolls his eyes, "Psh, don't look at me like that. It's nothing, I'm just as good off without them"

"Uh huh... Are you here with the X-Men then? I hear the-"

He shoots you a frighteningly stern glare from under his brow, "No. I'm not"

You sit frozen under his gaze. It's the first time you've ever felt afraid in his presence. After a few seconds, he releases you, turning back to look at his food. He stabs it aggressively, eating in more of a hurry.

"I'm... Sorry, I just-"

Toad drops his fork with a clatter. He takes a deep breath and searches the ceiling for strength, "Dear God... Do you ever shut up?", he stares at you pointedly.

That does it. Now it's your turn to do some glaring, "Fuck off! If I'm so insufferable, then get the fuck out", you gesture towards the door for good measure.

"Don't have to ask me twice", he gets up in a huff, "Scone is bland as shit, by the way"

"That's a biscuit, asshole", you correct him.

"Like I give a damn!", He shoves the chair back in place against the table and marches straight out the way he came, slamming the door as well for good measure.

He walks and walks and walks... Deeper into the swamp as he goes.

Fuck off! What business is it of yours? No one's ever asked him so many bloody questions in all his life... And the way you were looking at him.

He's not your friend and he damn well isn't your fucking science project.

Toad takes a seat on a fallen tree, overlooking part of the bayou. He takes a great sigh and rolls his shoulders. Fuck, this shirt is tight. He unbuttons the collar a little and tries to stretch again. Better, at least.

This time he sighs in relief, quietly and calm. Even after all this... The frustration. The agitation. The spite and anger and hatred...

He can't stop thinking about that first moment between the two of you. The bit where he woke up with a gun to his head. If anyone had made him guess the outcome of a scenario like that, he would've said you'd have just blow his head off every damn time. No questions asked.

That's what Magneto would say. Certainly what he would've told him would happen.

And yet, you didn't.

Here he is, perfectly unharmed. In fact, he's better off now then when he first went in. Free food, clean clothes... Even a little surgery to help heal his injuries along.

He tugs the collar of his shirt aside, looking down at where you've sewn him up. The remaining open wounds are still quite nasty, but the ones you fixed up are looking good, all things considered. It was... Quite nice of you to do, actually.

But why? Why would you do something like that?

You should've killed him. Or... Or thrown him out, or something.

This goes against everything else he's ever come to expect. Everything he's learned. Everything he's heard. Everything he's been taught...

Humans are the enemy. They hate him. Him and all other mutants, for that matter. They want people like him dead.

...Right?

But then... No one else has ever been so kind to him before. Not even within the brotherhood.

The sutures, the clothes, the food... He thinks back to the way you were looking at him. Back to that first time he shot out his tongue. Sure you were scared for a moment, but he can't blame you for being surprised.

No, he thinks about what came after that... The part where you asked all those questions. The part where your eyes lit up and you were talking a little faster, excited.

The part where you looked at him like he was the most magnificent, fascinating creature you've ever seen.

No ones ever looked at him like that before...

Maybe... Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh to you. He's not sure he trusts you. Not even sure he likes you, but... He'd do most anything to get that look out of you again. Just once, maybe. Just... Just so he can remember it.

Toad looks up at the sky. It's mid day already. He sighs and looks over his shoulder.

It's a long walk back... And no guarantee you'll open your door to him even.

But... He wants to at least try.