#or maybe he had a couple stitches added to an already rolled up sleeve so it stays like that. he has options probably

[uo6ep]

kumicho

[little-fam-ily]

Build a Bear (Sanders Sides Agere Oneshot)

Read it on ao3

Rating: G

Word Count: 4,079

Characters: CG Logan and Patton, Agere Virgil

Pairings: Queerplatonic Analogical, platonic Analogicality

Warnings: Kink mention

Summary: In which Logan and Virgil take a trip to Build a Bear (brought to you by a Build a Bear employee).

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at the commercial on the TV. It was for Build a Bear, talking about how you can put different sounds in ‘your new furry friends’. He smiled around his pacifier. “Lolo!” He called to Logan, his caregiver.

Logan popped his head in from the kitchen, “What is it?” 

Virgil pointed to the TV. Logan was able to catch just the end of the ad. “Virgil, I don’t think-” He stopped himself as he looked at Virgil’s wide, pleading eyes. “Oh, oh Virgil, don’t,” He sighed, “You know what the puppy eyes do to me.”

Virgil just let out a whine. Logan looked at him sternly, “You know they’re very expensive, Virgil.”

He nodded, “I know…” He glanced away, cheeks red. Logan shook his head, thinking about it, “Well, it’s almost your birthday anyway, We’ll make a day of it.”

Virgil smiled wide, “Weally?”

Logan nodded, “Really really.”

Virgil jumped up and embraced him in a hug, squeezing tight, “T’ank you, Lolo!”

Soon the day came, and Virgil and Logan sat in the car, getting ready to go into the mall. Virgil was sucking his thumb, and Logan was looking at him with concern, “Do you think you can be big enough to pass?”

Virgil glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. He dragged his thumb out of his mouth, stopping at the tip where he could still bite down.

Logan sighed, “Better.” He paused before he spoke up again, “Virgil, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t have to hide it if you don’t want to.”

Virgil whined, “I jus’, don’ wan’ people t’inking i’s kink.” He murmured around his thumb.

Logan nodded, “That’s understandable. But what we do is none of their business. I’m pretty sure the average person doesn’t care, and if they do, then they’re not a good person.”

Virgil glanced away. Logan let out a sympathetic breath, “Well, if you’re ready I’m ready.”

Virgil nodded. Logan stepped out of the car, then helped Virgil out of the car. They walked into the mall holding hands.

The line to Build a Bear was already a mile long. They got in, and Virgil was ancy with anticipation. The wait seemed like hours. Logan could tell he was getting impatient, so he squeezed his hand. They smiled at each other.

Finally they got to the door. They were greeted by a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile. Her name tag read Valerie.

“Hey there! What brings you to the workshop today?” She smiled. Virgil panicked, looking to Logan for help.

“It’s his birthday next week, but I thought I’d take him early.” Logan turned to her. Her smile grew wider, “Wow, that’s great!” She got out a sharpie and a pack of stickers from her apron, “How old are you turning, sweetheart?”

Virgil took a deep breath, preparing himself to answer, “Twenty.”

“And your name?”

“V-” He started, but stopped himself, having to pause for another moment, “Virgil.”

She wrote everything down, tearing the sticker off and handing it to him, “And have you built a bear with us before?”

Logan and Virgil glanced at each other, then back to her, shaking their heads. 

Valerie kept her smile, “So to your left is the wall where we have our whole selection of bears to choose from. Once you pick your new friend you’ll head over to the sound station to pick any scents or sounds that you’d like. 

“Then you’ll come around over to that blue square where we’ll stuff your friend and perform the heart ceremony. After we get them stitched up you’ll go to the back wall to get their clothing and accessories, head to Station 4 to give them a name, and then you’ll be all ready to check out and take your new friend home!”

Virgil’s breathing became shallow. That was a lot to keep track of. Logan sensed his anxiety, squeezing his hand, “Ready to head on in?”

He looked at him, hesitantly nodding his head. Valerie opened the rope barrier and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

They stepped in, and Virgil was already overwhelmed by the large selection of stuffed animals. There were more than bears, there were rabbits and cats and monkeys and unicorns. There were themed bears too, like Frozen and Star Wars and Paw Patrol.

Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall, biting down on his thumb hard. Logan stepped up to him, “I know it’s a lot to think about, and there are a lot of steps, but I remember all of it, and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Virgil nodded, then his eyes widened as they settled on a fluffy brown bear with the Harry Potter logo printed on its back paw. He pointed to it, “Harry Potter bear.”

Logan smirked, “You want that one? We can put some Ravenclaw accessories on it.”

Virgil smiled wide, nodding. He grabbed the unstuffed pelt and felt the fur, holding it close to his chest.

Logan smiled at his little, then noticed the birthday sticker still in his hand. “Here, let me help you with that,” He took the sticker, peeled it off the back, and stuck it right on Virgil’s jacket, “There we go.”

Virgil smiled at him, leaning on his chest. They stayed like that for a bit, then a young man with an apron walked up to them with a smile, “Have we picked our new friend?”

Virgil looked at Logan, then at the man, who’s name tag read Terrence, nodding.

“Alright! Right this way,” Terrence beckoned them over to a white counter with computers on each end. He reached for Virgil’s bear, “Can I see him real quick?”

Virgil glanced at Logan, then hesitantly handed over the pelt. Terrence pulled a sharpie out of his apron and started writing on the tag, “I see your name is Virgil, is that right?”

Virgil nodded. Terrence put the sharpie away, “And I can also see it’s your birthday! Well, have a very happy birthday,” He smiled, then continued, “Now, we have some scents you can choose from. We have strawberry, birthday cake, cotton candy, and bubblegum.”

Both Virgil and Logan took some time smelling the scents. “Strawberry,” Virgil decided.

“Alright!” Terrence got out his sharpie and wrote some things down on the tag, then took an unopened scent packet, peeled a sticker off, then stuck the sticker on the tag. The scent was a plastic disk shaped like a bear head.

“Now we get to pick a sound we put in the paw of the bear right here.” He showed them the right paw, which had a little heart shaped patch on it.

Virgil smiled. This was the part he was the most excited for. 

Terrence moved to one of the computer monitors, “Here is the sound station, we have a huge selection of sounds to choose from. You can scroll up and down as well as side to side. There are generic animal sounds, themed sounds from movies and TV. I see you picked a Harry Potter bear, maybe you’d like a Harry Potter sound?”

Virgil thought about it, scrolling through the Harry Potter selection. He looked, but decided it would be best to just pick the theme from the movie.

He pressed the icon, jumping at the loud noise coming from the computer. Logan grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Alright, I’m just gonna scan his tag really quick.” Terrence moved the tag under the scanner. “Now you’re going to grab one of those chips,” He pointed to a hole in the counter which housed a bunch of plastic sound bytes shaped like bear heads. Virgil did as he was told, holding it tight.

“Place it right here,” He pointed to a little divot in the counter where the chip fit perfectly. Virgil set it right in. Then Terrence pressed the ‘buy’ button on the screen, which started loading. It only took a couple of seconds for the sound to be transferred to the chip.

“Great! Now press it to see if it works.” Terrence smiled. Virgil pressed it, holding it up to his ear. That was a bad idea, as he immediately had to move it away.

“Looks like it works!” Terrence chuckled, then took the chip and pushed it into the bear’s paw. “You’re all set! Once that group is done with their heart ceremony you’ll move right on up to that blue square where my friend Mr. Patton will get this little guy all stuffed up for yah.”

Logan and Virgil nodded. “Thank you,” Logan smiled, then turned towards the machine. Virgil tried to get a look at what was going on up ahead, but they were too far away to see or hear anything.

The wait seemed like forever, but soon it was their turn. The young man working the machine got up from his chair and turned towards them, “Alright folks, are we all good to go?”

Virgil smiled slightly as he noticed a shiny they/them pin on their apron. They had a mop of curly brown hair on their head, and circular glasses were perched on their freckled nose.

He looked at Logan, then nodded. Patton smiled, “Great! I’m gonna have you come around this way to that blue square over there.” They pointed to a large blue sticker on the floor next to the front counter. It had white paw prints on it.

They both stepped on the square, waiting to get started.

“See, the thing about this machine is that it needs energy to get it working, right?” Patton started as they put the pelt on the nozzle. “So that means you gotta either hop hop hop! Or clap clap clap! Or wiggle wiggle wiggle! To get the machine running. Do you think you can do that, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he blushed at the pet name. Yes, he did indeed want to clap clap clap, or hop hop hop, or wiggle wiggle wiggle, but he didn’t want to do it alone. He tugged on Logan’s sleeve. Logan blinked, “Oh, do I? Do I have to do it too?”

“If you want!” Patton smiled. Logan sighed, rolling his eyes, but nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Patton exclaimed as they turned on the machine. Logan and Virgil started clapping, and Patton stepped on a pedal, moving the bear around the nozzle to get the stuffing in every limb, its chest, and its head.

“Alright! Great job kiddo!” Patton smiled as they took their foot off the pedal and the bear off the nozzle, checking it themself to see if it was the right softness.

“Now for the scent. Do you want it in the head or the belly?” They asked. Virgil bit down on his thumb. There were so many decisions to make! It was getting a bit much.

Logan sensed this, “We’ll do it in the belly.”

“Okay,” Patton smiled, taking the disc out of its plastic sleeve and slipping it into the bear through the hole in the back. 

“Now we get to choose a heart! There’s either a red satin heart or a checkered heart.” Patton picked up two felt hearts from two bins on the machine and held them up, “Which one would you like, kiddo?”

Virgil’s eyes flitted between the two. After a pause Patton spoke up, "I know, it's a hard decision to make."

After another moment Virgil decided on the red one, pointing to it. Patton smiled, "Alright!" They placed the heart to the side, then picked another heart up, this one big and plastic, "We also have a beating heart option! We put it in the chest of the bear, and when you press down on it, it beats like a heart!"

Virgil’s eyes widened. He looked at Logan with them, pouting his lip a little. Logan smiled at him, giving him a nod. Virgil turned back to Patton, nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay!" Patton smiled, taking a heart, peeling the sticker off, and putting the sticker on the tag. They then placed the heart right in the front of the bear’s chest where a human’s heart would be.

“Now,” Patton said as they got up from their chair and took the now stuffed bear and the heart to the counter Logan and Virgil were standing next to. 

“We are going to perform what is called the ‘squish test’. Which means you take your new friend and you give him the biggest hug that you possibly can!” They wrapped their arms around themself, “To see if he’s either as soft or firm enough as you want.”

They turned to Logan, “And if he’s too firm we can always take stuffing out, and if he’s too soft we can always put stuffing in.”

Logan nodded, then turned to Virgil, “Do you want to give him a hug?”

Virgil nodded, walking up to where the bear was sitting and grabbing it, feeling its arms, legs, chest, and head. He then embraced it in his arms, holding it as tight as he could. He smiled as he felt the pulsing of the heartbeat.

“Is he good?” Patton asked. Virgil turned to him, nodding. 

“Perfect!” They smiled, “If you would put your friend back on the hug station, we are going to perform the Heart Ceremony,” They put emphasis on the last two words, “The most important step in this entire process! You’re going to take your heart.”

It took a minute for the request to process in his brain, but Virgil went back to the counter, put the bear back where it was sitting, and grabbed his heart.

“Now we gotta get it beating, alright kiddo? So you’re going to take it, hold it up like this,” They held it high above their head. Virgil did the same.

“And you gotta wiggle it like this!” Patton started waving their hand around. A smile broke out on Virgil’s face as he mimicked their movements. They wiggled for a moment, Patton giggling, “Do you think you got it beating, kiddo?”

Virgil nodded, smile not fading. Patton smiled at him, “Alright, now you’re going to go to your new friend, and you gotta wave it in his ears so that he’s a good listener!”

Virgil stepped over to the bear and waved the heart over its ears.

“Wave it on his arms so he can give you great big hugs!”

He waved it over its arms.

“Wave it on his legs so he can run and play with you all day!”

He waved it over its legs.

“Now grip your heart, hold it close, and make a great big wish!”

He held it close to his chest, closed his eyes and made his wish, I wish for me and Logan to live together forever.

“Did you make your wish?” Patton smiled. Virgil opened his eyes, smiling back as he nodded.

“Great! Now you get to do the honor of putting that heart into your friend through the hole in the back.”

Virgil grabbed the bear and shoved the heart in as far as it could go. 

Patton gave a nod, “Alright, now if you would put your friend back on the hug station and step right back on that blue square, I’m gonna do the hard job of stitching him up, okay?”

Virgil nodded, doing as he was told. Patton stepped up to the counter and started pulling on the stitches. They glanced at Virgil's sticker, “I see it’s your birthday today!”

“In a week,” Logan corrected them. They nodded, “Oh! Okay, well, happy early birthday!” They looked closer, “And you’re turning twenty! Wow! I turned twenty this January!”

“Interesting.” Logan commented. Patton tied the last knot, cutting the extra string off. “Alright! This little guy is good to go! I’m gonna have you come around this way,” they pointed to their right, “to the back to pick out his clothing and accessories. Then you’ll take that tag to station 4 and scan it to give him his name!”

“Alright, thank you.” Logan smiled, leading Virgil around the direction Patton pointed them towards. Virgil looked back one last time to see Patton waving at him. He waved back shyly.

Thankfully the Harry Potter clothing section was right next to the stuffed animal section. Virgil’s eyes scanned the wall. He definitely wanted the traditional robes and a wand. But then he spotted a Quidditch uniform, along with a broom and a snitch.

He gasped slightly, turning to Logan, who nodded, “You can get both outfits if you’d like.”

Virgil whined, “But i’s ‘spensive…” He glanced away, biting his thumb.

Logan chuckled, “Virgil, it’s your birthday, and it’s you. You’re worth it. Besides, I’m getting paid soon anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Virgil scrunched his nose, but took both the normal uniform and accessories and the Quidditch uniform and accessories off the hangers. He had to get on his tip-toes to reach some of them, but he got the hang of it.

“I’m guessing he’s a seeker, hm?” Logan hummed. Virgil nodded. Logan gave a nod back, “Alright, let’s give him a name, shall we?”

They walked over to the back corner on the other side of the store, where Station 4 was. Logan pressed some buttons, scanned the tag, and a menu popped up asking them to put in information for the bear’s birth certificate.

Now it was time to pick a name. Virgil bit down on his thumb, thinking very hard. Logan tilted his head, “What would you like to name him?”

Virgil smiled mischievously, “Logan!”

Logan scoffed, “Virgil, please. Pick an original name!”

“I’s original! ‘N Logan’s my favorite name!” Virgil beamed, turning back to the screen and typing in the name, “Logan the seeker.”

After the bear’s birth certificate was printed out, they walked up to the cash register. The young man standing at the register’s name tag read Joan. “Alright, are we all set?”

Logan nodded, putting all their findings on the counter. Virgil bit down on his thumb as he watched Joan scan the tags, starting to zone out. He wasn’t really interested in this part.

“Would you like to dress it here or when you get home?” Joan asked him. His eyes widened as he was snapped out of his daydreaming. He looked at them, then at Logan, then back to them. “Um, home,” He responded, now ancy to leave.

“Alright, would you like to hold it or put it in a box?” They asked. Virgil whined a bit under his breath. This was way too many questions for one day. “Box.”

Joan nodded at his firm answer. “Alright, with all of the accessories, your total comes out to one hundred and thirty five dollars, and forty five cents.”

Virgil gasped, looking at Logan with concern. That was a huge number. Logan just smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright Virgil, I really don’t mind,” He turned to Joan, “He’s a little concerned with money right now.”

“Oh I totally understand that,” They gave a smile, “I mean, I’m working two jobs and even I can’t afford to pay rent sometimes.” They turned back to the computer, muttering to themself, “Late stage capitalism.”

They took the bear and put it in a box, then bagged up all the clothes, “You should be all set. Oh! It’s your birthday! We have to ring the birthday bell!”

As they picked up a large bell from the shelf behind them, Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, “It’s going to make a very loud noise, Virgil.”

Virgil looked at him as he braced himself. The loud ring of the bell crashed in his ears, running through his entire body. He cringed as he shut his eyes, stopping himself from covering his ears.

Then it was over, and he was able to open his eyes again. Logan leaned into his ear, “Good job.” He smiled. Virgil smiled back.

Then they were all good to go. Logan took the box and the bag, and grabbed Virgil’s hand as he led both of them out.

“Have a good day, kiddo!” Patton called with a smile as they walked past the machine. They both glanced at them. “Thank you.” Logan said before finally reaching the door.

“So, what did you wish for during the heart ceremony?” Logan asked as they took their purchases and headed for other stores, mostly Hot Topic.

“I tan’t tell you!” Virgil teased, “Or it won’t tome true.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Patton smiled to themself as they walked into the back room, unlocking their locker and taking their backpack out. Once they made sure everything was still in check, they took their apron off and slipped it in their locker, closing it and locking it again.

Today was another great day at work. Patton loved their job, really loved their job. They got to interact with all the cute kids and families that came in, and they adored all the smiles and giggles the heart ceremony provided.

There was always at least one memorable family that came in, and today it was a young couple, one of which had his birthday today. His name was Virgil, Patton remembered.

He was memorable because of one fact. Patton could see it in his eyes, in his posture, in his energy.

Patton got to meet a little.

They themself had been a babysitter for a couple of years now. Their friend Roman was a little, and when her partner Janus was busy, Patton got to babysit her. It brought them a lot of comfort and happiness, and they one day hoped to have a little of their own.

A pang of disappointment hit their chest. Virgil seemed so adorable and fun and loving, but it looked like he already had a caregiver. But they were happy for him nonetheless.

They brought themself out of their thoughts as they headed on out, waving goodbye to their coworkers. Their brisk walking speed got them to the food court fairly quickly, where they planned to have sushi for lunch.

But their eyes widened as they caught sight of a couple across the food court. It was Virgil and his caregiver! A smile broke out on their face, and they knew they had to take this opportunity to get to know them better.

They rushed to Virgil’s table, slowing down a bit as they got closer, “Hey! You guys are still here!”

They both turned to them, and Virgil jumped, quickly taking his thumb out of his mouth. His caregiver nodded, “Yes, we took a bit of time to do some extra shopping and get some food.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I was able to catch you guys! It was just the end of my shift so…” They smiled, trailing off a bit. “We didn’t really get to actually meet. I’m Patton!” They held out their hand.

“Logan,” Virgil’s caregiver took it, shaking firmly. Virgil just waved slightly, “Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, it was really nice to meet you guys! I hope you had fun, I always do.” They laughed nervously, trying so desperately not to make it awkward.

“Yes, I can confirm that our experience was most enjoyable, don’t you agree, Virgil?” Logan said, then turned to him. He nodded with a small smile on his face.

Patton stood there for a moment. They knew what they wanted to do, they just didn’t know if they had the guts to actually do it. “Hey, I don’t usually do stuff like this, but, can I get your guys’ Instagrams?”

“Oh, I don’t have one, but, Virgil? If that’s alright with you?” Logan asked him. He looked to Logan, then to Patton, but eventually nodded. 

Patton smiled wide, “Great! Uh, here’s my phone, you can just put it in.” They handed Virgil their phone. He took it, quickly typing in his username in the search bar. He handed it back to them, a shy smile on his face.

“Great! Thank you! Again, it was really nice meeting you!” Patton beamed.

“It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Patton.” Logan responded. Virgil nodded in agreement.

Patton let out a sigh of relief, giving one last wave before heading down the food court the other way. They couldn’t help but continue to smile as they skipped along, soon reaching the sushi restaurant. They didn’t know how yet, but they knew this was the start of something special.

[cobaincreates]

touch pt. 3

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (female receiving), 18+

count: 4k+

final part of touch! thank you so much for reading!

— — —

“just get the silver one with the straps. i think the purple is a bit too close on the magenta side.”

“i can wear my heels with this one.” sarah agreed, turning her hips. “do you still have those silver earrings from work? the long, dangly ones?”

“i think so, yeah. i’ll bring them over later.” you nodded at your phone screen, watching sarah fiddle with the dress she had on. the lighting from the fitting room made the dress look darker than it really was in the picture she originally sent you.

“what’s kie trying on?” you asked just as a notification popped up at the top of your screen.

rafe:

meet me on dock @ noon?

your stomach twisted as a smile immediately graced your lips. you quickly swiped out of the facetime session, hoping sarah didn’t see, as you went to reply.

“i think she’s looking for a pair of jeans she saw the last time we came. the ones with the stitched back pockets.” sarah said.

okay :), you sent.

you were met with the ceiling when you went back to facetime, staring at a small orb reflecting from the light.

“hopefully she finds them,” you said and checked the time again as you started to think about changing out of the pajamas you were still in.

you had the day off today, which so far had amounted to you skipping out on a shopping trip with sarah and kiara and settling for being lazy around an empty house. it wasn’t so bad, but you were ready to get a move on, rafe’s text motivating you.

“john b’s calling me. i’ll talk to you later?” sarah’s face suddenly appeared on the screen as she picked her phone up, her shoulders now bare. you held a peace sign above your messy bed-ridden hair and tossed your phone aside when you hung up.

it was impossible not to be smiley and giddy as you scoured your dresser for clothes to wear. who could blame you when you’d spent nearly every night this week staying up late to text back and forth with rafe. it felt like you were dreaming, like you were living in an alternate universe where you actually got something you wanted. a month ago, you never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting ready to meet up with rafe, much less be fooling around with him.

it was difficult to describe how you felt about it. obviously, you were happy and bubbling with excitement, so much so that you thought you were going to throw up anytime you reminisced on the time spent with him. you tried not to dwell on the fact that you were technically sneaking around with him, but it had only been a few times so did it really constitute as such? you knew you had to tell sarah; the only thing stopping you being that you just weren’t sure when a good time would be.

when you had gotten home the other day from the marsh, you quickly closed yourself in your room. there was no reason to hide the grin within the privacy of your own space, so you let it stay there, your cheeks hurting so much by the time you went to sleep. you couldn’t believe you’d finally kissed rafe and you even caught yourself pressing your lips together, trying to trap the sensation of it there, and closing your eyes. 

and rafe finally getting a taste of you? fuck, it was perfect.

back in your room, you quickly finished getting ready. as you sprayed some perfume just for the hell of it, you thought about where you were going if he wanted to meet on his dock. you tried to picture him waiting for you. would he smile when you were too far away to see it? would his skin tingle with vibrant energy, just waiting to touch you? you swore you felt that same sensation every time you thought of him.

by the time you pulled up to tannyhill and grew closer to the house, you spotted him patiently waiting on the dock. his dad’s boat was there, rocking ever so slightly in the water. rafe looked up at the sound of your car and you parked it beside his truck, a fast-approaching heat spreading up your neck at his open windows. it was like they were encouraging you to have the thoughts of being in the back seat.

you only brought your keys with you as you got out, your phone sitting in the cup holder along with a few receipts you’d been meaning to throw out. rafe watched you as you walked over the grass and toward the wooden planks of the dock. he squinted an eye shut to watch you and you wanted to tell him that that was what the hat on his head was for, if only he turned it around. instead, you smiled at your feet.

“where is everyone?” you said over the few yards you hadn’t closed yet between you. your feet brushed over the planks, going down the small slope to where rafe was standing at the back of the boat.

“ward is out of town,” rafe said, lifting his chin a bit. “rose is doing whatever rose does with her girlfriends, wheezie is on the computer, but she’s leaving soon.” you came to a stop a couple steps away from him, fiddling with the keys in your hand. “and sarah is with kie today, which i’m sure you already knew,” he smiled at the end, like he was satisfied to have you all to himself.

“mmm,” you hummed humorously. “are you taking me out?” you asked, jutting your chin to the yacht.

rafe looked over, giving you time to run your eyes quickly down his chest and lower half. you adored the blue button up he had on, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. wasn’t he hot?

“we can’t exactly go anywhere since ward would kill me,” he looked back at you, smirking, “but i figured we could hang out here.”

“hang out?” you smiled, biting the inside of your lip slightly and tilting your head.

he nodded, his hand slipping from his pocket and extending out to you. you stared back at him as a familiar feeling pooled in your lower abdomen, one you’d felt many times around him. you never wanted it to go away, and maybe it was ridiculous to think in such a way, but you never wanted to feel it for anyone else.

pushing your keys into one hand, you reached out for his and held on. he held it firmly as he turned and went to the back platform to step onto. you followed all the way inside, feeling the cooler atmosphere in the shade. it didn’t look any different than the last time you’d been on it, just tidied up a bit more.

you set down your keys on the dining table and turned your back to lean against it. rafe was already watching you curiously.

“are you going to come over here?” you weren’t sure where it came from, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

he broke out into a smile and stepped closer until his feet were in front of yours. you laughed, almost nervously, and let your eyes trail up his form. stopping at his torso, you put your hand out to touch one of the buttons on his shirt. he touched your waist, causing you to breathe in shakily. he shuffled closer, your hand now pressed against his stomach and spreading a warmth up your arm. you could see his forearms flex for just a split second.

“i’ve been having a lot of fun with you, you know.” he said.

“have you?” you smiled.

you let your eyes resume their trail up his chest, gliding over the hollow of his neck, skimming his jaw. finally, your eyes connected with his.

“yeah, i have.”

“sneaking or fooling around?” you asked, moving your arms to circle around his neck. your chest pressed to his, nearly having you breathe deeper as your shirt exposed a sliver of your stomach. rafe could feel it, his palms warm over your skin.

“mostly the fooling around part.” he said proudly, holding back a smile as if it would scare you.

you had to admit that’s what you’d been enjoying too. fuck, there had been nothing more thrilling than having rafe cameron between your legs, in his truck, with no one around. it wasn’t like you to sneak around, and while it had been fun, you knew sarah needed to know.

you hummed, looking up at his hat and teasingly taking it off to place upon your own head. he brushed his newly disheveled hair then smiled down at you, his head slightly tilting. you wondered if you looked as good as he did in the hat.

“do you think sarah would kill me if she knew?” you asked seriously, not wanting to put a damper on the mood, but it had been something on your mind lately.

“no, she’d probably kill me.” he stated.

you laughed, glancing out the door to the bow of the boat, knowing he had to be right. “i have to tell her,” you sighed, imagining it for a moment. you didn’t want her to be upset.

but you had known sarah for so long that you knew in your heart she wouldn’t be mad at you. she couldn’t. if anything, she might be a little weirded out, but she would embrace it, just like you embraced john b. it had been so weird, but so right for them to get together. maybe she’d feel the exact same way about you and rafe. then again, you and rafe weren’t dating, were you?

“i’m having fun with you too,” you said, quieter this time as if another person might’ve been on the boat with you.

you looked back up at him, searching his eyes. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so scared, so anxious for saying that aloud. he had already admitted the same thing, so what was there to be afraid of?

a soft gasp fell from your lips as rafe pulled you closer, his hand slipping over your bottom. his eyes seemed to darken, although you couldn’t exactly tell if it was from his face moving closer. either way, it added to the pooling in your abdomen.

“sucking my dick or me eating you out?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

you couldn’t help the blush sparking in your cheeks, heating your skin up faster than if you were to sit in front of a fire. you opened your mouth to answer him, instead watching as he disappeared and moved to your jaw. his mouth was warm and slick over your skin. you slipped your eyes closed and tightened your hold around his shoulders. god, you didn’t want him to stop.

“both,” you remembered to say, answering his question.

rafe squeezed at your ass, simultaneously moving your hips closer. you let out a breath when you brushed against him. he moved from your jaw then and found your lips.

“i thought we were just hanging out?” you teased, continuing to kiss him back in between the words. he was insatiable at the moment, never once letting you get too far away.

“we can if that’s what you want.” his breath was hot and growing heavy by the second. you smiled at the double meaning of his reply and pulled away slightly to shake your head. fuck no, you didn’t want to just hang out.

dropping your hands to the table behind you, you lifted yourself up and sat before tugging him in between your legs. you locked him in place with your thighs and reached up to connect your lips again. he obliged, running his tongue along your bottom lip in question. you happily allowed him access, making a small noise as you felt the pooling seep to your undies now.

his hands settled on your thighs for a little, gliding against your skin and sending shivers in each direction. you pushed your chest against his, wanting nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, to have his hands everywhere on your body. you nearly groaned in agony just wanting to ask him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. but it wasn’t long before he brought a hand up your side and rested over your breast. it was so warm and cupped you so nicely that you contemplated just letting it stay there, but your arousal told you differently.

pulling away, you managed to take your shirt off fast enough that you should’ve won the world record. you knocked rafe’s hat off while doing so, hearing it fall to the table behind you.

“fuck,” rafe swooned over your exposed chest.

he slipped an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and simultaneously against his bulge. you moaned and arched into his hand on your breast again, his grip gently kneading over your bra. what would his lips feel like there? you almost wish you could’ve found out the other day in the truck, but this…this was better.

feeling rather curious, or just very horny, you decided to rub your hips into rafe’s, feeling how hard he was. you felt the muscles in his back turn to steel, the noise against your lips contradicting it. his hand dropped from your breast to join his other at your lower back and you reveled in the way he gripped you tighter against his own body.

“fuck, i want you rafe, please.” you said, feeling the throbbing in your lips from kissing so much. you felt it just as much behind your shorts, your undies were practically drenched. you were so wet and you didn’t want to wait anymore for him to know it.

“i-i want you too,” he panted, loosening his grip.

he was very reluctant to pull away, to lose touch of you, but he was quick and excited as he pulled his shirt off, ripping some of the buttons. it made you laugh, your chest heaving for breath as you watched. he reached for your shorts next, moving fast and taking them off with your underwear at the same time. you didn’t mind, drawing your lip between your teeth, lifting your hips as you watched him do so. he pushed his bottoms off, fishing in his pocket for a condom he cleverly packed.

you drank in the sight of him, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his arousal and the dark curls surrounding him. for a second it felt like you shouldn’t be looking, that this was too private and not meant for your eyes, but once you looked up at his face and took in the way he was doing the same exact thing to you, you melted.

“you’re fucking pretty, you know that?” he said as he came back in between your legs, pushing your hair out of your eyes, and giving you a firm kiss.

“seems like you tell me a lot.” you answered and reached out to touch him gently. he sucked in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, your fingers registering that lovely vein again.

you could probably stare at your hand all day and revel in that vein, but instead you lifted your head and attached your lips to rafe’s neck. his hands went behind you so he could open the packet and it probably would’ve taken him a shorter amount of time if you weren’t sucking a mark into his skin and slowly rubbing him. he moaned lowly before getting the packet open successfully. you spent a few more seconds on his neck, then licked over the spot and pulled away.

rafe’s hand came over your wrist. he squeezed lightly then pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to your palm. he held your hand for a moment while he leaned in to press a kiss to your mouth. “can i taste you first?”

“o-okay,” you nodded quickly. “yeah.”

you practically reeled as he crouched down to his knees in front of you and brought a leg over his shoulder. you moved to the very edge of the table, having a slight thought of falling completely off, but you had a feeling rafe would catch you or you’d both laugh it off.

those thoughts completely disappeared as rafe put his mouth on you. you pulled a lip between your teeth, watching him as he did.

“fuck, you’re so wet for me.” he noted and gripped your thighs before licking a long stripe up your folds.

one of his hands slipped from your leg and you wondered what he was doing for a second, before you saw the muscles flexing in his shoulder. that got you even hotter, knowing that he was touching himself while having his mouth on you. you nearly couldn’t think straight as he licked you again. he dipped into your entrance and you swallowed a whimper when he decided to leave you like that.

you watched him stand back up and lick his lips as he rolled the condom on, your stomach flipping and rolling in anticipation. you swallowed thickly and looked up at rafe when he was ready, his hand gentle as it appeared on your hip.

“are you ready?” he asked in a deep breath. “if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded with a small smile.

you spread your legs wider and looked down at the same time as rafe so you could watch him. you breathed slowly to relax, watching as he guided himself to your entrance and slowly moved inside of you. your mouth fell open as a result, your arms nearly giving out. he opened you up the more he slid in, his palm on your thigh pressing more and more until he was completely inside.

“s-shit,” you panted and let your head fall back for a moment.

you breathed, closed your eyes. you tried to remember everything. you wanted to remember everything about this moment, about what it was like to have rafe inside of you. christ, you’d been in this same spot a week ago, daydreaming about his damn arms and veins and whole entire being. you’d lusted after him, tasted him, had him taste you, and now here you were. how the fuck did you get here?

you took a deep breath and leaned your head up. rafe’s mouth was open, his grip now like a vice on your thigh.

“fuck, you feel so good,” rafe said. “just like i imagined.”

you nearly whined at that and pressed your thighs into his hips to hold him in place. you licked your lips and pulled his mouth to yours, inviting him to move finally. he pulled his hips back slowly, holding onto you before moving back it. he did it a couple times, trying to get you used to him. fuck, he felt amazing.

rafe set a pace, his hand making a home on your lower back while his other held your leg up behind your knee. you couldn’t get enough of his praises each time he pulled away from you.

“god, you’re perfect,” he moaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth. “you fit so nicely around me, baby.”

you also couldn’t get enough of that damn pet name. it sounded even better falling from his lips in this exact moment.

“you’re taking my cock so well.”

with that praise you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, squeezing him tightly and causing both of you to moan. he almost lost his rhythm for a moment but got it back as he kissed the corner of your lips down to your jaw. you kept your eyes closed, you found it easier so you could focus on just feeling him.

he pressed kisses down your neck, stopping at a few places to nip. it tickled you and aroused you at the same time, if not more. a minute later, he found his way to your breast, your back arching again to push into his mouth. his tongue appeared, flicking over your nipple.

“rafe,” you moaned louder than before and tightened your legs around him as you felt that coil wind up. “go f-faster.”

he groaned against you, the vibrations traveling all the way down to your core. he picked up the pace and groped you now, giving your breast a squeeze while his tongue flicked again. his teeth skimmed over it before he bit down gently, making your hand fly to his hair to keep his head where it was.

his thumb appeared on your clit and you had a feeling that he was about to completely ruin you. his mouth popped off of you and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips wet and swollen. wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you cried out as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip and picked up the pace, your skin starting to smack. you felt yourself squeeze around him as his tongue played with yours and it was almost too much that you had to pull away from the sensation.

“holy— f-fuck. rafe, i'm s-so close.”

“you gonna come for me?” his breath blew across your face, overly warm and heavy. “come for me. i want to feel you come on my cock, baby.”

his thumb timed up with his hips now, making your eyes prick with tears as you squeezed them shut tightly. you gripped rafe’s shoulder, trying to hold onto something as you felt it coming.

“that’s it, come on. i got you.” he coaxed you through it so gently that it made you want to sob.

instead, you cried out as you reached your climax, feeling yourself pulse and squeeze around rafe as you came over him. your whole body twitched and tensed as rafe kept circling your clit, helping you through it. you moaned lowly from your chest, your head falling backward and your eyes relaxing. you had no idea rafe was so close behind until his forehead fell to yours and his thrusts slowed. he pulled out and thrusted hard, doing that a few times until he came undone too. you felt him pulse inside of you, emptying into the condom in spurts. you wished you could taste it again.

you drew your face into his neck, still gripping his shoulder. your palm was sweating against the table behind you and you wondered how you lasted so long holding yourself up the whole time. your heartbeat gushed less in your ears as the minutes went by and your body relaxed against rafe’s. you still felt so full, wanting to keep him there longer.

pressing a kiss to that hollow between your neck and shoulder, rafe rubbed your back soothingly. “you did so good, baby.”

you hummed into his skin then pulled away to brush his hair and kiss him softly. “thank you,” you said quietly, not exactly for the compliment.

you made a noise close to a whine when rafe moved out of you. you knew he had too, watching as he pulled the condom off and tied it closed. he went to the trash bin in the kitchen to toss it while you reluctantly moved off the table. you slid, looking back to see a small mess you made with rafe on the surface.

just when you were about to ask rafe for something to clean it up with, he came back with a rag already in his hand. he held it out to you and you smiled, knowing he got it for you. you cleaned between your legs than folded the rag a couple times before wiping the table clean.

rafe’s hand came to your sides, caressing softly over your skin. you smiled at his chest, touching his arms and warming up at the thought of what you two had just done. he pulled you closer just to hold you, his hands roaming to your back. it was comforting to have the silence to touch each other, to just be for a few quiet moments.

“as much as i would love to just stand here with you, i'm a little paranoid that someone can easily see in here.” you said after a while, looking right at the open door to the back deck of the boat.

“maybe you should’ve thought about that before we fucked on the table.” rafe said and you could hear the stupid grin on his face.

you nudged him away jokingly as you laughed, but he switched to a serious look when he tugged you back by the hips. you swallowed as you felt him against your thigh, nearly ready to go again. you looked up at rafe, biting your lips together to keep the grin at bay.

“do you want to go inside?” he smiled softly, glancing down at your lips.

“yes,” you nodded.

you pulled away to pull your clothes on. rafe teased you with your undies, holding them out for you to take, then snatching them out of reach. you jabbed him in the side until he gave them to you, a teasing grin on his face.

your shirt settled around you and you looked at rafe just as he caught your wrist and tugged you closer. his lips connected with your cheek and he hugged you against him, warm and solid. it was familiar, something you didn’t think you’d be able to say about him. you looped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him back.

“what?” you asked when you pulled away, finding another dumb smile on his face.

“think we could do this again sometime?” he searched your eyes, glancing down at your lips.

you laughed and rolled your eyes, knowing that’s exactly what you were about to do once you got inside the house. why would he ask such a silly thing?

“of course,” you said anyways before pushing him away to get your keys.

you headed inside with him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you wondered how you looked, walking into tannyhill with him. you knew by the smile on your face that you were happy, and you guessed that he was too by the way he was holding you against him.

“wheezie?” rafe shouted into the house as he closed the door behind you two, his hand clasped tightly around yours.

silence followed his voice as you looked around the entryway, trying your best to hear for wheezie’s movements, or anybody’s voice. coast clear, you wanted to say but rafe beat you to it.

“fuck yes,” he sighed happily and pulled you by the hips to him. you laughed against his lips, kissing him back as you kicked your shoes off.

the next few seconds were filled with stumbling up the stairs like two drunks, pausing every so often just so rafe could kiss you, rafe making grabby hands at you and hardly letting you go. it’s a wonder how you even made it up the stairs. you giggled at him once you got into his room, him quick to toss his shirt to the floor, and closed the door.

—

“hello?”

your head snapped to rafe beside you, who was still working on catching his breath. sarah was home and you immediately panicked as you sat up.

“anybody home?” she called again, sounding so sweet like she was.

“up here!” rafe shouted, bare ass as can be and making your jaw go slack.

you smacked his thigh, the sound cracking sickeningly, before you scrambled off the bed to pull your clothes on.

“stop hitting me,” he laughed and lifted himself up to watch you stumble putting your shorts on.

“fuck off!” you whispered as if you had a chance at avoiding the impending situation. you pulled your shirt on roughly, completely forgetting a bra as you walked out of rafe’s room.

you managed to close his door completely and meet sarah at the top of the stairs. she looked up at you, surprised, carrying a few shopping bags.

“hey?” she greeted. “i could’ve sworn i heard my brother instead.”

oh beautiful, sweet, smart sarah. was there any way out of this? 

“i need to tell you something.” you said quickly and bit your lip anxiously.

sarah lifted an eyebrow at you, searching your face. you took an unsteady deep breath in. she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad. there was no way you could postpone this. this had to be done now otherwise you’d never forgive yourself. it’s so simple! you just have to say the words, just admit it. sarah, listen, i'm sl—

“you forgot this.” rafe’s voice came from behind you, making your stomach drop and sarah’s eyes completely divert over your shoulder.

turning slowly, you were absolutely mortified to see him holding your bra so comfortably. and he looked so proud too. god, you were going to kill him. that’s it, you were going to kill him. well, it had been nice while it lasted.

“oh my god,” you and sarah said at the same time.

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[sarah-writes-marvel]

After-Party Showdown: MCU Cast x Fem!Reader (platonic)

S.S.” Ive literally had this fic finsihed since like Febuary so its a little rough but let me know how you like it!

Warnings: Blood, predetor male (Sorry to anyone named Eric... im sure your very kind), rudness..., sexual talk (kinda)

Word Count:1,710

MASTERLIST

-----------------------------

We had finished watching the premiere of the newest Avenger movie and the set, cast and a few selected friends returned to the reserved reception room at the hotel that many were staying at. 

RDJ, Tom Holland, Hiddelston and Gwenth were talking with a few friends of theirs and some of the set members. Chris Evans, Hemsworth, Elizabeth and Scarlett were also in their own separate group that was somewhat merged with Sebastian, Anthony, Don and Paul.

I was new blood to the crew, and although I was immediately accepted by the cast, I watched them mingle from the bar.

Eventually people began to disperse, mainly people that worked the cameras and the background actions. Basically leaving the actors and actresses and their few friends they brought with. 

I continued to sit at the bar talking with various people that came to refill drinks, even had a lovely conversation with the bartender, who seemed slightly star stucken. Nearing the end of the night a charming gentleman came to my side and struck up a conversation with me as we sipped away at our drinks.

“Hello beautiful. I’ve got to say you’re way too pretty to be over here on your own.” he said with a pearly white smile.

“Oh well thank you.” I blushed at his compliment. 

“So why aren’t you mingling with everyone? I've seen you sitting over here all night.” he replied, studying my face.

“I’m more of a people watcher. Introverted and all that jazz.” I reply taking a sip of my drink looking at the cast laughing and talking.

“Alright I can understand that. Do you want to be less introverted and hang out with me?” He replied with a sly tone in his voice.

“Well you sitting next to me talking aren’t you?” I stated. “In my book that’s considered hanging out.”

“Well I meant more along the lines of a nice walk and maybe heading back to my place.” His statement was blunt and outgoing.

“Oh well, I appreciate the invitation but I have to decline.” I replied as kindly as possible.

“Oh come on sweetheart. Why not?” His voice whined.

“First I don’t know your name. Second, I'm not a one night stand kinda girl, I'm assuming that’s what you had in mind.” I looked at him pointedly and annoyed.

“I’m sure I could change your mind. I’m Eric. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He held his hand out and finally introduced himself.

“I wish you would’ve led with your name.”

“Duly noted.” he retracted his hand before he kept talking. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Very hot.” his comment caused me to roll my eyes just slightly.

“If you are going to try and complement my clothes off you should stop now.” 

“Why? Because it’s going to work.” He leaned in, the brandy apparent on his breath, his hand sneaking around my waist.

“No,it won’t work. I would also appreciate you not touching me.” I said scooting a few inches away.

“Oh come on. You know you want to have a good time.”

“I was having a good time.” Even I could recognize the annoyance in my voice. I continued to watch my friends talk amongst themselves, saying goodbye to others.

“I can make it so much better though. I mean the dress is just begging to come off. It would be a great addition to my floor.”

“Excuse me?” I set my drink down on the bar, standing up and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh please. You wore that so you could get compliments didn’t you?” His eyes looked at the dress that hung on my body. It was a decently modest midnight blue dress. It hugged my waist, the skirt ended just above the knee, it even had long sleeves. The only suggestive thing about it was the vneck and the open back.

“Yes. Compliments. That was not a compliment. That was a shitty way to try and pick up someone.” I replied.

“Oh please. You should be happy that I asked you.” His face turned to anger almost as if he was annoyed.

“I’m perfectly happy turning down your request. I hope that you have a good night.” I turned heading towards the group to leave behind the creep at the bar but a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing.” My voice was stern yet quiet doing my best not to create a scene.

“I’m going to ask again until you say yes.” he’s hand tightened around my wrist.

“Let go of my wrist.” I demanded a little louder wishing that the bartender hadn’t left to retrieve more ice and alcohol.

“Not till you say yes.” He seethed. I tugged against the resistance on my wrist trying to pull away. “Quit being such a bitch and take the compliment that I actually want to sleep with you.” His voice was hot against my neck when he leaned in to whisper that into my ear. I snapped. 

I twisted my arm causing his hand to turn with it allowing me to break free, gripping his wrist pulling him from his seat wrapping his hand behind his back and shoving his face into the bar. Suddenly all eyes are on the interaction.

“First of all, I don’t need to feel grateful for you telling me that I look beautiful, I’ve heard it many times, and that my clothes would look better on your floor.” I let go of my hold, Evans and RDJ approached the two of us. Eric stood up, raising his hand, almost in an attempt to hit me.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Evans said before Eric moved.

“Don't tell me what to do with my girlfriend.We we’re just having a nice conversation.” Eric smirked, his hand placed on my waist.

“Seriously. You seriously just did that?” RDJ laughed.

“What? Did you come to save her or something?”

“Oh no. We aren’t saving her. She can easily take you on her own. We’re just suggesting that you don’t do that because it’ll come with an asswhopping from a young woman in heels and many lawsuits.” RDJ started with a smug tone.

“There is no way in hell that she'll be able to take me. Plus I've got amazing lawyers.” Eric spat back with a smirk.

“Oh ya, no. You really don’t want to challenge her.” Hemsworth commented. Eric looked at him with anger in his eyes. I picked up my glass from the counter, taking a sip and holding onto it so I wouldn’t punch his face.

“Whatever.” he turned towards me. “Good luck ever getting laid with your attitude.You’re nothing without a man's approval you know. Even had to have these people come to your rescue.” 

His voice was quiet and annoyed trying to dig under my skin. And it did a little bit, but it just fueled my anger toward him. I looked at him and the glass shattered in my hand as I tightened my grip. The glass fell to my feet the remaining liquid splashing onto my dress and onto his outfit. 

“You can go.” I even scared myself with the tone of my voice as I spoke. The look of fear in the man's eyes gave me a sense of pleasure that I put him in his place. He pushed his way through the group that had surrounded us and rushed through the exit.

“Well then. What a dick.” I started watching the door close. My hand was still in a fist and I held my other hand underneath, feeling the blood from the cuts drip into a puddle in my palm.

Everyone looked at me shocked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to involve anybody. Is everyone ok?” I looked at the astonished faces of my friends.

“Are you seriously asking if we're ok?” RDJ questioned.

“Well ya.” I shrugged my shoulders looking at everyone who all seemed very concerned.

“You just crushed a glass with your bare hand. You are bleeding. We should be asking you that!” He exclaimed.

“Oh ya. I’m fine. I really hate guys like that though.” I looked down at my dripping hand and turned around to face the bar. I reached behind grabbing one of the clean white towels, dipping it into the cup of water that I had at the spot I was sitting. I began cleaning the affected wounds when Evans took over.

“You know I knew that you could take Hemsworth and I but I never knew you could do this! You gotta be careful. Someone might think you've got some super soldier serum flowing in your blood.” He smiled as he wiped away the blood and examined the cut in the center of my palm for glass. “Alright this may hurt just a bit.” He began tightly wrapping the cloth around my hand, tucking the end into itself.

“You should go to a doctor to get that properly taken care of.” Scarlett added.

“That's a good idea.” I agreed, standing from the seat that I had been pushed down on. “Well I had a great night with y’all! I hope I didn't ruin it with that little fiasco.” I smiled grabbing my clutch from the bar and walking through the group.

“Well where the hell are you going?” RDJ questioned.

“The hospital to get stitches, you know like Scar suggested.” I was confused at his question.

“Well someone’s gotta go with ya.” Evans stated.

“Ya. We’ll go with you. The night is still young!” RDJ exclaimed standing up and meeting me.

“You don't all have to come, it'll just be a couple of stitches.” I laughed.

“Too late I called the limo already. We're taking a trip to the hospital!” RDJ celebrated. Soon the rest of the crew was chiming in on a “To the hospital” chant as we made our way out the door, earning confused and concerned looks from the staff of the hotel. 

To say the hospital staff was surprised to see the cast of the marvel movies enter the emergency was an understatement, but I was glad to have the best people around me, even if it was for a few stitches.

---------------------------

Like I said it was one of the first fics I had written a while ago... But I hope you liked it! thanks for reading!

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

It’s Just A Spark Ch.18 - Home

(TW for this chapter: mentions of blood/violence and mentions of homophobia coming from an abusive father)

It still baffled Astrid how different a place could look by night compared to how it did by day. There was something about the narrow, empty streets of Berk drenched in moonlight that made her feel calm like no other place she'd been to before. Not even back at Puffin Point she'd felt this kind of serenity.

Astrid unlocked her front door and took a deep breath at the sight of her dark and empty flat. It smelled like home. She'd left a place she'd called home out of habit and had arrived in Berk with an odd sense of belonging as soon as she'd set foot outside the bus station into the busy street. She hadn't ever been able to explain it, but something about this place made her feel like she wanted to stay - so she had done just that and made Berk her home.

And despite everything that had happened to lead her here, she'd never regretted it. Her keys landed on the small table next to the entrace, followed by her phone and wallet. Her shoulders were aching as she painstakingly shrugged out of her jacket, the crammed-up three hours of sleep on a frail metal bed she'd got now properly announcing themselves. Astrid grimaced and rolled her shoulders back and forth a couple of times before she peeled herself out of her clothes, threw them into a corner and put on her pajamas. She forced herself to a trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and then - finally - dragged herself back to her bedroom. She'd be able to catch a couple hours of sleep before work. Another three, maybe. Three and a half if she was really lucky and fell asleep right now immediately.

The song she'd set as an alarm tone got gradually more annoying with each and every passing morning. Today, the very thin line between 'strong annoyance' and 'burning, all-consuming hatred' had been finally passed. Astrid forced her eyes open and angrily glared at her phone, only to find the display telling her it was 7 am as if it was mocking her.

"Shut up," she growled into her pillow and hit snooze, turning back around and cuddling into the warmth of her blanket. Why was it that beds were only ever this comfortable when you had to leave it within five minutes?

Said five minutes passed. The alarm went off, once again. Astrid hissed and tried to fight the urge to press the snooze button a second time. She failed.

___________________________________________________

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the cat section."

Astrid's face lit up at the sound of the voice behind her and she turned around, to find Hiccup grin at her, hands in his pockets. She mirrored his expression and decided to play along.

"And are you looking for something specific, sir? Anything I can help you with?"

"Oh yes, actually, now that you mention it - I was looking for my girlfriend. About as tall as you, blonde hair, breathtaking blue eyes-"

His voice trailed off as Astrid, now laughing lightly, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently. Hiccup chuckled into the kiss and pulled her in by the waist, flush against him and found that he still couldn't stop smiling, even after days of having kissed her for the first time, somehow still not believing his own luck as his other hand gently cupped her face.

After a few seconds Astrid suddenly pulled back, a frown on her face but a glint in her eyes, her hands stilled on his chest now.

"Hang on - was that another asthma joke?"

Hiccup's grin told her everything she needed to know, so she rolled her eyes and kissed him again.

"So - fancy some non-cardboard ice cream?" she asked after they'd parted (and remembering they were still very much in public), grinning up at him.

Hiccup frowned, smiling apologetically. "Actually, I just dropped by to ask if you're free tonight and would mind cutting my hair? Technically I'm still on my shift, just took a little break."

"Oh," Astrid paused, her expression slipping for a moment, but then shrugged and smiled again. "Sure. I'll be home, just drop by whenever you can, yeah?"

"Amazing," he grinned and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

Her hands rested on his chest again as Astrid got on her tiptoes to be on the same level as him. "Anytime. Now go, the city of Berk needs you," she quipped, maybe a bit more dramatically than her smile would make you think. Hiccup rolled his eyes but leaned in for a last kiss and hugged her shortly.

"I'll see you later."

______________________________________________________

Hiccup was still grinning to himself, warmth deeply settled in his chest as he lightly pushed the door of the common room open.

"Hey guys, sorry I-"

He stopped abruptly as he saw Snotlout and Gobber, huddled together on the sofa. His cousin sat there, completely motionless, his head buried in his hands. The other fireman was speaking in hushed tones. Within a heartbeat Hiccup was at the sofa, his eyes searching Gobber's.

"What happened?"

The older man's eyes were dark, but he didn't speak. Instead Snotlout pulled his hands away from his face, almost mechanically, gaze still cast on the floor.

Hiccup's blood froze when he saw the bloodied bruise across his cousin's chin and cheek, his nose crimson red with not-yet dried blood.

"Oh, my God," he breathed out and sank down onto the floor next to him. "What happened?" he repeated, urgently.

Snotlout turned his face away again, baring his bruised cheek.

"Scott, what happened?"

There was an edge to Hiccup's voice now, and finally Snotlout turned to face him and spoke, his eyes dark.

"My Dad."

Hiccup's heart stopped for a second, a curse escaping his lips.

"Fishlegs and I have been texting," Snotlout's voice was hollow as he spoke. "Dad must've got to my phone while I was in the kitchen.

Hiccup's eyes grew wide, his heart painfully seizing, already know what exactly had happened and - more imortantly - why it had happened.

"Shit."

Snotlout nodded grimly and shrugged slightly. "Next thing I know, he's screaming - things and he-" he stopped, his breath hitching in his throat as he fought the fresh tears that were gathering in his eyes. "Threw me out."

The moment the tears were spilling over, he hid his face in his hands again, his shoulders starting to shake violently. Hiccup and Gobber exchanged a short look and a wordless conversation, and then Gobber abruptly got to his feet, his expression grim. There had only been a limited amount of times Hiccup had seen his uncle this furious, and yet dangerously quiet, his fists clenching and opening again as he stood in the middle of the common room. His voice was shaking with held-back rage as he spoke.

"I'm gonna go and pack a few things for you, son. You're staying with your uncle and me."

Hiccup opened his mouth, the words 'Let me go with you' on the tip of his tongue, but Gobber just held up a hand and added, "You're staying here. That bastard wouldn't dare to pick on someone his own size, I'll be fine."

Hiccup gave up quickly, knowing there would be no deterring Gobber in a moment like this, so he nodded firmly and sat down next to Snotlout.

"You're on call response until I get back," Gobber added, addressing Hiccup once more. The younger man nodded a second time.

"We're here," he said, maybe more to Snotlout than to Gobber and slowly, carefully as to not to startle his cousin, laid an arm around him as he silently shook with quiet sobs. "We're here."

____________________________________________________

"I got you some tea."

Hiccup carefully set the steaming mug down in front of his cousin, who had gone back to staring blankly at the floor in complete motionlessness.

He'd let Hiccup tend to his wounds, and the young man had been relieved none of Snotlout's open bruises had required any stitches. He sat back down next to him and after a moment of silence, quietly said, "Don't let it get cold."

Almost automatically, Snotlout reached out and took a sip from the hot beverage, clutching it tightly with both hands as he continued his staring contest with the floor.

Hiccup knew he couldn't force him to talk about anything that had happened. But right now, he wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to even go as far as ask.

Several minutes passed.

"I'm not a piece of shit, am I, Hiccup?" Snotlout's voice was hollow when he finally spoke to the ground. "Just because I'm bi. That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"

Hiccup's heart broke a little. "Of course not," he said, his hand back on his cousin's shoulder. Snotlout shook it off reluctantly, tears gathering in his eyes again.

"So why did he say that?"

"Say what?" Hiccup probed gently, now keeping his hands away.

"That I'm not his son anymore," Snotlout choked out, eyes desperately glued to the floor. "Why would he say that?"

"I don't know," Hiccup admitted a moment later, his heart aching for his cousin who looked so young and afraid. Looking at him now, the burly young man who carried himself with confident bravado seemed more like a little boy, cowered together to make himself as small as possible. Fragile. Snotlout seemed fragile right now, and Hiccup didn't know what to do.

So he let him cry, let him lean against him and cry into his shoulder until his tears had subsided and his breathing had calmed down again.

"Do you want a sip of water?" Hiccup asked once Snotlout's shoulders had stopped shaking. The dark-haired man wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded, almost sheepishly. Hiccup nodded and carefully got up and went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Upon his arrival he found Snotlout staring down at the ground again, resting his chin on his hands now. He shortly looked up as he heard Hiccup enter and tried a small smile.

"Thanks," he muttered as Hiccup handed him the glass and quickly emptied it, now for the first time realising how thirsty he was.

They sat in silence for a while.

"It's like I came to my senses, you know," Snotlout said then, his head in his hands again. "After what you said. About not saying anything. Fishleg's amazing, I'm not the only one who sees that. So what if somebody else does - say something. And then he'd fall for that person. Not me. So I-" he paused, still not looking at Hiccup. "So I texted him again. And we've actually agreed to meet up, after my Friday night shift. Proper dinner as well, restaurant and everything, no alcohol this time."

With this, he finally looked at his cousin, shooting him a small, unsure ever-faltering smile. Hiccup returned the expression and gently nudged his shoulder.

"See, knew you could do it," he paused for a moment, then his grin widened. "Look at you, going to candle light dinners with the guy of your dreams."

Snotlout let out a weak laugh, pretend-pushing him away lightly. "Alright, don't get too excited. Just because I took your advice doesn't mean it was very good, okay?"

"Sure, Snot, whatever you say," Hiccup grinned, making him bark out another hesitant low laugh.

"Shut up."

_______________________________________________________

Gobber returned with clothes and a dark expression.

"Right," he let the pile of clothes fall onto the coffee table and turned to look at the two younger men. "I've phoned Stoick, you can sleep on the sofa until we've cleared the spare room out for you."

"Thank you, Gobber," Snotlout mumbled, a strange mix of relief and shame written over his face. "I'm really sorry for-"

"And you're not finishing that sentence," Gobber interrupted him sharply. "There's nothing to feel sorry for, son. You're welcome to stay at ours for as long as you need and want." His expression softened with every word he spoke, and finally, Snotlout smiled up at his mentor, the shame slowly vanishing.

"Thank you," he repeated, louder this time and - for the first time in hours - got up from the sofa, looking a bit sheepish. "Now I just need a toothbrush."

"I've got a spare one in my bathroom locker," Hiccup offered, relieved at the sight of the smile on his cousin's face at his words.

"Right - it's settled then, I'll get a bag for your things," Gobber decided, rubbing his hands together and giving Snotlout a quick pat on the back before he left.

Snotlout sat back down next to Hiccup, smiling softly to himself.

"Love that guy," he said, weakly pointing to the spot where Gobber had just stood. "And you too, by the way. Never said that, I think. I know I'm always acting like … you know."

"Like you're fearless and untouchable and don't need anyone?"

Snotlout snorted, side-eyeing Hiccup sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah, more or less."

Hiccup shrugged lightly and grinned. "It's okay. Thank you for saying it. And I'll be here for you, okay? Whenever Gobber and Stoick are maybe a bit too much - so maybe after, I don't know, two three … hours or so - you can come crash at my place, yeah? We'll watch those Keanu Reeves movies you like so much."

Snotlout looked at him, and for the first time this evening, felt completely calm and only grateful.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

[loneveenas]

tattoos, scars, and birthmarks

pairing: iwaizumi x reader words: 1,427

rating: m (for mentions of alcohol)

summary: after your confession and a couple of dates, tonight’s drinks had you finally gather the courage to ask about a few of iwaizumi’s tattoos. and scars. and birthmarks.

notes: a part two to my iwaizumi!tattoo artist au that you can read over here 

the two of you had gone on several dates after you had confessed your feeling to him — dear god your adrenaline was rushing so hard when it happened, you still have no idea what gave you the idea of jumping in like that.

tonight, however, was a different kind of date.

drunkenly, you had asked him about his several tattoos and if they had any meaning behind them. iwaizumi, tipsy as well, had suddenly stood up, walked over to the server, asked for the bill, paid, and walked back to you, only to drag you out of his seat and having you follow him.

and there you were, in his room and on his bed, with iwaizumi taking off his shirt, revealing his entire sleeve, a chest tattoo that went with it.

you could only stare.

“wow,” you breathed out, impressed by the amount of work that had gone into the sleeve. the details were unlike anything you had ever seen and the chest piece covering one of his pecs was staring right back at you.

“cool, huh?” he returned and you nodded.

you extended your arm. “can i… touch it?” iwaizumi nodded and you let your hand brush over his arm. trailing it, your fingers bumped over something. “a scar?” you asked.

iwaizumi grinned sheepishly. “yeah… i got it when i was cycling to high school one day and tripped really bad. had to get stitches for that one. oh, and also here,” he looked up, facing the ceiling, showing his neck and skin. the position showed you clear access to the smaller volleyball tattoo you had previously noticed, but also a scar on the bottom of his chin. “ragged my chin over the concrete when i fell that time too,” he commented, pointing his finger up.

before you knew it, you had moved your hand from his arm to his chin, to feel the chipped part. you didn’t say anything.

“what about you,” he breathed, moving his head back to stare back at you.

subconsciously you removed your sweater and sat in front of him, in your bra and your jeans. you took his hand and moved it up, placing it on your collar bone. “when i was younger i loved climbing in trees. until i was thirteen, however, when i fell from one and broke my collarbone.”

“woah.” he didn’t say anything for the next couple seconds, until, “and that was the only thing you broke?” you nodded. “that’s… so much luck wow.” you nodded again. “dang.”

you shrugged it off, moving on to another one. “also, look, my brother once stabbed me so hard with a pencil it nearly impaled me. you can still see a small dent, right here.” you pointed at a small spot, next to a birthmark, a little to the side of your belly button.

iwaizumi’s eyes grew wide. “impaled? that’s hardcore.”

you laughed, letting go of your skin and covering your mouth with your hand. “i guess.”

the two of you sat for a while, with you simply studying his sleeve; the colors that were used impressed you and the aesthetic really showed the entirety of the piece off. lower, on his abdomen, you noticed a small triangle of birthmarks.

“that’s pretty cool,” you whispered, pointing at them.

“you think so?”

“yeah. triangles like that are fun.”

iwaizumi laughed softly, “i guess so.”

“do you have any other cool tattoos that i need to know of?” you suddenly asked, still intriguingly looking at his chest piece.

“oh yeah!” his voice suddenly went up and you managed to avert your eyes, to lock them with his. they were suddenly shining brightly and he stretched out, his hands reaching for his pants, rolling up one of the cuffs.

the action revealed a small alien. he laughed, before letting go off his leg, which he extended towards you. you took it from him and placed it into your lap.

you saw a small alien staring right back at you.

“you see,” he said, stopping himself to laugh again, “i got this when my best friend turned eighteen. i had already turned eighteen a month before him, so we were just waiting on him becoming an adult too. we were so stoked about it, you can’t even imagine it.

“oikawa — that’s his name, oikawa tooru — is so interested in aliens, you have no idea. this boy and aliens… a match made in heaven. but anyways, we were dumb and young and decided on getting matching alien tattoos. his is colored differently, but we still match, haha.”

you have to suppress a laugh yourself. “that’s honestly so cute and pure.”

he laughs again. “it is. oikawa has been my best friend since i was super tiny, so to get this with him meant a lot to me. it was our first tattoo, and i had already dreamt of opening up my own parlor so this was a cool way to get familiar with it. oikawa, however, hated the pain and didn’t get anything else after.”

the two of you burst out in laughter. you can’t imagine what this oikawa person must look like. probably just as fit as iwaizumi, but taller or shorter, lighter or darker hair, you had no idea.

“sounds amazing. when did you start tattooing yourself?”

“i dropped out of college to go after my dream of becoming a tattoo artist. i studied sports health, but i honestly felt like tattooing would be more me. i became an apprentice, studied a little longer than others and finally opened up my shop two years later. and i’ve currently had my shop for a little over two years as well.”

“oohh,” you say, amazed at his ambition. that was right, your flower shop opened up later than his tattoo parlor. “that’s so impressive and inspiring.”

“yup! and,” he added, his voice going up in excitement, “i got my very first apprentice coming in next week.”

you rounded your eyes. “what?! that’s so cool! congrats!”

“thanks,” he grinned. “i’m excited about it, too.”

“you should bring them over for coffee once when they start,” you mention with a grin.

morning coffees had become more and more fun ever since the two of you had started going out on dates. iwaizumi had even brought cakes along with him.

but iwaizumi shook his head heavily. “no!”

“what no,” you giggled.

he scooted closer, moving your legs over his, your bodies coming closer.

“morning coffees are our little thing,” he smiled softly. then he huffed, “but if you really want to see them you can come over yourself, maybe get a tattoo or something,” he mentioned quickly, with you nearly missing it, “but not morning coffees!”

you huffed. “me getting a tattoo? what, you want yourself to be the one to set my first tattoo? that’s a commitment.”

iwaizumi grinned. “a risk i’m willing to take. you’ve seen my sketches and my work! you know how good i am, right?”

you could only nod. that’s right, you did. “i guess i can’t say no to that offer, can i now?” you teased him and he squeezed your sides. you squealed and slapped him playfully; he knew you couldn’t handle that.

“nope, you can’t. but let me rephrase it, actually,” he said, letting go of your sides.

the area he left suddenly felt empty and cold. you raised your eyebrows, wondering what could come next.

iwaizumi coughed once before opening his mouth to speak. “y/n,” he started, and you already laughed at the official tone behind it. “can i, please, please, set your first tattoo. please?” he added for the last time.

you laughed and nodded. “of course. but! i get to choose whatever i want, and i do want to pay you for it.”

it wasn’t the first time iwaizumi had mentioned wanting to put a tattoo on your body, but he had always said you wouldn’t have to pay him for it — the morning coffees were enough of a payment.

while he was staring at you in disbelief, opening his mouth to contradict, you shook your head wildly.

“not taking any no’s! it’s this or i’m going to another shop!”

iwaizumi pouted and you had to try your hardest not to laugh out loud into his face, but to remain your straight and serious face.

finally, he gave in. you smiled at your success and snuggled a little closer towards him, throwing your arms around him.

“thank you,” you softly told him.

iwaizumi hummed, feeling content, and also moved his arms around your body.

[densi-mber]

Frozen, Part 3

A/N: Here is the third and final part of Frozen.

When we were last with Densi, they were facing impending hypothermia and Deeks had just suggested naked cuddling.

***

“Deeks, this is not a time for jokes,” Kensi sighed, or she tried to. It came out as more of a croak, her throat dry and hoarse from the cold. Each word made her throat ache, like it was being tore from her.

“Who’s joking? I am completely serious,” he insisted. “Skin-to-skin is proven to be one of the best defenses against the cold.”

Kensi rolled her eyes, not really sure why she was protesting, but not feeling like giving in. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to admit the situation was as dire as it seemed.

“We have the fire.”

“And it’s barely providing any heat.” He stepped closer and tipped her chin up. His fingers were red, but still made Kensi’s skin burn with the difference in heat. “Face it, Kens. Our clothes are soaked, we’re quickly heading towards stage three frostbite and impending hypothermia and if we don’t do something soon, we’re going to start loosing appendages. And I happen to like my fingers and toes. As well as a couple of other essential parts.”

Pulling in a small breath that burned her throat, Kensi glanced at the fire. Damn it but Deeks was right. She could barely feel it even from half a foot away and she was freezing.

“Fine,” she said, finally relented. “But we need to stoke up the fire and have things set up so we don’t have to get up a bunch.”

“Sweet. I’ve always wanted to spoon for survival.” Deeks ignored her glare in favor of moving the cot closer to the fire. She watched him for a moment, worried that he was straining himself too much. Even with the liquid stitches, he could reopen the cut which would put him at risk of more bleeding and possible infection.

Worry wasn’t going to save them though so she pushed those thoughts away, and added several more pieces of wood to the fire, moving the rest in easy reaching distance of the cot.

Kensi had a roll of string in backpack and together they ran it across the room to hand their wet clothes on and then tucked the three, depressingly thin, blankets around the thin mattress on the cot. By the time they were finished, her fingers were barely moving, and she felt increasingly lethargic.

She fumbled with the zipper on her coat, grabbing at the pull several times without any success. Deeks already had his boots and coat off.

“Oh baby, come here,” he said, noticing her struggle. Kensi was cold enough to let him lead her to the cot and not resist when he began tugging off her boots. She gasped when the cold air hit her now less protected feet. “Sorry.”

Deeks grimaced as he removed her coat, jeans and t-shirt, revealing more reddened skin. He stripped off his own thermal shirt, which was partially dry near the shoulders and used it to dry some of the moisture from her damp hair, which was frozen in icy tangles around her face.

At any other time, she would be distracted by the sight of him half naked and kneeling in front of her while he slowly undressed her. Now she just wanted to get them both under the covers as quickly as possible.

Wordlessly, Deeks left her to finish undressing and to hang up their clothes then dried his hair with one sleeve of his shirt. Kensi slid under the covers as he ran over in just his underwear and crawled in beside her. He tossed his boxer briefs over the side of the cot a second later, making a face.

“Never liked those anyway,” he commented, drawing the layers of blankets over their heads.

“Get over here,” Kensi croaked out, drawing him closer. She hissed at the initial contact, feeling like her skin was burning, but knew it was a good sign that she wasn’t completely numb. Deeks wrapped his arm tightly around her, his hands resting on her lower back, and intertwined their legs, creating a barrier all around her.

Cradled in his arms, she felt marginally warmer, but there was a fine tremor running through her now. Deeks held her even tighter, like he could somehow will away her hypothermia induced tremors.

“God, this would be so much more fun in Malibu,” he sighed a few minutes later. “You could wear that blue bikini of yours, the one that almost got us kicked out of Mammoth last year. I’d even break out my short shorts. Just laying out in the sun, surfing, and eating fish tacos.”

“I think you’d turn into a fish taco if I let you.” Her skin still ached a little but the combination of their bodies pressed together and a tiny of heat coming from the fire was starting to thaw her bit by bit.

Deeks contorted his head to look down at her, his expression skeptical.

“Uh, I seem to remember you were the one who ate six tacos all on your own last time.”

“I didn’t have any lunch that day,” she explained reasonably. Drips of cool water were beginning to trickle down her back from her thawing hair. She shivered again and burrowed a little further into Deeks’ arms, tucking her head between his shoulder and head.

“Mm, we probably should have eaten something before we got naked,” he said, his voice sounding slow and deeper than normal. It made her think of the sun, laying on the beach like he’d described.

“I’m not hungry.” She let out a giant yawn, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes.

“We can’t fall asleep,” Deeks muttered right before her eyes slipped shut.

***

“We should come here more often,” Kensi said, her voice light and dreamy as she trailed her fingers up Deeks’ chest. The sun beat down on his head while waves gently crashed against the shore. He swung both legs up onto their lawn chair so Kensi straddled his thighs. He fiddled with the blue string of her bikini and she smiled mischievously, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Go ahead, no one’s around.”

Just as he was loosening the knot, a figure bent over them, blocking out the sun.

“You got a pulse?”

“I think they’re just asleep.” A hand shook Deeks’ shoulder and he turned away from it, wincing as a blast of cold hair hit his face. “Deeks, wake up.” He popped one eye open, trying to figure out what Callen was doing at the beach with him and Kensi. And why it was suddenly freezing.

“Callen?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He tried to sit up, inadvertently flipping the covers off Kensi. She yelped and sat up suddenly, looking around with a wild expression.

“Callen, Sam, what are you doing here?” she said, her words a little slurred as she tried to pull the blanket up around her shoulders.

“We tracked you using the GPS in your phones,” Callen answered. “Nell got worried when you didn’t check in yesterday.”

“Thank god for Nell.”

“Unbelievable,” Sam said, coming to stand beside Callen. “In the middle of a blizzard and you still can’t keep your clothes on.”

“We were huddling for warmth,” Deeks said, trying to sound dignified while he started shivering again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s like 10 degrees out there.”

“And you just had to get completely naked.”

“Our clothes were wet,” Kensi said, brushing a handful of hair back. It was completely disheveled, sticking out in several places, and he had to resist the urge to lean over and kiss her.

“Speaking of clothes, you wouldn’t happen to have a some, by chance.” He leaned over and plucked at his shirt which was torn and still damp. “And maybe a parka or two?”

“We got you covered,” Callen said with an amused smirk. “Sam, you want to call Nell and let her know we found them?”

“I’ll get her to send a medivac too since we’re never getting an ambulance all the way out here anytime soon,” Sam added, eyeing the wads of discarded gauze and bandages. “Which one of you knuckleheads got hurt?”

Kensi immediately pointed to Deeks, having no problem selling him out.

“He’s got a 2 1/2 inch cut, not too deep, but it was pretty bloody,” she reported. “I did my best with the medical glue. He still might need some stitches though.”

“Traitor,” Deeks said and Kensi shrugged, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy. Sam walked off to call Nell while Callen pulled sweatshirts and pants from his backpack and tossed them on the cot.

“I’ll give you guys a couple minutes.” He turned go, but then turned back, gesturing between them. “If I hear anything even remotely suspicious going on in here, I’m tasing both of you.”

Kensi made a scandalized sound as Deeks shivered beside her, his hands tucked in his armpits.

“Believe me, this is one of the few times where sex sounds absolutely unappealing,” he assured Callen.

They dressed quickly, moving out of the relative warmth of the blankets as little as possible. Once they were clothed again, Deeks tugged Kensi against him, kissing her firmly.

“I’m really glad we didn’t freeze to death,” Kensi said as he held her tightly. “Or lose any...appendages,” she added with a smirk. He picked Kensi up, intending to carry her from the cabin, and then abruptly sank back down with a grimace.

“Ok, maybe we should go to the hospital,” he decided, clutching at his stomach as something twinged and possibly tore. Kensi helped him back down to the bed with a sigh.

“Well, I guess we’re not going to Malibu this weekend.” Deeks groaned again, his dreams of sun and bikinis quickly evaporating.

“I hate snow,” he said vehemently.

[abarbaricyalp]

prompt idea for sam/steve/bucky

sharing clothes :)

All Caps, my love (this was so fun to work on because it really highlighted how differently I write them when Steve is involved)

Set in the same universe as You Don't Have to Read My Mind (to know what I have in mind) which means Nico and Hattie make a return and silver fox Commander Rogers is around

Read on AO3!

The Other Be Other

It was Nico who noticed it first, so he didn’t say jack to anyone. Well, not right away. It took him three days to break and scoot his desk chair into Hattie’s cubicle. “Hey, did you see Barnes the other day?” he asked.

Hattie’s eyelids actually fluttered. “Fuck, he looked so good,” she said. “And smelt good too.”

Nico scrunched up his nose. “He smelled like fried fish. Anyway, did you see that shirt he was wearing?”

He let Hattie think. Let her mentally redress him. “It was that blue fishing shirt, wasn’t it? Over a white t-shit. He had it open.”

“Yeah. It was a blue shirt with darker blue sharks on it,” Nico said.

“You pay a lot of attention to him. Hey, if you’re into Barnes, I’m not backing down. You’ll have to fight me for him,” she teased.

Nico blushed furiously and then willed it away because he didn’t want to explain why he was blushing or let Hattie think he was blushing because he had a crush on Barnes. “No, that’s not what I meant. Wilson was wearing the same shirt two weeks ago when he came in to file the newest report on Walker.”

Now Hattie scrunched up her nose. “Fuck that guy,” she said and Nico almost laughed.

“I would’ve thought he was your type.”

“As if,” she said. “So what? Barnes and Wilson have the same shirt.” Nico cut her an unimpressed look. “You think Barnes and Wilson are wearing the same shirt,” she clarified.

“Listen, everyone already knows Barnes wears Wilson’s Air Force hoodie,” Nico said.

“Someone said it was the new Falcon’s.”

“It’s not Joaquin’s,” Nico said quickly. Too quickly. Horrifyingly quickly.

“Oh my God, do you like the new Falcon?” Hattie asked.

“We’re not talking about the new Falcon,” Nico said. “We’re talking about Wilson and Barnes.”

“Barnes and Wilson,” Hattie corrected.

“Wilson is Captain America. He comes first.”

“You think so?” she asked with a wicked grin.

Nico blushed so hard he thought he might actually spring a fever.

* * *

“Why are you wearing that, Barnes?” Sam asked from the driver’s side of the car.

“What, you don’t like it?” Bucky asked, tossing his duffel bag into the backseat and climbing into the passenger side. “You left it in the dryer. It was the first thing I grabbed.”

“Grab your own clothes,” Sam said.

“Damn, you’re about to have Steve go down on you, can you lighten up?” Bucky snorted. “You’re high strung.” He leaned over to kiss Sam sweetly and then tried not to laugh when Sam turned it all sorts of filthy. “Save it for Steve, tiger,” he teased. “He whined all night last night about missing you and you not bein’ around to get on the phone with him.”

“He’s been up there for a week,” Sam said as he rolled his eyes. Sam had also kind of been kicking himself for managing to miss the call last night, though. It was probably why he was so grouchy this morning. “Four more hours,” he added.

“I have to swing by HQ and drop off our reports for this mission,” Bucky reminded him.

“Right, you have to do that. I’ll drop your ass off and go get my man.”

“Hey, he was mine first,” Bucky said.

“So I’ve got time to make up for.”

Bucky shoved Sam’s shoulder and got a reaming about car safety even though they were barely on the road yet.

* * *

It happened again a week later. Wilson and Barnes had been in and out of the office, always so, so, so loud. There was always an argument to be had, always a fight to pick with Fury, always something embarrassing to say about Commander Rogers. Nico couldn’t figure out why they spent so much time around the office. Rogers worked in a whole different building and Fury wanted nothing to do with either of them, as far as he could tell.

But there they were at 11 AM, complaining that it wasn’t lunch yet. At 3 in the afternoon, tempting people to leave early. At 9, right after official-opening, with coffee for everyone but Fury, who wasn’t around to see their joke anyway.

There was Sam at two in the afternoon, wearing a leather jacket that was so out of place in the middle of DC in the dead of summer in the heat of the afternoon. Nico could sweat just looking out the window. But, Sam looked really, really good in the jacket, so Nico couldn’t fault him for suffering through the heat to wear it.

Damn, maybe it was a Falcon thing with him.

And maybe Nico did watch Sam a little closely. Maybe he kept his eyes on Sam’s back while he leaned on a cubicle wall that was not strong enough to support him and all that muscle. Maybe he stared at his smooth skin and the way the jacket pulled over his shoulders and--

There was stitching around the arm of the jacket. Nico blinked a few times to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, but there was definitely blue thread holding the arm of the jacket to the rest of it.

And actually now that he was looking at the jacket and not Sam Wilson, he recognized the pattern on it, the weird ribbing down the sides, the golden buckles on the back to adjust the waist. He’d seen that jacket before. On the news. Several months ago, he’d had to pour over news footage of a Serpent Society...attack? fight? because Barnes had been part of it and his dumb report had said, I know there’s video footage of this. That’s my statement. So Nico had needed to put together a fucking highlights reel of Barnes’ action to file the report.

He’d gotten in trouble for it too.

He pulled the file up on his computer and watched the footage for a second to make sure it was the same jacket. And it was, except Barnes had ripped the sleeve off of his to show his metal arm. The left arm. The arm resewn onto this jacket.

The video suddenly cut into sound, making Nico jump. Sam Wilson looked over at him, at the footage on the computer and Barnes flipping over cars to avoid gunfire in that jacket. He reached over to shut the player off on Nico’s computer. “You work too hard, kid,” he said. “Barnes is never gonna give you a day off if you don’t take it.”

“Ha, how’d you know he’s always stuck...I mean, assigned Sergeant Barnes’ reports?” Hattie asked.

Sam shot Nico a knowing look and Nico panicked, thinking Sam knew that Nico knew about more than the $100 on his desk and a missing file. But that was impossible. It was just because of the note and bribery.

Bribery from Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Jesus, what was his life?

* * *

“This was a eight hundred dollar jacket,” Steve scolded. The irritation on his face, coupled with his silver hair and those damn broad shoulders, was doing all sorts of things to Sam that Sam didn’t want to analyze too deeply. He mostly wanted to sit back and snicker at Bucky getting in trouble.

“I’m just gonna rip that arm off again,” Bucky said boredly, one leg tucked under him on the couch where he was lounging, the other thrown over Steve’s back. “Why blue thread?” he asked eventually.

“To shame you into not doing this shit again,” Sam said.

“Color theory,” Steve answered.

“There’s no color theory to using royal blue thread in a black jacket. It’s not even navy,” Bucky said.

“You wanna do it?” Steve asked.

“Obviously not. Can name a lot of other things I do want to do though.”

Steve threw the jacket at Bucky’s face instead of answering. Sam jumped up to snag it before Bucky could toss it across the room.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky lilted up at him, turning bright blue eyes towards him from the arm of the couch. Sam reached out to stroke his thumb over Bucky’s jaw and then down his arched neck.

“Gonna wear it ‘til it stops smelling like the two of you,” he said. And then gasped and dropped the jacket as Steve was suddenly right on top of him, pressing him to the wall and kissing down his neck.

“Damn, I’ve gotta tear more shit up more often if this is what it gets me,” Bucky hummed and did something with a zipper and his metal hand that Sam could guess at but did not want to tear his eyes away from Steve to confirm.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Hattie breathed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

To read the reports from the heroes was one thing. Nico had read about so many bones sticking through skin that the image had started to lose its gruesomeness. He’d never been in a firefight and he’d only been a baby during the Battle of New York and during the Triskelion event in DC a few years after. Sure, he’d been around for the Blip, had struggled through five years without half the population, and then struggled through the next years after everyone reappeared, but that wasn’t the same kind of trauma as this. And he’d still only been a kid. He didn’t know what was going on then.

Now, watching from every screen in the room and occasionally out the window, he knew he was watching something terrible. He didn’t personally know any of the heroes, but it felt like watching friends being beaten and knocked down.

“Was that Hawkeye?” someone asked.

“No, that was a girl.”

“Who’s wearing Captain Marvel’s star?”

“Oh God, Spiderman just fell.”

“Wait, the new Falcon caught him.”

“Is the Hulk still fighting that thing in the ground?”

“Yeah, Thor’s still knocked out too.”

“Where’s Captain America?”

Nico pinched his arm until Hattie reached for his hand to stop him. Suddenly, a flash of red, white, and blue crashed onto a roof, drawing the attention of whatever mystic hell demon was leading the fire and brimstone charge on downtown DC.

“Oh, shit, hell yeah, Sam Wilson!” someone cheered and then everyone groaned when some lizard-like-thing knocked Sam flying with a spiked tail to the midsection.

“Wait,” Hattie said, mostly to Nico. “That’s not Sam.”

And, yeah, that was an understatement. It wasn’t his outfit and even the cowl couldn’t hide that it was a white guy under all those stars and stripes.

“Fuck, is Walker really gonna try it?” Hattie asked.

“It’s not Walker,” Nico said. “Walker doesn’t have access to the Falcon wings. Or the original Cap suit.”

Not-Wilson, Not-Walker, Not-Captain-America struggled to his feet, holding his arm around his ribs, to face the demon thing. A news drone flew closer so the coverage could pick up on the creature rasping and snarling out words.

“Captain America, you’re the one we’re looking for,” it growled.

“Yeah,” Not-Cap said, nodding his head tiredly. “That’s what I heard.”

“Oh my God,” Hattie breathed again.

“It’s Barnes,” Nico confirmed. Wearing a sleeve and glove, clean shaven, in the red, white, and blue. In the wings.

“Is he...is he acting like...bait or something? If that thing wants Cap…”

Nico shook his head. “No, not bait. He’s a red herring. He’s distracting it for Sam.”

“We want a pure soul. A fine example to be made.” The creature’s voice suddenly changed, along with its face, talons growing from its hands, a tail curling against the roof they were on. “The righteous ones make the best sounds when we flay them.”

Barnes grimaced. “You’re gonna be really disappointed in the sounds mine makes then,” he said. In a blink, he had a gun drawn from an invisible holster and shot the creature. It howled and writhed and smoke rose from boiling lesions on its body. Something splashed back on the drone and almost immediately, the drone went out of service.

On another screen, another news source, another camera, the lizard that had attacked Barnes earlier scrambled across the roof towards him again and Bucky went flying back, literally. The wings lifted him into the air, but not quickly enough. The lizard leapt up too, caught claws in Bucky’s leg and scored gashes down his thigh and calf as it fell away and then tried to climb back up. Bucky shot at it with the same gun he’d shot the demon with but it had less effect. He kicked at the lizard’s head with his good leg and urged the wings to take him higher. Again, the lizard scored down his leg and Bucky was obviously in pain as he tried to kick it free again. Eventually he must have hit a soft spot and the thing fell off, taking chunks of uniform and God knows what else with it.

This camera was too far away to pick up any words, but Nico saw Bucky’s hand go to his ear, to a comm. Then he was flying back down to the same roof. Another drone swooped in and everyone moved to the screen broadcasting that channel.

“Humans are messy creatures,” Barnes said to the struggling figure on the roof. It shifted again, acid and fluids and skin staying behind on the roof as it turned into something with feathers. “I don’t think you’ll be impressed with many of our souls. They’re all fucked up in one way or another.” He blinked tears and sweat out of his eyes and Nico wondered how badly he wanted to take the cowl off. He hated having his face covered. It was one thing he did manage to write in his reports.

“You’re a liar,” the creature said.

“You’re not the first to call me that,” Barnes agreed. “Definitely the ugliest though.”

“You’re a child playing dress up. You’re not Captain America.”

“Nah, they gave the job to the more good looking guy,” Bucky agreed and took the gun out again.

Nico wasn’t sure if he took a step to get closer or if his messed up leg finally gave out, but in the split second that he had to readjust, another animal demon, something catlike and long, lunged at him, at his arm, and sent him sprawling onto the roof.

“Bucky!” someone in the room cried as the demon towered over him, lifted itself on oily wings, talons like swords pointed to Bucky’s body as he tried to crawl away on a bad leg and bad arm.

And then something even darker crashed into the demon mid-air. The Winter Soldier? That wasn’t possible. Bucky was on the ground. But there was that silver arm, the heavy black tactical gear, holsters in every size and shape. That fucking mask that Nico wanted to burn himself the longer he read Bucky’s reports.

“That’s Sam!” Hattie shouted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Her other hand tightened in Nico’s and they both stepped closer to each other. Sam grappled with the demon in flight. He was far nimbler on the wings, more dexterous and faster. He had something silver in his hand, a blade of some kind. Occasionally it glowed and it was the only way Nico could tell the demon and Sam apart, to find an end to the black wings and find Sam’s stealth wings, to make sure Sam was still in one piece.

The blade glowed as it made contact with the demon’s midsection and Sam wrenched it all the way up its body. Ichor and acid spilled onto the roof and now Nico’s hand tightened in Hattie’s as the news drone panned down quickly to watch the blood fall. To watch Joaquin pull Bucky out of the way, using the Falcon wings as covering as he did so.

The drone refocused on Sam, who had the stealth wings driven into either side of the demon’s neck, another weapon in his hand, something beaming and sharp. Redwing appeared directly in front of the drone before Sam made contact with the demon. The body fell out of frame in a split second and then Redwing was gone too.

Sam just about crashed down to the roof. There was blood running the length of his face and a swollen eye, scratches down his weapons arm. The kevlar was torn apart, but he seemed to be in one piece. He ripped the mask off of his face, jaw and mouth protected, no broken bones or loose hinges, yanked away the silver cast he’d had on his left arm, and there were no injuries on that side either.

Demonic creatures squealed and writhed where they’d been, decaying into blood and ash and stone. One was too close to Joaquin and Bucky, but it stopped too, claws just short of Joaquin’s jetpack.

Sam was running over to them before the wings could even retract fully. He skidded to his knees by Bucky’s body, lifted him up, held him close with an arm around his back, the other hand going to the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky reached for Sam’s arm with his human hand, covered in blood, bones sticking out of his forearm, elbow smashed visibly. Still, he put his hand on Sam’s arm, tried to squeeze it.

Sam brought their foreheads together.

* * *

“Stop moving,” Steve said. Normally, he would have snapped it. Reminiscent of a thousand bad nights in their apartment in the thirties. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll upset your lungs. Stop moving, Stevie, those knuckles are never gonna heal. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll press your cold toes against my leg again.

He reached over for the water cup Bucky wanted and helped him drink it slowly. When Bucky started to cough, Sam jolted awake on his other side. “What’s happening?” he asked, blinking blearily and scratching at the gauze over his eye.

“Bucky never learned how to swallow,” Steve said.

All three of them took in a breath to make a joke but none of them actually said it outloud. It felt too wrong. The air was still too raw. Everything about them was still raw.

Raw. Flayed.

Steve turned and retched into the sink on the other side of the room. A moment later, Sam’s hand found his back and gently rubbed between his shoulder blades. He was using the left hand, Steve figured. There were no bandages rubbing on Steve’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said for the millionth time in the twenty hours since the fight. “I should have never sent you out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “There were a dozen other heroes out there. Most of them kids. We weren’t gonna sit around and do nothing.”

“I told you to make the sacrifice play. I told you to fight through it.” When Sam dropped something over his shoulders, something warm and smelling of disinfectant but also Sam’s cologne, he curled his fingers in it and hide his face against it.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’ve never been hurt before,” Bucky agreed. “Get over here, you dope,” he said and patted the bed with his metal arm.

Steve and Sam went back to the bed. There was enough room for Steve to sit with one leg kicked down the bed and the other resting over the edge, on the floor. Sam carefully sat on his lap like Steve had been the one in the fight. Like Steve might be hurt. Steve hugged his arms around Sam’s midsection and rested his cheek on the back of Sam’s shoulder, wrapped Sam’s blanket around him too.

“You know,” Sam said and then had to reach for the water himself. Sulfur was hell on the throat as it turned out. “You looked damn good in that outfit, Barnes,” he tried again. “But don’t go getting any ideas about changing your name.”

Bucky laughed, soft and a little pained, metal arm going around his ribs again. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I’m banging fifty percent of all Captains America. If I took on the mantle, I’d skew my own numbers.”

Steve tsked on his other side and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair gently. “Behave, Barnes.”

“I’m sure there’s some sort of toy out there that’s supposed to emulate the Winter Soldier,” Sam said. “You could probably technicality your way out of it. Plus your own fingers,” he pointed out. “Then you’d be up to sixty percent.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathed and turned his eyes Heavenward. “Neither one of you would’ve done the job for what that thing wanted,” he said.

“Wow, Rogers, was that a joke about our near-death experience?” Bucky asked. But he couldn’t keep the faux outrage up. He grinned and reached for Steve’s hand against Sam’s thigh.

Steve kissed Sam’s shoulder and then brought Bucky’s knuckles to his mouth. “I’m so fucking happy you’re both okay,” he whispered softly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had happened.”

“Nothing did, Steve,” Sam said, turning to catch Steve’s lips on his. “You had a solid plan and we executed it like you said we would. We’re a good team.” He kissed him again and then reached over to rub his thumb along Bucky’s wrist so he didn’t feel too left out.

“Besides, if anything did happen, you’d become the first American to have to go to hell to get his lovers out. It’s normally a Greek thing, I think,” Bucky said.

Steve rolled his eyes, exasperated and so, so, so lucky in love.

* * *

“Do you think...they’re in trouble?” Hattie ventured, staring at the locked office door that they’d all been barred from coming near when Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers had walked in two hours earlier.

It had been three weeks since the Spawning, as people around the office, and literally no one else, was calling it. In that time, Nico had seen neither hide nor hair of any of them, or even really Fury. All of their projects had been granted stays of deadline and Nico had even been invited into a committee to sort through the reports of the Spawning. Mostly because Wilson and Barnes were both involved and that was basically only his M.O. now.

He hadn’t seen Fury call Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers in. Granted, they weren’t in their normal office space. The committee had actually been moved to Commander Rogers’ building. He’d been the commanding officer of the mission to take down the Spawning, so it was just easier to stay at his beck-and-call.

“It’s not Rogers’ office, is it?” Hattie asked.

Nico flipped another pencil into the ceiling. “No. His is a big corner office with all the windows.”

Hattie stood on her chair and yanked three pencils down. “So whose office is that?” she asked.

“Hat, I moved over here at the same time you did,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I know you’re cozy with Torres and he knows shit like that.”

“I am not!” Nico insisted like he always had to when the subject came up. “Besides, he’s Air Force, not Shield. Sam gave him the wings. He’s a freelancer.”

“Too bad. There’s no money in freelancing. You’ll have to be the bread-winner.”

Nico dragged his hands over his face. A pencil fell from the ceiling and hit him in the head. “Maybe it’s an empty office. A meeting room. Maybe they’re having a National Icons Meeting.”

“Maybe. I have to pee. Text me if anything happens?”

Nico gave her a half-hearted salute and slouched down in his chair. Of course, almost immediately the door opened and Steve Rogers stepped out.

Nico was so entirely fucked once again.

Because Steve Rogers was disheveled. Unkempt. Messy. Taken apart. Wrecked. In a very good way.

Nico brought his hand over his face but kept looking through his fingers.

Steve Rogers’ hair was sticking up every which way and there were at least three hickies on his neck. And one on his shoulder, which Nico could see because he was in that damn shark shirt, unbuttoned and half off his shoulder. There was a whole entire bite mark around his collarbone.

Steve Rogers looked around the hallway and glanced over the office and didn’t see Nico apparently. He tugged the shirt on straight and buttoned most of the buttons, except for two that Nico was pretty sure were missing at the top. And then, and then, he put on the jacket with the ribbing and the buckles and the dumb blue thread.

Steve Rogers ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Just in time for the office door to open again and to have Bucky Barnes, with a lot of skin showing, appear and say loudly, “You took Sam’s underwear,” and haul him back into the room with the metal arm. Nico heard the door lock.

He slowly crawled out of the office, ran into Hattie in the next hall.

“Hey, did anything happen?” she asked, drying her hands on her pants.

“Nope,” Nico squeaked unconvincingly. “Just got sent home for the day.”

“Sweet,” she said. “Wanna go get some lunch?”

Nico nodded silently even though he wasn’t sure if he should try eating. He really needed to ask for that transfer.

[noonmutter]

Kinky Questions, Go!! ALL 50! At least the ones you haven't gotten yet.

*knucklecrack*

1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer?

"Yes. If I gotta pick one, couch. Th' dryer's noisy an' I like bein' able t' hear th' other person.

2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why:

Answered here!

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed:

(I actually don't know any ingame fiction to draw an answer from here, sorry. <.<)

4: Something that never fails to make you horny:

"Pullin' me int' you. Up, down, chest-t'-chest, back-t'-chest, whatever. Not often I get manhandled, y'ken?"

5: Where is one place you would never have sex:

"I mean, never say never, but somewhere it'd take some real convincin' t'get me t' do it? Th' meetin' space at th' center o' th' Dreamgrove. I'd sooner set my 'air on fire than fuck where th' statue o' Malorne might watch me, an' Remulos would not approve."

(Rest below the cut! Yes I did do all of them!)

6: The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when:

"...Wakin' up in a pile o' people after an especially long bender, none of 'om I recognized, an' not one stitch o' clothin' anywhere in sight except fer a gnome-sized miniskirt. An' there were no gnomes in th' pile! "Days like tha' are why I don't fuck drunk anymore."

7: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny:

"Tenderizin' steak." Sigh. "Pretty sure it was th' smell o' th' raw meat, mostly.

8: What is the best way to sexually bind someone: Handcuffs, Rope, or Other [if other please explain]:

"With my bare 'ands, or with my teeth 'oldin' somethin' sensitive. Wolf's snout kin fit all th' way 'round most people's throats without actually bitin' down as long as I get th' canines all th' way across, an' as long as neither of us move too terribly much, it's great fun."

9: What is the fastest way to make you horny:

"Hook a finger in my collar an' pull me t' yer eye level. Trouble is, if we're not already pretty damn close an' y' start grabbin' at my collar, I might punch y'."

10: Top or bottom?

"Switch."

11: We were about to ____________ but then ______________ [example: we were about to have sex but then his mom walked in] "We were about t' sneak off t' start our 'oneymoon but then I tripped through a portal some jackass dropped in th' middle o' th' weddin' party an' 'ad t' fly all th' way back first.

12: Is one orgasm enough? Are multiple orgasms necessary?

"Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it's a start, sometimes it's not even th' point. Really depends on th' mood at th' moment, dunnit? I like t'go as many rounds as either of us kin stand, most o' th' time, but I def'nitely find plenty o' value in just one long, slow go tha' ends when it ends.

13: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

His expression was less jovial than for most of these questions. "Th' collar I made for Vandy."

14: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you:

"Squigglebird. Long story."

15: Two things you like [or dislike] about oral sex:

"Like th' noises it makes a person make--vocally, I mean--an' th' views it gives o' th' person I'm goin' down on an' th' person tha's goin' down on my. Don't like th' taste all tha' much, really 'ate some o' th' noises yer lips an' throat make if yer a li'l overzealous."

16: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you:

"Li'l inflatable toy thingie in m' backside. Felt alright fer a while, cuz I mean it wasn't like it was th' first time I'd 'ad anythin' in there, but ah... she kept goin' past my willin'ness, an' it got pretty damn uncomfortable pretty damn fast. I might be willin' t' try it again but not without a lotta thought b'fore'and, an' not with my 'ands bound.

17: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Tasted like cum. Nothin' special."

18: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:

"I mean, if y'both agree to it an' y'don't fool around with anybody else, then yeah it's fine. Overwhelmin' majority o' th' time, I wrap up, even with m'wives."

19: Who was the sexiest teacher you ever had?

"...I din't 'ave any teachers I thought were sexy? My first shan'do was a 'andsome elven woman 'o could arm-wrestle a grizzly an' win, but she wasn't wha' I'd call sexy. Too gruff, too keen t' be alone."

20: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience:

"Not somethin' I really think about in advance, t'be honest. Cook or no cook, food just kinda 'appens on a whim."

21: How big is too big:

"Can't get my mouth 'round it is usually a problem. Length isn't so much a concern, just means y' won't get t' bury it all th' way after a certain point unless y' want me dead."

22: One sexual thing you would never do:

"Mess with any bod'ly fluids besides cum. I tried real 'ard t'understand tha' one an' I just can't, sorry. Gross."

23: Biggest turn on:

"Depends on th' person; wha's 'ot from one is wierd comin' from another. Pickin' out of a hat? When Val'rin says somethin', then rolls 'is eyes up t' look at me an' tacks on a plaintive li'l 'Sir?' at th'end."

24: Three spots that drive you insane:

"Pretty much anywhere on m' throat, th' undersides o' my wrists, an' my 'air. Partic'larly yankin' on it. Just... don't come up an' do it outta nowhere. Like with m' collar, tha' shit'll get y' punched an' I'd argue y' prolly deserve it."

25: Worst possible time to get horny:

"Most times aren't really tha' bad, Iunno... middle of a warzone I guess?"

26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans:

"I'm kinna suspicious of anybody 'o doesn't. Wha' kinna person doesn't love tha' kinda instant feedback? Tell me I'm doin' a good job, tell me 'ow t' do a better job, tell me just 'ow blown yer mind is by losin' track o' words, sing me a song."

27: Worst sexual idea you ever had:

"Really dunno why I thought it was a good idea t' let a blindfolded guy toss me anywhere, least of all into a bed with a solid headboard on it."

He touched the back of his head in remembered pain.

28: How much fapping is too much fapping:

"When yer chafed an' still 'aven't finished cuz yer too damned raw and desensitized t' get off, it's prolly time t' stop fer a while."

29: Best sexual complement you ever got:

Answered here!

30: Bald, landing strip, Jumanji:

"Landin' strip, ideally. I kin deal with whatever but tha's th' most convenient amount. Less potential fer mess."

31: Is it good sex if you don’t nut?

"What a bizarre question, 'course it is. Shit, sometimes tha's 'alf th' point."

32: Fill in the blank: “If they ____________, we are fuckin”

"Bite my neck 'r pin me t' a wall."

33: What your favorite part of your body:

"My 'air. It's gotten damned difficult t' take care of, but th' tradeoff's pretty worth it."

34: Favorite foreplay activities:

"Touchin'. Just... touchin'. Runnin' my fingers real light an' soft across ev'ry...single...inch...of a playmate's body. Learnin' th' curves, th' blemishes, th' scars, th' ins, th' outs, th' sensitive spots, th' ticklish bits, th' fav'rites all by touch. I kin do tha' fer hours if they'll let me."

35: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math that's “greater than, less than, or equal to]

"Does not equal. Th' two kin be completely unrelated t'one another an' tha's perfec'ly fine. They kin en'hance each other when they're both involved, but they aren't incomplete without one another at all."

36: What do you wear to bed?

"If I kin get away with it, nothin'. I run 'ot these days, it's real easy t' overheat if I wear stuff t' sleep.

37: When was the first time you masturbated:

"Gods, Iunno. Thirteen? Fifteen? Somewhere in there."

38: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?

"Not tha' I keep fer very long. I make 'em an' send 'em t' people tha' I made 'em for, then I get rid of 'em cuz I don't wanna watch m'self wankin' or whatever."

39: Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside?

"So many times, gods alive. Last time was a few days ago, if y' count th' back acres on our property as outside enough."

40: Have/would you ever have sex outside?

Leon just kinda snorted. (See previous answer!)

41: Have/would you ever had a threesome?

"Sev'ral times, an' I would 'appily do so again with th' right people. Fun, but occasionally tricky t' figger out."

42: What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?

"Most o' th' time I'm very borin' an' just stick t' my 'and an' maybe a dildo, but I got one o' those vibratin' sleeve thingers not too long ago tha' I've been meanin' t' try out..."

43: Have/would you ever masturbate at work/school?

"No, an' maybe. If I were still workin' in a kitchen where other people 'ad t' work an' there's food ev'rywhere, it'd be an absolutely not. I work in a private workshop by th' 'ouse now, so I kin get away with it more, long as 'm careful. Thus far I 'aven't been so tempted tha' I couldn't make it back in th' house first, though."

44: Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?

"Never been in one, be willin' t' try. I've 'eard 'ow tiny those bathrooms are."

45: What is one song you’d like to have sex to?

"...gonna 'ave t' ask me that'un again in a few months when I know more songs, sorry."

46: What is something nonsexual that makes you horny?

Answered here!

47: Most attractive celebrity?

"Do th' Tarts count as celebrities? I'm not even gonna try t' pick one, but tha's all I got."

48: Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? why/why not?

"Not a big porn-watcher in gen'ral, my life feels like a goddamned romance novel as it is. Not often I need more'n a couple o' particularly fond mem'ries."

49: If a child was born on the occasion of the last time you had sex, how old would that child be right now?

"Four days."

50: Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?

(Hard to answer this one since the internet at large isn't really a thing in WoW, at least not in a widely-accepted enough way for me to answer it...)

51: What is one thing that NEVER makes you horny?

"Put-downs. Don't call me slut or boy or bitch--gods, especially not bitch--or th' like if y'want me t' go 'ome with y'."

52: Do you have stretch marks? (How do you feel about them? Has anyone ever had a problem with them?)

"Not tha' I've seen."

53: Do you like giving head? (why/why not)

"Like givin' it cuz it makes m' playmate feel real nice, don't like th' flavor s' much."

54: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?

"Doesn't make a dif'rence t' me, aside from most tattoos bein' pretty."

55: How would you feel about taking someones virginity?

"Done it, though I'm not a fan o' th' phrasin'. They put some trust in me, I din't take anythin'."

56: Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter?

"Nothin' spicy. Period. Just don't. It's not worth it."

57: Is there anything you do on Tumblr that you would not like your significant other to see?

(Another one that doesn't really have an answer in this context.)

58: Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)

Leon burst out laughing and pointed at the full-size steamer trunk at the foot of his bed. "Tha's not even close t' all of it, either. Gods alive, wha' a question t' ask me!"

59: Would you give your significant other unrestricted access to your Tumblr for a day?

"Wouldn't give 'em unrestricted access t' anythin' private o' mine fer a day. If it's tha' private t' begin with, it's cuz it's my safe 'aven, an' they respect tha', same as I do their private stuff."

60: Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery?

"A li'l bit if it came outta nowhere, but I've talked a fair bit about wishin' I could get rid o' some o' my scars. It's not somethin' I wouldn't consider tryin'."

61: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?

"Pretty 'appy doin' th' latter as it is. Don't think I'd wanna try th' recorded stuff, it seems like it'd be really awkward t' do tha' fer a cam'ra crew an' with somebody 'o ain't really enjoyin' it."

62: Do you watch porn?

"Not really. Most of it's not int'restin' t' me."

63: How small is too small?

"'Too small' is 'ard fer me t' quantify. I 'aven't found anythin' too small fer me t' work with some'ow."

64: Have you ever been called a freak? Why?

Bit of a flat look. "Worgen."

65: Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

"Me an' th' guy 'o fucked me on th' fence out back shared quite a few kisses b'fore, durin', an' after. Mostly they meant 'fuck yer hot.'"

66: Would you switch phones with your significant other for a day?

"I mean, I could. Nothin' on there I wouldn't want any of 'em t' see. Be a bit inconvenient though."

67: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?

"Frankly I'm more comfortable tha' way than otherwise. Spent too long with a big ol' poof o' fur around m' crotch t' be comfy with most undies. Same reason I'm not overly fond o' shoes either."

68: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?

"Purely in a logistical sense, yeah. I kin still go t' town an' do thin's right, but it's... sloppy. Those 'airs seem t' WANT t' get in yer mouth, an' all tha', an' it's just so much messier overall."

69: If you could give yourself head, would you?

"'O says I can't?"

70: Booty or Boobs?

"I am very much an ass man."

71: If you had a penis, what would you name it?

"I do, but I didn't. Namin' it seems strange."

72: Have you ever been on an official date?

"Sev'ral, but all of 'em only took place in th' last few years. Never when I was growin' up."

73: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)

"No, an' I never will, an' you kin quote me on tha'."

74: If you were a stripper, what would your name be?

"I 'aven't th' faintest idea 'ow tha' works."

75: Have you ever had sex in your parents bed? (Would you?)

"Nope. Never 'ad th' opportunity, an' I think I'd rather throw up on th' floor an' eat it."

76: How would you react if you found out your parents had sex in your bed?

"Sweet, I'm gettin' a new bed!"

77: What was your reaction the first time you saw a penis/vagina

"Assumin' we're not talkin' about my own bits... 'That's not gonna fit!' fer a dick, an' 'This is a lot less sexy than th'other lads made it out t'be' fer a cooch."

78: If you had a penis/vagina for a day, what are five things you would do?

Answered here!

79: Oral, Anal, or Vaginal? 

"Yes."

80: What’s the first thing you look at on someone of the opposite gender?

"Their face. Also 'ow they carry themselves. But mostly their face."

( @pinpep @shckaewynn @valarin-sunstorm for mentions )

[tcsauaskblog]

What's the most wholesome thing Gladstone has ever done for Donald? ps: this blog gives me life

Gladstone can't cook. Sure, he could probably whip up something and have it taste moderately ok, but that was just his luck kicking in. It’s not like he knew what he was doing. 

‘Oatmeal’s so easy it’s practically cheating,’ he remembers Della saying a forgotten amount of years ago. And if Della could cook anything even remotely edible, then surely Gladstone would have no problems. It would be fine. He totally had this in the bag.

He looked up from his table of ingredients to the home phone hanging on the wall and had the fleeting thought of calling Gran. Not because he couldn’t do it or needed any help or anything, but just to be sure for assurance's sake. 

But no, he couldn’t call her even if he wanted to. Gran had taken Del and Feth up to the mountains for an overnight Woodchuck retreat and wouldn’t be within phone service till Sunday. 

Meaning Gladstone was on his own.

Gladstone rolled up his sleeves and gave a huff of determination. Like he thought, he’d be fine. Making dumb oatmeal was totally within his capabilities. Prepare yourself world, Gladstone was about to rewrite history and make the best freaking oatmeal ever!

He turned on the stovetop under a saucepan of water and brought it to a boil before adding in a cup of oats. He doesn’t really know what else you put into oatmeal besides, well, oats, but he had a distinct memory of Don’s oatmeal always tasting sweet and cinnamony, so he adds a spoonful of cinnamon and honey and keeps stirring. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Gladstone thinks Don usually puts more stuff into his, making it taste creamy and sweet and delicious. But asking Don about it would seem like he lost this battle and Gladstone would not give Donald that satisfaction, so he pushes the thought out of his head and keeps stirring till the oats seemed soft enough.

Turning the stovetop off and letting the oats cool down a bit, Gladstone cuts up an orange and makes some honey lemon tea before putting everything on a tray and making his way upstairs.

He knocks on his cousins’ door twice, but doesn't wait for an answer as he opens it anyway and walks into the dark room. 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and.. well... ok so I didn’t make any bacon. Or eggs. But get up anyway, I have something better,” Gladstone sing songs as he balances the tray on his hip and uses his other hand to flip the light switch on.

The lump of blankets in Donald’s bed shifted as soon as Gladstone walked in the door, but it was another few seconds of jostled movement before a head poked out of the pile of quilts and glared at Gladstone.

“Go away,” Donald practically growled, and Gladstone had to forcibly stop himself from flinching at how scratchy and gravely Don’s voice was.

“No can do patient zero, I’m your self designated nurse for the next two days whether you like it or not,” Gladstone says, grabbing Della’s desk chair as he walked over to Don’s bed.

“Since when?” Donald croaks again, and buries his head under the blankets once more just as Gladstone took a seat beside him.

“Since you collapsed in the field a couple of hours ago with a 102-degree fever and nearly gave Gus and I a heart attack,” Gladstone comments as he sets the tray down on the bedside table beside them. “Gus is fine by the way, I sent him back to Cuthbert’s a little while ago after he helped carry you in. What have you been eating lately anyway? Took us nearly five minutes to haul you up here.”

“Shut up,” Donald groaned again before poking a one-eyed glare at Gladstone from under the blanket. “They couldn’t send a prettier and nicer nurse?”

“Excuse you, I’m the prettiest and nicest nurse in this joint. You’re lucky to have me, there’s a teddy bear down the hall that’s in dire need of a stitch job and here I am tending to your dumb ass instead,” Gladstone remarks as a heated joke, but quickly regrets it when Donald just breathes haggardly and stays a little too still under the blanket for Gladstone’s taste. “Anyway, can you sit up? You need to eat something. I made you some oatmeal.”

Donald didn’t reply back for a few quiet moments, and Gladstone almost thought he had gone back to sleep. But before Gladstone could shake his shoulder to check, Donald rolled over from his side and slowly sat up, the bed creaking the entire time as Donald rubbed his eyes to adjust them to the light. “You... you made oatmeal?”

Gladstone swallowed hard at the sight of his older cousin, and didn’t think it was possible to look so pale and so flushed at the same time. His cheeks and forehead were tinted a soft red, but his hands and arms looked clammy and washed out. There were dark bags like bruises under his eyes, a combination of stress and sleep deprivation that had overworked him to the point of getting a fever and Gladstone felt absolutely sick with how tired Don looked.

His eyes were a glazed over blue, unfocused, and hazy as he lazily made eye contact with Gladstone. “I... I didn’t know you knew how to make oatmeal. I didn’t know you knew how to make anything.”

“Please, oatmeal is so easy, it’s practically cheating,” Gladstone rolled his eyes and hoped he could get away with quoting Della without Donald noticing. 

It must have been a testament to how rotten Donald was feeling because he didn’t question it a second time and just nodded sluggishly, stifling a yawn as he balanced his head against his knee and closed his eyes.

“...Don’t need it.... I’m ok,” Donald muttered halfheartedly into his knee, like he was desperately trying to convince himself instead, and the worried knot in Gladstone’s stomach tightened into something angry and frustrated.

“Still dizzy? Need any more ibuprofen?” Gladstone asked, trying not to let the worried knot that had tied itself in his gut over the past few hours tighten, but Donald just shook his head softly.

“Don’t lie to your nurse, dude. You’re obviously not ok,” and Gladstone hated this side of Donald. The stupid stubborn side that refused to let anyone in and help him when he needed it. It reminded Gladstone too much of himself, which honestly made him hate it even more. “You can barely sit up and talk to me. Can you suck up your stupid pride for like, two seconds, and just tell me what you need?”

Donald gave Gladstone another one-eyed glare, but there was hardly any fight in his words when he mumbled a, “Really... I’m ok... Just tired.” And Gladstone was seriously starting to get pissed off now.

“If you say you’re ok one more time, I don’t care if I’m your nurse or not, I swear I’m gonna smack you,” Gladstone snapped, and was surprised when Donald let out a low and wheezy chuckle. 

“Are you... really trying to pick a fight with a sick guy right now?” Donald mused and Gladstone almost rolled his eyes so hard, he would have hurt himself if he wasn’t a pro at it.

“Oh, so NOW you’re sick. But when you’re hauling irrigation pipe around in 100-degree weather while being so dizzy you can barely walk straight and with a high enough fever to boil an egg, you’re all, ‘oh, don’t worry about me gran,’ and ‘I’m totally fine Della, go have fun.’ And by the time we figure out you’re not, it’s too late and you’re already half-dead in a creek somewhere,“ Gladstone complained, throwing his arms up in the air exhaustedly.

“I was in a field, not a creek.”

“My point is,” Gladstone rubbed his brow in annoyance, and tried to remember that he was indeed trying to take care of Donald, not pick a fight with him. But Gladstone was his cousin first, caretaker later, and it was high time someone spoke up to Donald about his self-sabotaging tendencies. “You always do this. You always push yourself too hard and never let any of us help you when you need it, and I’m getting sick and tired of having to worry all the time about you lying to us about whether you’re ok or not.” 

Gladstone crossed his arms over his chest tightly and let his words hang in the air, his eyes glued to Donalds in a fierce sort of way that practically dared Don to try and argue back with him.

But to Gladstone’s surprise, Don just knitted his brows tightly and shifted his gaze. Hugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on top of his knees, Donald muttered a soft “...I know... Sorry,” that caught Gladstone completely off guard.

And Gladstone had never seen Donald cry in all his 13 years, and Donald wasn’t crying now, but his eyes got an intense watery that made Gladstone’s heart turn ice cold and sink all the way to his feet. 

And maybe it was just that Donald was really sick and tired and wasn’t in the right headspace to put up a fight and defend himself against Gladstone, but still, Gladstone couldn’t help but feel the guilt of his earlier accusation tear through his angry exterior like a knife through butter, and Gladstone melted into something soft and forgiving and far less intimidating and hard-pressed.

He was still frustrated with Donald, but to be fair to his cousin, it wasn’t like Donald tried to be difficult like this on purpose.

Donald’s always tried to do things by himself, ever since they were little kids. He always tried to carry the world on his shoulders and be the singular pillar holding all his family up. When they all moved into Gran’s for the first time, Gran made a comment to Donald that he was the man of the house now, and she would be needing his help to take care of everyone. Gladstone knows Gran only meant it as a way to cheer Donald up, but Don took it all too seriously, and used it as an excuse to do things on his own.

It really wasn’t like Donald was too prideful to ask for help, like Gladstone. It was just that he didn’t know how or when it was ok too. And he’d much rather burn up completely at both ends before he ‘burdened’ his family with what he considered ‘his’ responsibilities. 

And it was frustrating cause in the same light, Gladstone didn’t know how to offer help without it seeming like he was looking or picking a fight.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s just,” Gladstone sighed, and ran a tired hand through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of Don’s bed, craning his neck so that he could make eye contact with Don from where he was leaning his head against his knee. “I don’t like doing this. I’m not good at doing this.”

“What... taking care of my ‘dumb ass’?” Donald muttered sarcastically. 

“Seeing you sick and being useless to help you,” Gladstone stated flatly, staring at Don’s eyes with a heated deadpan as they got wide and electric with surprise.

“Helping you is the easy part dude. Getting you to let me is what I’m not good at. You know it’s ok to take a break, right? I know I complain about doing chores and all, but it’s not like I won’t help pick up the slack if you need it.” And Donald's eyes were large and blue and glued to Gladstones as he continued, trying with every once of his luck to get Donald to understand his wishes. “You don’t always have to do everything yourself all the time. You’re allowed to take a step back and breathe once in a while. It’s not like everything will fall apart without you there to hold it together, ya know. We’re not so fragile that we’ll fall into ruin if you don’t run yourself into an early grave to fix everything yourself. You’re allowed to ask for help.”

Gladstone leaned forward and tapped Donald’s forehead a couple of times and gave him a wry smile. “So I don’t need you to apologize. I just need you to be ok. Like, really be ok. And to not try to take on the world by yourself. You’re not alone, dude. Stop acting like it.”

Donald didn’t retort with anything witty or spitfire back, which Gladstone half expected him to, but he nodded honestly and clearly, and gave Gladstone a wry smile of his own.

“Ok,” was all he said, and that was as good as gold for Gladstone.

“Ok, good!” Gladstone straightened up in his seat and reached over for the bowl of oatmeal on the nightstand. “It should be cool enough now for you to eat. I can’t promise it’s like, the best thing ever, but you need to eat something and I’m pretty sure this won’t make you feel any worse.

Donald took the bowl slowly, and raised an eyebrow of surprise in Gladstone’s general direction.

“I still can’t believe... you made me oatmeal.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Gladstone answered back, leaning forward on his elbows once again and looking at the bowl with a nervousness he didn’t quite know what to do with other than to not show it to Donald at ALL costs. “Just eat it before it gets cold, ya skeptic.”

Donald took an unhurried bite, and chewed for what seemed like a torturous forever to Gladstone, before breaking into a gentle smile.

“It’s good,” Don commented while he chewed, and smiled even bigger when Gladstone physically beamed on the spot.

“What, really? You mean it? I knew it wouldn’t be like, horrible, but it was my first time making it so I wasn’t sure and-,”

“Try it,” Donald interrupted, still smiling as he held out a spoonful towards Gladstone, who, in his defense, took it immediately in his excitement over his first real cooked dish. And didn’t even think twice about possibly getting Donald’s sick germs, (even though he never gets sick anyway.)

As soon as the spoon entered his mouth, Gladstone started coughing and gagging, and almost downed Donald’s entire cup of tea in one swig to try and wash the oatmeal down.

It wasn’t like it was horrible, it definitely was by anyone's standards edible. But it wasn’t good by any means either. Gladstone had definitely put too much cinnamon in it, and the honey was almost nonexistent, making it all together just taste way too bitter and chalky.

“UGH! You liar! You said it tasted good!” Gladstone barked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and staring daggers into Donald as his cousin smiled innocently back. 

“I said it was good, not that it tasted good,” Donald supplied simply, taking his spoon back from where Gladstone had thrown it back onto the bed and taking another bite. “Not that is matters. I’m pretty sure this fever made me lose my sense of taste.”

“What’s the difference then?” Gladstone demanded, and Donald just continued to smile softly into his bowl, his soft blue eyes practically illuminated against the red of his cheeks.

“It’s warm,” Donald replied back plainly, not looking at Gladstone as he took another big bite out of it. “I like it.”

And Gladstone didn’t really understand what Donald meant by that, but a pull in his stomach told him it was a compliment, and he could feel his own cheeks get hot with pride. So he stood up abruptly and said something about getting Donald a glass of water as he walked toward the door, not wanting to show Donald how pleased he was by the praise. 

Even though the oatmeal wasn’t a huge success, Donald still liked it, which meant Gladstone won the battle in the end.

Once he had gotten a glass of cold water from the kitchen and a cold wash rag for Donald’s forehead, he made his way back up the stairs towards his cousin’s bedroom.

Gladstone had left Don’s bedroom door open when he left, but before he could announce his arrival, he heard Don’s quiet snoring. Donald had fallen back asleep, with half of his body uncovered by his blanket and with the lights still on. Gladstone shook his head and smiled, but when he walked over to put the glass of water down on Donald’s nightstand, he noticed the bowl of oatmeal completely empty against Donald's side. The spoon was still hanging out of his mouth. 

“Dummy,” Gladstone said with more affection then he’d ever let Donald hear while he was awake, and took the spoon out of his mouth with the utmost care. He put the empty bowl and spoon on the tray and recovered Donald with the blanket, making sure to tuck in any stray limbs. He brushed some of Donald's wild bed hair out of the way before placing the cold washcloth on his forehead. Donald sighed quietly at the contact, but otherwise made no show of waking up anytime soon. Gladstone noticed that his fever didn’t feel nearly as hot as it did earlier, and felt a sigh of his own escape his lips in relief.

Gladstone gathered the empty bowl and spoon on the tray, leaving all but a single slice of orange that he stole for himself on Donald's nightstand, and put Della’s desk chair by where he had found it. 

“Call me when you need me,” Gladstone said, and didn’t care that Donald was fast asleep and couldn’t hear what he had said when he turned off the light and closed the door.

[captainkappa]

Fanfic:: Bad Habits

Cobb, never one for knowing when to keep his mouth shut, asked, “Do you do that often? Cauterizing yourself?”

Mando paused. “I used to.”

My second bingo fic is up! It’s really pulling its weight in terms of getting me a bingo and is actually the first fic I thought of for the event!

Huge shout out to @staranon95 for betaing and helping out with the ending!

AO3 Link

-=-=-

When Cobb got called out of Mos Pelgo by Boba Fett of all people, he could handle it. He’d been prepared for a fight, but what he’d gotten was a job of all things. A couple of Zygerrians had set up shop outside of Mos Espa with the intent of revitalizing their corner of the slave market and Fett wanted them taken care of. Cobb had accepted, after the promise of payment and that Fett wasn’t doing this to “knock off competition in the market.”

When he walked out of the palace, coordinates in hand and he saw Mando – his Mando – standing stiff as a board beside his speeder, Cobb could handle it. He could handle it better if Mando gave any indication of remembering him, but he brushed it off. Mos Pelgo was a tiny town and Mando probably had way more important journeys in the months since he landed in Cobb’s neck of the woods.

When their speeders got blown up, Cobb could handle it. They both saw the gunman pop up before he fired, leaping off their speeders into the warm sand, ducking behind dunes as twinned explosions went off. They hadn’t known the Zygerrians were anticipating them, but they jumped into the fight all the same.

Leaning up against the heavy desk of the slavers, taking inventory of his injuries, Cobb was getting real tired of everything the day was throwing at him. He was just glad Din had stepped out to comm Fett with their situation; mission complete with all the slavers dead, but their speeders were unsalvageable and the slavers seemed to not own their own transport.

Cobb’s knee was going to complain for a couple of days, he’d gotten singed in a couple of places, scraped elsewhere, but there was really only one place that needed immediate attention; his shoulder, assumedly when he tackled that man right when he had busted in through the building. The armor, more ill-fitting than the Mandalorian armor, but still functional, had protected his vitals, but the vibroblade had skimmed off to clip his shoulder. It wasn’t so deep as he needed to panic, but it was deeper than he would've liked.

He was applying pressure when Mando walked in. Except for the tiredness weighing him down and scorching on the armor, the armored man looked the same as he did when they rolled up to the place.

He rolled his shoulders before leaning against the wall. “Shand says pick up in four hours.”

Cobb’s hand slipped from his shoulder. “What? What’s the karking hold up?” The outpost wasn’t that far away from the Palace.

“Minor sand gusts. Nothing terrible, but they can’t fly through it. And with it being the middle of the day…” He trailed off, not needing to explain to a local how everything shut down until at least one of the suns was leaving its apex.

A flair of pain pulsed from Cobb’s shoulder. He hissed, eyes snapping shut until the pain faded. He readjusted his grip, blood slipping through his fingers.

“Great. Do you have a medpack?”

“On the speeder.”

Cobb snorted, but the movement bit into his shoulder wound. “Dank farrik.”

He gritted his teeth against the pain and looked around the room again. It was a cushy office space, not a well-stocked med-station. Even so, they had been prepared enough to have blasters on hand. Surely assholes of this caliber would have something-

There.

He hobbled over to the cabinet, shoving aside a dead slaver in his way. He picked up the bottle and uncorked it with his teeth as he walked back to his seat, half falling into it.

“Spotcka?” Mando asked.

“Multi-purpose. Great for bar fights.”

Cobb tore off his scarf one handed, half choking himself in the quick movement. He took a swallow for himself – Maker knew he deserved it – then poured enough onto his scarf for the majority of it to turn a dark maroon.

He slapped it on the wound, hissing as the alcohol burned. With his elbow, he nudged the bottle to Mando.

“Go on, clean yourself up. Alcohol does great at carbon scoring.”

He took the bottle and stepped away from Cobb, into a corner of the room untouched by the bloodshed, setting it on a small table. Cobb shrugged to himself. If the man wanted to treat himself in peace, he wouldn’t judge. Maybe he wanted to remove the helmet for a drink. He wouldn’t pursue the matter.

There were larger issues at hand, either way. He slowly lifted the scarf and folded it to a point to better clean at the edges of the injury. The angle wasn’t great, but he had enough faith in himself to clean out most of the grit.

He brought the sweat drenched shirt cuff to his mouth and bit down as he pressed deeper in, not wanting to disturb the silence between the two of them with his cries as he got more dirt and sand out.

His arm dropped and he let in a big gulp of air, the rank smell of sweat getting to him. As he breathed in the dry air, he realized it wasn’t the smell of sweat that was tingling his nostrils.

It smelled like burning.

He turned and saw Mando hunched in the corner, running a sparking instrument over his bicep. It didn’t look like any medical instrument Cobb had seen and even if it was, he suspected that wasn’t the type of thing a person used on themselves, especially with the bit-back groan that escaped the Mandalorian.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Cobb exclaimed

Mando’s head snapped up, tool skittering off in the wrong direction across his skin, leaving an angry red trail. He cursed, turning it off before answering.

“You said to clean myself up!” he said, defensiveness thick in his voice.

Cobb pulled himself up, his knee screaming at all of the movement, but he’s not about to let Mando get off easy with this. He drags a side table over, the lamp falling off with the sharp movement. He sits unceremoniously down beside Mando.

“Not if it meant making your arm a damn fricassee. Lemme see.”

That bucket of Mando’s didn’t move, but with a sharp movement, he pulled back the torn sleeve of his shirt to reveal the half-cauterized wound. The bleeding was sluggish, staining the fabric an even darker brown. It definitely looked deep, so why hadn’t he said anything?

Cobb bit back his scowl. “Gimme that,” he said, nodding his head at the tool in his hand.

“It’s deep.”

“So? Burns can get infected too. You’re just coming at it from a different angle. Same sarlacc, different pit. Now gimme.”

Din handed over the offending piece, which Cobb put out of arm’s reach on the counter.

“Now, hand me the spotchka.”

He did so and after his speeder getting blown up, the fight going south quicker than expected, the long extraction time, and his shoulder smarting like nothing else, Cobb wasn’t particularly nice. He let a splash of it run down Mando’s arm, causing him to jump back and hiss.

“What was that for?”

“To clean it!”

He knew he should be more worried that Din hadn’t considered a safer, less painful method of taking care of himself, but right now he was angry, so he splashed more spotchka on the wound. Mando’s hiss was quieter this time.

Cobb moved to press his own scarf on the wound, but paused when he saw how much of his own blood he had already got on it. None of this was sanitary, but he had to draw a line in the sand at some point. He looked around for something else to scavenge. There was a thin blanket thrown over a couch that would have to do. Cobb leaned back, ripping a strip from the blanket. He ripped it in two, soaking one in alcohol and setting the other aside.

He glanced up and saw Mando continue to stare at him. Even in the armor, the way he held his arm close to him made him look like a skittish anooba.

“I gotta… make sure it’s clean,” he said, holding up the soaked cloth. “It’s deep,” he added lamely.

But that seemed to be enough, as Mando relaxed his arm, holding it out. Cobb gently took his elbow, pulling it even closer. He stilled underneath him as he ran the cloth over his arm.

If the silence before felt comfortable, now it was oppressive, or maybe it was because both of their breathing felt too loud.

Cobb, never one for knowing when to keep his mouth shut, asked, “Do you do that often? Cauterizing yourself?”

Mando paused. “I used to.”

His free hand flexed at his side before rucking up his sleeve further. There was more burnt flesh, jagged, blackened raised lines of various sizes. He felt his stomach dip out from underneath him.

“Stars.” Cobb ran a finger around the edge of one fully healed absentmindedly. He pulled away as he felt the shiver run up Mando’s arm.

“Shit, sorry.”

“No, I’m fine,” Mando said, a rasp to his voice that argued otherwise.

Cobb wasn’t a stranger to folks who jumped at sudden touches. There were deep buried memories of a time when he jumped at the slightest friendly touch. Took years to teach that out of a person; most people in Mos Pelgo had experience with it or helping someone through it.

Cobb straightened up, putting a little distance between him and Mando.

“Do you want me to… keep cleaning it?”

He shrugged with his one good arm. “Can’t tie a knot with one hand.”

Pragmatic, the bastard.

But if Mando could be stubborn, so could he.

“I can tie the bandage, but you could clean it. Whatever you’re comfortable with Mando.”

Mando’s voice filled the room with an unexpected gruffness. “I said it’s fine.”

“Alrighty then.”

Cobb quickly went back to cleaning the wound, much more aware of Din’s reactions than he was before, but Mando didn’t say anything else. Cobb made sure to clean beyond just the initial cut, making sure the burn l when he startled Mando didn’t get infected as well.

When he finished, he tossed the dirty scrap into a corner of the room. He picked up the clean scrap and tied it tightly around the cut.

“Probably need stitches on that, but it’ll hold.” Cobb glanced down at his chronometer. They still had an awful long time till Boba’s buddies made it out to them. “You hurt anywhere else?”

For what felt like an awfully long time, Mando stayed silent, before saying, “Might have broke my finger.”

“Let me see.”

Din held up his hand on the same arm, stripping it of the glove in awkward, jerky movements. A visual check revealed nothing looking out of place, no obvious bulging or bruising, but Cobb knew from experience that sometimes broken bones could be tricky.

“I’m gonna have to… try and feel it out.”

He goes rigid, barely moving.

Cobb holds up his hands placatingly. “We don’t have’ta! You can probably… do it yourself?”

“No, no, you do it.”

“Alright, partner.”

Cobb wasn’t a medic by any stretch of the term, but years of enslavement meant that he could tell a fracture from a break from a healed bone. Poke at something long enough and he’d find the break. He started with Mando’s hand, taking each finger in hand and feeling them up. The tendons in Mando’s hand stuck out prominently, the tension evident.

“How’d you come to meet a man like Boba Fett?”

“They followed me for the armor. Nearly shot me for it and then he helped me with another matter.”

“That involve the kid?” Cobb winced internally at the question. He was trying to relax the man, get him to open up more, but he had noticed the absence of the little green guy, and if Mando brought the kid to a krayt dragon fight, then he brought him everywhere.

Mando stilled, but the tension in his hand faded. If there was something he knew about Mando, one of the few things was that he thought more than he spoke. That didn’t mean he thought before he spoke. Cobb remembered how he volunteered Mos Pelgo without asking, but there was still intention behind his words. As Cobb moved on from Din’s fingers to his palm, he imagined that this was what was going on in Mando’s brain.

“The kid is safe.”

If that’s all Mando was offering, he’ll take it. “That’s good to hear.”

No reaction with the bones of his palm, and with his hand more relaxed, Cobb moved down to his wrist and immediately, Mando hissed.

“Ah, there it is. Don’t move.”

Mando’s wrist stayed in the air as Cobb ripped up more strips of blanket. The room was starting to smell now with scents that Cobb didn’t want to be familiar with but he was. He hoped it wouldn't sink into his clothes.

He came back to Din’s wrist and began binding it as well as he could with the limited supplies. Mando remained still, not ramrod straight like he had been, but still as not to interrupt Cobb’s work trying to make sure his wrist didn’t move in the bindings.

When he was halfway done with the scrap, trying to calculate whether he needed to tie another scrap to make it longer, his shoulder twinged in pain, making its annoyance at being forgotten known. He bit back a hiss.

“Hold that there- good,” he said, letting Mando hold the bandage in place while Cobb reached for the spotchka with one hand, pressing the hole with another.

He took another drink, pain already numbing.

“Probably shouldn’t have all this alcohol”

“Probably not, but it’s great before and after a fight. Best damn drink I had of my life was after the krayt dragon. Shame you weren’t there. Should’ve invited you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Cobb paused, bottle halfway to his lips for another drink.

“You were dead set on leaving. And if I may be so selfish, I couldn’t bear to look at that armor off my body any longer.”

Din nodded slowly. “I’m… sorry I left you with nothing.”

He finished taking a drink, a wry smile on his lips. “Yeah, you left us with no krayt dragon.”

“I mean no protection.”

“The krayt dragon was most of our problems anyway. And this-” he tapped the center of his chest plate “-has served me well. Well, mostly.” He tipped a little spotchka into his shoulder, hissing as he did so. Had the bleeding started slowing down?

Mando held out his unbandaged hand. “Here, let me.”

“I can handle it, Mando.”

“Din.”

Cobb stopped, brain trying to process what he had said as Mando continued.

“My name is Din. You patched me up, so I’m patching you up.”

Cobb was about to shrink back, to go back to drinking, but then he looked at the slope of Mando- Din’s shoulders, the tilt of his head, the steadiness of his hand. And then his shoulder twinged again.

“Alright, partner, but I gotta get that wrist set first. Not gonna have you mess up my good work tryin’a dote on me.”

Din nodded and Cobb got right back to work on his wrist. No sooner had he finished wrapping up Din’s wrist was Din reaching for the now torn up blanket, slicing at it with a knife he pulled from his boot.

“Should be clean.”

A snort – an actual snort – came out of Din’s helmet. “Should be, dropped half the damn bottle on it.”

“Hey, I’m drinking for two.”

Din just shook his head before leaning over, wrapping make-shift bandages over his shoulder. This close, Cobb thought he would be able to feel Din’s breath if it wasn’t for the helmet. They had never gotten this far in each other’s spaces that first time he met, and suddenly he felt himself freezing in place.

After a few seconds of silence, with Din pulling the bandages into place, Din spoke up, “You asked if I cauterized myself often. I did, until I met Grogu. Stopped doing a lot of stuff once I got him. I think losing him… made it easier to pick up those habits.”

“I get it.” Din’s helmet tilted up, and Cobb shrugged with his good shoulder. “I do, I have lifetimes of bad habits I’ve lost and picked back up. It takes a lot to get out of those habits.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say hi earlier.”

Cobb let out a sharp laugh. “I’m just glad I saw you again. Wasn’t expecting to ever again in my lifetime.”

Din started wrapping the bandages tighter. “Really?”

“Yeah, you were made for spaces bigger than Mos Pelgo, than Tatooine.”

“Hold this for me?” Cobb took the end of the bandage from him. Din took the other end and started twining them together, Cobb trying to help as he realized he was trying to tie a knot.

Cobb was about to think his comment would go unnoticed, when Din said, “A Mandalorian keeps their word.”

Cobb’s gaze snapped up and he tried to find Din’s eyes in that black visor. Was he misreading the intent in his voice? 

The moment was broken by Din sharply tugging on the knot. Cobb bit back a curse as Din leaned back.

“Well, we’re not gonna bleed out at this rate,” Cobb said, testing out how much movement he had.

“Boba should have better medical facilities.”

“Oh, is the high and mighty Fett gonna share with the people?”

Din tilted his helmet. “Do you… know why he came back?”

Cobb shook his head. “I was too busy making sure he paid me fairly.”

So, Din explained Shand’s and Fett’s plans for Tatooine, talk of abolition and ridding the planet of corruption. It wasn’t talk that Cobb had heard before, especially not someone who better had the manpower to put weight behind the words. It was enough that Cobb didn’t outright laugh in Din’s face at the idea. And if it meant he got hired to take out a few slavers in the meantime, it might be worth it.

Hired with Din as well…

He inhaled sharply as he forcibly steered his mind in another direction. He succeeded in distracting himself only when he got a lungful of the scent of death. He choked and coughed on the feeling. He was just glad that Din didn't pound his back, not sure if his body would be able to take it, but Din’s hand rested on his knee.

“’M fine, I’m fine. We should see if Boba can get us out of here sooner. That or we have to start moving bodies.”

The two looked around the room, neither wanting to move anything in their injured states. Din nodded, pulling out his commlink.

Fett’s voice piped through the speaker. “Djarin, how are you two doing?”

“Good, patched up as best we can, but a transport would really be nice.”

“Gettin’ real rank in here, Fett!” Cobb called out. “And Din said you had bacta to spare which I’d really appreciate!”

He heard the crackly laughter through the speaker. “Does this mean you two are getting on better?”

“I- yes?”

“Good, transport will be there within the hour.”

“Wait, what happened to four- Boba?!” Din shouted as the call clicked off.

Cobb couldn’t help the unexpected laugh at Din’s outburst, even as the movement pulled on his bandages.

“What was that about?” he asked when he had the air to breathe.

Din sighed, tucking his comm back into his belt. “I haven’t a clue.”

“Do you want to sit outside?” Cobb offered. “Might be some shade now.”

He watched as Din’s gaze swept the room.

“Sure, can’t smell much worse out there.”

The two less so walked out of the building than they did hobble, Cobb’s knee flaring up quicker than expected, forcing him to lean on Din, but there was a corner of shade they could sit under.

They settled, side by side, barely an inch of space between them. The desert in front of them was calm, with most critters burrowed underground until at least two suns started setting.

Cobb turned his head just enough to look at Din.

“I know it’s a late invitation,” he started, “but would you want to come back for a drink once we’re properly patched up?”

Din turned to look at him, and Cobb was struck with how much easier it was to see himself in the helmet than it was to see Din.

“Sure, just no spotchka.”

Cobb huffed out a laugh. “Alright, partner. No spotchka.”

[timexistsnow]

my baby (oh my pup)

Chapter 5: a flower (for us)

Techno and Tasha go on a walk and have a pleasant couple of days.

Techno’s hands were ruined for the time being. A while back, maybe two hours ago, he had made the wise choice to wrap them but even that hadn't saved him from a day of hoeing. This was not what he had planned to do in retirement, becoming a farmer, but then again, he never really had a plan. The whole idea was to escape L’Manburg and their governmental control, so farming was close enough.

When he wiped the sweat from his brow he hissed. Even in a biome like this, he was still getting sunburnt. Later he would have to rub some magma cream on it. Either it soothed or burned, he would find out.

Tasha was lying by the fire, leg muscles destroyed from all of the crouching. Techno grumbled, he could relate.

He helped her up, ignoring the tingling in his fingers. The bandages were useless by now and would infect his wounds if he didn’t change them. Just as he had with the potatoes, Techno switched had off of hoeing to planting, cacking his pants, hands, and fingernails in dirt. And Tasha… was not much better off.

Her already clumsy movement coupled with the unsteady ground led to many spills. She got the job done, but it wasn’t a very clean job.

Bath time.

He warmed the water in the fireplace and brought the buckets back upstairs. He needed a better system for bathing and water if this was to happen often. He did have a spare room now, the bathroom could go down by where the dining table used to reside. The purpose of the small cabin was to use every space, and the little alcove was just a place to put a tall bookshelf right now.

Techno… shelved that thought and helped Tasha into the bath. The few inches of water were already turning brown with the clumps of dirt falling from Tasha’s fur. The soap came out, lathered all over the pup. She scooped up a handful of bubbles, watched them pop, and shoved them into her mouth. “Gross.”

“No kidding,” Techno laughed. He couldn’t blame her, when he was a kid he had taken a bite out of the first bar of soap he had come across. And then the next. And the one after that. Okay, it took a while for Techno to figure out that the reason why soap tasted so bad was because it wasn't food. So what if he was dumb, sue him for being new to the world.

Techno… he needed to know, “Did you have fun?”

“Soap? No.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “The potatoes, Tasha.”

“Oh. With. You. Yes.” She averted her eyes, clapping bubbles into the air.

Techno watched the bubbles float around the room, his scrubs paused. “You don’t- We can stop next time. Tasha, you can always tell me if you get bored,” Tasha still didn’t bring her gaze back up to Techno, “I won’t get mad.”

She caught a bubble in a soapy hand and brought it to her face, blowing it off, “Together. Make. Worth. It.”

Techno- he supposed that made sense. He just didn’t think that Tasha would have the same idea. His scrubs resumed, focused on her fingers. The other hand continued to play with the bubbles.

“Missed. Together. In. Nether.”

Swallowing, he tried to say lightly: “You had a together? I… assumed your family-”

“You. Killed. Family.” She said family like it had hurt her. Hmm, maybe not the best simile.

“Oh,” he said. Was he supposed to say sorry? He wasn’t, not even a tiny bit.

In the silence, Tasha chose to barrel on, “Me. Had. Friend,” she tugged on her ears and tusks, a piglin then. “Run. Around. Ride. Hoglin.” Her hands mined two pairs of legs scampering along the lip of the bath. “Miss. Them.”

That… was not good, “Do you want to go back and visit them?” How: he wasn’t sure, but for Tasha, he’d make do.

“Dead.” One of the hands fell off of the lip and into the water, splashing around.

Oh. “What was their na- their word?” There had to be a way to save the conversation. Neither of them needed to deal with all of this angst.

“Never. Told.” The clean hand was put into her mouth but she continued to talk around it, “Scared. Them,” a hand fell into the water, “Warned. Them. In…” she waved at Techno, “Speak.”

“You said something in English. Kiddo, that wasn’t your fault.”

She protested, hand falling, getting back up, and falling again and again. “Should. Known.”

Techno grabbed both of her hands, “No, Tasha, the piglins- they don’t deserve your time. You are so different from them, so much more,” she tried to wiggle her way out, so Techno switched gears, “It was just a mindless mob. Sure, for a moment it might have felt pain but not like you did-” Techno slammed his mouth shut, Tasha clearly being able to pick up what he was referring to and flinching away. He tried for a third time, “You are better than them.”

That was enough, Techno guessed, and Tasha wiped away the stray tear that had escaped. He helped her out and dried her off with a soft blue towel. When she stood awkwardly, he patted her on the head, “Try to not let it bog you down. You don’t want things like that to ruin your fun.”

He let her walk off and refilled the bath with clean water. He always figured that Tasha would have her own trauma, but he never got around how he would fix it. His methods were proven to be… lacking, at the very least.

Spending nowhere near as long as Tasha had, Techno scrubbed himself raw. He might be a pig but he did not like being dirty. With dirt. The blood of the people who had wronged him- he might be able to compromise.

Stepping out of the lukewarm water and into the frigid room, he grabbed the other towel on the rack and dried himself off. He didn’t have any clothes so he opened the door a crack and strained his arm to grab something out of the chest of clothes next to it. It was one of his less frilly white button-downs and a pair of thick pants. Techno was always tempted to get some thigh-high leather boots to complete his outfit, but his hoofs would never allow it.

Leaving the bathroom, Techno realized that in his vanity he had caused the chest to spill out. Tasha, who was seen wiping her snout and eyes in a hurry, sat down at the foot of the mess and started sifting through it. She ended up settling on some of his spare blue wool and fabric.

“Favorite. Color?” All of it was blue, so perhaps…

“No, I like pink.” He sat with her and studied the weight and feel of it. Thankfully it wasn’t all one shade but an array of hues ranging from baby to royal blue. From wool to cotton to silk, from thick yarn to thread, he had quite the collection.

Techno chose the yarn, digging further through the pile for some needles. He had a book hidden somewhere in his library, ah, there it was. The bounty was dropped down in between the two. Tasha flipped through the pages, letting out an oink at the pictures.

She stopped at the first set of instructions and did her best to replicate the hands displayed on the pages. Techno… had no idea what the book was talking about, even as he read the captions. Sewing, he could manage. Knitting? Making something out of almost nothing? Unless it was a war effort, it was far out of his grasp.

All Techno did from there on in an attempt to help her was getting her to a page that told of a simple child’s sweater. She patted his face and set off to work.

That left him to his own devices.

The pile of blue was tempting Techno. “I never planned on getting this much stuff in the beginning,” Tasha nodded absently, “Uh, I guess my… interest in fashion started back when I began fighting.” He ran a finger over his cloak, a staple he had taken from his first win in the Area. “When I would win, I got the first pick of the losers' loot- including their clothes. It was just supposed to be a gag, something stupid I could do to make fun of them, but the pile grew and I wasn’t doing anything with it.

“Throwing it all out felt wrong, like I wasn’t winning for a reason. Eventually, I figured out that I could take the things I liked about each piece and put them together into something decent.” The cloak was a cape an opponent had dropped and the fur came from someone dressed as a sheep. Strange, but look at him now.

Tasha was trying her best to pay attention, but her pace had crawled to almost a stop, so Techno let her work in peace.

Instead, he took out the dress he had taken for Tasha and started hacking at the seams. He had learned a trick where you trace the different pieces of cloth, improve the design, and cut new ones. Techno was relieved to be getting rid of the old villager clothing, and the dress wasn’t that pretty to start with, so Techno got to have some fun.

Out came the ink and light blue cotton, Techno added a waistline and some frills to the bottom edge. A couple of times, Techno stabbed himself with the needle, but he made sure to not get any blood on the new dress.

He must have spent hours on it, because when he looked up, Tasha was done with a sleeve. There were a few stitches that looked a little wonky, but, “That looks really good!” Tasha startled and smiled back at Techno. Her smile was a little lackluster, her eyes drooping. “Come on, it’s bedtime for us.” Techno didn’t bother with staying up, his eyes were starting to itch and the strain the farming had put him through made him almost weep at the thought of staying up any longer.

When he woke, the day started just as the last had, Tasha tucked against his side.

Gathering up his gear, the flower resting on his journal wasn’t abandoned any longer, Techno couldn’t bear to let himself lose it. Into the ender chest it went, filling up the last slot.

“More?” Tasha asked upon seeing him put the dandelion away.

Techno sighed and smiled, “Sure.”

“Get. More. Today.” she decided, nodding to herself.

They did need more wool if Techno wanted to keep making clothes, so, “Whatever you say.” A walk would be a good way to spend outside time without doing labor.

He grabbed his armor after a second of thought. There was a good chance that it was unnecessary, but not a one hundred percent chance.

The food was handed out, Tasha getting the last potato in the chest. Her carrot- Techno paused: did she need gold? He wasn’t planning on taking it away from her, don’t get him wrong, but she was progressively getting more and more aggressive with her chomping as the days went on. Maybe it would be a good idea to get her something more permanent. Something she couldn’t eat.

The first option was a crown- Techno scratched that off immediately, he had earned it. Perhaps a trinket or jewelry of some kind?

As Techno helped Tasha into a clean coat over her new dress (which she liked very much) and got her down the porch steps, he kept thinking it over.

“Techno. Okay?” Tasha pulled on his cloak. She was having to rush to keep up with Techno’s pace. He slowed, allowing her to match his strides with less of hers.

He ruffled the fur on her head, “Yeah, just thinking,” at another tug: “What do you like?”

Tasha grabbed a bundle of his cloak but stopped her tugging. “Techno. Snow. Yellow… Flower?” He supplied her with dandelion and she nodded. Hmm, those were pretty generic things- the voices started screaming at him in rage, appalled at the mere suggestion. Okay! Not generic. If they made Tasha happy, that was all he needed.

Techno… wasn’t used to such simple needs. As different as Tasha was, she was still just a child.

He wasn’t exactly feeling snow or potato, which left yellow flower. Yellow: that was convenient. A little gold dandelion. It could be a pendant on a necklace or bracelet. Techno looked down at her, she was stumbling through the snow, scanning the horizon for a flower patch.

“Up you go,” he warned, scooping her into his arms. After a moment, he put her on his shoulders. Her hands tugged on his ears like they were reigns on a horse.

The needles on the spruce trees were already imposing on Techno’s personal space, so when Tasha was added to his height, she got a mouthful of pine. She sputtered and Techno chewed on his lip, he would try to avoid the overhanging branches. Mostly.

A sharp tug and Techno was about to scold her, even more so when she tugged again. “There!” Tasha squealed. Oh, she was treating him like a horse, steering him to the right. He grumbled but followed her directions.

Through the forest they went, Techno still not knowing how Tasha could see. Of course, she did have the height advantage, but she was only a block tall, if that. Even combined, they weren’t impressive.

Or, just possibly, Techno realized, it could be the fact that he broke his glasses in the process of destroying L’Manburg. Huh. That… could be it.

“Stop! No. Step. On. Dandelion.” Techno halted, seeing a patch of yellow spread out around him. Yup, it was time to fix his glasses.

Tasha shimmied down from his shoulder once Techno crouched down low enough. Nearby, a baah echoed through the forest. “Tasha, find yourself a good flower, I’m going to find the sheep. I’ll be back, I promise.” Tasha scrambled back to Techno from the flower patch. Techno smiled, “Pinky promise, no one can break those,” he held out his finger and waited for Tasha.

A piggy finger wrapped itself around his.

Tasha turned back to the flowers. Techno wandered off.

There were only three sheep when Techno found them. They were hiding around some bushy fur trees and grazing on the exposed grass protected from the wind and snow. Trying not to startle them, Techno placed his ender chest a ways away from the three and brought out his lapis lazuli and iron. A second later and he had dye and shears.

Techno didn’t want to leave Tasha for long, so he only waited around enough for the sheep's wool to grow and be sheared three times each. The blue was a little conspicuous, Techo gnawed at his lip. As long as Tasha didn’t see him killing them, he figured.

He brandished his axe, one mighty swing taking out the first. Then the second. Then-

“Techno!”

Techno abandoned the last sheep and sprinted through the forest, Tasha coming into sight around the branches and trunks. She was- not fine, but alive. “What’s wrong, Tash?” he grabbed her up. She struggled, trying to get out of his grip, “Tash!”

A hiss.

Techno twisted around, shielding Tasha with his body. He held her tight and the explosion blasted snow and pine needles onto his back. His ears rang. After a moment of piercing silence, Techno rolled to his side, still curled around Tasha.

“Came. Back,” Tasha whispered.

Techno scooped her up. It was home time, their walk was over. “The pinky promise never fails.” She stayed in his arms, Techno didn’t want to risk another creeper or an arrow from a skeleton hiding in the foliage.

She shouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Techno shouldn’t have left her, actually.

But, still, piglins were supposed to be neutral with hostile and other neutral mobs. Hoglins were an exception, but creepers? Tasha should- Tasha was different. With it being so soon after Techno had insisted it, he should have listened to his own advice. Even Tasha looked a little… skeptical when he made the claim, he supposed.

They hurried- or rather, Techno hurried- over the roots and fallen tree branches. The forest thinned and the clearing their cabin resided in stuck out over the horizon. Up the stairs, and they were safe.

Tasha’s dress had picked up a bit of snow, so Tasha batted it off before entering. Both of them wiped their hoofs off on the rug and set themselves up at the table. The flower, Techno thought she had dropped it, was set in the middle.

Techno brought down Tasha’s knitting and his notebook and ink. When he came back downstairs, Tasha greeted him with a rumbling stomach. Out came her food: two carrots, as the potatoes were still growing. Just as he had expected, she gorged herself on them.

Into his notebook, Techno went. The page titled with Tasha’s Needs was in need of some updating. Food was checked off, they had finished the farm, all they had to do was regular maintenance and weeding. Clothes for Tasha were not yet completed, but he did want to add a new idea: ,i>matching/blue for Techno. Yes, it would add extra work, but imagine the absolute adorableness… or style that would seep from their very beings. A quick gold dandelion pendant was scratched in at the bottom, almost forgotten. He ignored the rest of the list.

Across the table, Tasha was getting through the second sleeve of the sweater. Her face was screwed up, tongue sticking out and flickering around her tusks.

Techno put a hand to his own tusks, an extra set growing out of his upper jaw. They had always been a point of embarrassment for him, clearly belonging to a feral wild pig rather than the preferred barnyard pig. People always looked between him and the pigs they had in pens, comparing the two and trying to find similarities. The tusks had been a saving grace in those scenarios, functioning as a barrier from him being mocked.

The two tusks poking out of Tasha’s mouth had come from her ancestors, though piglins now used crossbows and swords instead of tusks and hoofs for fighting.

Techno shifted in his seat, running a hand over his list and the matching/blue for Techno. They weren’t that different, he supposed.

Tasha was an innocent version of Techno.

Techno would keep her that way.

[conspiracieys-archive]

@aromanticjangofett just for you !!! i hope that you do enjoy this fic!!! :D i tried to include all the things you mentioned to me <3

i hope that you enjoy it!!! i wanted to write Arthur taking care of you, cause you definitely deserve to be taken care of!! and so does he, so you guys take care of each other !!

————

Arthur was late, you found yourself thinking as you glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. It was a little strange; usually Arthur was punctual, home at 6pm on the dot. The clock inched closer to eight, though, and your chest was itchy and achy in all the wrong ways and your worried breathing pulled at the bandages around your torso that needed changing.

It was at 8pm on the dot, however, that the apartment door swung open and Arthur Fleck trudged inside.

“Sorry,” was the first word out of his mouth. His tone was so flat, and you wished you could actually stand up without pain to gather him into your arms. “I ran into trouble on the subway.” His shoulders slumped with the words, and something in your gut felt heavy. Why couldn’t people just leave Arthur alone? He was a little odd, but then again who wasn’t a little odd? Just because Arthur’s quirks were a little more obvious didn’t make him any less deserving of human decency.

“Are you okay?” you asked, trying your best to sit up on the couch. A hiss of pain escaped you as you moved, and Arthur’s body language changed almost immediately.

He kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to the kitchen, dropping down the paper sacks of groceries onto the empty counters. And then his eyes were on you. He shed his hoodie on the kitchen floor and rolled up his sleeves in one smooth motion as he crossed out of the kitchen and to the couch in a few long steps.

With a smile that was as natural as Arthur could muster, he carefully pressed one hand to the small of your back and one to your belly to help you sit up without hurting yourself.

“You know better than to move without help,” he chided, shaking his head a little. You couldn’t help but smile as some of his hair fell into his eyes, and you brushed it back on top of his head. And if you took a moment to run your fingers through his hair a couple of times, who could blame you? The way the corners of his eyes softened made it worth it, even as he tried to keep a stern expression on his face.

“I was worried,” you told him honestly. “I know you can handle yourself,” your mind briefly flashed to the gun he’d brought home one day and hoped he’d never find a need for it, “but I still worry.”

The way his smile dimmed just a little wasn’t lost on you, but he also didn’t give you a chance to push it and instead said, “Well I’m home now, and I bought you a little something at the store!”

You couldn’t help but perk up in curiosity at that. A gift? Money was tight, even with the two of you living together and pooling your income -medication didn’t come cheap, and Penny still had to eat as well. So a gift was, well… You didn’t need material things to know Arthur loved you, but a gift was such a pleasant surprise.

“What is it, Arthur?” you asked.

“Ah, ah,” teased the other man, the smile brightening back up and the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine joy. “First thing’s first.” He gently tapped the side of your chest on the bandages. “Let’s get these changed. It’s passed time.”

It took a little bit of time for Arthur to help you lean forward, and once you were comfortable he took a few more moments to get a bowl of warm water and a clean wash cloth. He was careful as he unwrapped your bandages, not wanting to pull at the stitches still in place.

“Tell me if I press too hard,” he told you, making eye contact to make sure you nodded before he started to dab at your scars gently. Watching him delicately clean up your top surgery scars was fascinating. His eyes were so intense and his teeth were gritted, and it was clear he was giving your care his full concentration. It was… nice. Having someone this dedicated to helping you, and having someone be this in love with you was one of the nicest feelings in the world. “There!” Arthur chirped suddenly, drawing you out of your thoughts with a little jerk. He smiled up at you, looking particularly pleased with himself. You glanced down and couldn’t help but smile. He’d wrapped your still healing chest in bandages already, but had sneaked in bandages that had cute little versions of your favorite animal on them.

“You’re getting good at this,” you told him, and he bobbed his head in agreement before holding out his hands to help you get comfortable on the couch again.

“I have to!” he informed you. “I want you to have the best care possible while you’re recovering.”

He was careful as he tucked the sheet up over your chest before settling your favorite blanket over your lap. The look on his face as he stood over you, admiring his handiwork of getting you comfortable and wrapped up in blankets, sent warmth throughout your entire body. That look… You knew you had a similar look on your face whenever you looked at him, and you only hoped he knew just how much you loved him too.

“I give you this care,” Arthur began, dropping to his knees on the carpet beside you. He took your hand in his, threading your fingers together. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles almost immediately, and he continued speaking. “I give you this care because… Everyone deserves to be taken care of when they need it the most.” Your free hand found a place running through his hair, hoping maybe you could sooth the hurt he was remembering away.

You had never pried into Arthur’s past, but you knew it was bad. Whatever happened to him before you met him had done a number on his self worth, his self esteem, his… His everything. You had your own problems, past and present, but it only made it easier to relate to him, and it made it easier to want to help him heal from those past hurts. Even if it would take a while.

The kiss you pressed to his forehead was sudden, and Arthur jerked away for a moment before leaning back into you with his eyes closed.

“I’ll take care of you too, Arthur,” you promised him. With a little laugh, you added, “When I can move without it hurting, that is.”

He let out a small laugh at your words and leaned back to look you over. It was Arthur who initiated the next kiss, just a light peck against your lips that had you smiling. As soon as your damn stitches dissolved, you were pulling your Arthur into the tightest hug he’d ever experience.

Before you could convince yourself that damn the stitches, he needed that hug now, Arthur leaped to his feet. “Your present!” he exclaimed.

With a laugh, you asked, “This wasn’t it?” as you gestured to the cute bandages he’d wrapped you in. Arthur shook his head and moved off to the kitchen.

You smiled after Arthur, watching him pull out groceries from the paper sacks. His leg started bouncing the longer it took him to sort through the bags, the longer it took him to find the present for you.

“Okay!” he announced after what felt like forever. “Close your eyes.”

Of course, you obeyed. You didn’t even peek to see him walking toward you. Something soft was set on your lap, and as soon as he gave you the okay, you snapped your eyes open.

Sitting on your lap was, arguably, the cutest little clown plush you’d ever seen. You picked it up delicately and brought it closer to your face to inspect it. It had green hair, like Arthur’s Carnival, but otherwise didn’t particularly look like him. But it was still adorable.

“I thought-” Arthur began, before a nervous laugh bubbled out of his mouth. Your eyes snapped up to him as he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laughs.

Instantly, you patted the couch next to you. “Sit,” you encouraged as the laughs continued to spill, still muffled, from behind his hand. Arthur shook his head but at your insistent gaze he perched beside you and choked as he tried to swallow the laughter.

“S-sorry,” he gasped out. “I thou- I thought-” the laughs cut him off again and you set the clown plush down on your lap and pressed one hand against the small of his back, the other one resting on his knee.

“Breathe,” you told him. “Breathe with me. Take your time.” You took a deep breath and began to breathe in a conscious, simple pattern that Arthur was able to follow after a few long moments of laughter and choking and tears. The laughter faded off into awkward chuckles, but Arthur’s breathing was easier. “Hi,” you said when he finally met your gaze again. “Tell me about the clown and what made you nervous.”

Arthur audibly swallowed and another laugh slipped out. “I thought… The clown looked a little like me and,” a laugh cut him off and he swallowed around it, “I thought that he could protect you when I’m at work.” He dropped his gaze and laughed again, but this one wasn’t from his condition. It was a self deprecating laugh that made your heart ache.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you told him sincerely, giving his knee a squeeze. You kept your hand on his knee and withdrew the other to touch the plush’s neon green hair. “He has your hair. I love him.” You looked back up at him. “I love it, Arthur. Thank you.” He seemed hesitant as he looked back up at you. “I love you, Arthur. This is … This is amazing.” You grinned at him, and the hesitant smile that he gave back warmed and hurt your heart all at once. “Kiss me again?” you asked.

Before he could oblige, a different and more tired voice called out from the master bedroom, “Happy…? Are you home?”

You let out an exasperated laugh as Arthur redirected his kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, Mother,” Arthur called back. To you, he whispered, “I love you too.”

Your heart swelled with happiness as Arthur stood and headed to Penny’s room to tend to her needs. As soon as you were healed, you were going to sit Arthur down and shower him in affection and not let him do a single thing. And you were going to do it shirtless, just because you could.

You picked up your clown plush and gave it a hug, smiling at the thought.

[ejzah]

@mashmaiden requested a fic using the following prompt, preferably in an early season: Whumpee is feeling sick at work, but the colleagues don't take him seriously. They're even making fun of him. So the whumpee tries to hide how bad he is and wants to tough it out, but he can’t focus on his work and makes mistakes. The colleagues are jerks and keep mocking poor whumpee, until he just collapses in front of them.

A/N: I might not have followed it to the letter, but hopefully it’s still ok. Set in season 2.

***

Infected

“Shake a leg, Deeks!” Sam shouted as Deeks hauled himself out of a ditch, leaving behind the remains of a burnt out SUV.

“A little help might be nice!” he shouted back. Sam just chuckled, crossing his arms and watching as Deeks struggled to climb the muddy slope while carrying several evidence bags and a camera.

Callen came to stand beside Sam and peer down at Deeks, looking vaguely interested.

“You’re still down there?” Deeks bit back a nasty retort and finally pulled himself out. His right arm protested the abuse, aching and burning.

“Hey, I was shot last week, remember?” he said, not completely able to keep the whine from his voice. Sam rolled his eyes as he started walking back to the Challenger.

“Deeks, it was a graze. I’ve gotten worse paper cuts.”

“You know, if I wanted to be treated terribly, I’d go back to LAPD.”

“Is that a promise?” Callen asked, tossing another evidence back towards him. Deeks caught it and once again, his arm twinged. It actually felt worse than it had this morning, burning at the slightest movement, the surrounding skin uncomfortably tight.

“Your concern is touching,” Deeks joked. “I’m gonna find Kensi.”

“Maybe she’ll kiss your boo boos for you!” Sam called to him, snickering as Deeks walked away.

***

Deeks peeled the white bandage off his upper arm, wincing as even that small movement caused a significant amount of pain. He had the sleeve of his t-shirt rolled out of the way and frowned at the reddened skin he’d just revealed.

The original wound had been about three inches long, not too deep, but enough that he’d needed stitches. He’d thought it was healing well, but a few days ago it had started hurting more and developed a red tinge around the edges. This morning the whole thing had looked swollen and now it was bright red, hot to the touch and something nasty was seeping from beneath the stitches.

He grabbed a couple tissues and wiped the liquid away with a grimace, trying not to think too much about the yellowish color.

“Deeks, what are you doing in there?” Kensi shouted through the restroom door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, hastily throwing away the used bandage and replacing it with a bandaid. It probably wasn’t the best idea, especially since he’d forgotten to grab the prescription strength cream he was supposed to apply whenever he changed the dressing.

Kensi made an exasperated sound and pounded on the door a couple times.

“God, I swear you spend more time in their than any woman I know. Hurry up, Eric has an update.”

Deeks bit back a sarcastic retort and yanked his sleeve down, spinning around. A wave of unexpected nausea rocked through him and he felt both cold and hot at once. He took several deep breathes until he felt less like throwing up, conscious of Kensi impatiently waiting on the other side.

“What were you doing, touching up your roots?” Kensi asked when he came out, snorting at her own joke.

“Well, one of us has to look pretty,” he said, fluffing his hair. Kensi rolled her eyes and pushed him down the hallway.

“Now that, is a hilarious joke.” She looked at him suspiciously as they walked upstairs. “You’re not sick, are you?” she asked.

“Of course not.” He debated telling her about his arm, but he didn’t feel like giving Callen and Sam more fuel. Hell, they probably thought he was a wuss for going to the hospital in the first place.

“You look a little...off.” When he just shrugged off her concern, she sighed. “Well, if you’re coming down with some kind of stomach bug, you better not give it to me.”

“It’s wonderful to know I work with such caring people,” he commented and Kensi smacked his arm. Fortunately it was his left or he probably would have made a very unmanly sound.

“Is Deeks still griping about his arm?” Sam asked as they walked into the OPS center.

“Actually, I think he fell asleep in the bathroom,” Kensi replied, smirking in Deeks’ direction. She crossed her arms, clearly waiting for a response, but he merely glared weakly, concentrating on tamping down the latest wave of nausea.

The walk upstairs had left him feeling weak and shaky. He went to stand by the table, using it to support himself. Was the room always so hot? Hetty needed to invest in better air conditioners.

“Deeks!” Kensi hissed, jabbing him with her elbow. She nodded at Eric who was talking about...something. Kensi jabbed him again and he grunted. A drop of sweat trickled down the middle of his back, adding to the overall feeling of awfulness.

He must have tuned out again because the next thing Kensi was standing right in front of him, her slightly blurry face filled with concern.

“Deeks, are you ok?” She repeated, no humor in her voice this time.

“Actually, I’m not feeling very good,” he admitted weakly. He swayed suddenly and Kensi steadied him. Sam and Callen joined her, the case forgotten as they both stared at him.

“You do not look good, man,” Callen observed and Deeks glared malevolently, feeling clammier by the moment. His hand trembled as he leaned heavily against the table. Naturally Kensi noticed and grabbed him by the shoulders, directing him towards a chair.

He couldn’t hold back a groan as she pressed directly on his wound, the pain radiating down his arm. She brushed the back of her knuckles across his forehead, her frown increasing.

“He definitely has a fever,” she said, turning to Sam and Callen, effectively excluding him from the conversation.

“You know I’m not dead yet,” he muttered irritably.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” Eric asked, already reaching for his headset.

“No,” Deeks said more loudly. The last thing he needed was to be taken away in an ambulance over a little fever. “I think my scar is just a little infected.”

“A little?” Sam repeated, taking a peek under Deeks’ sleeve. He ignored Deeks’ futile attempts to push his hands away and yanked the large bandaid off. Somehow Deeks wished he would make another joke, but he just looked concerned. “This looks like the beginning stages of sepsis.”

Kensi leaned over to get a better look and made a sound that pretty much summed up how Deeks was feeling.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked and Deeks couldn’t tell if she was angry or concerned.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said honestly. Ok, he knew it wasn’t great, but definitely not sepsis level.

“You need to get this taken care of before the infections spreads or your temp goes up.”

“Can’t you just left me stay here to die in peace?” Deeks begged, closing his eyes and pressing his palms over the sockets.

“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad,” Callen reminded him. He was smirking. Deeks knew it even without seeing him.

“That was before my head started pounding.” He groaned again and felt Kensi’s hand settle on the back of his neck. She started stroking his skin in a soothing rhythm.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” Eric asked again.

“Nah, I’ll take him in,” Kensi said, reaching for Deeks’ uninjured arm. “C’mon partner, let’s go get your pus drained.” Deeks grimaced as he laboriously got to his feet.

“If you don’t want me to throw up, I suggest you stop talking about pus,” he warned her

“You even think about throw up in the SUV, I’m making you walk to the hospital.” Despite her words, she wrapped her arm around his back and let him lean against her.

“I knew you loved me.”

“You’re lucky that your all sweaty and pitiful looking right now,” Kensi retorted with a hint of cheerful menace in her voice.” As they slowly walked through the sliding doors, Callen called after them,

“Try not to kill him before you get to the ER.”

***

A/N: I may have expedited the symptoms of mild sepsis just a touch. And naturally, Sam knows what sepsis looks like.

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

breaking my heart (in all the right ways)

or read Chapter Two on Archive of Our Own 

Pairing: Matteo x David

Summary: He brings his gaze to meet “David’s” (at least that’s the name scribbled across his name tag) and he can’t help but notice the septum piercing.

Damn. This guy is way out of his league.

Not that he has a league necessarily. For men anyways. Because he’s Straight™.

Kind of.

OR keeping that coffee shop AU trope alive and well.

“Fuck.”

Matteo stares into his closet, his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans, as he tries to find a shirt that is both clean and something Jonas would call "cool." His options are severely lacking.

“Butterfly?” His door swings open to reveal his far more fashionable roommate, Hans, with a curious smile on his face. “Are you looking for something to wear?”

Matteo’s fingers instinctively run through his freshly washed hair, wishing he had just thrown on his regular hoodie. Was he seriously trying to impress a guy he didn’t even know? A guy he’d met once at a coffee shop, no less?

No, he was definitely not.

But then his mind drifts back to that septum piercing and the way his smile had warmed the tips of Matteo’s ears and he forces his attention back to his closet.

He just wants this guy to think he has his life somewhat together. That doesn’t mean anything.

“Ohmygosh,” Hans claps his hands together excitedly as he enters Matteo’s room, planting himself firmly next to Matteo’s now stiffened body. “Do you have a…date?”

“Hans,” Matteo sighs, running his hands over his face before shaking his head. He grabs his worn hoodie from the edge of his bed and throws it on over the t-shirt he’d slept in. He glances at himself in the mirror, ignoring Hans’ head, which has suddenly appeared smiling over his shoulder.

“Well?”

“You look like you always do.”

“Good,” Matteo huffs irritably, pushing past his roommate and towards the front door.

“I hope she likes gray!” Hans calls after him in a sing song voice as Matteo makes for the door, fighting the urge to roll his eyes long after he’s headed towards his study session with Amira.

David is not behind the counter when he arrives and Matteo visually deflates.

Amira waves him over and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth when he sees her. Their friendship had started off rocky, but lately he’s noticed the way she looks at him, gently and with concern. It makes him feel like she cares about him and he can’t say that about just anyone. Not even his own parents.

And he knows he cares about her right back. He’ll never tell her that (because she’ll never let him hear the end of it if he did), but he knows because he’s early today and he’s already got a few notes scribbled into the notebook he brought with him. He’d prepared a little last night because he actually likes when him and Amira start off on a good note.

“What?”

She’s staring at him with her nose slightly wrinkled and he knows she’s going to tease him about something so he braces himself.

“Matteo, weren’t you literally wearing that yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” Shit.

“I mean, I sat across from you at lunch yesterday and I can still see where you dropped that tomato sauce on the sleeve of your sweater.”

He lifts his arm, immediately noting the streak of pasta sauce on his sleeve, before shifting his gaze back to Amira. She’s biting her lip to keep from laughing and he clenches his tongue between his teeth before they both break into giggles.

“It’s too cold to take this off so just pretend this sauce is a part of the look.”

“I’m not pretending that,” Amira says through a wide grin, waving him off as she turns back to her notebook. “But can you grab me a stir stick when you go up there?”

He shoots her a thumbs up before slowly walk towards the counter trying to focus his attention on anything other than the muffled roar of the blenders around him.

He rubs his tired eyes with the palms of his hands as he gets in line wondering if maybe he can just head back to his apartment. Amira wouldn’t mind, she always says she’s doing this whole study buddy thing for him anyways.

“Na?” the voice catches Matteo off guard and he immediately drops his hands, his mouth parting in surprise. David is back at the counter, running his fingers through his hair before offering Matteo a soft smile. “Still not sleeping well?”

A woman behind him clears her throat and Matteo immediately moves towards the counter. He tries to ignore the warmth pooling in his stomach because he’d remembered? as he shrugs, working to find his voice.

“Have you tried tea? It could help…with the sleeping.”  

Matteo scrunches his nose the same way Amira had at him when he’d walked in and David grins, wiping his hands on his apron. He tilts his head, just barely, and raises an eyebrow. “I’ll make you a tea you like.”

Oh.

“I've never really found a tea I've liked.”

“But you’ve never had a tea made by me,” David challenges him confidently with a smirk and Matteo feels his breath catch. Okay, he decides, he doesn’t not like tea that much.  

He reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, willing to pay whatever for this tea he’ll probably end up throwing away, but David reaches across the counter and pushes his wallet shut. Matteo lifts his gaze to meet his, his breathing shallowing in a way he prays isn’t obvious.  

“It’s on me,” David shrugs easily, pulling his hand away and Matteo decides he must be losing his goddamn mind. He hasn’t felt anything in days and now he can barely function because of…tea?

Not even the woman’s irritated sigh behind him can knock the smile off of his face as he makes his way back to Amira, his hands wrapped around a steaming made-just-for-him-and-his-whack-sleeping-schedule mug of tea.

“Is that…tea?”

“What? Oh…yeah, the barista said he thought it would help me sleep,” Matteo shrugs, ignoring the way Amira is staring at him, wide-eyed.  

“I’ve told you about ten different teas that would help you sleep.”

Matteo sips the warm drink carefully, trying to play this situation off without alerting Amira to his odd behavior. She glances past him, to who he’s sure is the barista, before bringing her gaze back to him.

“But did you ever make me one of these teas, Amira?”

She tosses a wadded up napkin at his face and he grins, basking in the warmth the tea is spreading through his body.

They finally agree to meet up once a week to go over their biology notes until Abi and Matteo finds himself running a comb through his hair on those particular days. One week, he does his laundry and wraps a belt around his waist, hoping the extra effort is noted by someone other than Hans. A certain someone.

David isn’t there every week. In fact, Matteo has only seen him once in the past three weeks, but that one time was enough for David to appear twice in the dreams he’s had when he’s been able to sleep longer than two hours.

Both the girl and boy squads decide to chill at the flat today and Matteo is seated sideways on an armchair, his legs dangling off the side. He pushes his hair up and off of his forehead as he turns his head towards where Jonas is attempting to convince Mia to let them have a party there at the end of the week.

“Listen, Mia, if we promise to clean up the morning after…” his face is pleading and Mia purses her lips, shaking her head.  

“I have to wake up early the next morning.”

Hanna walks by in that moment, on her way to sit on the floor in front of Mia so that she can lean back against her legs. Jonas falls silent momentarily, his eyes lingering on Hanna until she sits. When he looks up again, he catches Matteo’s eye and Matteo lifts his chin.

Just talk to her, he mouths.

Jonas rolls his eyes, brushing him off and turning his attention back to Mia.

“We’ll turn the music off at like 10:00PM.”

Mia snorts into her latte, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No.”

The group laughs and Matteo manages a relieved chuckle, sinking deeper into the armchair. Now that the idea of hosting a party here is fading, he turns his attention back to his phone, scrolling through Reddit for anything of interest. Maybe something he can use for his #MatteoMonday.

“Can I invite my brother? He has a couple of friends from the coffee shop that need a little cheering up.”

Everyone turns their attention to Amira, but no one more quickly than Matteo.

“Oooh, Amira’s brother is so cute.” Sam giggles from where she’s sitting on the floor and Amira rolls her eyes.

“Which friends?” Matteo’s voice surprises even him and Amira shifts her gaze to him, reading his expression.

“Do you know her brother’s friends?”

“Yeah, since when do you know anyone other than us?” Abdi’s eyebrows are stitched together as though he’s been betrayed and it almost makes Matteo laugh. He opens his mouth to say something, but Mia cuts him off.

“Fine, we’ll have the party here on Friday. Amira, of course you and your brother can bring whoever. I’m getting another coffee, does anyone want anything?”

Excited chatter breaks out amongst the group and Matteo sighs grumpily into the armchair. He doesn’t always do well at parties and makes a mental note to hit up his dealer for a little weed before then.  

“Yousef is who he’s bringing to the party,” Amira says casually, her cheeks flushed, as she walks by him on her way to the kitchen to talk to Mia. He tears his eyes away from his phone and looks up at her as she lingers near his chair before quietly adding, “And David.”

Note: wow, thank you all so much for the love you've given this fic! i can't tell you how surprised and grateful i am and i hope you continue to enjoy!

also, i've added a couple of tags, including one that mentions matteo's MI, which i hint to a couple of times in this chapter.

thank you all so much again! ❤ B

[builder051]

Both sides now

A Clint/Laura angsty sickfic.

_____

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way

--Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

_____

It takes Clint an extra 20 minutes to detour to CVS and pick up cold medicine. He walks down the aisle in front of the pharmacy and grabs every box and bottle that looks enticing, stacking them between his forearm and his chest like a misplaced Jenga tower. It wobbles dangerously when he bends his knees. Who thought it was a good idea to put the lotion tissues on the bottom shelf?

He admits it’s worth it to pay extra for premium Kleenex and maybe save his already-raw nose a bit of torture. He should save himself the torture of trying to balance his load, too, but using a shopping basket is a different kind of defeat. One of the packages of pills falls to the ground as he straightens up, but Clint’s head is spinning. He doesn’t feel like figuring out what to set down in order to retrieve it. He probably doesn’t need Benadryl anyway.

He leaves it in the middle of the aisle and dumps his purchases on the checkout counter, then wipes his dripping nose on his sleeve as he reaches for his wallet.

“Can I help you find anything else today, sir?” the cashier says in a monotone.

Clint’s fever has reduced his brain to the speed of an outdated laptop running a security scan. He blinks at the wall of alcohol and tobacco products behind the register. He wouldn’t mind a bottle of Crown, something to put him to sleep that doesn’t taste like artificial cherries.

But it’s one in the morning and he’s still grimy from the mission and dressed in the old sweats he throws on when he doesn’t bother to shower before hitting the highway for the commute back home. And he’s probably already buying two or three things that contain codeine. No need to arouse suspicion.

“That’ll be $35.15, man.” The kid’s high as fuck, and Clint probably could’ve gotten away with half the liquor cabinet and not so much as an ID check. But he’s missed his opportunity. His mind finds a new state of awareness, realizing time is dragging and hating it, but still missing power to change course. So he just hands over his credit card and tries not to gag on his own snot.

Clint slides into the car, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He thinks about drugging up then and there, but he still has a ways to drive. He doesn’t trust himself to read the fine print and figure out what causes drowsiness and what doesn’t. And he neglected to buy anything to drink. His throat’s too swollen to dry-swallow pills, and his taste buds too sensitive for liquid medication without a chaser. Maybe he should’ve bought the Crown after all.

It isn’t till five minutes later when he’s back on the highway that the thought really sinks in, and Clint feels stupid again. His body aches something fierce, and the seat bites into his spine. He just wants to lie down. Maybe shower first. But he’s not sure he feels up to it, and Laura will probably have given up on him and gone to sleep.

He glances at the clock. It’s almost half an hour after he said he’d be home. She drinks wine and watches sitcoms for a couple hours after the kids are in bed. When Clint’s home, they do it together, working their way through Seinfeld and Cheers and Friends, then going back to re-watch their favorites. Sometimes Laura giggles at the wrong time, engrossed in text conversations with Nat. Sometimes Clint plays Nintendo. Lately the iPad set up on the bed between them has been running through the queue automatically, neither of them looking up when the next episode starts.

Laura texts Nat when Clint’s not home, too. She used to text Clint, but now he only gets responses. She doesn’t reach out first anymore. Clint only gets his wife’s jokes and goofy stories when he catches a grinning Nat checking her phone under the table in the boardroom and asks what’s so funny.

Clint stops at the red light at the bottom of the off ramp and digs his phone out of his pocket. Laura’s last message is still on his lock screen. He’d read it, but never opened it. So maybe he’s just as guilty. But it doesn’t take much effort to read and comprehend “K.”

The light turns green, and Clint drops his phone in his lap. He repeats the word over in his head, trying on different inflections and emotions. It’s not even a word. Just a letter. Is it any better with disappointment? Resignation? Sadness?

It has to be one of those. Clint doesn’t know for sure, but he knows his wife well enough to tell an acknowledgement from something else. If she had on a lace bra and expensive perfume, she’d have added a smiley face. If she was digging in the cupboard for chicken noodle soup, she’d have added a question mark.

But just a period? That’s I have to be up in under six hours to get the kids to school. And you’re late. Again.

Clint’s stomach turns with guilt. Pinpricks of sweat break out over his forehead, and all emotions are placed on hold for more physical feelings. He’s a mile from the house and abjectly against pulling over. But it’s already clear he’s not winning anything tonight.

He makes it halfway up the bumpy driveway before the gag hanging in his throat becomes more than just an urge. Clint throws the car in park and opens his door, hanging over the gravel to spit up mucous that tastes like bile.

It’s just nauseous sputtering, the kind that comes from problems with his head and throat, not with his stomach. It’s a useful excuse when, say, the kids still end up at school despite the mess in the backseat of the car. But for Clint, it’s another failure. He can’t even throw up properly. There’s no sense of relief when he’s finished.

He tears open the box of tissues to wipe his mouth and blow his nose, then he collects the loot from the drug store and trudges up toward the house. It’s a small bright point that he didn’t bring up much; Clint doubt’s he’d be able to see a puddle of vomit on the uneven ground in the dark.

The front door is unlocked, which means Laura hasn’t turned in yet after all. Clint wants to sing her praises. He doesn’t realize how much of a hassle it is to fumble keys with cold, shaky fingers until he suddenly doesn’t have to do it. Maybe he does have enough energy left in his drained batteries to shower before he passes out.

Clint toes off his shoes and kicks them roughly in line with the row of boots and sneakers beneath the coat hooks. He shuffles into the kitchen and grabs the first water bottle he sees in the door of the fridge, not caring that it’s pink and covered in butterflies. Water’s water. They have a dishwasher to kill the germs before he gives it back to Lila. Clint takes a sip as he heads down the hall.

The lamp is on in the master bedroom. A pale yellow glow feeds out into the hallway. They don’t keep the light on when they watch TV, but the fact doesn’t exactly compute.

Laura sits in bed, glasses perched on her nose, stitching a patch onto the knee of Cooper’s jeans. Clint drops the plastic CVS bag on top of the comforter, and Laura looks up at him.

“Hey,” she says. She makes two more neat stitches, then ties off her thread and snips it. She folds the jeans and arranges her supplies neatly on top of them on the bedside table.

Clint watches her, stuck on the carefulness of her movement, the set of her mouth. She keeps the house running with a mix of focus and fun. She rolls with the punches. She only retreats into this mode of somber productivity when things aren’t right with her. Or more accurately, around her. Clint’s having difficulty separating tiredness from truth, but he can’t think of a single time Laura’s fucked up.

He needs to ask if she’s ok. Not that it makes much sense, because Clint’s beginning to feel like he could throw up again while his wife seems physically fine, just pissed. But unlike Laura, Clint makes bad choices a lot. Especially today. So he just says, “Hey,” back. Then he coughs. Pitifully.

“I was thinking we should talk.” Laura folds her hands in her lap. She’s an expert at ripping off Band-Aids, even when a fever makes the pain worse. “About you never being home anymore. But, you know.” She laughs humorlessly. “You’re never home anymore.”

“Yeah, hon,” Clint sighs. “I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what else he can say. Any promise to do better won’t hold water. His schedule won’t change unless he has a serious talk with his superiors. Which he can do. Maybe. Eventually. But it doesn’t solve the problem of tonight.

Clint’s head throbs. He dumps the array of medications out over the foot of the bed and searches out the strongest, longest-lasting thing. Something good for headaches and stomachaches and snotty noses and being a bad husband.

He should’ve asked if Laura was ok, kept up the pattern of initiation-response. Maybe she would’ve lied and said she was fine, and he’d be that much closer to sleeping it off.

Laura’s not ok. She’s already made that clear. But Clint’s not ok either. He gets that she’s not wild about him right now. He wants more than acknowledgement, though. Not an argument, not exclamation points. Happiness is too far in the other direction. But perhaps a question mark? Is it too much to crave a little care?

Clint picks up the box of Tylenol PM and squints at the directions on the back. His throat feels tight, either preparing to dry heave or anticipating the ordeal of swallowing pills. He takes a small sip of water, then tries to insert his fingernail under the sharp flap on the top of the box. “Sorry,” he murmurs again. “Can we…talk about it later?”

“When, Clint?” Laura shakes her head. “I’m gonna take the kids to school tomorrow, and you’re gonna sleep in, then I’ll get back and have an hour to feed you and start your laundry before you have to go back and have a debrief or a board meeting or supervise training or whatever it is you do out there…”

“I’ll find time. I’ll get up with you.” But he won’t. Clint backtracks. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” That’s more like it.

“What if you get called for a mission?” Laura’s volume rises. She’s not shouting, but she wants to be sure Clint hears her. “What if you take a bullet while you’re saving the world, and you realize the last time you sat at the table with your kids was over two weeks ago?”

Clint lets out a slow breath. His vision shimmers around the edges. He blinks hard, but the apparition doesn’t fade. He clutches the water bottle and the box of Tylenol together as he slowly turns and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Honey.” Clint looks down at the carpet, hoping a singular visual focus will keep disaster from happening. Or not happening. If he barfs, maybe Laura will turn her sympathy back on. He fights a hiccup. “Can we not do this right now? Please?”

“You’ve been putting this off. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you have.” The bed shifts as Laura stands up. “You can’t do that, Clint.”

“I know, babe. I hear you.” He can’t hold down the hiccup this time. Clint’s hands are full, so he presses his wrist over his mouth. A drip shivering at the end of his nose soaks into his sleeve. “I just…I can’t right now. I really can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Laura sighs, the sound impossibly drawn out. But maybe Clint’s just losing track of time again.

The ends of Laura’s hair twitch into Clint’s peripheral vision as she kneels in front of him. “Didn’t you get a flu shot?” she asks. There’s still irritation in her voice, but its intensity has lessened.

“Yeah.” Clint swallows hard. “I don’t know what this is.” He hiccups again.

“Please don’t throw up in here. We have kids for that.” Now a hint of a smile.

“No, I’m not…” Clint breathes down the sick feeling, willing his headache to go back to just a throb. He can handle that. “I already did. Well, kinda…”

“In the car?” Laura wrinkles her nose. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hm.” Clint’s not eager to retell it anyway.

“Looks like you really bought out the pharmacy.” Laura takes the box of pills from Clint’s hand. “But I’m gonna have to dose it for you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Clint lifts his head and fixes his glassy eyes on hers. “A hopeless mess. You know?”

Laura makes quick work of the blister pack and drops two tablets into Clint’s palm. “Yeah. You kind of are.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “You’re really cooking, too.”

“I really don’t feel good,” Clint admits. “But…I’m sorry, babe.”

“We’ll talk,” Laura says. “When you’re patched up a little. You really planning on a sick day tomorrow?”

Clint nods. He tosses back the pills and chases them with a draught of water, triple-swallowing to make sure they go down.

“Good. You need it.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “We both do,”