#scrubbed out my shower (a job i specifically said i wanted to do NEXT WEEK) rearranged my tea & coffee drawer the cutlery drawer & the cup

[blackberryjambaby]

i don't want to sound ungrateful but when i said 'would you mind coming over to help me mop the floor & do some laundry?' i didn't mean, 'please come over, rearrange my kitchen drawers, vacuum places i've already vacuumed & "clean" the bathroom i just cleaned'

[mosswillow]

Focus - Dark!Bucky Barnes x ADHD!Reader

Warnings! Dark! 18+ content, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, smut, kidnapping, oral (female receiving)

Summary: You never should have taken the job cleaning for Stark industries. The Avengers might be heroes on the outside but something sinister lies just beneath the surface.

A/N: this is part of the Synonyms series. You can read any of them as stand alones but I encourage reading them in order if you want to read all of them. This one specifically ties them all together (but you can still read it alone and it should make sense)

This is one of those where it doesn’t feel done but I’m done writing it. I think I just hyped it up in my head too much so after actually writing it I’m like, eh it’s not as good as I thought it would be.

Word count: 3.4k

If you could just focus, everything in your life would be better.

Your inattention follows you around like a shadow. It stands behind you, silently ruining your life while you try in vain to just focus. Just don’t forget. Just stop losing things. Just pay attention. Teachers in school would tell you to stop daydreaming, that if you just listened you could do so much better. Growing up, Your parents treated you like you would never amount to anything. They would push your siblings to do well in school but when it came to you they were silent, unwilling to spend energy on a kid who couldn’t even make it through a family dinner without getting distracted. Everyone around you would laugh at your “quirky” personality. You know that for other people you’re funny, always getting yourself into trouble and making silly mistakes. You don’t think it’s funny though and you never did.  As a kid you would frequently cry yourself to sleep. You found ways to hide your stupidity so that just maybe others might overlook your shadow. You’ve tried so hard to act normal, to make check lists and routines but it never works and you always find yourself once again brought to tears after your inevitable failure.

This is why you took the job at Stark Tower all those years ago. You knew you wouldn’t excel at school  and so you took the first job you could find, cleaning for Stark Industries. It’s something you’re actually good at and the only routine in your life you’ve been able to consistently follow. It makes you move around constantly and there’s always some different puzzle to solve. You love the feeling of finally getting out a tough stain from the carpet or finding the perfect tool to finally get to a hard to reach spot.

Now, after years of hard work and an extensive background check you’ve been promoted to cleaning the Avengers floor. You have a generous salary now, health insurance, your own place with no roommates. Some people may judge what you do but you don’t care anymore. It’s honest work and you love it.

---

You walk into stark tower, showing security your badge before heading to the elevator and riding it up to the Avengers floor. You’ve had this job for a few weeks now but you still feel nervous every day. If you’re honest you’re scared of them, the Avengers, They feel unhinged. It’s nothing they do or say. It’s the general vibe you get when you’re around them, like they’re filled to the brim with unbridled anger that hides underneath a cracking exterior. Any moment they might break completely and whatever trauma they’ve all been through will spill out and consume anyone who dares stand close to them.

You start your day in one of the many bathrooms, scrubbing every surface before taking your cleaning supplies and working your way through the floor. Every day is much of the same, you spend all day cleaning the massive Avengers living area, trying your best to stay out of their lives.

You turn a corner and see Captain America with someone, a new recruit you’ve seen around but haven't met. He has her against the wall, pushing his finger into her pussy. You stand stunned for a second.

“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.” Captain America says.

You turn and jump back behind the corner, sliding your back down the wall. You can make out some of their conversation and it sounds dramatic. She’s crying and begging him to walk away. You close your eyes and tell yourself to stay out of it. It’s not your place and if you tried to step in you could lose your job.  

You hear footsteps walking towards you. Captain America stops and flashes a smile while you stand up.

“We appreciate privacy here, you understand the consequences if you tell anyone about anything about our personal lives?”

You do know, they had you sign an agreement that said they’d take everything away from you if you talked about their personal lives in any way to anyone. If you value your livelihood you won’t speak a word about it to anyone.

“I’m sorry sir, I saw you there and didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, Is… is she ok?”

He crosses his arms and looks you up and down.

“Everything is consensual if that’s what you’re asking, we enjoy a little roleplay sometimes.”

you‘re not totally convinced, something inside you tells you that he’s lying to you. He looks at you so intently and you know, despite his hero status, that he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of you permanently if he had to. you nod your head and give a smile.

“I’m sorry if I insinuated anything sir.”

He checks his watch before quickly walking away. You exhale and pick up your cleaning supplies. As you walk past her room you stop for a second, deciding if you should knock. You back away, not wanting to interfere more than you already have.

“You’re new here.” a voice says as you reach the living room.

“Yes, I just started a few weeks ago.” you reply.

“I’m Bucky.” he walks over to you, looking you up and down.

“I have a lot of work to finish.” you back up a few steps and hold your cleaning tote in front of you. Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles.

“I won’t keep you.”

---

Six months later

---

You walk into Tony’s suite and lean down to plug in your vacuum. A pop of red catches your eye and you pull a thong out from under the nightstand. You turn it over in your hands, deciding what to do with it. A hand comes behind you and takes it from you. You look up to see Tony Stark in front of you, stuffing the thong in his pocket.

“Mr. stark.” you gasp.

“From a one night stand.”

“Of course sir, do you want me to wash and return it to your... friend?”

“No.” Tony says quickly. “That will be all in here today.”

“I haven't vacuumed yet, do you want me to come back later?”

“No, just leave.”

You unplug the vacuum and roll it out the door, turning just briefly to close it behind you. As the door closes you see Tony pull the underwear out of his pocket and bring it to his nose.

You try your best over the next week to keep your mind focused on work. Everything starts to get back to normal.

One evening you hear a thud and someone yell out in pain. You run over to see Tony in the hallway standing threateningly over a woman.

“Is everything ok? You ask.

“We’re fine, you can leave for the night.” Tony says, waving you away. You make eye contact with the woman, looking back and forth between her and Tony. She nods and gives you a small, unconvincing smile. You turn around and walk away, wanting nothing more than to get home and take a long shower. Maybe you can forget about what you just saw.

On your way out you run straight into a wall of muscle.

“Hey, what’s the rush sweetheart.” Bucky catches you, holding onto your shoulders.

“I, uh, I’m sorry sir. Nothing, I’m just anxious to get home I guess.”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” you say, moving away from him and towards the door.

“Hey, are you ok?” He takes a step towards you, cocking his head and furrowing his brow.

“Yes sir… Bucky.”

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“No, I can’t.” you look into his eyes, silently communicating the reason for your silence.

Bucky runs his hand through his hair and looks down.

“Your socks match.” he looks up and smiles.

“I’m sorry?” you look at your feet.

“You usually wear mismatched ones, it’s cute.”

You know he meant it to be a fun observation, maybe even a weird complement, but it feels pointed. You always lose your socks, it’s just one of the many small things that you should be able to do better but just can’t. You can’t even keep your life together enough to consistently find matching socks. You give a fake smile, used to laughing at yourself when these things are pointed out.

“Oh, yeah.” you laugh.

Bucky takes an almost imperceptible step towards you and you in turn take a very obvious one backwards.

“I’ll see you tomorrow sir.” you say.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky.” you give a tight smile before walking away.

---

Two weeks later

---

Natasha hands you a book.

“Can you wrap this please?”

“Yes ma'am, whose name should I put?”

“Say to my little bookworm, Love Nat.”

You wrap the present lovingly, putting extra care into it. You’ve seen them together, Nat and her girlfriend. Tony and Steve’s wives mostly keep to themselves but Natashas girlfriend is always nice to you, acknowledging you and thanking you when she sees you working. She owns a bookstore that you’ve visited a few times and always remembers you when you walk in.

“I think you forgot a piece of tape.” Bucky whispers in your ear making you jump. He’s started doing this, becoming more comfortable around you, touching you in small ways and getting just a little closer than what’s appropriate. You grab another piece of tape and secure a bit of paper.

“Thank you.” you say as you tie a bow around the gift and write the note. You pause with your pencil trying to remember what Natasha told you to write. You should have written it down when she told you it. You curse under your breath, wishing you had paid better attention when you were given instructions. You remember it was something easy but not exactly what she wanted.

“I have to get this back to Ms. Romanoff.” you push past Bucky.

“Did I do something to make you upset?”

You stop and look at him.

“No sir”

“Bucky”

“I just prefer to remain professional while at work,” you look down.

“What about outside of work?”

“I would rather keep that life separate. I’m sorry, I just really like this job and don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize it.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and you half expect him to grab you and push you against the wall like you’ve seen the captain and Tony do to their girlfriends and then wives. You flinch when he takes a step towards you. He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek.

“I’m not like the others,” he whispers.

You’re not sure what to say, you just nod and watch as he steps back and walks away.

---

One month later

---

You’re doing dishes, scrubbing hard against burnt on food that was never soaked or even rinsed. One of them had a date the night before, making a complicated meal.

“How long until you get your girl?” Thor says to Sam as they walk into the kitchen.

“Tony’s working on it, probably a few weeks before I can take her home.”

They each grab oranges and head into the next room. their voices get quieter for a few minutes then louder again as they walk back to throw away their orange peels.

“I’m envious, I often fantasize about finding mine, If only I knew where she was.” Thor says.

“You have no idea where she could be?”

“I must confess, friend, I don’t even know what planet she’s on. She’s a slippery little lady.”

You stop washing dishes for a second, mind trying to dissect what you’re overhearing.

“You ok?” Bucky sets a plate next to the sink.

“Yes sir.” you reply, taking the plate and washing it.

You turn off the sink and turn around, seeing multiple dishes you forgot about. You pick them up and bring them to the sink, restarting the cleaning process.

“I think you should take a vacation.”

You look at him and raise your eyebrows.

“You’re a hard worker, and fast too.”

You nod in agreement.

“You’re… unusual to watch though.”

You set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turn your back to Bucky, taking a step away. You put your hand in your pocket to pull out your phone which holds your to do list but it’s not there. You look to your right and left and then turn back toward Bucky. He holds your phone out to you and you grab it and open your list.

“This is the third time today you’ve misplaced your phone.”

“I appreciate your concern, you’re very observant.” you bite your tongue before you say something aggressively inappropriate to your boss.

“Hey, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’re very smart and capable, I just noticed it’s been worse lately and think you should take a break.”

You take a deep breath.

“I’m taking next week off.” you say, grabbing a broom and walking out of the kitchen.

“Good.” Bucky yells after you.

---

Three months later.

---

Your phone rings, waking you up from a deep sleep.

“Hello,” you say sleepily.

“Hey, can you come in ASAP?” Tony says from the other end.

You jump out of bed.

“Of course, I’ll be there soon.”

You quickly get dressed and run out of the apartment. You gasp and drop your bag as soon as the elevator door opens. There’s a huge mess covering the entire living room and kitchen. There’s broken glass and furniture everywhere as well as a hole in the wall. It looks as though there was a fight and you wonder what happened. You get to work right away.

Thankfully a few of the Avengers wives come and help you clean up. Natashas wife evidently is back from a long honeymoon and you’re happy to see her. You smile at her and she frowns back at you.

“Are you ok?”

She looks away. “Just tired.”

You watch her give a tiny flinch as Natasha calls her name from the next room. Something is very wrong.

“You got this cleaned up fast.” Bucky says, taking a dustpan away from you and dumping the contents into the trash.

“I had help.” you say, looking over to where Natasha and her wife stand across the room.

You look back at Bucky and give a sweet smile.

“I was wondering if I could leave a little early on friday. There’s a birthday party for my grandmother.”

“I think you’ve earned leaving a little early after today, you’re welcome to get ready for your party here too. You can use the guest room.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Bucky.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Thank you Bucky.”

---

You put on your dress and a full face of makeup, admiring yourself in the mirror before heading out. Bucky stands outside of the guest room door, obviously waiting for you.

“You clean up nice.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky clicks his tongue as he stares at you.

“Did I ever tell you that you remind me of someone I used to know?”

You back away.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I miss her.”

You try your best to take even breaths. The way he looks at you makes you deeply uncomfortable. You feel naked despite your dress being on the conservative side. You make the mistake of looking straight at his crotch, seeing a very visible bulge. You gulp and shift uncomfortably on your feet.

“Have a good time at your party.” Bucky says.

“I will.” you say politely before basically running to the elevator. You get in and realize you forgot your phone. You walk back to the guest room where Bucky waits, holding your phone out for you. You grab it and turn around but bucky catches your arm.

“Focus, do you have everything you need.”

You shift your eyes away and realize you forgot your wallet and keys too.

Bucky grabs your things out of his pocket and hands them to you.  

“Thank you.” you breathe.

Bucky hums and lets you go.

“Be safe,” he yells as you walk back to the elevator, this time taking it down and leaving the tower.

---

Three months later

---

You’re going to quit today. As good as the money is it’s not worth the fear and stress of working there. Not only have you become more and more concerned about the wives of the Avengers but you just can’t take Bucky anymore. You’re scared of him. The way he looks at you makes you feel as though he could decide at any minute to lock you in a room and tear your clothes off. You feel constant stress at work and have developed a tremor. No amount of money is worth this work environment. The lease at your apartment is about to end and you’ll move back with your parents until you find a new job.

You enter the avengers floor and hear yelling.

“Fuck!”

“I thought we were kidnapping women?”

“You weren’t supposed to just snatch one. Now there’s a whole mess to clean up.”

“Thor just took his.”

“He has a point.”

“Thor had that whole betrothal thing.”

“Touche.”

You make eye contact with a scared woman who is sitting on the couch with her hands tied in front of her. She mouths run and you do, running out of the tower and home. You start frantically packing a bag, throwing your phone away since you’re sure they can track it.

“There’s nowhere to hide baby.”

You scream as Bucky pulls you away from your suitcase and throws you on your bed.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” he touches your face, smoothing his finger over your lip.

“We’re married now, Tony already set it up. I’m going to take you on a honeymoon on an island until I can trust you.”

It clicks in your head, the honeymoons. They always come back so quiet and introverted.

“What did they do to those poor girls?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tears start forming in your eyes.

“I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.”

“This is the only way.”

Bucky’s hand travels down your body, grabbing your waistband and pulling your pants off. He puts his hand in between your legs and you squirm away, clenching your legs tight.

“Please baby, I don't want to hurt you but I will if i have to. Now open up”

You shake your head, tears now spilling down your cheeks. He slaps you hard and you clutch your throbbing face, crying out and pushing your body against the headboard. You slowly and shakilly open your legs for him, closing your eyes as he dips a metal finger in your pussy.

“I’m not like the others.”

He thrusts his finger in and out.

“They took those women out of greed. They feel like they deserve love after everything they’ve given up... we’ve given up.”

He reaches his other hand up, still fucking you gently with a metal finger, and grabs your chin, shaking your head gently until you look at him.

“I just want you to be safe and happy.”

Bucky pulls his finger out. He grabs his cock, stroking it as he looks at your naked lower half. You try to close your legs but he grabs them, pulling them open. He kisses your mound gently and you arch your back involuntarily, pushing your pussy into his face. He grabs your legs and holds you against his mouth, suddenly sucking and licking until you’re coming undone. The pleasure washes over you and you relax for a second before your mind is brought back to reality. Your legs shake as He pulls back and smiles at you, climbing over you and pushing his impressive dick in. He kisses you as he thrusts into you, grabbing your shoulders and squeezing them as he comes.

“I’m going to be good for you, this will be good.” he whispers, holding you as you cry in his arms.

---

You’re forgetful. You don’t focus, don’t pay attention. It was right in front of your face and you still missed it. You always miss it. You’ve always been someone who gets themselves into trouble, always making silly mistakes and having to pay for them.

Your shadow did it again, silently destroyed everything around you while you ignorantly looked the wrong way. If you could just pay attention.

If you could just focus.

But you can’t.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 21: Body Talk

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder’s thirty years past kindergarten, but the anticipation he’s feeling in his body is reminiscent of the excitement he felt as a child over bringing his new model airplane to school for show-and-tell. Except the context is very, very different.

He’s got an envelope tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and he’s highly aware of every crinkle it makes as he strides through the halls, making his way down to the basement.

He’d expected to receive a clean bill of health, so the contents of the envelope weren’t a surprise. Even so… he’s fuckin’ thrilled.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, waltzing into the office and peeling off his jacket. “Another hot one out there, huh?”

“Mhm,” she responds, already elbow deep in paperwork. She’s always got her nose in some pile of documents, his Scully. God, she’s so cute, it’s unbearable. He thinks of when they first met, how rosy and round her cheeks were. He regrets not having done something earlier; he missed out on kissing her adorable baby face.

He really wants to kiss her now, but they’re at work, and she’s made it abundantly clear that At Work Scully is not open to the physical demonstrations enjoyed by Off Duty Scully. Instead he sidles up beside her, holding out the envelope in front of her.

She takes it, clearly noticing that it’s already been opened. “What’s this?” she asks.

“Just a little something, from me to you,” Mulder replies, going around the desk and plopping into his chair. He clasps his hands behind his head casually, grinning at her as she slides the folded paper out of the envelope.

Scully unfolds the page and scans it, nodding to herself. “Congratulations,” she says, glancing up at him. “This is… welcome news. But you didn’t need to bring me the physical test results, Mulder. Your word is enough.”

“Oh, but I know how much you enjoy solid evidence,” he says with a wink. “So, uh… do you have your results back yet?”

“This is definitely not an office-appropriate conversation,” she warns him, slipping the page back into the envelope.

“Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “But…”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Last week. I’m in the clear.”

He smiles even wider at her. “So, given this new information, what do you suggest we do, Agent Scully?”

She holds the envelope out to him across the desk. “Right now, our jobs.”

He licks his lips, nods. “Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she gets up to put a file in the filing cabinet. As she closes the drawer, she lets out a soft cough.

“Friday,” she says in a low tone. “My place.”

Mulder feels a thrill roll through his stomach. “Now how am I going to get a single thing done around here ’til then?” Mulder asks. “All I can think about is-”

She gives him a warning look.

“-You,” he finishes. “Every moment, Scully.”

Scully gives him a little pout. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That must be very difficult for you. You know what you need?”

“What?”

She picks up a stack of folders out of their in-basket and drops it in front of him on the desk. “A case.”

Mulder doesn’t find them an actual case, but he does manage to annoy Scully with conjecture and conspiracy for two whole days until it’s closing time on Friday night.

This could be the most important romantic encounter of his life, and he wants to make sure he’s adequately prepared. He takes a cold shower when he gets home, scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin tingles. He clips and files his nails, plucks some stray hairs, trims a few scraggly ones down south. He almost shaves his face before deciding to leave it be. He suspects Scully likes a little stubble, after all.

It’s a warm evening, so he throws on a gray t-shirt and jeans and bounds out the door with damp hair and crisp, soap-fresh skin.

As a rule, he doesn’t sing while driving; but today, he’s humming just a little.

He knocks on her door at quarter to seven, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to shake out a little anxious energy. This isn’t a prom date, he chides himself. Calm down and be an adult.

The lock is turning and the door is swinging open and there Scully is, looking soft and inviting and dangerous all at once. “Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile.

“Hi,” he says softly, eyes drawn immediately to the low neckline of her simple wrap dress. He snaps his gaze back up to her face again. “Hi, sorry, I’m-”

“A little distracted?” she asks slyly. She opens the door wider. “Come in,” she says, beckoning.

“I, uh, didn’t bring anything,” he says awkwardly, following her into the apartment. “And now that I’m here that feels kinda thoughtless.”

“What would you have brought?” Scully asks.

He shrugs. “Flowers, wine, something that says ‘I want to get laid but I also respect you’,” he says.

“Well, that’s unnecessary,” she says, going into the kitchen and opening her junk drawer. “I already know that.” She pulls out a small stack of takeout menus. “I’m assuming you haven’t had dinner yet?”

I was kind of planning on having you for dinner. “I have not,” he replies.

She hands him the menus. “Pick a place, we can call something in,” she says. She takes a box of matches out of the drawer and walks over to the fireplace.

Mulder glances over the menus, but he’s mostly watching Scully. She seems relaxed and comfortable, lighting a few candles atop the mantlepiece.

“You want a little music?” she asks, blowing out the match.

“Sure,” he replies. “Surprise me.”

“Promise you won’t tease me for this,” she says, flipping through a stack of CDs.

“Any of those restaurants sound appealing?”

“The Italian place sounds good, but I don’t want my garlic breath to put you off,” he admits sheepishly.

She glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a little smile. “That restaurant usually sends a few mints in the bag; and you have a toothbrush here, if it’s that big of a problem.” She puts a CD into the stereo.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says. “You want me to call it in?”

“Sure,” she replies. “You can order me a chopped salad and some of their spinach ravioli. And get garlic bread,” she adds.

When he hangs up the phone, he sees her standing by her stereo, nodding her head in time to the music. The song is slow and sensual, and somehow familiar. He goes to her, places a hand on her lower back. His spot.

“Marvin Gaye?” he guesses.

“Mm, no. Al Green,” she replies.

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Never took you for a Motown fan, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her in by the waist. “You always keep me guessing.”

She closes her eyes, sways in his arms. “I save this one for very specific moods,” she admits.

“And what moods are those?” he asks, running a hand up her back.

She opens her eyes. “I’ll show you later,” she whispers.

She’s looking at him with so much heat and adoration, and her lips are so full and soft, he can’t speak; only lean down and kiss her.

They drift together, interlocking shapes moving through space, rearranging patterns of hands and lips.

“We’re going to get interrupted by a delivery guy again,” Scully says against his cheek.

“Mm… kinky,” Mulder whispers, lips brushing her ear. “This is gonna become a pattern for us. Are you an exhibitionist, Scully?”

“Baby steps,” she says, patting his chest as she pulls away. “I need to leave a few mysteries for you to discover later, right?”

They sit cross-legged on the floor next to her coffee table, knees touching companionably as they eat their dinner.

“You know,” Scully says around a bite of garlic bread, “This makes me think we should go on another picnic. Since the weather is more appropriate.”

“What, sitting on the frozen ground at night in February wasn’t your idea of a good time?” Mulder jokes, tangling his fork in linguini.

“I didn’t say that,” Scully points out. “In fact, that was one of my better birthdays in recent years.”

“Really,” Mulder says, surprised. “Why?”

She absently toys with a hole in his sock. “Because… because I’d had a rough year,” she explains, “And you put thought and care into doing something special for me. And it was perfect, in all its perceived imperfections. It made me feel that for once… you were finally paying attention. You saw me.”

“Saw you?” he asks softly, turning his head to look at her.

Her eyes shine into his. “Yes. You were there for me through my cancer, with Emily… you were becoming more attentive. And I felt like you were considering me, caring for me, knowing what I needed. Seeing.”

“I-I think that’s called love, Scully,” he says, chewing pensively. Part of him is surprised this is even happening; them sitting on the floor in her apartment, eating pasta out of styrofoam boxes, talking about their feelings. Hell, he just said the ‘L’ word without breaking a sweat.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “It is.”

Supper completed, containers emptied, candles burning down to stubs on the mantle, Scully sitting across his thighs as they kiss slowly. She was right about the mints, it turns out.

“Mulder, I’m a coward,” she sighs, running her fingers down his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for years and I still haven’t said the words.” She presses a kiss to his lower lip. “Even though I know you reciprocate.”

“Take your time,” he replies, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I already know. And you technically did just say them,” he adds. “Besides, there’s more than one way to have a conversation.” He smoothes a hand over her kneecap, inching a finger beneath the hem of her dress.

“Mulder,” she murmurs into his neck, his name sweet in her mouth. “I’m ready. I want to be with you tonight. Completely.”

He can feel his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. “I… God, Scully, I want you so badly,” he sighs. “I can’t think of any other words. I'm all out.”

She kisses his nose, untangles herself from him to stand. “Come on,” she says softly, holding out a hand. “I think it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”

[whatdamiwatched]

Max & Helen - From the Beginning...

In preparation for the sharpwin ship sailing next week, I went and rewatched season 1 to really contextualise the way their relationship has developed, and I have to say it was quite eye opening.

The Introduction

We are introduced to Georgia in the first scene with Max via his phone screen, there’s a photo of her as his background photo. Their first conversation on screen happens when he calls her in the middle of this day just after he speaks to Helen for the first time

Max- Just calling to say hi

Georgia- Really?

Max- isn’t that what people do?

Georgia- people, yes. You…not so much.

Max- I’m trying, I’m going to change, I’m going to win you back

Georgia- well you have 12 weeks.

It isn’t until later that we find out fully that this marriage is failing and being held together by guilt and a difficult pregnancy, which makes it even worse that Max’s attempt at “trying” was calling her in the middle of the day to say nothing compelling.

Enter Helen- confident, smart, an asset to the hospital and the only doctor Max personally seeks out on his first day- to insist that she immediately cut down on travel or get fired. While the other doctors are stats and figures to him when he starts at New Amsterdam, Helen is Dr Helen. Already their relationship is being established as different from his relationship with the other doctors. In a throat biopsy, he’s distracted by her on tv- so distracted in fact, that he’s pushed to give her another ultimatum even though the first one hasn’t expired.

Max’s ultimatum was significant for Helen because for the first time since she had been running and hiding from the pain in her life, someone saw her and cared enough to make her stop. Even though it was a medical director she just met, and it was because of work, it was grounding for her for someone to see her and need her in that way.

Her choosing to come back was significant, not just because of Max, but because it was the catalyst for facing the emotional baggage she had been trying to escape.

So here we are- Max in the hospital where his sister died and donated her organs, trying to find closure and Helen- weighed down by emotional baggage that she’s ready to face.

Tell Me One True Thing

Georgia and Max meet in the hospital where he works- her energy is light and energetic; their connection is fun and their first date is in the hospital cafeteria. From that scene, their banter is fun and flirty, but Max is relaxed – they both are, it’s an easy connection. When Max proposes, he does it by the hospital when he’s on call! He’s in his scrubs and not only does he think that’s okay- she thinks that’s okay.

Their relationship never really existed outside of his career, he never put her first, and she points this out when she finds out about the medical director job. She knows that he will not choose her over the hospital, especially not the hospital where Luna died. The thing is, Max doesn’t even really try. He never chooses her, and she never actually expects him to.

When he almost dies at the lake and has the temporary epiphany that he has to take his cancer seriously, she doesn’t advocate for him to leave his job- even though…he almost died. She knows the job still comes first. Georgia and Max’s relationship thrived on emotional distance- when Georgia begs him in her hospital bed to tell her one true thing- he could only say- I love you. While he and Helen debated his cancer treatment, her only input was going with what Max wanted? When he woke up from his minor tooth surgery, his first thought wasn’t how the surgery chain went, it was what helen said specifically.

I love my doctor

Before Helen, Max had likely never felt true intimacy and vulnerability. He had likely never been able to be himself completely with a partner. We don’t know much about his relationship with his parents, but we can deduce that he’s not close to them.

Although the physical chemistry was palpable from their first scene, Max and Helen built a friendship based on trust and honesty since they let each other in very early. This relationship was built with the best intentions but every relationship comes to a point where emotion supersedes emotion and that’s where we ended up at 1x 16 where the clairvoyant tells Max that he’s going to lose someone close to hum. As soon as she assured him that it wasn’t his wife, he pulls Helen aside to reassure her and try to explain how he feels about her ending by saying “I love my doctor”.IN THE MIDDLE OF TREATING A PATIENT IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM WHILE MARRIED. At this point, both Max and Helen are at a crossroads of the undeniability of their connection, even though they are both too principled and respectful to call it anything other than “this thing between us”.

At the lake, when he goes to spread ashes for Luna, he says to her- or to the wind that he’s addressing as her- everything I do is because of you. I just keep trying to save you , over and over that’s all I do and I never, never will.

Now where did we end up hearing those EXACT words before?

In that moment, it’s Max admitting that he’s been consumed with emotions that are clouding his judgment and he has to let go.

When Helen uses those words in 2x16, the subtext is the same. By that time, she had saved his life and even Georgia’s life- multiple times. She even saved his life twice in one episode! She saved his life by taking on his cancer in the first place, she saved his life by choosing to pass him off to another doctor when he was using their relationship as an opportunity to not take his cancer seriously and she saved his life by making the decision for him to stop that treatment when it wasn’t working. She took on the role of deputy medical director- which let’s face it was more or less the medical director, she found him, not one but two trials, she gave up half her department that she loved more than anything. She gave up her romantic relationship- she meant it when she said everything I’ve done I’ve done for you- just like Max meant it when he said it to Luna. Max and Helen had have both poured themselves into people that couldn’t pour back, one because she was dead, and the other because he had too many warring emotions to deal with.

Helen could have let Max save her more- he definitely was willing to be that person and showed it many times, but we have to accept that she was in a very difficult position. Just as soon as she felt settled, started a new relationship, made a decision about freezing her eggs, she’s hit with a consuming, intimate relationship with someone that’s married. She had to leave some walls up.  

Everything I Do Is For You

Their characters have gone through a lot- Helen has a dead parent and a dead fiancée, fertility issues and a fear of vulnerability and the feeling of running out of time- Max has a dead wife, who he had outgrown emotionally, raising a child alone, battling with grandparents that blame him for their daughter’s death and parents that by all indications don’t play a significant role in his life, plus a dead sister he has carried with him his whole life. Finding each other was in many ways, the catalyst each of them needed to move forward with life at so many points. For Max, he could have very well died without Helen- Georgia could have died in the bedroom without Helen- his grieving process would definitely have been longer and more complicated without Helen – it wasn’t insignificant that she was the one that pushed the ghost of Georgia out of the apartment, she was an anchor through it all.

For Helen, she was pushed to come back to the hospital and by having that anchor to a place and her patients, she was able to explore romantic relationships and face her fertility and wanting a child head on, she was able to explore how much of herself she could give to another person again after Mohammed died and try another relationship. In turn, she was able to be in a different position when Mina came to live with her.

By Max receiving the kind of selfless love he had never gotten before (from the parts of his story we’ve been told), he was finally able to heal, from so much of the stuff he’d been carrying to come to a place where he feels able to match Helen’s energy. To come to a point where he’s able to see himself as a WHOLE person, not just a flawed one- not just a guilty one- not just an overworked or crazy or erratic one. The speech at the end of 3x13 to Luna’s parents showed just how far he’s come; how much he’s changed and how much his relationship with Helen has changed him. The confidence that he was enough as- is a Max that we had never seen before.

And Helen- naming them- before now, it’s always been Max with his double meanings  and his “I want to build something better for you and Mina” and “It helps not to be alone” and “I can’t do this without you”, but this time it’s Helen- Helen who is saying “us”- Helen who is putting them together as a family and is relaxed and comfortable doing so. Helen who isn’t simply giving him advice as a friend or listening to him but giving him advice as an anchor- we are here and we are fine and you need to fight for our family because it’s worth it.

I see you

The decon shower. His hand trailing down her neck. Those voicemails. Here they are finally, trying to get into an ADULT relationship. Moving beyond the cute hand holding and lingering looks, to hopefully many kisses, many distractions and many mornings waking up next to each other.

Sharpwin is coming and I’m ready!

[purple-fireflies]

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

[bedlamsbard]

Here is the second part of the other side AU concept!  I am very roughly estimating this at five parts, but we’ll see if I keep up momentum and if it goes as planned.  The AU is Backbone-based and uses Backbone backstory up until the present day.

Previous: Part 1

About 4.8K below the break.

***

Kanan found Hera sitting on the floor in front of the faulty signal modulator, surrounded by tools, and staring blankly at the device as tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Chopper was beside her, patting her shoulder awkwardly with one of his manipulators.

Kanan sat down beside her and put an arm around her; Hera turned limply towards him and pressed her face against his shoulder. She cried silently – she always did – but she was shaking with the force of her sobs.  Kanan held her close, the same way she had held him through all those bad nights after he had returned from Mustafar, when he had been recovered enough to let her touch him without screaming.

“Talk to me,” he told her softly. “Don’t shut me out.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Hera muttered, her voice thick.  She leaned heavily against him, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve the same way the other Hera had done. “I – I want my mother,” she said, self-conscious. “I never think about her.  Not since – but when she said Mama was dead, all I could think about was that I wanted my mother.  I know she’s out there because she’s on the watchlist next to Daddy, and I know I shouldn’t want her anymore, but, Kanan, I want my mother.”

“It’s your mom, Hera. It’s all right.”  He kissed her forehead, not saying, We can go to her if you want.  He wouldn’t make her refuse.

Hera looked down at her hands.  She pulled her black gloves off and set them aside to stare at her long green fingers and close-cropped nails.  “I was with Agent Beneke for twelve hours today,” she said. “Locked in his office going over every operation you and I have ever been on together and every operation any Inquisitor has ever worked with the ISB, all while he was asking me about my state of mind and your state of mind and about our sex life and if you like to tie me up.”

“What?” Kanan said, startled.

There was a brittle edge to Hera’s voice. “Well, he knows we’re sleeping with each other again and he wants to know what changed since you came back.  Except he never actually said any of that, just talked around it, so I had to sit there listening to him, because he was talking about our operations too, and if I’d stopped paying attention for even a minute I might miss something that meant he would break us up or put me back behind a desk or – or call the Inquisition, or – all he has to do is suspect I might have even looked at another Twi’lek and I’ll go in an interrogation room for a week while everyone makes sure I’m not secretly in communication with my father.  Or go back to the Spire.  That’s what happened when he left Ryloth; they pulled me out of class and put me back in the Spire for three weeks.  I almost failed the entire year.  And he could do that again if Daddy’s done something, or if he thinks Daddy’s done something, or if anyone else at the ISB thinks Daddy’s done something, or – I don’t know.  When you were gone – when I was – when you were gone, there was an attack on one of the spice mines on Ryloth.  Terrorist action.  Not Daddy – not Free Ryloth, I mean.  But they put me in a cell anyway, just in case.  Came and got me from my desk, walked me down to holding, and put me in a cell until they could make sure that Syndulla hadn’t had anything to do with it. And then they let me out.  Four days later.”

She pressed her hands to her face.  “I hate being on Naboo,” she said. “I hate it.  And I hate being at HQ.  It just reminds me of –”  She stopped abruptly before going on as if she hadn’t interrupted herself.  “And then when I finally got out of that blasted meeting and got back here, you – and her – could you really not tell she wasn’t me?”

Kanan hesitated, thinking. “Yes and no,” he said after a moment.  Hera stiffened with hurt in his arms, and he said quickly, “I wasn’t paying much attention when I came in.  I’d felt the disturbance in the Force when she arrived, but it didn’t have to be in the ship, and I didn’t know what it was.  Naboo is a Force-rich planet and it didn’t feel like a threat.  It could have been anything.  I got up to the cockpit and – it was you.  She felt like you.  She still does.  I can tell you apart now, but when I got in there I didn’t realize you weren’t back yet.”

“She’s thirteen years older than me,” Hera said, her voice small. “And you know I was in uniform when I left.”

“I wasn’t looking,” Kanan said. “I know it sounds like an excuse, but I wasn’t looking.  We – we don’t, always, you know.”

Hera frowned a little, a line knotting between her brows. “I know,” she said finally.  She looked down.  “She told you what happened to him.”

Kanan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me,” Hera said. “Just – was he – he was like you.  More like you than she is like me?”

“I don’t –” Kanan hesitated. “I think you’re more like her than you think.”

“She’s a rebel,” Hera said. She looked down at her hands again. “But she loved him.”

“Yes.”  Kanan touched her chin, and when she turned her face up to his, kissed her lightly on the lips. “How he died,” he said slowly after she had drawn back a little, “I would have done the same thing.”

Hera’s face crumpled. She put her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, shivering all over.  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her voice muffled. “Kanan, I don’t know what to do.  I should comm Agent Beneke – but – I can’t, Kanan, I just can’t.  And I want my mother.  I can’t believe I want my mother.  And Agent Beneke was asking me if my physical needs were being met, you know he has that hang-up about Twi’lek women and sex – I’m so tired.” 

Kanan kissed her forehead. “You’ve been working all day.  Go change, take a shower if you need to, and I’ll make dinner.”

She nodded wearily and let him lever her up. “I love you,” she said suddenly, her hands tight on his arms. “Kanan, I – she was so sad.  And she loved him.  And when you were gone, I thought you were dead, and I – she was so sad.  I remember being like that, and it was – it was awful. I can’t imagine feeling like that for years.”  She looked down, her lekku drooping with her weariness. “At least I had that little bit of hope that you’d come back, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.

Kanan put an arm around her waist and leaned his forehead down against hers. “I’m here,” he told her. “I love you, and I won’t leave you again.”

Hera was shaking in his arms. “I know,” she said, but her voice broke on the last syllable.  She managed to summon up the ghost of a smile and added, “I – I don’t want a baby, though.”

Since Kanan could think of very few things that would make their already tenuous situation worse than Hera getting pregnant, he couldn’t disagree.  Not to mention he knew exactly what the Inquisition did with the children of Force-users.  He just kissed her again and tried not to think about the boy in that holo.

“I can just imagine what Agent Beneke would say about that,” he said instead.

Hera groaned. “Don’t remind me.  You don’t want to know what my med center visits are like, since he gives the doctor a list of everything he doesn’t want to ask me himself.”

Kanan grimaced.  He had his own problems on that front, but he wasn’t about to tell Hera about them. “Go change,” he told Hera gently. “It’s too hot for wool right now anyway.”

“Says the man wearing head-to-toe black leather,” she teased.  She brushed another quick kiss over his lips, then left for her cabin.

Kanan rubbed a hand over his face and knelt down to pick up the discarded tools so that neither of them tripped over them later.  “You could make yourself useful and fix this,” he suggested to Chopper, who had come back now that the feelings were over.

He told Kanan what he could do with the signal modulator, making Kanan laugh, and then added a tentative inquiry about the woman locked in the empty cabin.  Kanan sat back on his heels and regarded the droid, thinking. “Well,” he said finally, “you probably will meet her.”

Technically speaking something like this was really more of a job for the Inquisition than the ISB. Kanan should have been on the comm right now to Mustafar.  The Hunter, who hadn’t wanted to send Kanan back to Hera anyway, would have had a field day with this.  Lord Vader – and the Emperor –

Kanan could just barely imagine what they would do with the knowledge the other Hera had brought with her, and it terrified him.

He rubbed at his face again, then dumped the tools in the tool box and put it out of the way where no one would step on it.  He didn’t think Hera had realized yet that this was an Inquisition matter and not an ISB one.

He couldn’t turn her over to the Inquisition.  She might not be his Hera, but she was still Hera Syndulla, and he couldn’t.  Not when he knew what that meant.  Not ever.

Kanan had meant to get up and go into the galley to get dinner for three, but he found himself slumping back against the wall, his head in his hands.  Her lover had been a Jedi, even if she hadn’t specifically said as much. Kanan knew better than most that being a Jedi in the Empire was a death sentence, and Hera’s lover had died for it.

He’d died for it, and Kanan was walking around with the Imperial cog and his operating number inked into the back of his neck, the Hunter still a constant presence at the very edge of his consciousness almost a year after Kanan had left the Crucible. He touched the lightsaber hilt at his belt, then snatched his fingers away as if the metal had burned him.

If he stretched out his mind, he could feel the kyber crystal in his old lightsaber and Master Billaba’s holocron singing silently to themselves in the locked drawer in his cabin.

“I can’t do this,” he said out loud, then passed his hand over his face again.  He pushed himself wearily upright and went into the galley.

*

Sometime later, Hera raised her head from her arms as she heard the door unlock.  The other Hera came in, holding a tray with a bowl, a cup, and a pitcher on it.  Hera caught a glimpse of Chopper’s unmistakable orange chassis in the hallway outside, trying to peer into the room before the door closed again.

“Thank you,” she said as the girl put the tray down on the table in front of her.

Her counterpart looked up, a little startled.  She had changed, wearing civilian clothes now instead of her uniform, but her lekku were still wrapped, and something about the cut of her clothes still felt subtly wrong. It took Hera a moment of staring at her to realize that it was at least partially because she was wearing clothes designed by and for humans instead of Twi’leks.

“How old are you?” she asked.

The other Hera hesitated, then said, “I’m twenty.  My birthday’s in three weeks.”  She straightened upright, heat in her cheeks.  “You don’t have to – you keep looking at me as if you feel sorry for me.”

Hera did feel sorry for her, but she knew better than to say as much.  She just poured herself a glass of water and said, “I’m surprised that the Empire let you keep Chopper.”

The girl glanced at the closed door, presumably well aware that he was out in the hallway.  “When I was commissioned three years ago, my handler gave him to me as a – a reward for graduating the Academy.  He knew Chopper had been mine before.  Chop’s memory was supposed to have been wiped, but –”

“That’s easier said than done?” Hera suggested.

It startled a smile out of the other woman.  “It made him grumpier, but he was smart enough to pretend that it worked once he had realized what had happened.”

“Yeah, I didn’t read the manual when I was fixing him up the first time either,” Hera said.  Chopper’s memory storage was so cross-wired she was fairly certain that no one else could do anything more than read it, the way the Empire had tried six years ago when he had been sliced, which was why she was the only one who had ever been able to do selective memory wipes on him.

“Chop got forbidden from the Imperial Complex when I was flying a desk here last year,” the other Hera confessed. “On the second day.  He, um – he set another agent on fire.  Not that Agent Sarkov didn’t deserve it –”

“Here?” Hera repeated, startled. “Where are we?”

The girl leaned back on one foot. “We’re on Naboo, ISB regional headquarters in Theed – we’re docked in one of the ISB hangars.”

Hera stared at her, appalled.

“Well –” the girl said uneasily, “– the Inquisition forced the ISB to take all the surveillance off the Ghost when Kanan came back, and I haven’t told anyone at the ISB you’re here.  And Kanan hates the Inquisition, so he hasn’t told them, either.”

“If he hates the Inquisition,” Hera said, latching onto that, “then why is he –”

Her face crumpled. She sat down heavily in the seat across from Hera, looking younger and more grief-stricken than ever. “I didn’t make him,” she said.  “I didn’t –” She looked up at Hera, so distressed that Hera almost got up to go to her.  She stayed where she was, though, watching her.

The other Hera looked down again.  “I – I met Kanan when I was a week out of the ISB Academy.  I had been in the Academy for four years, Serenno and then Naboo, and in prison before that, and I was on assignment, my first assignment, to track down possible rebel sympathizers on a planet called Gorse.”

Hera twitched a little, startled.

If the girl noticed, she didn’t show it. “There was an incident – anyway, it was dealt with.  But I wanted him so badly.  He was the first person who treated me like a person – I suppose you don’t know a lot of Imperial officers, but most of them are terrible, especially the men, and I didn’t think I could want anyone at all. Kanan was…”  She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe her good fortune.  “We worked together for almost a year.  My handler was so angry – he tried to have Kanan killed once.  But we worked well as a team so the Bureau was all right paying him, and Agent Beneke – my handler – just had to live with it.  And – and the Inquisition found out about him.”

She put her hands to her face, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.  “They had me bring him back here,” she said haltingly. “I thought – it was supposed to be the Bureau.  I didn’t know about the Inquisition.  Except it was them, and he was – he was – he was arrested.  And they gave him a choice, Lord Vader and the Inquisitor who was there.  He could go with them, and maybe come back to me later, or they could kill him.  He chose me, and they took him.  They had him for a year.  No one would tell me anything, and I thought he was dead.  I thought I’d gotten him killed.  I –”  She wouldn’t look Hera in the eye.  “I was here, on Naboo, because the ISB wouldn’t put me in the field alone and wouldn’t let me do fieldwork with the Naboo agents since they thought I was a distraction because I’m a Twi’lek.  I was so sure that he was dead and I had gotten him killed.”

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “They let him come back eight months ago.  He’s – he’s mostly all right now.  He’s better.  But when he first came back, he was so badly hurt.  Not physically, but – he was so hurt.  He wouldn’t talk.  He couldn’t touch me.  He wasn’t…he wasn’t always here, like half of him was still back on Mustafar.  He couldn’t sleep half the time, and when he did, he had nightmares.  He won’t tell me what happened there.  He’s – he’s terrified of the Inquisition, even though he’s an Inquisitor.”

“I’m sorry,” Hera said. She reached across the table to lay her hand on the girl’s.

The other Hera looked up at her, then away. “Agent Beneke still hates him,” she said, sounding distracted. “We’re back on Naboo because he’s been trying to find a reason to break us up that the ISB and the Inquisition will both accept.”  She touched her face again, as if surprised to find her cheeks wet, and then said, “You weren’t…expecting us, were you.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“I met Kanan – my Kanan – on Gorse too,” Hera said. “Except I was the rebel trying to track down a rebel sympathizer before the Empire did.” She didn’t say that while she had thought that Kanan was sweet – not to mention handsome – she hadn’t felt the same kind of desperate yearning the other girl clearly had.  On the other hand, she hadn’t been surrounded by Imperial officers for the previous four years, and she was well aware of how most Imperial men thought of Twi’lek women.  Kanan must have seemed like a revelation to her.  She smiled wryly.  “I was expecting someone more like we were back then.”

The other Hera looked at her, her eyes sad, “I didn’t think that there was any other option,” she said quietly. “Or if there was, it was worse.  I do know what happens to most Twi’lek prisoners in the Empire.”

She stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry – I swear it was hot when I brought it in.”

Startled by the change in subject, Hera stared at her, then down at the bowl in front of her. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s not as if most Alliance rations aren’t cardboard and protein mush.”

“I – I have to think,” the girl said, and fled before Hera could say anything else.

Sighing, Hera poured herself another glass of water – she couldn’t even remember drinking the first one – and sat down to eat.

*

The only good thing about being on Naboo was that she didn’t have to worry about checking in with Agent Beneke via comm, though he could and did comm her at odd hours even when she was onworld.  Since she had spent the entire day with him, however, Hera wasn’t anticipating hearing from him and left her comlink in her cabin before she crossed the hall to Kanan’s room.

She didn’t bother to knock, just went in.  Kanan was sitting on his bunk, with his head down over something held between his hands. Hera put her back against the door after it closed behind her and said, “What is that?”

He looked up at her, his expression anguished, and raised the lightsaber a little.  It wasn’t his lightsaber – or, rather, it wasn’t the lightsaber he habitually carried.  It was the one that he had left locked in the drawer under his bunk when he had been arrested.

Hera crossed the room to him and put her arms around his shoulders.  Kanan tipped his forehead against her stomach, then after a moment put one arm around her waist.  He kept his other hand on the lightsaber.

He died, Hera thought miserably.  The other Kanan went down this path and he died.

As if he had heard the thought, Kanan raised his gaze to hers.  Hera ran her thumb over his cheekbone, then leaned down to kiss him. Kanan kissed her back, hard and desperate, bracing both hands against her waist as Hera climbed into his lap. She could feel the lightsaber he was still holding as a hard weight against her hip as she reached up to pull her shirt off.  Kanan kissed her again as soon as he could, releasing the lightsaber to run his hands up her back to her bra clasp.  It fell to the floor with a dull thunk, but neither one of them was paying attention.

*

Even after years away, Hera knew the Ghost too well not to be aware of every sound on it.  She had been half-asleep already, trying to pretend that she was back in her own bunk rather than in what should have been Sabine’s.

They were being quiet, but despite that and the two closed doors between them Hera was aware of them anyway.  She pressed her face down against the borrowed pillow and cried herself to sleep.

*

Kanan let her out of the cabin in the morning.  He was in all black again, though without his vambraces or heavy leathers, and looked tired. “Hera and Chopper went up to HQ,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked. “I’m guessing there’s no point in keeping you locked up since you probably know this ship as well as Hera does.”

“Well,” Hera allowed, glancing around the common room, “there have been some modifications.”

He gave her a wry look. “Anyway, I didn’t like – Hera hates being locked up.”

“I don’t think anyone enjoys it,” she pointed out. “But I’ve never had to be in a cell for more than a few hours.”  She hesitated, then said, “She told me what happened to you.”

He went very still. “What happened to me wasn’t her fault,” he said after a few moments of silence. “And as it happens she doesn’t know what happened to me, and she won’t if I have anything to say about it.”

“Why not?”

Kanan looked down as if he suddenly found the floor fascinating. “Because it was bad,” he said eventually. “And she doesn’t need to know how bad.”

“I think she knows more than you think,” Hera said.

He just shook his head. “I won’t do that to her.”

“You can – you can tell me, if you want,” Hera offered.  Sleeping on it had given her the distinct impression that this Kanan wasn’t all that different from her own Kanan, occupation aside, and Kanan would never have talked about it to anyone.  She thought he needed to.

“You don’t need to know either,” Kanan said.  There was weary grief in his eyes, and the shadow of remembered agony.  He ran a hand back over his short-cropped hair and then added, “Come on.  I’ll get you breakfast.”

Hera followed him into the galley.  It was better stocked than hers currently was, but that was mostly because she didn’t live on the Ghost anymore with a crew of five eating their way through an army’s rations on a regular basis.  Or on the Ghost at all anymore.

“Are you letting me out and feeding me because you’re going to help me?” she asked.

Kanan paused with his back to her and his hands on a cupboard door, then said, “That’s why Hera took Chopper with her.”  He bent his head over the cupboard, and Hera stiffened at the sight of something black on his neck, just beneath the high collar of his shirt.  It vanished again as he straightened up.

“He was a Jedi, wasn’t he?” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Hera said, swallowing back her surge of grief. “He was.”

“And that’s what killed him.”  He wasn’t looking at her.

“No,” Hera said. “The Empire killed him, but not for being a Jedi.  They didn’t manage that.”  She hesitated, then crossed the room to him.  “The Inquisition is gone in my universe.  He did that.”

Kanan swung around towards her, his eyes huge and shocked.

“There was an Inquisitor,” Hera said, watching him. “A Pau’an –”

“The Hunter.”  His voice was rough. “The Grand Inquisitor.”

She nodded. “Kanan gave himself up so that the rest of us could get away.  He was being held on a star destroyer over Mustafar –”

He flinched.

“We broke him out. Kanan dueled him and defeated him, and he died.”

Kanan dropped the plate he was holding.  He made an aborted motion with one hand, then stared at it, as if he wasn’t certain what he had meant to do.

“You know him?” Hera said hesitantly.

“He’s my master,” Kanan said after a long moment of silence. He touched his notched ear and added, “He did this.  Other things too, but…this first.  I –” He made another helpless gesture.

Into the silence that hung between them, his comlink began to beep.  Kanan glanced down at it and said distractedly, “I have to check in. Wait here.”

He left the room with long strides.

Hera waited until she had heard his cabin door slide open and shut behind him, then followed him.

There was a long silence from inside; presumably he was putting the rest of his uniform on.  Then Hera heard the holoprojector activate and a deep, mechanical voice say, “I felt a disturbance in the Force.”

Darth Vader.

Her lekku twitched with recognition.  Hera flexed her fingers, fighting down her urge to run; there was nowhere to go anyway. She had to trust that the next words out of Kanan’s mouth wouldn’t involve turning her over to him.

“Yes, my lord.” Kanan’s voice was harder to hear than Vader’s.  He was using the Coruscant accent Hera had only heard a handful of times, which he had told her once was the natural accent he had worked hard to get rid of after the fall of the Republic, when the Jedi were being hunted. “I felt it also.”

“My master desires the source of this disturbance,” Vader went on. “You will find it and bring it to him.”

“Yes, my lord,” Kanan said again.

“Do not fail me.”

“No, my lord.”

The hologram shut off. Hera stood there, fists clenching, waiting for Kanan to come out and find her there; when he didn’t emerge, she touched the door control.

He was kneeling on the floor, his hands over his face.  Without looking up, he said, “I told you to stay where you were.”

“What made you think I’d listen?” Hera asked.

“Optimism.”  He still didn’t look at her.

Hera crossed the room and knelt down beside him, putting a hand on one shoulder.  He flinched, but didn’t pull away, so Hera didn’t release him. If he had more armor besides his vambraces, he hadn’t put it on for this meeting, and this close Hera could see the Imperial cog tattooed on the back of his neck.  He looked young, painfully young, and wounded somewhere deep inside. She had never seen her Kanan look like that, not even after he had come back from Malachor.

“And are you?” she asked him quietly. “Going to turn me over?”

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re her.”

“I’m me,” Hera said. “I’m not her.  And you’re not him.”

“I know I’m not him.” He turned his head a little, though his gaze was still blank; Hera looked in the direction he had indicated and saw his lightsaber lying on the floor by the bunk.  No, not his lightsaber; the unfamiliar one with the blackened hilt was still on his belt.  It was Kanan’s lightsaber that was on the floor.

She got to her feet and crossed the room.  The lightsaber was cool against her palms as she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. If Kanan hadn’t dropped it all those years ago –

The past was past and couldn’t be changed.

Hera took a deep breath and went back to Kanan, kneeling beside him again.  He was staring at the floor, unseeing.  He flinched again as Hera put her free hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not him,” she repeated, offering him the lightsaber. “But that doesn’t mean you should let the Empire tell you who to be.”

[imaginejamesandsirius]

A pretty woman AU???

Sirius was having a shit day. It had started with his father coming into his office and requesting that Sirius do a specific task for him. Talking to Orion was punishment enough, but he was sending Sirius on a two week trip to get his 'personal opinion on the situation' since apparently the people Orion hired to oversee that branch were trustworthy enough to be running the place but not trustworthy enough to believe their figures. "It'll be an easy visit," Orion had said. 

"Then why do I have to be there for two weeks?" 

"It's always good to remind them that we are watching." 

Sirius had thought that was so sodding stupid, and he'd said so, but Orion was-- unsurprisingly-- standing firm. 

Then Regulus called him up and said that he'd gotten a gig over in bloody America and could Sirius cover for him? Thanks. Then he'd hung up. So Sirius had to run by their flat and make sure Reg had remembered to lock the buggering door-- he hadn't-- and call their usual dog sitter (Remus, who put up with them for god only knows why) to see if he was free. He wasn't, so Sirius had to bring Snuffles to a fucking dog spa place that he barely had time to look up on his phone, let alone see if he trusted them for shite. He trusted them not to kill Snuffles, and that was going to have to be good enough. 

The silver lining was that Gilderoy had broken up with him a few days ago so he didn't have to worry about that. The not silver lining was that Gilderoy had dumped him for someone "more glamorous, less ashamed of himself, you know what I mean?" and it's not like Sirius had been in love with the bloke or anything, but talk about insulting. Sirius was plenty glamorous, he just didn't paint everything with pink and gold glitter. And he wasn't fucking ashamed of himself, but he didn't want to grind on his boyfriend in public either. He was glad to be rid of him honestly, but it still made Sirius angry to think about. 

So Sirius was in a pretty piss poor mood when he got in the car, and he couldn't imagine that the next two weeks would make him feel much better. He was a god damn business man. It's not like he hated his life or anything, but a business man? He could very honestly say that this was never what he imagined for himself. Hell, Reg was out living the dream more than he was. Him and his mates had made a band together, and they played enough shit locations until someone saw the talent and started paying them. They weren't anywhere near rock star levels, but he was making money off of it, able to get a new piercing when he wanted instead of asking Sirius for some cash-- not that Sirius minded, fuck knows their father paid him more than enough to finance whatever whim Regulus was having that week. The part that really got to him about his job was that it was so boring. He didn't need to be excited all day every day or summat, but it would be nice to tell people what he did every day without them nodding and immediately excusing themselves. 

He was in a shite mood when he got in the car, and he'd finally started to feel better when he felt a headache start to form behind his eyes. Sodding hell this was the icing on the bloody cake, wasn't it? It started to get worse in a hurry, the sunlight seeming far too bright behind his sunglasses. He pulled into the first gas station he saw, figuring he might as well refuel while he looked for medicine-- and maybe a snack, because c'mon, all driving longer than ten minutes required a snack. 

He found powdered sugar donuts, but no headache relief. Marvelous. He was not going to be able to make the rest of this drive like this. He was going to have to wait until it went away or risk crashing. Sirius had just about resigned himself to wasting a couple hours when he saw someone standing by the side of the road, poking at his phone aimlessly. He had dark skin, messy black hair, thick glasses, and if Sirius weren't fighting off nausea, flirting might be on the table. But thinking about his powdered donuts made him want to sick up his lunch, so he was going to keep any and all flirting ideology to himself. 

"This is going to sound weird," Sirius said as he walked up next to him, rubbing at his temple as it pounded, "but can you drive me to my hotel? It's not very far, you'd be driving my car, I just need to get there before I feel any worse." 

"Er." 

"Please? It's all aboveboard, I promise. I'm not going to murder you or whatever." 

"Shouldn't you be worried about me kidnapping you? If I'm the one driving, I mean." 

Sirius gave him a look. "What would you even do with me? I'm a pain when I'm playing nice, do you really want to see what I'm like when I'm trying to be contrary?" 

"That's a fair point." He bit his lip, thinking. Then he sighed. "Where to?" 

Sirius rattled off the address, then pulled it up on his phone and showed it to the man. "Business bullshit, I just need to get there and hope this bloody headache fucks off to greener pastures." 

"Best of luck to you," he said. He sighed again. "Alright, I'll take you, but only because I've got nothing better to do. My mate just canceled on me." 

"Rude of him, good for me." 

He snorted, raising a hand to muss his hair. It made Sirius wonder if his hair was naturally messy or if he was causing it by messing with it all the time. Either way, it was a good look on him. Any time Sirius had a single hair out of place he looked awful, but this made the bloke even more attractive. What an arse. Being interested in him was just making his headache worse. Or maybe the headache was getting worse for completely unrelated reasons. Either way, Sirius wanted some bloody shuteye. He squinted his eyes against the light that suddenly seemed piercing, and he somehow managed to get to the car and toss his keys on the dashboard. 

There was the distinct possibility that this guy would like, steal his car or summat, but in the moment he didn't give a single fuck. It all worked out in the end, he parked the car in the hotel's lot and turned off the car, setting the keys in front of Sirius. "Hope you feel better mate," he said, but Sirius grabbed his arm before he could leave. 

It's not like he'd meant to grab his arm, but he needed to stop him from leaving before Sirius could thank him. Words weren't working so well. Hence, grabbing his arm. He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a bill and handing it out to him. 

"Er." 

Sirius shook his hand a little in invitation. "For driving me," he managed to get out. 

"That's twenty quid." 

"Yeah," Sirius grunted. 

"Are you... sure?" 

Sirius just kept holding it out to him. 

"If you're sure," he said with a shrug. Or at least what Sirius assumed was a shrug, it's not like he was looking at him. 

He left, but Sirius stayed in the car for a while, waiting for it to get to a manageable enough level for him to make his way into the hotel. He managed to get in there and check into his room, but if he was asked how he did it, he wouldn't have been able to say. The time from car to his hotel room was a blur, and all he knew was that he managed to pass out face-first onto the bed in a blissfully dark room. 

Somehow he'd been smart enough to set an alarm for the meeting he needed to get to on his first day. His headache was gone by that time thank fuck, and he rolled off the bed, figuring he could use a quick shower before he went down to strike fear in the hearts of these people that Orion didn't want to deal with himself. He turned on the water then stripped, ducking under and giving himself a quick scrub with the body wash provided. There wasn't going to be time to properly dry his hair-- even if he used the blowdrier-- so he'd tie it back and call it a day. 

*

Sirius had been in this place for just over one day when he saw him again. Now that it didn't feel like his head was going to split open, it was a lot easier to appreciate how attractive he was. Broad shoulders and a tilt to his hips that looked very inviting. He wasn't wearing his glasses right now, which made his nose look bigger and his jaw more square. His trousers were so tight they looked painted on, and his button up shirt was half undone and translucent besides. He had a brief flash of what it would be like to push him against a wall and peel him out of those trousers, but they weren't at a club and that was a damn shame because Sirius would give his right leg to get some time with him. 

He was so caught up in appreciating all this that it took him a minute to recognise exactly what was going on. Men didn't stand on street corners dressed like that for no reason. He was a rent boy. Which meant... that Sirius didn't have to give his right leg for some time, he could purchase it nice and easy with cash. And that was pretty damn great. He did a quick check to make sure that yes, he had enough cash, but also that he didn't have anything else to do tonight. He didn't have to go back to the office, he never did, so he wasn't sure why he bothered to double check, but he always did. 

The man saw Sirius approaching and he grinned. "I see you got to your hotel safely." 

"It was a pain in the arse, but I made it instead of dying in a car crash thanks to you." 

"You already paid me for that," he pointed out. 

"Consider this a completely separate offer. Are you busy tonight?" 

He shrugged. "Difficult to have plans when you don't know how much time people want." 

"How much to get you until tomorrow morning?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "That'd be pretty expensive." 

"I can pay." 

"I'm sure you can, mister twenty-quid-for-a-car-ride." 

"I'm going by Sirius these days." 

"James. You gonna take me to your room, or are we getting started here on the street?" 

"Tempting as that is, the hotel's not very far away." 

A few people they passed gave them strange looks, but Sirius couldn't care less. It hardly mattered that James was dressed like he'd been clubbing and Sirius was in a full suit-- vest, tie, even the bloody jacket on top with the three buttons and perfectly pressed trousers. Maybe Sirius had gotten boring the more adult he became, but he was pretty sure this was about to be the best night he'd had in a bloody long time. 

*

When James woke, Sirius was trailing circles against his shoulder. "Everything alright?" James asked at the concentrated look on his face. 

"I was thinking, if you're not otherwise engaged..." Sirius trailed off, but James wasn't going to make a leap because being wrong would be ridiculously embarrassing for him. "I'm in town for the next two weeks," he continued. "Would you like to keep me company? It would only be nights and the morning after, I'll be working all day." Normally he had Saturday's off for Shabbat-- not that he observed it most of the time-- but since this was a special assignment he'd be working straight through. 

"You sure you can deal with me that long?" James joked. 

"I think the real question is if the money's good enough for you to put up with me for that long." 

"You realise you're not hideously unattractive, right?" 

Sirius snorted. "Right, cause my face is always the problem." 

"Not to make assumptions about your relationships, but it kinda sounds like the people you dated were absolute pricks." 

Sirius shrugged instead of answering because he didn't really want to get into it. Gilderoy had been an arse, Marlene had wanted a casual relationship when he wanted something more committed, and the less said about the shit show with Lucius, the better. He'd been on dates with several other people, but those were his three main relationships and even though Marlene had liked him, it had still ended in a disaster. Maybe this was what he needed, a fun affair with no strings. Sirius had more money than he knew what to do with, and James could probably use it if only to take it easy for a couple weeks while he was here. Or, hell, he could put some aside when business was slow; Sirius didn't really know how all that worked, only that it was too stressful for him as a job. "You can think about it." 

"Don't need to. I'll give you my number and you can ring when you're ready." 

"Sounds good," Sirius said, leaning down from where he was propped up on his elbow to kiss James. 

*

Sirius had texted James, asking him to come by, and he looked at the clock in worry as the phone rang. The hotel gave him two keys so he'd given one to James, which meant that if he needed an extra minute, it was going to look like he called James up just to waste his time. He thought about ignoring the call, but it was Regulus's name and picture showing up on his screen and he couldn't leave him hanging, especially not when Reg was on a bloody different continent. "Hey." 

"Hey so er," Reg said, and he only sounded like this when he was about to say something he thought Sirius would be uncomfortable with. Used to be that he only used that tone when he needed money, but those days were behind them. Nowadays, Reg used that tone when he was asking Sirius to let down his hookup from the night before or to cover for him to their parents. Considering that he was in another country already, both of those options were unlikely. 

"What?" 

Regulus cleared his throat. "I met someone." 

"Congrats?" 

"He's Irish, he was over here for university but he's done now. He's so sodding wonderful, Sirius, he's the perfect boyfriend, I swear." 

"Okay?" None of this information was telling him why Reg was sharing it in the first place. 

What Reg said next was spoken too quickly for him to make it out over the fun. 

"Take a fucking breath and say that slow enough that I can hear you." 

"I want to bring him home with me." 

The world screeched to a halt. "What?" 

"Sirius," Reg said, a distinctly pleading note in his voice, "I love him. He's so great, and he actually likes my music! I know you love me, but you don't give a shite about it. He- he likes me, he actually likes me! Nobody sodding likes me, and he's smart, it's not like he'll be in the way, he just doesn't have a place to stay since he's been over here for four years." 

Sirius rubbed tiredly at his eyes. It had been a pretty long day-- he'd had to fucking fire someone and now everyone else there was acting paranoid as if the bloke hadn't completely deserved it-- and he had been looking forward to unwinding tonight. Not sex or anything, probably, but the company would be nice and James was always so sweet to him that he didn't much care that it was fake-- that was James's job, after all, to be there for him and make him believe it was real. "Reg, how long have you known this guy?" 

"Don't give me that. I know when something's real and when it's not, I'm not a child." 

"Yeah that's great, you're not a kid anymore-- I noticed, funnily enough-- but I also don't want some stranger living in our flat, I don't care how in love with him you think you are, it's bloody stupid." He heard the lock click and the door open, and he turned around, giving James an apologetic smile. He covered the speaker to his phone and whispered, "My brother, I'll only be a minute." 

James nodded, came over to give him a quick kiss, then went back to the door to take off his shoes. 

"Can't you meet him before you make that sort of judgement? When you meet Remus, I swear you'll understand. He's perfectly trustworthy." 

"How the hell do you know if he's trustworthy? You've known him a week." 

"I seem to remember you trying to run off to marry Lucius after you'd been dating a week." 

A familiar feeling of shame crept in, and Sirius started to feel frustrated; Reg wasn't listening to him, he was just trying to piss Sirius off enough that he gave in. It usually worked for him, but Sirius wasn't in the goddamn mood to deal with it right now. "We'd been dating a week, we'd known each other longer than that, and if you recall, it ended terribly." 

"All your relationships end terribly, maybe it's not them that's the problem, maybe it's you. If you don't want him there, fine, I'll move out and you won't have to deal with either of us any more and you can be happy in your stuffy flat with your boring friends after coming home from a job you hate," Regulus spat, then hung up. 

Sirius grit his teeth, pushing down the urge to scream or throw something. He knew that Regulus didn't mean it, he was just in a mood and upset that he'd found someone he thought was perfect for him but Sirius wasn't falling in line with his dream. It happened a few times a year, and after they both calmed down a little, it was fine. Knowing all of this didn't make it any fucking easier to deal with, and his hand tightened around his phone until his knuckles whitened. 

"You okay?" James asked gently. 

"Brilliant," Sirius growled. He threw his phone at the couch and stomped off to the closet. He'd texted James before he changed out of his suit, and now he wanted little more than to rip it apart with his bare hands. Not that he'd be able to even if he tried. So he settled for angrily undressing. 

"You wanna talk about it." 

Sirius huffed out an irritable breath, ready to say no, but he started bitching about Regulus instead. "It's like he's so busy trying to have a romantic, adventurous life that he forgets he can get hurt! Did you know that he moved in with someone that tried to kill him? The fucking arsehole was already hitting him, and he thought it would stop if he committed. Have you ever heard of something so sodding stupid? And now he's picked up someone over in the States where he's fucking around playing with his band-- which he didn't tell me about until he was already gone, by the way-- and he wants to bring some berk back with him to live in our flat! He knows nothing about this guy, but he knows this is how love stories go so he's- fucking going in head first without thinking about it." 

"There's something to be said for romance," James said with a crooked smile, but he dropped the expression after a moment. "Do you know how much he knows about him? Maybe they've been spending every minute together so he knows him pretty well." 

Sirius glared at him. "Are you on his side?" 

"'Course not, I'm on your side because you're the person I know, and it sounds like yes, maybe he's going into this too quickly and he's going to get hurt. But mostly I was trying to offer an explanation that would make him seem less stupid." 

"You don't need to, I already knows he's a fucking idiot," Sirius grumbled, but he was less angry than he'd been twenty seconds ago. 

"Hmm, you say that, but I sense forgiveness in your tone," James said, coming up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Sirius's stomach and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Are you going to call him back and let him know?" 

Sirius leaned into him, starting to relax from the stress of the day. "No. He's already planning to bring him back and so long as I don't kick him out he won't go anywhere." 

James hummed again, a comfortable warmth against him. Sirius was going to miss the hell out of this when he went back to London. "Not to sound too judgmental, but you're not the best at relationships, so you could let him try to enjoy this. Maybe it'll turn out for the best." 

Sirius frowned, the beginnings of relaxation vanishing in an instant. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"Maybe that bloke he found is as perfect as he thinks and they'll get to live happily ever after. Get married and annoy the shite out of you," he said with a chuckle. 

"What do you mean I'm 'not the best at relationships'?" 

"Hm? You said that the other day didn't you?" 

Yeah, but he'd sort of hoped that James wouldn't agree. That somehow, in the week of their acquaintance, James would have gotten a different experience out of what it meant to be dating Sirius Black. He'd been wrong. And that buggering hurt. He took a careful breath in, released it, and accepted that it didn't matter. What he had with James wasn't a romantic relationship and thinking about it that way would only get him hurt. He was starting to catch feelings, but that sort of thing happened, right? Sirius might be a complete dumb arse, but he knew not to think about this as anything other than what it was. That being said, he could use some fucking cuddles right now, and James had that on offer. 

*

Sirius blinked, and it felt like the bottom of the world had been tugged out from under him. "What?" 

"I knew you wouldn't approve, that's why I didn't invite you," Regulus said over the phone. 

Sirius couldn't believe it. He really fucking couldn't. He couldn't even form words. 

"And I know it was rather stupid," Reg continued, "but Sirius, I swear, once you meet Remus you'll understand. He's so wonderful, you'll love him, I know it. There wasn't even a ceremony, you know? We signed a paper in front of the judge with one of those witnesses they offer, and that was it. I did want you there if that helps, I just knew that you'd try to talk me out of it. And- you know, I was thinking, I could get a job between all the band stuff-- it's not like it takes that much time anyways-- and I'll be able to move out soon. Stop bothering you all the time, yeah? I know you don't want me around messing up your flat and using all your money, so this'll get me out of your hair. You'll finally have the space to bring your dates home, listen to your own music, just- I don't know, have your own life without having to take care of me." Regulus stopped talking, clearly waiting for a response. "Sirius? Are you going to say anything? Anything at all?" 

Another long pause. It's not like Sirius wanted to keep him worrying, but his throat worked and nothing came out. Next to him, James stirred awake. He saw Sirius, leaning up, body tensed with his cell against his ear. 

Regulus blew out a breath. "Alright, you need some time to process. That's fair, I've dropped a lot of information on you, you need to think it over. Just- fuck Sirius, don't shut me out. You're still my brother and I love you, I just love Remus too, you know?" More silence. "I'm gonna go. Er. Thanks for listening. I had someone take a picture. I can send it to you or show you when you get back home, if you want. Bye." 

Sirius swallowed thickly, his hand falling in front of him. Reg was leaving. A few days from now, Sirius would go back home and he'd never see James again. He hadn't seen his friends from university in years. Walburga was dead and good fucking riddance, but Orion was still there and Orion didn't give a shit about him as he was, only Sirius as his heir. Regulus had always been there, through all their family bullshit and Sirius's bad mistakes and his university issues. He found someone better to love and now he was leaving, it didn't matter what reassurances he was trying to give Sirius that he still cared, he was leaving and that's all there was to it. 

"You okay?" James mumbled, putting a hand on Sirius's back. 

Normally it was fine. Normally Sirius leaned into the touch and answered him as best he could, but right now wasn't fucking normal and he couldn't deal with this. James's affection was bought and paid for, and that was the only reason he was around. Sirius couldn't keep anyone around. No one cared about him, not really. All his dates, all his friends, the way his own damn father sent him away, he couldn't deal with this. He already had all the cash he owed James out and ready, and usually he gave it to him the morning after when they both got ready to leave. But he didn't want James around because it only reminded him of what he didn't have and that wasn't going to magically get better before he went back home. God even James knew what a disaster he was to date and that's not even what they were doing. A roll of money in hand, he turned back to James, holding it out. "Here. Just- just go, and thanks for your time. I don't need to see you for the rest of the time we agreed." 

James blinked in surprise, looking at the money like he didn't know what it was. "What?" 

"I don't want to kick you out-" but that's exactly what he was going to do "-but please take the money and go." 

"I-" 

"Please." 

James blinked at him some more, then nodded, taking the money from him. It was awkward as he got dressed, and it probably looked real bad for him to run to the loo, but it would've been worse if James had seen him start to cry. He didn't want for Reg to leave and possibly ruin his life if Remus turned out to be any less perfect than Regulus thought he was, he didn't want to kick out James and never see him again, and he didn't want to be doing any of this. 

"Sirius?" James was knocking on the door. "I'll leave if you want, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Bad phone conversation? Everything alright?" A pause, then, "Is it your brother?" 

Sensing that he wasn't going to go away until Sirius answered, he opened the door-- he'd forgotten to check how his face looked before opening it, but it couldn't be good. "I appreciate the thought, I really do, but please just go." 

"Are you okay?" 

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll be fine." No matter what happened, no matter who left him, he'd be fine. He always was. 

"Alright," James said softly. "I guess I'll leave now. I know you won't believe it, but I had a good time with you. Look me up if you're ever in town, yeah?" He sounded hopeful, but he didn't wait for an answer before he left, clearly understanding that Sirius wasn't going to. 

He left and Sirius closed the washroom door again. It felt safer that way. 

When he eventually came out, he saw that James had left his key on the bed's side table. Sirius blew out a breath. That was good; he should have asked for it, but he'd forgotten. James was always so collected, always keeping track of all these details that Sirius forgot about. 

*

Sirius was leaving town, finally. He could get back home, meet Regulus's husband, and get back to reality. Reg might be leaving soon, but his couch would always be there to welcome him home after an exhausting day at work. He folded another tie and piled it on top, taking a quick scan of the room to see if he'd left anything out. He still needed to scan the washroom, but it looked like he had all his clothes gathered up on the bed. 

A knock sounded on the door, and he frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. He walked over and opened the door, his mouth open and ready to tell them that they had the wrong room, but it died in his throat. James. 

James was standing on the other side of the door, glasses-- Sirius had only seen him wear them once, that day he'd driven Sirius to the hotel-- and a sheepish expression on his face. "Hey." 

Sirius blinked, then blinked again. "Did I short change you? Sorry, I didn't mean to," he said, turning around to grab his wallet. 

"No, it's nothing like that," James said, stepping inside. The door swung closed behind him, but he didn't move further into the room. "I'm not here in a professional capacity. I'm here for... me. Y'know, us." 

"O... kay?" Sirius turned back to face him, confused. 

"It's-" James stopped, chewing on his bottom lip. Sirius had never seen him do that before. "It's kinda stupid, because I know you don't believe your brother fell in love with someone in week, so why would you believe I did it?" 

"You're not in love with me," Sirius denied automatically. "You said I was a disaster in relationships." 

"No, I said that's what you said, and that's not the same," James defended, walking closer. "You don't have to like it, but can't you accept that I feel that way about you?" 

If he were a good person, he'd say yes. "No, because you don't." 

James's eyes narrowed, and he started to look annoyed. "Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the arse?" 

"Constantly." 

"Well maybe you should've listened to them a little more. For fuck's sake Sirius, aren't you going to say anything about it?" 

"I did." Did he miss that part? It seemed impossible, because he'd replied, but anything could happen-- except James being in love with him, that didn't make any sense. 

"I-" James started to say, but then he stopped, looking heart-broken. It made Sirius's heart crumple in on itself, and he twitched his nose to ward off the tears that wanted to work their way in. "I guess that's my answer." James looked away, making his way slowly to the door. "Is it too stupid to admit I actually thought you'd feel the same? I don't take risks, not about this and-." He stopped again, shaking his head. He pushed his fingers under his glasses and wiped at his eyes. "Sorry," he said, voice thick. "I'll go. Have a safe trip." 

James put his hand on the doorknob, and all Sirius had to do was keep it in for a few more seconds, that's all he had to do- "Don't," Sirius blurted, and it wasn't loud, but it was enough for James to hear that he'd spoken and he paused, turning his head back around. 

"Did you say something?" 

"Don't go," Sirius said. 

James didn't leave, but he also didn't take his hand away from the door. "Don't mess with me Sirius," he said desperately. "If you want me to stay, I need you to mean it." 

"I mean it." He walked over to him in large stride, then cupped James's face in his hands. "Don't go, stay with me." He leaned in and kissed him. They'd kissed dozens of times. There had been better kisses, better times where they fit together like they'd been made for each other. But James had started crying and Sirius was halfway there as well, and he wasn't used to kissing James with glasses on. It was stuffy, messy, a little pokey, and absolutely perfect. "Kinda wish we'd done this earlier so we could figure it out." 

"Figure what out?" 

"I don't live here; you do." Sirius kissed him again because he didn't want to move away. "Are we texting? Making trips every month? I don't... I don't know." 

"I can move to London." 

"I can't ask you to do that." 

"You're not asking, I'm offering," James said. He leaned against the door, and when Sirius's hands dropped from his face he caught them. "I take care of my great uncle and I've been living with him while I do that, so it won't take much for me to hire someone else for him. I've got clothes and shite, but no furniture, no lease to deal with. 'Course I don't have a place in London so that'll-" 

"You're living with me." 

"I am?" 

"If Reg can bring his fucking husband with him, I can bring you. Er, if you want, that is." 

"Hell yes I want to, but I can't ask you to make room in your flat for me." 

"As someone I know once said, you're not asking, I'm offering." 

James laughed, half pulling Sirius into a hug and half bringing himself away from the door to meet him. "Thanks. And I do love you. That wasn't an exaggeration." 

"I er," Sirius took a deep breath, released it, but couldn't say it back even though he wanted to. "Me too." 

*

Regulus stared at his brother and a stranger comfortably lounging on each other on the couch. "Sirius who the hell is that?" 

"I'm James," the stranger said with a wide smile and a wave. 

"And who's James to you? Sirius?" 

"My sugar baby, now shut it, we're watching the telly." 

James snorted but didn't deny it. 

"How well do you know this guy?" 

"As well as you know Remus," Sirius said, deigning to glance at him with a superior expression thrown in for free, but he turned it into a smile as he looked at Remus. "Hey, how's it going?" 

Remus smiled back and shrugged. "No complaints." 

"That's not fair to bring him into this," Regulus said, but he knew that he wasn't going to win this. Any argument he could make would be just as true for himself, and he didn't want to go that route. 

"If you say so," Sirius said, turning back to the television. 

"Let it go, love," Remus said, putting a hand on Regulus's shoulder. 

"Hmph." Reg started walking to his room, Remus following behind him. He only had a few boxes, but he hadn't bothered to unpack since they were planning on leaving fairly soon. 

"Hey Reg?" Sirius called, not moving from where he had his head pillowed on James's shoulder. 

"Yeah?" 

"Unpack your husband's boxes already, you make it seem like he's homeless." 

Regulus blinked, then huffed out a laugh. "Yeah Sirius, you got it." 

[heartofsnark]

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Eight): Here Comes The Sun

Notes: After 9000000000 Years Tsuneko returns, sorry for the break, I’d say it won’t happen again but it will. I know me, sometimes I try to write and my brain says no, you won’t be doing that. Plus, grad school and internship and everything else that is life. I have three chapters written, including this and I also have a new series I’ve been working on. So, i promise Snarky is writing. 

Word Count: 11, 621

Warnings: Angst (is that even a warning here, like everything is sad man), mamo is a gross man who eats garbage, lying and cursing?

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

She saw the man beneath the Mad Hatter costume.  For just the briefest second, she saw him. There and gone within a blink of an eye. She could almost convince herself that it didn’t happen, that it was a shadow or a weird flicker of light, she’s tired and seeing things, but she knows better. Any hope of reforming that odd connection they had before has been dashed now that she’s seen the human beneath the costume. 

One look at his panic-stricken expression and she can’t see him as anything other than painfully human. He may still be disconnected from her life and the world outside of Wonderland, but he’s not as far removed from reality as she once thought.

And that’s for the best. Seeing him as anything less was wrong, she knows that. 

But, what does she do now? 

She drums her fingers along the box of pastries, biting her lip, trying to figure out her next step. He doesn’t seem fond of the idea of her seeing him like this, he ran away for god’s sake. Following along with it would be easy, write a note, put the cupcakes down and pretend she never saw him. 

Is that for the best, though?

Hiding away from reality, from everyone, and hiding behind a character. That’s not healthy. It can’t be. Granted, Tsuneko is far from the authority on mental health and maybe she’s in no place to help anyone else, but…

Ignoring would be bad, she’s saying ignoring is bad.

Being delicate isn’t her strong suit, her approach to life is more akin to a bull in a china shop. But, ambushing the Hatter with reality doesn’t strike her as the greatest idea. He seems fragile, to say the least, the proverbial china she’s trying not to break.

She strengthens her resolve with a deep breath and takes the few steps towards his bedroom door, knocking on it. There’s a small sound of rustling, like he’s panicking. Tsuneko chews her lip for a moment before she speaks. 

“Hey…are you a friend of the Hatter?’

She gives him an out. It’s not avoiding it, but she’s giving him a chance. He has the choice, play along or tell the truth. She’ll meet him where he’s at.  The door opens just a small crack and heat floods her face and a small noise of exclamation catches in her throat as she gets a second good look at the Hatter.

He’s adorable. Ridiculously so. Big dark doe eyes that widen at the sight of her. Thick glossy black hair just starting to dry. His facial features are soft and delicate for a man, his skin is not as ghostly white as the Hatter costume, but he’s pale enough that she can see a few faint traces of blue veins.  

“I’m…a friend of the Hatter,” he finally says, the voice is the same but softer. The flamboyance and vigor of the Hatter has been replaced by shyness and uncertainty.  

A part of her is disappointed that he takes the out. But patience is a virtue that she desperately needs to work on. Considering how it wasn’t that long ago that she was yelling at him, she can’t be shocked that he’s not ready to be vulnerable with her. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she offers, but he doesn’t seem any more comfortable, he seems desperate to hide back in the bedroom. 

His eyes shift downward to the side, not meeting her gaze for a moment longer. For a moment his mouth gapes open, but no words come out, stuck in his throat despite how clear it is he has something he wants to say. A soft bite to his lip before his whisper of a voice meets her ears again. 

“What…what are you doing here?” 

There’s a tremble to his voice and she wonders for a moment if this is normal for him, or if her tirade from before has made him more fearful of her. 

“Oh, uh, I actually wanted to talk to the Hatter…to apologize. I, kinda snapped at him the other day and said a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to.” 

“Oh…”

“I, uh, brought lemon chiffon cupcakes for him, figured might make him feel better. I’m, uh sure, he wouldn’t mind if you had some, if you want ‘em.” 

She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, why isn’t her mouth stopping, who made her like this?

“I mean, I don’t know if you two have the same taste or whatever, but who doesn’t like cupcakes, so-”

“I’ll….,” his whisper makes her shut up, “let him know you stopped by.” 

“Okay, uh, I’ll leave the cupcakes on the table, for whoever wants them.”

The hint of a soft smile pulls at his lips and it feels like she’s seen a new plushie, every fiber of her being screaming at her to hug him and coo over how cute he is. 

“Night, Alice…” 

His whispers again, before shutting the door. She takes a deep breath and puts the cupcakes out on the table, this isn’t exactly how she wanted this to go. But, given the situation, she’s not sure what else she can do.

A more proper talk or apology would have eased the tension tight in her chest. The cool air does nothing to soothe her as she makes her way back to her dorm.  It’s late and the dormitory is desolate, it seems like by the time she returns every night the building has become a ghost town. 

Since she’s been working at the hotel, her only constant companion has been Kiyo, which is her own fault. She’s kept people at a distance. The Hatter has locked himself alone in Wonderland with just Cheshire to stave away loneliness.  Maybe that’s why she wants to help him. She keeps telling herself time and time again that she needs to get her shit together, but then something sends her spiraling right back to that dark place. 

Within the same week, she went from being determined to get out of this and get her life back on track to questioning if she should end it all within less than a week. It’s erratic. She’s stuck in her own head and destroying herself. 

She lets Kiyo free roam while she grabs a shower. The hot water and steam help clear her mind, letting her relax for a moment. Her mind continuously drifts to the situation of everything. Both with the Hatter, the penthouse guests, and what comes after all of this. 

A part of her wants to help the Hatter, another part of her thinks she can’t help anyone if she’s a mess herself. A part of her wants to get back into University, another part of her says it’s not worth it, just wants to end everything. 

Her emotions and thoughts are constantly ricocheting and contradicting each other, she can’t seem to get a handle on what she actually wants or needs to do. 

The water runs cold and she forces herself out from under it. The air is cold on her skin and she groans, running a hand over her face. 

She might have been content with being a maid, the job and benefits itself are fine, but with the auctions she wants as far away from the hotel as possible. 

Helping the Hatter would be nice, but she can’t. It’s not her place nor her job. Her life is in shambles, she’s in no place to play savior. Helping with a robbery is one thing, addressing his mental health is too much. She can’t get involved. 

But, if she wins the bet, what does she want? Logically, she knows suicide is no answer. She knows that she doesn’t really want to die, but she can’t help thinking it’s better for everyone. 

Tsuneko dries off and pulls on pajamas before leaving the bathroom. Falling back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she thinks of what she wants, her brain drifts back to one childish answer. 

She wants to go home. Kyushu, back to her childhood home, not dorm rooms in Tokyo. She wants a hug from her dad. But, he doesn’t know about her expulsion. He thinks she’s still in school, working on her degree. She’s avoiding talking to him for almost a year now, because she doesn’t want to tell him. Doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

So much of her childhood, she talked about getting out of there, being a child, he could be proud of and she failed. Then she lied about it. Why would he want anything to do with her? She’s took her shot and missed. Now, she wants to go running back home to her dad. It’s pathetic, what if he doesn’t want anything to do with her. 

Despite her ignoring, he still calls and leaves voicemails regularly, she just doesn’t answer. She’ll shoot quick texts about being busy with school, enough that he knows she’s not dead. He’s so proud of her for working so hard. If he doesn’t know, she keeps that. But, if she tells him the truth, she risks losing it, losing him. What if he hates her for it? 

What is he going to tell people? His daughter who went off to become some hotshot lawyer cleans bathrooms for a living now. He’d be just as embarrassed as she is, he’d never want to talk to her again. 

But is this any better?

She doesn’t know when tears started, hot and wet on her cheeks. It’s not the panicky sobs she’s had lately, a soft quiet sort of melancholy. She scrubs a hand over her eyes. 

She’s been afraid of losing her dad, but she’s basically already lost him if she’s cutting him off. Hasn’t she? 

There’s a tug on her hand where it hangs over the bed, Kiyo’s teeth wrapped around her fingers. Not enough to break skin or hurt, he squirms backwards trying to steal her away from her thoughts. 

“What are you doing, baby boy?” 

She lets him lead her by the finger, having to hunch over to do so. Kiyo takes her to his little stash of toys. It’s a mish mash of toys bought specifically for him and stuffed animals he’s decided are now his, plus whatever he’s stolen. 

“Yes, I know, I got you- are those my socks?” 

He excitedly let’s go of her hand to show his new toy, a pair of her socks. 

“Not only are you a thief, you’re stupid enough to show me what you stole? Really, Kiyo, are you that proud of yourself?” 

She makes a grab to get the socks out of his mouth, but he promptly runs off with them. Eyes still rimmed red with tears, she laughs and chases after him. Peals of laughter and Kiyo’s dooking noises fill the dorm as she runs after him. After nearly knocking into her dresser, she manages to scoop him up in her arms. He lets go of her socks and snuggles against her. Her fingers scratch over his fur as she sits down on her bed.

“You’re sick of seeing your mommy cry, aren’t you baby?” 

She holds him out in front of her, he makes a soft noise and she considers that a confirmation. 

“Well, I’m done throwing a pity party. If I have time to cry about it, I have time to do something about it. I’m gonna win the bet, then I’m biting the bullet and coming clean about everything to my dad. Then I’m gonna get to work to actually change my life.” 

He makes an excited dooking noise, the sound of it strengthens her resolve even more.

“I’ll go in early tomorrow, to ask Kenzaki about looking at security footage, get the information from the Hatter, and have a proper talk. I’m not gonna get too involved, but I’m not gonna keep anymore distance than normal.”

Kiyo yawns, tongue sticking out of his mouth when he closes it again. His eyes are starting to drift shut. 

“Okay, time for bed then, good talk.” 

Tsuneko smooches the top of his head then gets him settled in for the night. She reads over the auction items again and paints her nails. The sparkly red polish is replaced with a deep dark indigo.  She’s managed to clear her head a bit more before she finally goes to sleep. 

Having caught her second wind, Tsuneko walks with confidence into the Tres Spades. It’s early morning, even earlier than usual, but she doesn’t sleep much. There’s not a lot if activity in the lobby at this hour and Kenzaki is at the check in desk. 

“You’re here early, Tomori,” Kenzaki comments with his usual serene expression. 

“Yeah, I was actually hoping to help out with the guest in the tea room, is there anyway I could look at the security footage for the back lot?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary anymore.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Security isn’t something you need to concern yourself with, Tomori.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never had an issue with safety here,” she grumbles under her breath and turns to leave.

“Actually, there was something I needed to speak with you about as well.” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you remember the Renard family?” 

“Yeah, they were here a month or two ago, right?” Tsuneko nods, the little girl Anais ended up clinging to Tsuneko’s side for a good portion of her stay since her parents were busy. 

“Yes, they checked in late last night. It appears you made quite an impression on their daughter, they’re requesting you attend to their room and watch over her during their stay.”

“Aren’t they VIP guests?” Tsuneko raises an eyebrow, VIP’s are specifically Erika and the twin’s responsibility. 

“Yes, which is why it’s important to fulfil their request.”

“Fine by me.” 

Unlike the penthouse maid, this is something she’s actually earned, and Erika isn’t going to ruin it for her. 

“Please meet with them in the lobby at the beginning of your shift.” 

“Understood.” 

With that Tsuneko starts to walk down to Wonderland. Hopefully, the Hatter has had a chance to write down what she asked of him. There should logically be a list of people who’ve participated in the auction and what they’ve sold, assuming Ichinomiya isn’t running a disorganized shit show. If the Hatter remembers what the March Hare and Dormouse were carrying or even what date it was, she could ask one of the penthouse residents to check it against the list of participants. It’s a long shot, but since Kenzaki won’t let her look at security footage, it’s her best bet. 

She takes the stairs down two at a time, her steps echoing. As she’s nearing the bottom, she realizes her steps aren’t the only ones ringing out. Along with shuffling and muffled talking. Anxiety creeps up her spine and settles in the back of her mind. Did those men come back? Who else is down here?  Her pace quickens and she jumps the last few steps, her feet hitting the concrete with a heavy noise. 

 Two men are packing a familiar bronze statue, they pause and shoot her confused looks. She never saw the Dormouse and March Hare out of costume, but it would be odd to return the items they’ve stolen. The strangers shake their heads and pack the statue into Wonderland, the door open for them.  She trails in after them, there’s even more men she doesn’t recognize in Wonderland, all packing items that belong to the Hatter. Her eyes narrow, what is happening?

“Excuse me, Miss.” Someone says behind her, carrying what looks like a broken globe, and she moves out of his way and utters an apology. At least they’re polite, whoever they are. Though, some of them certainly look terrifying. 

“Alice~! Good morning!” 

The Hatter’s sing song voice rings out over all other noise, he’s back in costume, no signs of the shy young man she spoke to last night. Tsuneko avoids the men moving items, making her way to the costumed man. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

“Isn’t it wonderful? All my treasures are being returned~!” 

“That’s fantastic, but how…?” 

It had to be the penthouse guys, there’s no other explanation. But they didn’t seem to care about it yesterday. Did she manage to get through to Ichinomiya? That seems…unlikely, no, impossible. Tsuneko is stubborn and annoying, but even she’s not strong enough to get through Ichinomiya’s impenetrable wall of bullshit. 

“I’m so happy, Alice~!” 

“I’m glad, I know it’s been a rough couple days for you,” she murmurs, scratching at the back of her neck. 

His expressions fall, like he suddenly remembers the fight. Perhaps he was caught up in the moment. He won’t meet her eyes, instead staring at a random spot on the ground like it’s the single most interesting thing in the world. 

“I’m really sorry about the way I snapped at you, I said a lot of mean things and you didn’t deserve that…” Tsuneko murmurs, why are apologies so hard, “I know it doesn’t make it okay, but I was just in a shitty place, then you came in and started calling me ugly, and I just, I don’t know, got pissed.” 

“Called you ugly? I would never.” He looks up at her like she’s just scalded him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I said your tears are ugly, not you…I don’t like seeing you cry. Tears and pain are ugly things, so I want you to be happy, especially in Wonderland with me…” 

A soft look comes over his face and guilt pangs in her chest, this whole thing was a misunderstanding. She snapped at him over nothing, Tsuneko has always been the type to go for the jugular, to cut people down at the slightest sign of cruelty. It’s not healthy, but she’s never managed to stop it. 

“For someone who stresses the importance of words, you’re not the best communicator, huh?” 

She flashes him a soft smile and hopes it gets everything across. That aching desire to just forget it all and move on like it never happened. Tsuneko fiddles with a lock of hair, waiting for his response. 

“Maybe not, it seems I hurt you, I’m sorry, A-” His words dye in his throat and she can slowly see him acting more like the shy boy from last night. 

“You can call me Alice; I didn’t mean that.”  In all honesty the only thing she genuinely is hurt about in the long run is the being sold stuff, the Hatter’s complacency in that.  But, unlike the penthouse guests, he didn’t buy her and isn’t holding her to the arrangement. So, if nothing else, he remains the lesser of evils and she’d rather keep their relationship civil. 

“Really?” He smiles bright and some of the guilt that’s eaten its way into her chest fades away. 

“Really. Now, I have to go get ready for my shift, but we’ll hang again soon, celebrate your stuff being returned, I promise.” 

She touches his back for a moment in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture, before they say their byes. There’s a bit of time before her actual shift, but she wants to talk to the penthouse guys about what happened with the Hatter’s things. Tsuneko walks about the men, feeling a twinge at guilt at not offering help, before making her way up the stairs. 

The elevator ride is spent fiddling with her phone, playing Monster Lovers, her crane game, and checking social media. Just finding idle things to pass the time through the long elevator ride, it seems to take forever given the sheer height of the hotel. She tries not to pout when she sees that Shinobu still hasn’t bothered to message her back. 

She’s scrolling through Instagram with one hand and fiddling with the good luck charm in her pocket with the other when the elevator comes to a stop. Tsuneko tucks her phone away and heads to the lounge, seeing the group of men in their usual spots. 

“You’re here early, Princess.” To the shock of no one, Baba is the first person to greet her. 

“Yeah, I wanted to check on the Hatter, all his stuff was found?” 

“Ugh, I heard enough about that freak last night,” Kisaki grumbles. 

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, now isn’t it?” 

“Are you seriously comparing me to him?” Kisaki narrows his eyes and scoffs in disgust.  

“Yeah, that’s not fair to the Hatter.” 

“Sor and Mamo were working all night to get Maddie’s stuff back.” 

“Really?” 

“He’s being dramatic, as usual, it didn’t take that long,” Oh cuts in, not bothering to look at Tsuneko, “the slacker managed to get their plate number from security footage and with the information the Hatter wrote down we were able to get a name.” 

“It still must have taken most of the night, I mean you probably didn’t even start looking into it until late.”  

Smirks play across Oh, Baba, and Kisaki’s lips, like there’s something they know that she doesn’t. Dread pits in her stomach and she finds herself looking over at Ichinomiya, the only one who isn’t currently smirking like a wiseass, unless you count the sleeping Kishi. Instead of a smirk, Ichinomiya is scowling, and she can’t help remembering him covered in cupcake frosting. 

“Boss told them to start looking right after we left the tea room,” Baba tells her and she clenches her jaw, he was having them help the Hatter the entire evening.  If she had known that she never would have thrown her little tantrum, probably.  Seems like lashing out when she didn’t have all the information was the theme of yesterday. 

“He made sure to help your boyfriend as soon as possible,” Kisaki teases and she resists the urge to kick him. 

“Fuck off,” she groans out instead, rolling her eyes before directing her attention to Ichinomiya, “so…. I guess I probably might owe you an apology for the cupcakes thing, huh?”

“That suit costs more than you make in a year.” 

“Well, who’s fault is that, boss.”

He narrows his eyes at her, glare intense, while the rest of the men snicker. She meets his glare, this is mostly his fault anyway, he could have just said they were looking into it. If he had just told her, everything would have been fine, probably. 

“Was that your attempt at an apology?” 

“Yeah, but then you went and ruined it,” she crosses her arms over her chest and pouts, “besides, this isn’t all my fault.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Literally all you had to do was tell me you were having it taken care of.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” 

“Would have saved your suit, though.”  

“Shouldn’t you be working?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going, asshole.” 

She leaves them to snicker and cackle at Ichinomiya like hyenas. Tsuneko spends the elevator ride back down to the main floor reviewing photos she took of the auction item list, reviewing it for what feels like the thousandth time. Overall, she’s on cloud nine, compare to the past couple days. Her issues with the Hatter are resolved, as well as him getting his stuff back. She has a clearer idea of what she wants, how she’s going to move on from this whole ordeal if she gets the chance. With being asked to look after Anais today, she’s getting something resembling a promotion she’s actually earned. And, moreover, this is officially the seventh day of the bet. 

By midnight tonight, she’ll be halfway through and if anything, she’s proven to Ichinomiya why she’s a detriment. She’s thrown cupcakes at him, for god’s sake. Tsuneko’s done nothing of value that’s unique to her.  A part of her is just waiting for him to tell her she’s not worth the headache, just let her go, but he’s the stubborn type, sadly. But, she’s feeling good about her odds of winning in the moment. If nothing else, she’s in a significantly better headspace. For the first time in a long time, she feels like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Just the tiniest iota of hope. 

The female locker room is empty when she arrives, and she goes through the routine of changing. Slowly a few other coworkers trickle in Chisato is the first of her two friends, the older maid gives Tsuneko a soft smile before speaking. 

“You look like you’re in a better mood.” 

“I am, thanks again for, uh, baby sitting my drunk ass. I promise it won’t happen again,” Tsuneko tells her, making a note to lock the door next time she drinks. 

“It’s fine, you were pretty entertaining.” A smirk pulls at Chisato’s lips and heat crawls up Tsuneko’s face. 

“Yeah, I uh, owe Sakiko an apology.”  Tsuneko scratches at the back of her neck, she’s fucked up a lot in the last couple days. 

“Speak of the devil.”

Sakiko enters the locker and fast walks to her locker, not stopping to make eye contact with either of the maids. Despite no one saying anything to her, a blush is already creeping up her cheeks. 

“Hey…sorry about the whole, uh, drunk thing.” The blushing is contagious, her face feels like it’s on fire. 

“Let’s not talk about that, it’s fine, let’s just move on.” 

“I didn’t know you got like that when you drink,” Chisato says, not letting them move on. 

“Everyone acts weird when they’re drunk, shut up.” 

“What’s that saying, in wine there’s truth, maybe deep down you just really like making out with people.” 

“Shut up!”

Tsuneko’s face flushes cherry red as she shoves Chisato, barely jostling the older maid. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but Tsuneko thought it was just a fluke.  Maybe, drunk Tsuneko is just a kissing machine. Chisato and Sakiko laugh at Tsuneko, making her face flush brighter. 

“She’s so violent,” Sakiko teases.

“I’m not violent!” She yells violently swinging her fists at nothing in particular. 

Once they’re all dressed and ready for their respective jobs, they leave the locker room, Chisato and Sakiko still laughing at Tsuneko’s expense. They drift into the lobby, a steady slow thrum of activity there.  She needs to wait on the Renard family to drop off Anais and give Tsuneko her schedule. 

“Hey! What’s the meaning of this!?” Erika screeches as she marches across the lobby towards them, stopping in front of Tsuneko with the twins behind her. 

“What the meaning of this?” 

“Good morning to you too.” 

“What is this about you watching the Renard’s daughter?” 

“I’m watching their daughter; you literally said all the things that need to be said about it.” 

“They’re VIP’s, you have no right to be working with them.” 

“No right!” 

“I mean they specifically requested me, so…” 

“What kind of stunts are you pulling for this to keep happening?!” 

“I’m just doing my job, what’s up your ass?” 

“First it’s the penthouse position and now you’re stealing VIP’s from me, that’s what’s ‘up my ass’,” Erika bitches and pulls out air quotes at the end. 

“You’re the one who said I shouldn’t throw away opportunities, right?” 

“I didn’t mean steal them from me!” 

“It’s not my fault you scare children.” 

“I do not scare children!” 

“You screech like a demon and hang out with The Shining twins; no kid wants to deal with that.”

“What’s going on here?” Kuroba is the one to cut in, where Kenzaki is, Tsuneko’s not sure. 

“I was just saying that with her new position, Tomori might be too busy to watch over the Renard family’s daughter.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be able to handle it.” Kuroba flashes a soft smile at Erika and puts a hand on Tsuneko’s shoulder as a sign of solidarity. 

“I can always take some of her rooms, if she needs it,” Chisato chimes in. 

“Well, I’m happy to see it’s under control then.” Erika forces a smile before storming off, the twins scrambling to follow after her. 

“Why is she always on your case, I swear to god,” Sakiko complains. 

“Like, I know.” 

“I know, but nobody listens to me.” That earns Chisato a glare from Tsuneko, is she still thinking Erika has some sort of crush? It’s ridiculous. 

“You’re one of the few people who talk back to her,” Kuroba adds his two cents. 

“And it makes her want to smooch you,” Chisato grumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“Don’t worry about it!” she pushes at Kuroba’s shoulder flustered that Chisato will push her inane ideas on him, “thanks for the help, we’ll talk later okay.” 

Chisato and Sakiko find her frazzled goodbyes hilarious, because everyone loves mocking Tsuneko. 

“Can you two chuckle fu-Ah!” 

“Tsuneko!” A soft French accented voice rings out as Anais nearly topples her over with a hug, a blur of white blonde hair. She laughs and scoops the girl up, spinning her and making her giggle before putting her back down. 

“How are you sweetie?” 

Anais is adorable, around seven years old with bright blue eyes and white blonde hair pulled into a little ponytail. Tsuneko fights a pout when she realizes the child isn’t even a full foot shorter than her

“We’ll leave you to it,” Chisato calls out before her and Sakiko go on their way. 

“Mommy and daddy took me to the Pompompurin café, look at what I got!” 

She holds out a keychain that has a little plush of the yellow dog character.  On their last stay at the hotel Anais fell in love with Tsuneko’s cute stationary, so she made sure to recommend the family visit the cute Sanrio themed restaurant.

“That’s so cute, so is Pompompurin your favorite?” 

“Yes! I love him, my mommy even let me get the big sundae with his face.” 

“That’s awesome, the desserts there are so good.” 

“Anais was in heaven, thank you so much for recommending it,” a woman’s voice thanks Tsuneko and she looks up to see Esme and Julien, Anai’s parents. 

Tsuneko doesn’t keep up much with the rich and famous, but Sakiko was determined to give her an unwanted crash course on the family last time. Julien is an older man, perhaps too old to have a seven-year-old daughter and a young wife, with graying hair in a simple conservative suit. He owns a publishing company, that’s pumped out a few bestsellers. 

Esme is glitzier, long white blonde hair curling over her shoulders and makeup that brings out the blue of her eyes. She’s an actress and former model, who started her own modeling agency at the age of 30. As such the two are often traveling with their daughter, for scouting authors and models for their respective jobs as well as Esme’s acting. 

“I’m glad she enjoyed it, I know a few other spots she might like, actually I think Puroland is having a show this weekend with special ticket deals,” she suggest the Sanrio themed amusement park, it has an array of restaurants and rides, along with parades and shows. 

Anai’s eyes go wide and she looks at her parents in excitement, not asking, but her plea is clear. 

“Can you write down the times and where it is for us? I’m sure we can manage a day off,” Julien offers and ruffles his daughter’s hair. 

“No problem, I’ll make a note of it for you.”

“Thank you so much for watching her, I know it’s a lot to ask, we have a schedule for her. Just take her back our room when it’s time for her lessons and for meals, so we can all eat together, then her bedtime of course,” she explains as she hands Tsuneko a neat little schedule of when Anais needs to be back at their room.

Esme and Julien are busy, but they always ensure they can eat lunch and dinner with their daughter. Despite not always being able to spend much time with her and taking Anais all across the country, the couple does make a genuine effort to always spend at least some time with their daughter. Busy rich parents are something she’s seen time and time again since she’s started working at the Tres Spades. Many just leave their children at the hotel while they work, then spend the rest of the time in the casino neglecting their children in a new way. It’s refreshing to see parents who try to make that effort. 

“That’s fantastic, since I need to clean the penthouse.” Tsuneko has no desire to bring the little girl anywhere near the penthouse or its residents. 

“You’ve been promoted?” Julien raises an eyebrow, they’re well aware that she hasn’t been with the hotel long in the grand scheme of things. 

“They must really want to keep you around here,” Esme beams. 

“You have no idea.”

The couple gives Anais hugs and kisses, before asking her to behave then leaving for work. A soft pout pulls at the girl’s features as she watches her parents leave, even with them making an effort, she must still wish they could spend more time with her. Tsuneko gently pokes at Anais’s cheek, earning her a half-hearted glare. 

“You’re gonna be my little helper today, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, you have to smile,” Tsuneko points at her own soft smile, “it makes everyone else around you feel better and you’ll feel better too.” 

Anais tries to smile wide, but because she’s trying t0o hard, it looks awkward. As if her cheeks are being unnaturally stretched, Tsuneko can help but laugh, making the girl pout again. 

“Don’t laugh,” she whines as Tsuneko gets a small candy from her pocket. 

“This might help you.” 

The girl takes the little strawberry candy and eagerly pops it into her mouth, a genuine smile now stretched across her face. 

“Much better, now let’s get to work.” Tsuneko types alarms into her phone for each time Anais needs to be returned to her parent’s room, before taking the girl with her to get a cleaning cart. 

Anais steps on the edge of the cleaning cart, riding along as Tsuneko pushes it, giggling when she makes it move quicker. Since other than the penthouse, it’s the only room out of her way, Tsuneko takes them to the Renard’s VIP room to clean first. Anais is eager to help, even with the most mundane tasks, the Tres Spades doesn’t offer much for children, even cleaning is entertainment. 

Tsuneko makes sure to do the more arduous or grosser tasks, such as cleaning the bathroom. She’s watching Anais, not traumatizing her. The Renard’s room isn’t bad by any stretch, but she knows once they get to normal guests’ room and later in the day, the rooms will get progressively more difficult.

They’re working in the third regular guests’ room when Tsuneko needs to leave a note, they’re out and she’s left a stack of brochures they’ve requested. She gets out a pad of bunny shaped notes and a pen, Anais’s eyes sparkle at the stationary and the sight makes Tsuneko smile. 

“Anais, you can write in English, can’t you?” 

“Yeah, I have neat handwriting too.” 

“Great, can you just write out, ‘The brochures you requested, hope you find something that catches your eye’ on here?” 

“Yeah,” Anais agrees and neatly writes the note, her handwriting clear and easy to understand. Tsuneko takes a moment to try to doodle little spades around the words. 

“What are those?” 

“They’re little spades, like the Tres Spades.” 

“They look like deformed hearts.”

“Well, who asked you,” Tsuneko sputters, cheeks red.

“Why is the note in English?” 

“English is the guest’s first language, so leaving notes in English and speaking to them in their native language helps them feel more at home while they stay here.” 

“You can write and speak in English?” 

Tsuneko works as Anais bounces around to follow her, filled with questions. She can’t help giggling at the young girl’s excitement. 

“I’m good at writing in English and can speak it alright, thanks to school, I bet you know lots of languages, since you travel so much.” 

“I know French, Japanese, English, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and I’m learning Mandarin.” 

A cough sputters out of Tsuneko’s mouth and she can’t help blinking at the child, six languages and working on the seventh. She assumed her parent’s status could afford Anais a fantastic education despite the frequent travels, but that seems unreal.  A seven year old  is more accomplished than her, fuck. 

“That’s impressive, I only know Japanese, English, and JSL.”

“JSL?”

“Japanese sign language, it’s talking with your hands, it’s used by people who can’t hear.” 

“Oooh, that’s really cool.” 

“Yeah, um, for example this means, my name is Tsuneko,” she recalls the old college course and signs an introduction, to the delight of Anais. 

“Woah, I wanna learn!” 

“Okay, you’re here for around a week, right?” 

Anais nods her head, ponytail bobbing with the quick motion. 

“Well, I’ll try to teach you some JSL, if you teach me some languages you know too, enough to greet guests and talk a bit to them.” 

“Yeah, I can do that!”

“Sounds like a deal.” 

Tsuneko has language books and sometimes tries to use google translate, but guests have told her it can be a little rough. They usually appreciate the effort, but Tsuneko has always wanted to learn more and doing it while she works with the Anais will save time. 

Her phone goes off, the first alarm to return Anais back to the room for lessons and lunch. Anais has taught her some basic greetings in French and Italian, though her pronunciation is rough, meanwhile Tsuneko has taught her a few yubimoji signs. She takes Anais up to her parents’ room and gives a less than stellar goodbye in French. 

Between lessons and her eating lunch, Tsuneko has around two or three hours before she needs to come back and get Anais. That should be enough time to clean up the penthouse and maybe grab something to eat, but she might have to eat late. 

She spends the elevator ride up reciting what Anais taught her; she’d look crazy if anyone else was around. Tsuneko feels like she has the greeting understood and her pronunciation at least marginally better. 

Walking into the lounge, Tsuneko knows she made the right decision not to drag poor Anais up here. Oh and Ichinomiya are gone this time around, but Kisaki, Baba, and Kishi have made an absolute mess. Poker chips and cards are strewn about, liquor bottles despite it not even being noon, and overflowing ashtrays.  Baba and Kisaki are playing  cards, while Kishi is sitting up on a couch, puffing on a cigarette. She considers it a miracle anytime she sees him and he’s not napping. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose and resists the urge to groan, walking into the lounge feels like stepping into a chimney thanks to Kishi. Even with how large the room is, his presence seems downright noxious, like he sweats cigarette smoke. 

“Hey, pretty lady.” 

“You don’t need to talk to me every time I enter the room.” 

“As if I could ever resist talking to a beautiful woman when I see one.” 

“You see a beautiful woman somewhere, Kishi?” 

“Just you two jackasses and a kid.” 

“I’m gonna open the window and get some of the smoke smell out of here.” 

“Might as well just ask Kishi to leave.” 

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” 

Tsuneko continues to ignore them and opens the large windows to the lounge, the ones that overlook the Tokyo Bay. The sun feels warm against her skin and there’s a gentle breeze coming through, the water seems to sparkle where the light hits it. It’s shame such a wonderful view can only be seen from such a shitty place. 

She forces herself away from the window, no matter how much she wants to soak up the sun. Maybe if she gets a chance to get away, she should go to the beach. Relaxing and sunbathing sounds nice. Tsuneko instead gets to cleaning up the absolute mess the three men have made. 

"You owe me for last night, kid," Kishi's raspy voice interrupts her.

"Excuse you?" She stops what she's doing to raise an eyebrow at him, the hell is he on about?

"I had to work all night to get your little boyfriend's crap back."

"Firstly, the next person who throws the boyfriend word around is getting strangled. Secondly, you're a cop, dealing with robberies is your job,” she grumbles, returning to cleaning as she talks. 

"Robberies ain't my department, you owe me, brat."

"You did your job; you want a cookie?"

"I'll take lunch."

"You make more money than me!"

"I'm just a humble public servant," he tells her with a shit eating grin.

"Humble public servant, my ass."

"I gotta tell you Mamo, if this is how you try to get dates, I'm a little disappointed," Baba cuts in with an overdramatic look of disapproval. 

Kishi chokes on his cigarette and sputters out a cloud of smoke. Tsuneko rolls her eyes, god these men are idiots. 

"Don't be stupid, someone would have to be real desperate to date a kid like her."

"Ugh, between the Hatter and the old men, you really attract freaks, Koro. 

"You say, still treating me like a dog."

"You know it would be so much easier if you just learned to behave."

"It would be so much easier if you lost the ability to talk."

"Then who would give you commands?"

Tsuneko rolls her eyes and bites her tongue, she’s cleaned up the majority of the mess, though she knows it will be a disaster when she returns in the evening. 

“Do you want me to leave the window open or close it before I go?” 

They give her the go ahead to leave it open, mostly because Kishi shows no sign of slowing down on the smoking. With that taken care of she ventures towards the suites. By the time she’s finished with them, thanks to Kishi’s suite mostly, she only has around half an hour before she needs to pick up Anais again. 

She can grab a little lunchbox or something quick at a convenience store, it’s not much, but it’ll be food in her belly. The cafeteria is closer and has nicer food sure, but the line of employees makes it take longer. 

Tsuneko ventures the quick walk from the Tres Spades to the nearest store, the same one Baba apparently works at part time. She scans the aisles and shelves; she’s looking over the freezer stuff when she sees something. Generally, convenience store food is pretty good, but among the refrigerator areas there’s a little boxed sushi lunch jammed back in a corner. Like, someone crammed it back in there and it’s been stuck. 

Just a peek at it through the clear plastic lid, she can tell it’s gone bad. The sushi is discolored, and it just looks slimy, mushy. A smirk pulls at her lips and she pries the little meal out of its corner. She can practically smell it through the container. Kishi wanted lunch, right. 

The cashier looks down oddly at it, the clearly bad sushi meal for Kishi, while she grabbed some hot skewers of karage and a bottle of juice for herself. 

“Uh,” they stammer, “I can switch that out for a fresh one.” 

“No, that’s fine.” 

Another strange look before they just shrug and ring her up. Tsuneko eats her own food on the walk back, finishing the skewers and juice by the time she returns to the hotel. A double check of time lets her know she has time to run back up to the penthouse and drop off Kishi’s ‘lunch’. 

By the time she’s gotten back up to the penthouse, a part of her is just eager to dump off the gross lunch. The smell of it is making her stomach churn just a little bit. Whoever crammed it back into that fridge, it was there for a while. 

“You’re back already, princess?” 

“You think we’re that messy?” 

“You wanted lunch, right, Kishi?’ She’s grinning as she drops the nasty meal into the old man’s lap. 

“How did you find something that smells worst than him?” Kisaki covers his nose with his head, but he’s cracking up. 

“Shut it,” Kishi grumbles out as he inspects the meal, she expects him to turn his nose up at it, call her a brat or something, but he opens it instead. 

“Oh god.” Tsuneko dry heaves at the smell coming from the sushi meal, just the ungodly stench of rotted fish. She shuffles closer to the open window, hoping the breeze will blow away some of the stench. 

“Where did you even find that, princess?” 

“It was just jammed back in some corner of the shelves, like someone hid it.” 

Baba and Kisaki are faring about as well as she is, but Kishi doesn’t seem remotely bothered. He unwraps the chopsticks that come with the meal, he’s not seriously going to eat it, is he?

“Eh,” he shrugs, “I’ve had worse.” 

“Don’t be-Oh god!” 

There’s a crunch from the rice, the nasty hardened rice, as Kishi bites down on a piece of sushi. She can’t imagine how disgusting that must taste, hard rice and slimy rotted fish. Tsuneko nearly pukes up what little lunch she had, as Kishi just swallows it, going for another piece. 

“That’s disgusting,” Kisaki comments, but he’s laughing, mostly at Tsuneko’s reaction. 

“How can you eat that?!” She manages to ask through gags. 

“What else would I do with it?” Kishi says with a mouthful of rotten sushi, the smell wafting out of his mouth could peel paint, Tsuneko nearly vomits. 

“Tell me to fuck off and throw it out, like a normal person!” 

“He literally eats out of the trash.”

“Why would you do that!?” 

“Food is food.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“I think the cigarettes killed your taste buds, Mamo.” 

“My taste buds are fine,” Kishi starts to shove another piece in his mouth and Tsuneko snatches the meal from his hands, “hey, I was eating that!” 

“The hell you are, I’m not cleaning up puke.” She tosses it in the trash, wiping her hands off on her uniform apron. 

“If anyone here is about to blow chunks, it’s you.” Kishi starts to reach over for the trash, then his hand stop, he can’t reach. 

“The only thing stopping you from eating that out of the trash right now is the fact you’d have to move, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles as Kisaki and Baba start snickering, lighting up a cigarette. 

“So, what did you get us?” The youngest of the three men suddenly asks Tsuneko. 

“Nothing…”

“It’s not fair to only get him a gift, especially since we’re right here.” Kisaki sticks his tongue out, playful and annoying. 

“You wanted bad sushi too?”

 “I mean, I’d cherish any gift you gave me, but that meal was a little much.” Baba grimaces. 

 “Uhh,” she rummages around in her pockets, getting a handful of candies she keeps for kids and throws it at the two of them, “you can have those.” 

Kisaki glares as a butterscotch bounces off his forehead, but Baba catches some candies in his hand and gives her a bright smile. 

“Sweets from my sweetie, I’ll treasure them forever.” 

“I’m gonna be sick again.” 

“Ugh, old men trying to act like kids is just nasty.” 

“You’re so cruel, Ota, I’m not that old.” 

“Oldest man here.” 

“Huh?” Tsuneko tilts her head to the side, there’s no way, she glances over at Kishi, yeah, Baba can’t be older than him.  Kishi’s hair has already gone gray for god’s sake. 

“Baba’s the oldest out of us,” Kisaki tells her, smirking. She gives another aggressive side-eye to Kishi. 

“Yeah, right. I’m not that gullible.” She rolls her eyes; he has to be fucking with her. Kisaki and Baba immediately start cracking up. 

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Kishi grumbles glaring at her. Her phone alarm buzzes to life, giving her ten minutes to go get Anais. 

“Welp, time for me to head out.” 

For the second time of the day, she’s leaving them to laugh as she scurries back to work. It’s odd, the light feeling she has these past two visits, no pit of dread in her stomach. Teasing them and joking around with them isn’t awful. At the very least they haven’t seen quite as mean spirited lately. She shakes her head at the odd thought and finds her way to Anais’s room. 

Her shift passes by quickly with Anais playing her sidekick. When guests stop Tsuneko with questions they coo over the small girl. With every room, the two teach each other more of languages. She hates to admit it, but the Anais is teaching her more than vice versa. But as long as the work is getting done and their time is beneficial for both of them, Tsuneko will consider it a win.  Before she knows it her phone alarm is going off again, time for her to return Anais for evening lessons, dinner, and bedtime. The end of their day together.

Tsuneko leads Anais to the room by the hand, her tutor and parents are already there to answer the door. The little girl excitedly runs to hug her mom, the sight of it brings a smile to Tsuneko's face.

"Mommy, Daddy, look what Tsuneko taught me," Anais babbles excitedly before signing her name in JSL, "I just said my name!"

"What's that now?" Esme asks with an arched brow.

"Japanese sign language, I figured she'd be bored if all she did was watch me clean all day, hope you don't mind," Tsuneko explains.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Esme flashes a brilliant smile and Julien gives a softer one in kind.

"I also wrote down the information for the Puroland event." She hands down the written note to the pair.

"Oh, Thank you so much. For everything."

"It's no problem at all. Have a lovely evening."

They say their goodbyes and Tsuneko excuses herself to return to work. She has to go clean the penthouse again, then maybe she'll drop by Wonderland and have a celebratory tea party with the Hatter after she clocks out.

Everyone is there when she returns to the lounge. Ichinomiya working on a laptop. Oh is reading a book, look like one of the detective novels he seems fond of.  Kishi looking over a newspaper, while Baba and Kisaki are still playing with cards. No one greets her this time, seemingly focused on what they're doing.

Ichinomiya always has the same request when he sees her, so she makes a beeline for the espresso machine. She makes his coffee and remembering the drinks the others have requested before, she decides to make those as well. Plain black tea for Oh, black coffee for Kishi, rose tea for Baba, and coffee with just a bit of sugar and cream for Kisaki. She arranges their drinks on a tray and brings it out.

"Coff-," Ichinomiya starts then pauses when he sees Tsuneko placing his drink down in front of him.

"Aww you're already know my favorite drink, thanks pretty lady."

"I'm just fortunate enough not to have the attention span of a goldfish.” 

There’s still a soft breeze coming in from the open window, cooler now as the evening comes in. The temperature of the room hasn’t dropped significantly, but it’s much cooler and if the window is left open for much longer there will be a definite chill.  And she’s sure Ichinomiya will be bitching about it before she knows it. 

“Can you close the-” Ichinomiya’s words stall at the click of the window being shut. 

“Maybe, she’s finally learning her place,” Oh comments, a cruel little smirk drawing across his face.

“Fuck off,” she grumbles as she starts to clean the mess that’s built up since the last time she was here. 

She cleans up the mess of cigarette butts, trash they’ve tossed aside haphazardly, and general mess. Tsuneko has started dusting when she hears the peanut gallery start whispering, gazes on her, but she can’t make out the words. Her head whips around so fast, she nearly gets whiplash. She doesn’t trust these men as far as she could throw them. 

“What are you doing?” She narrows her eyes at Baba and Kisaki who’re snickering like the bozos they are. All of the men giving shit eating grins. Smug bastards. 

“Bettin’ on if your top’s gonna bust open,” Kishi answers, but he’s no less guilty than the others she’s sure. 

“Well, jokes on you, I got a new uniform, so.” She sticks her tongue out at them. 

“Shameful.” Oh shakes his head, she’s not sure if he means her or the men betting on if they’ll get a peek at her bra. Kisaki and Baba groan, digging yen from their wallets to hand over to Ichinomiya. 

“That’s not even fair, boss.” 

“He probably already knew she got a new uniform.”

“As if I could let an employee walk around like that.” 

“You ordered me a new uniform,” she raises an eyebrow, “I figured Kenzaki was sick of my shit.” 

“It shouldn’t be on other people to make sure you’re dressed for your job,” Oh comments, not bothering to even look at her, she hates that he’s not wrong. 

“I’m gonna go clean the suites,” she murmurs and starts to head out of the room. 

“Wouldn’t you be better off cleaning, boss’s suite first?” Baba asks, the questioning look on his face and the lilt of his voice tells her he’s being genuine and not trying to micromanage. She can see where he’s coming from, Ichinomiya’s room is only accessible through the lounge, since it’s on the highest possible floor. 

“No, Kishi’s is the biggest mess, so I have to clean it first or it’ll never get done.” 

“I bet his room is disgusting.” 

“It is.” 

“Hey, I ain’t that bad!” Kishi blusters to defend himself. 

“Poor grandpa can’t even clean up after himself.” 

“Why is everyone on my ass today?!” 

“It’s national pick on the elderly day, you didn’t know?”  Tsuneko can’t help grinning as she teases. 

“I’m not that old!” 

“Be careful, I don’t think getting upset is good for you at this age,” Baba joins in on the teasing. 

“You’re older than me!” 

“Bullshit.” 

“What do you know, ya damn brat.” 

“I know lying about your age is just plain sad.” 

“Don’t you have something to clean?” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” 

Tsuneko waves him off before heading to the suites. It's odd thinking of how much she's learned about those men in such a short amount of time, given the situation. Cleaning people's rooms tends to do that to a degree, seeing what everyone keeps in their living quarters, how they take care of themselves. Obviously, she doesn't know the finer details of their lives and who they are, she doesn't want to know. But, having any sense of familiarity with the men who bought her...It's odd. It doesn't seem right.

They're ruining her life; she wants to keep a distance. But, inane little details about each of them keep sticking in her mind. It's impossible to avoid, it seems.

How can she not know Kishi's favorite brand of cigarette when she's the one who throws away all the cartons? 

Or that apparently Oh likes detective novels, when she's the one who's tucking away the dog-eared books when he leaves them out in his suite? 

There's tarot cards and astrology books in Baba's room, so she knows he likes that kind of supernatural occult stuff, also from cleaning his closet that his signature red suit is far from his most garish one. 

Kisaki's brassy strawberry blonde hair is thanks to bleach she's seen the boxes of in his bathroom, he could afford a salon, but must prefer doing it on his own. 

Ichinomiya is picky with temperatures, as he is with most things. The thermostats in his bedroom, living room, office, and even limousine are all set to the same exact temperature.

There are so many little things she's learned about them, it's taken her almost a year to learn as much about Sakiko and Chisato, the closest she has to real friends. Yet, he's learned these things about the auction managers in a week. A hazard of the job, she tells herself as she finishes up the last of her work.

She's clocked out and in her casual clothes when she heads down to Wonderland, making good on her promise to see the Hatter again soon.

“Alice!~” He greets her, loud and vibrant as soon as she walks in. She can’t help but notice the stark contrast between the booming voice of the Hatter and the soft murmur he used out of costume. 

“Hey, Mads, want me to make some tea?” 

“Yes, that’d be wonderful!” 

She busies herself in the kitchen area, making his favorite Assam tea with milk. Her thoughts constantly drifting back to last night when she saw him out of costume. 

She resolved to meet him where he’s at. 

She said she wouldn’t get involved. 

But, fuck, she wants to know more. 

“So, about last night-” She starts as she’s pouring him a cup of tea. 

“Alice!” He jolts in his seat and nearly knocks the table over, Tsuneko flusters to avoid spilling tea everywhere, “I’ve forgotten something very important!” 

He’s out of his seat, vivid blue eyes wide and frantic, her heart sinks. It’s his choice, but it’s clear, he’s avoiding the subject. He doesn’t trust her, probably doesn’t have a reason too, especially after her tirade. She shouldn’t pry and she even swore she wouldn’t get involved, but her curiosity, or nosiness, has a way of getting the best of her. 

“You need to try on your costume, Alice!” He grabs her the second she sets the tea pot down and drags her towards his bedroom. 

“Huh?” 

“It won’t be long now before the auction; we have to make sure it fits properly!” 

She’s pulled into his bedroom, all his odd little treasures now returned to where they once were.  Her attention is drawn to the clothes on his bed, a frilly baby blue Lolita style dress with a variety of accessories along with it. 

“Ah…” 

She doesn’t like this… Tsuneko is a twenty-two-year-old grown woman, she can’t pull off that kind of thing. As much as she loves cute things, more extremely adorable stuff is reserved for wearing alone in the privacy of her dorm. She wouldn’t dream of parading around in something like that around other people, no one would ever take her seriously again. 

“It just arrived earlier today, I’m sure it will look wonderful, try it on ~!” 

The door shuts behind him as he gives her some privacy, she sighs, running her fingers over the material. It’s soft and obviously high quality. She toes off her sneakers and socks, it’s not as exposing as the bathrooms in the penthouse suites with the huge windows, but it still feel odd stripping in someone else’s room. 

She runs her fingers along the soft navy fabric of his bed spread. The Hatter, when he’s in costume, there’s always the scent of heavy makeup powder. But the smell is notably absent in his room, it was absent when she saw him out of costume. The scent coming off of his skin more reminiscent of cinnamon cookies, his room has that kind of smell mingled with the must of old artifacts, like one would smell in an antique shop. It suits the collection of random old stuff, but also shows he spends most of his time in this room out of costume. The presence of that soft-spoken boy with dainty features can be felt, even with him being away. 

Tsuneko starts to undo the fastens of her short overalls, stepping out of them. Her oversized tee shirt joins the pile, her nerves alight at being in nothing but her underwear. Every little creak or noise of the room makes her scared the door is about to swing open. She knows the Hatter would never peep on her, but it doesn’t stop her anxiety. 

The pair of white stockings catch her eye first, pure solid white and soft in her hands. She carefully pulls them up, terrifying of catching the delicate fabric and ruining them. They’re tight, but not uncomfortable, as she pulls them up the thick of her thighs and the plush of her ass. There’s a full-length mirror in the Hatter’s room and she sighs at the sight of her black strawberry printed underwear showing through the white fabric. Not that it truly matters, but she dislikes the visual and makes a mental note to wear white ones the day of the auction. 

Tsuneko appreciates the soft baby blue of the dress, the white lace across the collar and at the bottom of the short-puffed sleeves. It takes her a moment to find the opening through the layers of blue and white frills, petticoats giving the costume a full fluffy look. She brings it over her head, it’s on the heavy side with the full skirt. It falls just above her knees and she struggles to pull up the zipper on the back. Not because it doesn’t fit, but because it’s hard to reach. 

Once she thinks it’s done up, she turns to the accessors laid out before her. A white lacey apron that goes over the dress, she ties it securely around her waist. There’s a pair of little wristlets, Baby blue with a bit of white lace, a little silk white ribbon, and tiny twinkling star charms. All that’s left are shoes, black glossy platform Lolita shoes with bows on the toe. And two black ribbons, one longer than the other.  She decides to contend with the shoes, sliding them on and fastening the little buckles. 

She frowns at herself in the mirror, feeling simultaneously like a little girl playing dress up and an old woman trying to look like a little girl. A part of her is humiliated that anyone will see her in this, the other part is mad at herself for not hating the dress. It’s cute. She loves cute, everything she owns is cute. But she doesn’t want to be cute, because the things that come with being cute suck, because the world sucks. 

“Are you finished in there, Alice?” The Hatter’s cheerful voice cuts off her internal rant about being cute. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

The door swings open and the Hatter strides into the room, eyes stopping on her. He pauses for a moment and her face flushes at the attention. 

“It looks just as beautiful as I thought it would, absolutely gorgeous, but,” he pauses and seems to think for a moment, like he’s picking his words carefully, “it’s missing something.” 

“I wasn’t sure what the ribbons were for,” she admits, pointing to them. 

“Ah.”

He nods in understands and gracefully swoops up the ribbons in his gloved hands, then his steps halt for another moment, his gaze on her back. 

“It’s not fully zipped, Alice,” he says suddenly close to her back, breath tickling her ear, as he zips it up the final inch. Then his hands are in her hair, gloves brushing the nape of her neck as he undoes her ponytail. 

His touch leaves her for a moment, then he’s in front of her again, in her space. He brings one of silky black ribbons around and under the collar of the dress, tying it into a little bow just at the collar. The Hatter takes the other ribbon and moves it to between her hair and the back of her neck, back behind her ears as he ties it at the top of her head. He adjusts and plays with her hair, she focuses her eyes at a spot on the ground, the direct eye contact is too much. Then he’s cupping her cheeks and forcing her to meet his gaze. 

“Absolutely perfect, take a look at yourself.”  His smile is radiant, and she feels her face warm when he drops his hands. 

She takes a look in the mirror. The ribbon in her hair is tied to look almost like bunny ears on top of her head. The way he’s done her hair is cute, the ribbon keeping her sidelocks and everything back out of her face, her bangs left alone.

It’s all adorable and cute. She’s cute and adorable, and no one will ever take her seriously in her life, especially not after seeing her in this. And she hates that but does genuinely love how cute it is. A confusing tug of war to be sure, but if her biggest dilemma of the day is struggling with being cute and easily patronized, she’ll consider it a win. 

“Of course, during the auction you’ll need a mask or face paint, but-“ 

“Here comes the sun, doo doo doo~ Here comes the sun, and I say~” 

The Beatles song buzzes from her clothes on the floor, cutting off the Hatter. Tsuneko freezes, the custom ringtone for her dad. Her earlier thoughts of wanting to see and talk to her dad come to mind. She’s been ignoring his calls for so long and she doesn’t want that anymore. 

“Sorry, I need to answer that, I’ll be right back.” Tsuneko rushes to get her phone from her pocket and scrambles to answer her dad as she leaves Wonderland. The oversized chunky heels nearly send her plummeting a few times as she presses the phone to her ear. 

“Uh, Chipmunk?” Her dad’s loud clear voice, saying that nickname is the cherry on top of what’s been a surprisingly good day. She sits down on the stairs that lead from Wonderland to the rest of the Tres Spades, taking in the moment before she speaks. 

“Hey, dad, sorry about that. I had to get away to talk.” 

“No problem, I’m more surprised you answered. I was startin’ to think you forgot all about little old me.”  

She laughs, her dad’s voice is like pure nostalgia and sunshine. The only thing she wants is to hug him right now. Come clean about everything and just have her dad. But she can’t do that, not yet. She can’t tell him she’s been lying over the phone; her dad deserves better. Not to mention, she still doesn’t know what’s going to happen after this next week. 

“Like I could ever forget you.” 

“I’m still not use to you talking like you’re from Tokyo,” he teases the change she makes in her dialect, using different Japanese pronouns. 

“Sorry, I’ll cut the shit,” she grins as she switches, the Kyushu dialect much more comfortable on her tongue. 

“How has everything been, you must have been real busy the past year or so, couldn’t even spare a conversation for your dad.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I just had classes and, uh, I got a new internship.” This is why she’s been avoiding taking his calls, lying to him is so much harder when she has to say the words and hear his voice. She hates being dishonest as a whole, but she can lie to anyone else in the world without batting an eyelash. Her dad is an entirely different story, every lie makes her heart constrict. 

“It’s fine, I swear, you’ve apologized more in the last five minutes than you did your entire childhood.” 

“I just feel bad, okay. I know I’ve been MIA on you, but I promise I’m okay. I’m still working hard, still love my dumbass dad.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of my chipmunk, I’ve been thinking of sending you another care package, help keep your energy up.” 

“Actually, if that’s the case, my address has changed,” the idea of a care package from her dad sounds so nice right now, “my internship is actually with the legal department of the Tres Spades, y’know that giant hotel, so I’m staying at their employee dorms right now to save money.” 

That sounds kind of believable, she thinks. She hopes. 

“Ah, that’s sound wonderful, if you can get a job there, you’d be set for life, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yeah, it’s a really great place to work.” 

“Do you know when you’ll be graduating yet? I wanna make sure I don’t miss it.” 

“Uh,” she stutters, “I’m not quite sure yet, but it’s still a while off, so don’t stress.” 

“You’re not keeping me away, so I don’t embarrass you, are ya?” 

Her heart sinks, that he could even think that. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you’re the least embarrassing thing in my life, I promise.” 

“Ah, shit, look at the time. I gotta get some sleep, and I’m sure you have work to do. I’ll get out of your hair for now. Love you, be safe.” 

“I’ll try, love you, bye.” 

She lets out a soft sigh as she hands up. It’s just past midnight. The first week of the bet is officially over, one more week. She can do this. If she can get a few more days like this, she knows she can charge through it all.  Tsuneko lays back out against the stairs, feeling them dig uncomfortably into her back. The hum of the ballroom floor overhead is dulled but drifting down the staircase, below her the Hatter and Wonderland are waiting for her. She spends a moment in the in-between, appreciating the peace she finds there. 

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 16: Ethan*: Part One

Ethan* was the one where when I said to my friends, “I don’t want to have to write a stupid ‘dating in Tampa’ chapter about this guy…. He’s a good egg.” But here I am, writing it. 

I matched with Ethan* on Bumble during a super busy work week, we chatted about things briefly on the app, and I mentioned that I might be able to do a video chat rather than an in-person date easier that week because of my schedule. He agreed to it and asked if that night would work. So our first date is a rather spontaneous video date. I made dinner for myself and was eating it about 20 minutes before our time we picked up, when a piece of mozzarella got stuck in my throat and I was choking. I managed to dislodge the mozzarella cheese stuck in my throat, but was afraid my voice might be weird since I had just stuck my hand down my throat to save my own life.

He had said that he tended to be a little awkward on the phone. Despite the disclaimer, I found him to be perfectly fine on the phone. I told him about my near death experience prior to the call, and we had a laugh about it. We gave each other tours of our homes. He owns his and has completely renovated his place, which is pretty cool. I admired the handiwork of his home, especially the “shiny floors” that he had redone. I learn some quirks about him, such as being homeschooled until college and that he doesn’t like chocolate (weird). He also had mentioned that he was born in Northern Virginia, about ten minutes away from where I grew up and lived there until he was five, before moving to St. Pete. He never had typical pets, but did take care of some squirrels and some lizards, straight Florida kid shit. We ended the call recognizing we got along and generally understood each other. I knew he was 26 but turns out that I was like ten days short of exactly a year older. He immediately after said he was “excited to hang out... soon.” and that we seem to have a lot in common. Agreed.

I let him know that I have some questions for him before that, but that I’ll get to them. The next day, rather than doing that, my friend Lauren inspires me to make a legitimate dating application. I create this thorough Google form, which includes serious questions, as well as some less serious questions which are unfortunately inspired by my previous dating experience, i.e. do you chew with your mouth open? are you a warlock?, etc. I send this to him, and he hesitantly does it after I ask him to. His comment at the end is “I thought this was dumb, but I actually had fun.” From this form, I learn that truly Ethan* does have some similar goals to me. He also doesn’t want children. I ask what people are looking for and he responds with “Unsure yet, but I am open to anything from casual friends with benefits all the way up to a long term relationship if we are a good match. I don't have any future goals but I enjoy companionship and sex and seek these out in a partner.“ Seems like a fair expectation, which is kind of where I am at too. I send that same application to different people that I’ve matched with at the time, but Ethan* is definitely my front runner.   

This guy didn’t really match up to my usual douchebag energy guy I usually go for. He was a college athlete, wide receiver and ran track, and definitely still kept up with his physique. He had curly bronde hair that was slightly receding on the sides, a six-pack, and nicely sculpted shoulders and back. I knew ahead of time he was on the shorter side, that is, not over six feet tall. He owns a boat and also has a pilot’s license and flies planes for fun. Things that were definitely unique and super cool. He asked me if I would ever go flying with him, to which I enthusiastically said that would be cool. He didn’t know that learning to fly is also something on my bucket list, I would actually never have the chance to tell him. 

That weekend, a few days after our virtual date, I was finally done with my marathon of working long days and said I would be down for meeting up. He mentions his plans with his friends were canceled that night, and we decide to do something that night. I let him know I have an appointment and can come over after that, around 6. We discuss what we are going to do, we decide on a night in. I suggest tacos, however, he responds by asking if I like Chipotle. I inform him that since we live in a place where there are much greater options for local taco places, which aren’t Chipotle and basic, we should get that instead.  He then suggests a place by him we can go to, and we agree on that. However, this is also coming from a guy who said Papa Johns was his favorite type of pizza. With pineapple. 

I go for a comfy but not trying too hard look for that night. Some athletic leggings from Uniqlo, and a crop top. Ironically, I believe that exact ensemble is in one of my photos on Bumble, in hindsight. I excitedly text him about it being 7/11, which is free slurpee day, and ask if we can go. He says there’s a 7 Eleven by him that we can go to. I finished my appointment, which was actually a lip and eyebrow wax, and drove to his place. He asks me to park on the street so that he can drive his car to the taco place, and I sarcastically tell him that he’s going to have to drive around my car in the driveway. I then mention I’m on the way and will see him soon.

Usually, by the time I am going to meet someone in person, I have given them my number or other ways to contact me outside of the original app. My friend had suggested to me that I try to stay on these apps communication wise, until a successful first date. I was trying to follow this advice and since Ethan* and I were still communicating exclusively on Bumble, I was following that advice. Granted, he hadn’t really asked me either to change communication methods, so it worked out.

 I message him “Aqui” when I pull up to his house, and as I start to get my things out of my car he emerges from the front door to greet me. Immediately as I walk up and analyze him, I feel bad as a wave of disappointment falls over me. He in no way lied about his height on his profile, but definitely I overestimated how tall his height was. Otherwise, he was 100% authentic and who he said he was. He meekly asks about my appointment and if everything is okay, specifically asking if it was a doctors’ appointment. I admit I was actually getting a wax, then he compliments me saying that my brows look really nice and he otherwise wouldn’t have said anything as it would seem weird.

I then say I’m hungry and we should go get food. I get out to his car, which is a super nice Jeep Grand Cherokee, with a leather interior. Despite the nice car, I look down at the floor of the passenger seat, which is entirely covered in discard receipts. 

I mention this to him, and he gets super embarrassed about forgetting to clear his car before I arrived. Upon looking at the receipts as I help him clean, I recognize many of them are from Taco Bell. We bond however over the amazingness of Baja Blast being the ultimate drink. I insist we go to 7 Eleven first to get our slurpees, since I don’t want the food getting cold/soggy. We find out it isn’t really free slurpee day, due to COVID-19, and instead it’s a get a medium free next time with your membership there or something. So I get a medium anyway, so at least mine is free.

Next, we pull up to the taco joint, which is basically you walk up to a door to order. We discuss the menu and agree that fish is gross. He orders for us both, which I love, and sit briefly at a colorful picnic table outside of the restaurant. We are there not even one minute, when he asks if we can go to the little market that’s next to the restaurant. I say sure, and we browse the market. He picks up some apples and some grapes, and we just sort of look around. We are joking around and I quiz him on the “best type of apple,” which is sort of an inside joke at my full time job. 

He finishes his purchases and we sit at a different picnic table, while waiting again for our food. They bring it out and we take it back to his place. In the car he’s going between rap and pop music. I’m more or less into anything but country, so it’s a fair vibe. I figure since he was on a football team, that was probably what he was used to listening to in the locker room. 

Now that we’re back at his place, I excuse myself to the restroom. A man’s private restroom always says something about the man. Does he clean his bathroom? How many products does he have? Does he have that singular shampoo/conditioner/body wash combo bottle in his shower? His toilet definitely could use a scrub, same with his shower, but otherwise pretty well kept and he had separate products in his shower. 

I’m still feeling iffy about the guy due to his height, and when I sit down on the cough with him, he asks if I like South Park. Unfortunately we find out that South Park has been taken off Hulu and so we look for a back up. Then he asks about Rick and Morty; I love that show, so we turn that on for us to watch while we eat. He too is a couch eater, which is good since his dining table literally has no chairs around it. 

We share some laughs, we eat the food, we drink the slurpees. Once there’s no longer food to eat, he asks if I want to cuddle. I say “uhm okay.” I remember a message he had sent me the day before where I said I hope he doesn’t try to cuddle in my lap like my dog, and he had responded “what if I did? jk. but really do you like to cuddle?” And I’m wondering if I’ve gotten myself into a stage 5 clinger situation. Somehow I become like the guy, as he is nuzzled onto my belly and I have my arm around him. Later he asks to spoon, and I’m like yeah that’s fine. As I’m sure that’s less awkward than what we’re doing now. Though if I wasn’t so uncertain about him, the previous position probably would have been cute and endearing. While we were cuddling, we talked about goals and briefly about my application. He talks more about how he flies planes on the side, and that his goal is to join the National Guard as a pilot. The cut off is 32, so essentially he wanted to gain more and more flying experience so he could join before the cutoff. I have never really been particularly interested in being involved with someone in the military, so that was almost a turn off for me. However, I did this it was good that he had solid goals he was continually working on.

Regardless, I’m still having a good time. He’s a nice and entertaining guy, and we mesh well. It starts to get late, so I mention it’s time I go. Before I leave, I remember we have still only been talking via Bumble, I ask him for his number. I then realize I also don’t know his last name, so I also ask for his last name. I realize his initials are “Eh,” which I find humorous, so I text him “eh” to let him know it’s me. Which also described how I was feeling at that moment. 

He then walks me to my car and I give him a hug, and then he kisses me. Even though I wasn’t really feeling kissy after this date, I realize it is actually a really nice kiss and tell him I’ll let him know when I get home. I think back to Aaron* where he wasn’t the best kisser, and think oh well that’s nice. 

I get home and stew over the date, thinking about what I’m going to do about this guy. He texts me the next day saying “Would it be bad if I already wanted to see you again tonight?” I tell him I have plans, which isn’t a lie, I do, and let him know I’m free the next night. We set up another hang out at his place. 

In my mind, I determine the way I’ll figure out my feelings is to sleep with him. “If the sex is good,” I think to myself, “then that should get me over the height thing. And if it’s terrible, then I’m outtie anyway.”

[headfulloffantasies]

Home is Where the Devil Lives

Peter loves his new apartment. Matt does not.

Peter’s new apartment was a dream, a castle, compared to the rat hole he’d been living in. He had a second bedroom! And a kitchen without vermin. And a bathroom that actually fit a sink next to the shower and toilet. The only problem was that Matt hated it.

Peter dragged a half conscious Daredevil in through the fire escape after a brutal smack down with Kingpin.

“You’re lucky this place is so close,” Peter griped. “You wouldn't have made it to Hell’s Kitchen.”

Daredevil didn’t respond, too busy bleeding profusely from a knife wound to the ribs. Peter thumped through the window onto his orange rug.

“Alexa, turn on the lights and raise the heat to 20 degrees.”

“Turning on the lights,” the robot voice answered.

Matt stirred, tipping his head to the side. “Who’s that?”

“Alexa, say hi to Matthew.”

“Hi, Matthew.” Alexa echoed.

“You have an AI?” Matt slurred slightly.

“Nah,” Peter said as he got Matt settled on the couch. “It’s an Amazon smart home. It turns on the lights and connects to the internet and stuff.”

Peter dug his first aid kit out from under the kitchen sink and padded back to Matt. 

“Take this,” Peter held out a couple of painkillers. 

“I don’t want ‘em,” Matt groaned, twisting on the couch.

“Trust me, you will. I am awful with a needle.”

“You sew your own costumes.”

“That is fabric. Why does everyone think sewing skin is the same thing?”

Peter coaxed Matt into taking the pills. He peeled back Matt’s suit and swore. 

“Don’t bleed on my couch, it’s new.”

“It smells like cat.”

“It’s new to me.”

Peter finally finished the stitches and sat back to admire a bad job done with good intentions. He passed Matt his phone.“You’re staying here tonight. Call Foggy and tell him you’re not going into work tomorrow.”

Matt shook his head, trying to push himself up on his elbows. He got about halfway there. “I’m fine. I’ll make it.”

“You will not. It’s freezing out.”

“No it’s not.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Alexa, what’s the current temperature?”

“It is currently 2 degrees Celsius.”

Peter splayed his palms to silently say “I told you so”. It wasn’t wasted on blind eyes.

“I don’t care.”

“I do. I will not be responsible for my lawyer dying of pneumonia.”

Peter moved into the kitchen to give Matt some privacy.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Matt on drugs didn’t know how to control his volume level. Peter heard Matt’s entire side of the conversation.

“Come and get me,” Matt hissed. “I hate it here.”

Ouch. And yeah, there was a layer of sarcasm in Matt’s voice, but no more than he usually buttered onto conversations. 

Peter was hurt. How long had he and Matt been friends? Did Matt hate his other apartment too? Duh, Parker, even you hated that apartment. But then what gives? The new place was dope. There was running water that wasn’t brown. Maybe it wasn’t about the apartment, maybe it was Peter. Nope, not going there, that hurt too much.

When he was done being hurt Peter was angry. Not everyone could afford penthouses and silk sheets, Double D. Some of us are just happy to have a place to hang our mask.

Matt stayed the night on the couch, but Peter wasn’t sure he’d actually slept. There were deep purple bags under the bruises on Matt’s face in the morning.

“D’you mind if I put on the radio while I make breakfast?” Peter asked as he pulled his skillet out of the cupboard. Matt made a wavy hand gesture of deference.

“Alexa, play my radio station.”

“Turning on the radio.”

Matt flinched as the announcers came on. 

“-whereabouts unknown. And in other news, the vigilante Daredevil was spotted with Spider-man last night at the docks. This reporter wonders if the two have formed a superhero swim team. That’s all for me, folks. Tune back in to Hero Watch after the break for our hot take on the Hulk’s dating life.”

“What is this?” Matt asked.

“Hm?” Peter hummed as he cracked an egg into the frying pan. “Oh, it’s Hero Watch. They report on street level heroes like us.” Peter ducked his head. “I know it’s silly to listen to what people say about Spider-man, but it’s kind of a parody show? They make up ridiculous stories.”

They listened to the rest of the show, laughing until Matt’s stitches pulled. 

Peter left for work, assuring Matt that he could stay on Peter’s couch as long as he needed. When Peter came home he was disappointed to find his blankets folded neatly at the end of the couch and no trace of Matt anywhere.

A week later, Matt swore up and down he was well mended and ready to go bust some heads.

“Alexa, call Matt.”

“Calling Matt.”

“Hello?” 

“Are we going out tonight?” Peter asked, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull his sock on.

“Are you putting on socks?” Matt asked.

Peter froze. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I listen to 3000 people a day putting their socks on. I know a sock hop when I hear it. I also know what it sounds like when you trip and smash your coffee table. Sit down and put your socks on like an adult. I can be ready to go in ten.”

“Meet me at my apartment?” 

“I’ll be on the roof.” Matt agreed.

“It’s cold. Meet me inside.”

“Roof. Ten minutes.”

“Call ended.” Alexa announced.

Peter glumly stared about his apartment. He liked it. It was soft, all done up with lots of blankets in the living room and lacy blue curtains in the kitchen that Aunt May had helped him pick out. It was comfortable. So what was Matt’s problem?

“Alexa, does my apartment smell?”

“I do not have a nose,” Alexa said. “I have seventy one internet results for getting rid of smells if you are interested?”

“No thanks,” Peter said, heading to his room to change into the Spidey suit.

Peter moaned to MJ about it in the Starbucks by her loft.

“Matt hates my apartment.”

“That’s because he’s bougie trash.” MJ said without looking up from her vanilla latte.

Peter was scandalized. “He is not!”

“He makes his own granola and won’t use brand name fabric softener. He’s bougie.”

That wasn’t fair, Peter knew. Matt was sensitive. He made his own food because tasting other people’s hands was gross. He used natural based fabric softeners because the artificial smells in brand names gave Matt headaches. 

“Does my place smell?”

“No, but your couch reeks of cat.”

Dang it. 

Aunt May’s birthday was next Sunday. Peter had been planning a surprise party at his apartment, and the only thing that would prevent him from going through with it would be an alien invasion.

All that was left to do was send out invitations. Because Peter was an exemplary millennial, he sent a group text invite. He left Matt a voice mail invitation specifically so Matt wouldn’t have to deal with Peter’s copious emojis. 

Peter sat on his saggy cat couch and watched the RSVPs come in. 

Alexa suddenly said, “New voicemail.”

“Alexa, play voicemail.”

Matt’s tinny voice filtered from Alexa’s speaker. “Hi Peter. I’m not going to make it to May’s party. I’ve got an appointment out of town that day.”

Peter deflated. 

This had gone on long enough.

The next night,  Peter went up to the rooftop to meet Daredevil. 

Matt swung up over the ledge, his red suit dark as blood in the twilight.

“Hey kid.”

Peter tugged his mask off. “Can I talk to you as a real person?” He asked.

Matt copied him by removing his mask. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Peter forgot how weird it was to watch Matt’s milky eyes search him out. Matt always settled his gaze close to eye contact, but he tended to miss by a bit, staring at people’s left ear or their nose.

“You really can’t make it Sunday?”

“I have an urgent appointment I can’t reschedule.”

Uh huh. Likely story.

“I know you hate my apartment.” 

Matt stiffened.

Whoops. Secrets are supposed to stay on the inside of mouths, Peter. But now that it was out of the bag, why not air it out? 

“Does it smell? Is it too loud? Is it too cold? Do you not like my cow salt shakers? Are the blankets not soft enough? I can get better blankets.”

“Peter,” Matt stopped him. “It’s not about the apartment.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “You don’t like me.” The tears that sprang to his eyes surprised him. “It’s fine, I get it-,”

“Kid, listen with your ears, not your mouth,” Matt snapped.

Peter swallowed hard, nodding.

Matt scrubbed the back of his neck. He was flushed all the way to his red hair. “Your A.I. freaks me out.”

Peter blinked. “Alexa?”

“Yeah. She’s listening to everything, but she’s not really there.”

“She’s not spying on us, Double D.”

“I know that!” Matt rubbed his hands together, looking very lost. Just this once, Peter did the smart thing and stayed quiet.

Matt started again. “Alexa talks and it’s not right. I can hear the dissonance in her voice. And it’s like there’s a whole person in the room, but I can’t find her heartbeat, she doesn’t breathe, or smell, or have body heat. She’s like a ghost.”

“Oh.” Peter said. He never considered that Matt’s abilities might cause him pain in the absence of stimuli. “What do you want to do about it?”

Matt shrugged. “There’s not really anything I can do. I’m just going to have to get used to it.”

That didn’t seem fair. Peter had a long think. “What if I turn Alexa off when you come over?”

Matt tipped his head to one side. “You don’t have to do that.”

Peter shrugged. “Sure I do. I want you to be comfortable in my home. You’re my friend.”

“I’m officially triggered,” Matt snarked. “This conversation has reached my emotional limits for the week.”

“So you’ll come on Sunday?”

Matt glared at Peter’s ear. “I told you I have a meeting, kid. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh good. I love you too. Come here and give me a hug.”

Matt jumped off the side of the building.

[pussnboots21]

Jockstraps to Bra-straps Chapter 5

The next morning Eijrio and I woke up early to clean up the roof before class. We stored most of the stuff in my room with the plan of him coming over to do homework, and hang out.

“Hey, want to join me in the shower, you can borrow one of my male uniforms since I can’t use them.” I said giving him a wink as I headed toward the door supplies and uniforms in my arms.

“You don’t need to ask me twice!” he said jumping up, to follow me out the door. I turned on the water, before undressing, smiling as I looked over at Eijiro as he was taking off his boxers. I couldn’t help but lean over and give his ass squeeze, getting a surprised squeak from him as I withdrew my hand.

“That was adorable, Eijiro.” I giggled pulling off the last of my clothes and stepping into the shower.

“Adorable is not now you describe a manly guy like me, and if you tell anyone about that I swear I will tickle you.” He threatened as he joined me.

“Oh no, I’m so scared. Eijiro is going to tickle me.” I laughed turning to face him kissing his now pouting face. “Now do you want me to scrub you first or you me.” I said holding up the soap. 

“I’ll do you first.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the pointed phrasing. I gave him a soft punch to the shoulder, as I moved to a better position to be scrubbed. His hands were gentle as the washed my back; I moaned as he moved to my breast squeezing and teasing them. I leaned into his chest as he started kissing my neck, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. I rolled my hips against him, feeling his member hardening at the motion.

“I do hope you realize" your mine now right?” he growled pulling me tightly against him.

“I am, am I, now dose this give me a title or anything.” I gasped turning to face him, jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist.

“Yeah, you tell everyone you're my girlfriend.” he thrust into me with each word, groaning loudly as I cried out gasping and moaning his name. Our climaxes came too soon as he set me down kissing me as we washed off, and stepped out of the shower to dry off.

“So I get to call your boyfriend now correct?” I said looking over at Eijiro, he flashed me a toothy grin nodding happily as he continued to dress himself. I laughed as I slipped my skirt over my hips before buttoning my shirt. We dropped the shower supplies off at my room grabbing my school bag. We made a quick stop at Eijiro’s room so he could grab his before heading down for a bite to eat. It was still early so not many people were up and about quite yet; walking into the kitchen we were greeted by Uraraka, Kaminari, Sero and MIna sitting and talking eating with eggs or muffins leftover from Saturdays feast.

“Well, well were you last night? I went by your room to see if you wanted to play a video game or something but you weren’t there.” Kaminari said eyeing his friend.

“Oh, shush you I want to hear all about your guy’s big date. It must have gone well since you are coming down together holding hands.” Uraraka said rushing over to me and pulling me into a tight hug. I could see the looks of shock that fell over the group behind here as they took in this information.

“WHAT?!” was the collective response from the room as they rushed over, filling the room with questions and congratulations.

“So are you too a thing now or something?” came an angry and very familiar voice behind. “Well, are you or shitty hair going answer me stupid Deku.” Kacchan growled coming closer.

“We are.” I said shortly turning away from him, I was not going to let his attitude ruin my day. “Would you like me to make you a plate Eijiro?” He nodded dumbly as he processed what just happened.

“Since when ya nerd?” he yelled getting angrier by the second. I place our food down and turned to face Kacchan.

“Since he asked me out. Since he’s actually nice to me and not a total asshole.” said pointedly before continuing “And since I like guys, and he doesn't give a damn about how I look. He accepts me for me. Which is something you haven't done in years.”  I turned and sat down.

“Now either mind your own business or as you put it ‘Fuck off’.”  The room was silent as I took a bite before looking at the mix of shock and awe of my classmates. “What there’s something about boobs that just feels empowering, no wonder guys like them.” I shrugged turning back to my food. 

The others broke out laughing as the joined me back at the table. I looked back at Eijiro who was talking to Kacchan, I couldn’t make out what they were saying over the others chatting and laughing about what just happened.  A few seconds later Eijiro sat beside me giving me a pec on the cheek before digging into his food. Soon we headed off to class with the rest of the group, talking and answering questions about our date, or details. We told them the minimun not wanting anyone to know about how far we had gone quite yet. It felt wonderful to hold his hand as we walked to class. Until all of this, I had never thought about dating really I had always been the outcast, and being quirkless really didn’t help. Even if I had asked someone they would have turned me down before I could even open my mouth.  Once I entered UA I had been too busy to even think or consider dating, training as classwork came first. Now that I had better control of my quirk, and actually had friends that were there for me; having a relationship felt right.

    Morning classes went by pretty fast, we were doing reviews this week for a big test so it pretty laid back. We found out what the official punishment for Mineta's groping would be him being sent to a special sensitivity training plus a class packet to keep him up to date on the class, no one felt bad about it. Soon it was lunchtime, Eijiro and I had plans to eat together but because of our new couple status we had all our classmates wanted to know details so eating alone was no longer the option; but it was still nice it really made the loneliness of middle school melt away. After lunch, we all split to change for quirk training, but first I had to stop by the support lab so I could talk to them about my new costume I would need since my old one wouldn’t fit me. I split from the girls and made my way over to the lab knocking on the large metal doors as I entered.

    Hatsume rushed over giving me a hug. “Oh my gosh, It's true. You are so cute. I already started working on your costume adjustments, but you need to try it on while I work on the last few pieces.” she said grabbing my costume case and dragging me to the changing area.

I changed and stepped out looking into the mirror. They gave the suit a more slim fit and made with a more flexible material. They kept the original design thankfully, but my new figure made the outfit feel sexier than it was meant too.

“Ok Midoriya, I have the new outfit pieces you added we just need to re-size them so they fit and do their job.” Hatsume said slipping a piece into place and going to work. It wasn't long before she was done and I was off to class so I could test it out. Walking into the training hall I saw everyone in groups doing different quirk training.

“Welcome back problem child, go join Kirishima’s  and Bakugo’s group and get to work.” Aizawa said once I was by his side; I nodded before funning off to join them, feeling a little apprehensive after this morning. It had actually been therapeutic to yell at Kacchan for once and tell him off.

“Hey, so what are we working on?” I said walking up keeping my distance as they finished the round training.

“I’m using Bakugo’s blast to build up my hardening and in turn working his blast strength and control. Eijiro said wipeing his face of sweat.

“What do you need, to work on?” Kacchan said scowing as he re-adjusted his gauntlets as he walked over.

“I need to test out my new costume additions, and work on my new fighting style while using my quirk.” I said thinking it over “ If it works for you Eijiro, Kacchan and I could take turns attacking you and each other, so we can each get what we need.” I continued smiling at them.

“Sure that works for me!” Eijiro said pumping his fist excitedly, while Kaccan ‘Tsk’ his response and walked to his starting position. We soon had a nice steady rhythm going as we cycled between attaching each other or blocking attacks, the whole time slowing building up to our quirks limits before pushing harder. Luckily it was the last class of the day so we didn't worry too much about exhausting ourselves because we could just go straight back to the dorms. Our rhythm set pretty quick, I would throw a punch at Kacchan he would block and strike back with some explosions, then it would be us on Eijiro who would harden to block and strike. Our movements matched well our three-way fight almost felt like a dance; we met each other blow for blow, strike for strike. The world around us faded into the background as we focused on our movements and quirks. The bell signaling the end of class was the only thing that brought us out of our trance; panting and sweating we collapsed on the ground trying to regain our breath as we came down from the high. I pushed myself up resting my hands on my knee before standing straight.

“That was awesome! Kacchan that focused controlled blast was incredible almost couldn’t dodge it, and Eijiro the way you focused your hardening to specif parts of your body to enhance your punches and strengthening your blocks, you guys have improved so much.” I said wishing I had my notebooks so I could update their pages while it was still fresh in my mind.

“Don’t forget your moves the way you are focusing a small amount of your quirks into your legs to get that jump and kicks, not to mention the punches, it's so great you can do that without breaking your bones.” Eijiro said jumping up and pulling me into a hug while placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“Not bad nerd, your getting better, and Shitty hair you need to stop holding back on punches it’s lame.” Kacchan said walking past us to go change out of his costume, Eijiro followed after him laughing. I turned to follow the girls so I could change and head back to dorms. My body was aching from training. Joining the girls in changing room, I stripped and took a quick rinse letting the hot water run across my skin soothing the soreness just enough so I could make the walk back to the doms. The girls were loudly laughing and talking about random things as I joined them at the lockers. I had just started drying off when suddenly I heard Ashido gasp and turn me around.

“IZUKU MIDORIYA! Is that a hickey on your shoulder!?!?” she yelled her eyes lit up excitedly practically jumping up and down. I felt my face flush a deep red as the rest of the girls swarmed me to get a look.

“OMG are those puncher marks from Kirishima’s teeth?” Jiro said giving it a poke.

“That must have been one hell of date! Now spill we want all the details!” Uraraka said grabing my hands and giving me the puppy dog eyes. I caved and game the details of the date and how he made me ramen and set up a rooftop picnic, with pillows and blankets, I told them how we watched the stars and talked about everything. The girls awed and said how lucky I was before pressing for more details; My face went a deep shade of red before talking bout our heated make-out session.

“AND!! There has to be more, spill girl!” Hagakure said pulling on my arm. I didn’t think my face could get any redder.

“NO,NO! Girl you two went all the way! Deku your hoe! I love you; tell me all about it; how was it? How big is he?” Ashido gasped pulling me into a hug and jumping up and down; Proving that I was wrong about how red my face could get. But I managed to answer her questions getting redder and redder.

“You used protection right Izuku?”  Momo asked I felt the color that was once in my face drain immediately as I shook my head no. 

“I didn’t think about it, the Dr’s said the chances of me being fertile was slim.” I said gulping. She nodded understandingly, before creating a large line of condoms and placing them in my bag.

“Well if you feel strange please come to me right away and I will help you see a Dr and get you checked you out ok?” Momo said placeing a hand on my shoulder and smiling.

“Thanks, Momo, and I promise we will be more careful from now on.” I said hugging her.

“I’m glad to hear that, and I totally under this all-new, please come to me with any questions, you and everyone else have become part of my family.  I just want you to be safe.” said hugging me back the girls all awed before joining the hug. I smiled making sure to make a mental note to talk to Eijiro about it later tonight. 

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

A Man and His Leprechaun

A/N this is the first chapter of a story I got an idea for involving Shadow and Mad Sweeney, it’s an AU in which Laura doesn’t die, Shadow gets out of prison three days later and doesn’t meet Mr. Wedsneday on the plane. 

It will be eventual MadMoon as well as contain other characters from both the show and the book. 

Can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337844

Enjoy~

                     A Bowl of Cream and Pink Chocolate 

It was stupid, and probably wouldn’t work, Shadow had thought to himself as he sat on the rickety chair in his crappy apartment and stared at the cracked open window with the bowl of cream just sitting there.

He was three weeks out of prison, two weeks since he found out Laura was cheating on him with his best friend, and one week in a shitty apartment, on the shitty sound of town, with shitty furniture and shitty job prospects.

But Shadow had felt a sudden surge of curiosity when he picked up the worn book on old mythology and folklore. The cover was little to nonexistent, the pages had turned yellow, and it smelled musty every time he thumbed through it. He had found it at the bookstore around the corner from his shitty apartment.

The old woman behind the counter had said he was ‘very nice boy’ and ‘no charge’ and had shooed him out of the store before he could protest and reach for his wallet.

The chapter marked Mythical Beings from Irish Folklore had caught Shadow’s eye, and he skimmed it. The part about leprechauns, and leaving bowls of milk and fresh bread in the windowsill and how they’d bless you with good luck. To be more specific.

It’s stupid. And the most it will do is leave spoiled cream in his window and smell up his apartment, though it already smelled like someone had died in it anyway. But he was grasping at straws and he was actually curious to see if it’d work.

Shadow closed the book with a soft thump and scrubbed a hand down his face as he stood up. He went into the next room meant to serve as his bedroom and changed for bed. He tried not to think about how he should be home with Laura. And instead thought about taking a warm shower in the morning and maybe getting a call back for one of his applications.

He pulled the blankets nearly over his head as he turned out the light, the next time he woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the thin curtains on his windows. He grabbed random articles of clothing that consisted of a black t-shirt, with grey sweats and a sweatshirt.

The pipes groaned and sputtered as he turned on the shower, he stuck out his hand and was relieved it was coming out on the hotter side instead of freezing like it had the first few times he’d taken a shower.

He enjoyed the warmth as it seeped into his bones before he grabbed the soap and washcloth and began to clean up. He shut the water off not wanting to press his luck and grabbed a towel as he stepped out. He dried off and pulled on his briefs before he changed and walked back to the bedroom.

Luck.

Shadow went out to the small living room and over to the window. The bowl was empty and the window, which he definitely left open was shut. He carried the bowl to the sink and rinsed it out before he set it on the counter to dry.

He picked up his phone and clicked the email notification. It was a response to one of the jobs he applied to offer him an interview time for the following day in the early afternoon. He couldn’t remember applying, but to be fair he’d been applying to anything that was even remotely in his skill set.

He clicked the fast response button to confirm and looked at the bowl again. He shook his head and put on his sneakers before going out for a jog.

Ēostre was a small cafe with brightly colored macaroons in the window display, chocolate sculptures in a floor to ceiling windowed coolers and display cases filled with various sweets and treats. Half of which Shadow couldn’t name.

He felt weird wearing the suit from his wedding, but it was the only suit he owned and he didn’t think showing up in jeans was the best impression.

“Hello~” A woman stepped out and brightened when she saw Shadow.

He blushed suddenly under her gaze and she smiled wider. “Why I bet you’re just as sweet as pink chocolate.” She clapped her hands together. “You don’t know how happy I was to see your resume in my email. I’ve been looking to hire and I think you could be a perfect fit.”

She offered her hand and Shadow walked over to take it. It was warm and just standing next to her made him feel calm. Happy.

“I was just about to put on some coffee,” she led him to the kitchen in the back and he had to do a double take seeing how large it was compared to the front end of the store.

She motioned for him to have a seat and set down a small plate of macaroons and cookies painted to look like easter eggs and bunnies. She nudged him and he picked one up to nibble at it.

“Now I have to ask, why do they call you Shadow, sugar?” she set down a cup of coffee in front of him and sat opposite him with her own cup, cream, and sugar.

He blushed embarrassed. “Because of the way I followed my momma around when I was little...it just sort of stuck.”

“That is so sweet,” she smiled. “Well, I’m Ostara, and this is my bakery. Do you have any experience working in a bakery?”

“I have a little...when I was in prison I worked in the kitchens so I picked up a few things here and there...it um...it doesn’t bother you that I was in prison does it?” Shadow asked.

“Of course not,” she answered. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Shadow.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “How do you feel starting off working the counter hmm? And once you’re comfortable with that, we can look into you making some of our more popular treats.”

“Sounds great,” Shadow smiled. “I...thank you.”

Shadow liked working at Eostre and he liked working with Ostara. She was bright and happy. Her blond curls were always pinned up like a halo, she wore lipstick to match whatever outfit she had chosen to wear that day and her favorite pastime was making Shadow blush.

Not that he had any issues with that. It was comfortable and sometimes he managed to get her back. Also, he got to take home whatever treats that were left at the end of the night if he felt like it.

She donated them to various homeless shelters, women’s shelters and family shelters so as not to waste the food. He didn’t always take them, but when he did for some reason, even if it wasn’t true, or he would later find out he was feeding someone’s cat or rats, he always left a small bowl of cream, and a roll, or part of a baguette or sponge cake in the windowsill.

It was always gone the next morning, no matter what. Until one day, there was a man. A tall man with a red curly mohawk, pale skin with freckles and hazel eyes drinking the bowl of cream.

[mosylufanfic]

Killervibe and room mates for the AU August thing!!!

Oh nonny, you are so patient. Here you go. They were roommates.

You Can’t Keep Secrets From Your Roommate

Texting about his plans for the evening, Cisco unlocked his front door and twisted the knob. It stuck under his hand, and he looked up from the phone. "What the - "

He rattled the knob, which steadfastly refused to turn. Then he realized that it had been unlocked to begin with, and he'd locked it again.

He also realized there was a little blue car in his driveway.

He grinned.

He unlocked the door and went into the house. A purse sat on the hall table, a coat heaped on the floor under it. In the living room, a woman in dark blue scrubs sprawled facedown on the couch, dead to the world.

"Dear god," he said loudly. "There's a strange woman in my house."

She didn't stir.

"What? Can it be? My long-lost roommate? She does look a little like Caitlin . . . "

She let out a snore.

He shook his head fondly. "Dork." He reached over her and pulled the deeply ugly crocheted blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over her.

She stirred, snuffling like an adorable little piglet, and blinked her eyes open. "Cisco?"

"For that you wake up?"

She yawned. "What are you doing home so early?"

"Check the time, Sleeping Beauty." He held his phone out.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I fell asleep."

"Sure as hell did. So they let you out of the salt mines?"

She yawned again and pushed herself to a sitting position, rubbing her neck. "Ow. Yes, I'm off until tomorrow evening."

She was doing her residency at a local hospital. Cisco had been gobsmacked when she'd told him that eighty-plus hour weeks were commonplace, even expected. But he'd gotten used to barely seeing her except on her way out the door or on her way to bed.

Not that he liked it. But he’d gotten used to it.

"Whoa, seriously?” he said. “Twenty-four whole hours of freedom? What are you going to do with that?"

"Laundry and cleaning tomorrow," she said. "But tonight, Netflix. Lots of Netflix."

"Sweet." He dropped onto the couch next to her. "Want company?"

"Oh, Cisco, it's Friday night." She paused. "It is Friday night, right?"

"Yep."

"So, I'm sure you have plans to go out. You always do."

He pushed his phone into his pocket as it buzzed with a text from Barry about which bars they were going to hit. "Actually, this week has thrashed me too."

She looked skeptical. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't save anybody's life or get drenched head to toe in bodily fluids like some people on this couch, but there was this big project due and my boss was riding us hard. I'm in serious need of unwinding."

That was all true, although up until five minutes ago, his plan for unwinding had included shots, dancing, and maybe making out with someone cute in a darkened club. But he tossed that plan without a second thought

"Besides, when was the last time we had a roomie TV night?"

"Months," she said.

And that was why.

When he'd first met Caitlin, as one-half of the couple who'd wanted to move into the spare room he'd advertised on Craigslist, he'd thought she was sweet but shy and not really his type of friend. He'd clicked much more quickly with Ronnie, her boyfriend, and been more than happy to sign on the dotted line with him. Caitlin had come as part of the package. He'd been okay with that because just looking at her, he knew she was the type to pay rent scrupulously on time and never leave her dishes in the sink.

But within a few months, he'd figured out that she was sharp and funny and smart as hell, and she'd become his friend in her own right, not just as Ronnie's girlfriend.

After Ronnie had been killed by a drunk driver, their senior year of college, it had never crossed his mind to have her move out, and as far as he knew, she'd never thought of it either. This was her home.

People thought it was weird sometimes - mostly women he dated, or biphobic guys. They just couldn't understand how you could share a house for this long with someone you weren't banging.

"She's like my sister," he told them, which wasn't exactly true, but it got them off his back. Anyway, he knew that was what she told the guys she'd sporadically dated after Ronnie died, that he was like her brother. As far as he could tell, it was true for her.

He didn't really need a roommate anymore. His job at Mercury Labs more than covered the expenses of the house he'd inherited from his grandma, not like when he'd been in school and only able to work part-time at a garage.

But Caitlin had four months of residency still to go, and besides her massive school loans, the hospital where she worked was only a few miles away, close enough to drive in five minutes. Or for Cisco to go pick her up when she was so tired she couldn't move.

Anyway, he liked having her there. He'd never lived anywhere alone and he didn't want to start now.

He didn't like to think about what would happen when she was done with her residency and got a job somewhere else.

She smiled at him. “Okay. Let’s do a roomie TV night.””

He smiled back, bumping her with his shoulder. "Excellent. Chinese or pizza?"

"Chinese," she said.

"Great, that means the show is my pick." He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

She gasped. "Dirty pool, Cisco. I'm not watching Game of Thrones."

"Please," he said, flicking through Netflix. "You'll fall asleep again." It still offended him to his mortal soul.

She rolled her eyes and peeled herself off the couch. "Did I leave my purse in the kitchen?"

"Front hall," he called out.

His phone buzzed again, and he pulled it out. A string of texts from Barry stacked up on the screen, his friend baffled that he'd ghosted in the middle of their conversation.

He tapped out, Actually, do you mind if I cancel on you guys?

Caitlin's got the night off for once and we need roomie time

Holy shit they let her out?

IKR It's been forever

Yeah it's okay

Have fun w o me

So, are you going to talk to her?

No I'm going to ignore her all night as we hang out watching TV and eating chow mein

Duh I'm going to talk to her

You know what I mean

TALK to her

He stared at the phone. Thought about pretending he didn't know what Barry meant.

He tapped back, No

!!!!!!

Wrong time

I told you

If you're not careful she's going to move out or get with someone else and you'll have lost your chance

He put the phone away without answering and kept browsing Netflix.

She wasn't done with residency. She'd had a breakup not even a month ago. Not to mention, she was living in his house. If he confessed that he'd been having not-brotherly feelings for her for awhile now and she didn't feel the same way, it had the potential to make things really weird and awful. And what if she felt like she had to date him to keep living there?

He'd rather keep pretending to be just her good buddy Cisco forever then make her feel like that.

"Orange chicken or sweet and sour?" she asked him, scowling at her phone as she came back in.

"Sweet and sour," he decided. "And crab puffs."

She held her phone out to show him that crab puffs were the first thing on the order. "I know what you like," she said.

"Yeah, you do," he grinned at her. "And I do too. Which is why we're watching Parks and Rec."

She smiled at him. She looked tired and frazzled but her smile lit up her face. "I need a shower first, though. I smell like the hospital."

"Yeah, I didn't want to mention it . . . "

She pretended to swat him, then checked her phone again. "As soon as this order goes through." She sighed. "It's so slow lately."

"Get a new phone."

"I'm waiting to upgrade until after - "

"Residency," he said along with her. "It doesn't help that you have, like, half a kilobyte of spare storage on there."

"I need all those things. Finally!" she said as the confirmation popped up. "Okay, about forty-five minutes."

"Great. Gimme that, I'll clean it out."

She clutched it to her heart. "You'll delete everything."

"Your pictures are backed up," he said patiently. She hoarded pictures and videos like a very specific kind of dragon. "I set up your cloud storage myself. And how the hell many apps do you have?"

"I use them!"

"Okay fine, if you've used them in the past month, I won't delete them. But you don't need six months' worth of podcasts."

She pouted a little. "I'll listen to them all."

"When? After residency? You can download them again." He wiggled his fingers. "Give."

She handed it over. "But don't touch Sawbones," she ordered, already on her way to her room and the attached bathroom.

"Got it," he called out, already busy deleting. "Sawbones is sacrosanct."

It took him about five minutes to free up several gigs of space. Since he was in there, he decided to clean up her pictures. Old screenshots, discarded selfies, random stuff he was pretty sure she'd texted him. It was all backed up anyway.

He found several selfies they'd taken together and sat smiling at them for a little while. He had most of the same ones saved, downloaded from wherever she'd posted them.

He scrolled through the set again and realized there were some of his, taken with his phone and posted online, which meant that she'd downloaded them.

Hmmm.

Well.

They were pretty good pictures.

A text popped up, with her ex-boyfriend's name at the top. I had a lovely time the other night

His eyebrows shot up.

As far as he knew, Julian was still in England and would be for at least another six months. So what was this "other night" he spoke of? Had they sexted? A little post-breakup virtual hanky-panky?

"I don't want to know," he muttered, which was a lie. He kind of wanted to know.

Okay, he really wanted to know.

Sorry! That was meant for someone else

But now I've bothered you, how are you doing?

"Oho," Cisco said as all came clear. He calculated the time difference between Central City and London and felt justified in calling bullshit. Unless Julian was booty-calling someone at about four in the morning, this was the kind of idea that sounded really, really good when you were very tired and more than slightly drunk.

Impulsively, he swiped to open the conversation and smirked at the keyboard, fingers ready to call the other man on his nonsense.

Then he thought - no, that's a terrible idea and Caitlin will be furious. If she wanted to call him out, she should get the pleasure of it herself. Reluctantly, he swiped down to close the keyboard.

That brought more of the text conversation down to fill the screen. It was pretty dull stuff - have a nice trip, take care of yourself. He scrolled a little and found stilted queries about whether he'd found a hoodie of hers, about whether she still had his charger. Very, very polite and a little bit pained. Breakup stuff.

It had been an amicable breakup as far as he knew. "Long-distance is too hard," Caitlin had said, packing a half-empty box of tea, a T-shirt, and the debated phone charger into a paper grocery sack. "Especially with my residency and his fellowship taking up so much energy. We decided it was better to end on good terms."

But even the nicest breakup was still a breakup, an ending, an us falling apart into a you and a me. So he wasn't surprised at the stiff tone.

He scrolled up and found the next one back, not polite, not businesslike at all.

I'm not doing this over text.

It was from Caitlin. He checked the timestamp - two weeks before Julian had left. Right around the time they'd broken up.

If that didn't sound like an about-to-break-up text . . .

His fingers hovered over the screen, and then he gave in to insatiable curiosity and swiped down to see what kind of dealbreaker thing Julian had said to her.

No matter what I do, you're never going to feel half as much for me as you do for him

What the fuck.

He sat staring at the text, especially the last word.

Him.

Who was him?

His first thought was Ronnie. But Julian had said do, not did. Cisco had talked with Caitlin about Ronnie enough over the years for him to know that while she'd always love him and treasure his memory, that memory was folded away in her past. This sounded like current feelings, for a living man.

He tried to remember if she'd talked about any of their guy friends more often than any other. Or someone at the hospital? She didn't mention her co-workers at the hospital much.

So who the hell was him?

And why hadn't she mentioned him to Cisco?

He debated with himself, then turned off the phone to clear out the deleted things, and not incidentally, keep himself from reading more of the conversation. He was already feeling guilty for having read as much as he had.

Should he ask?

Caitlin came out of her room in pajamas, her hair damp. "How's the patient?" she asked him, folding herself into the couch next to him.

She smelled like flowery shampoo and apple-flavored lotion. It was warm and familiar, one of his favorite smells.

He turned the phone back on and handed it back. "Think he's gonna make it."

She tapped in her code and opened a few things to test, then smiled at him when everything was speeded up. "Thanks. So, which season are we watching?"

He realized the Netflix screen was still up, waiting for a choice. "You pick," he said.

"Me? Okay." She reached for the remote next to his leg.

"So, uh," he said as she flicked through seasons, weighing their merits. "Julian texted while I was working on your phone."

"Julian?" she said, surprised. "What did he want?" She opened her texts and looked. "That's weird. Did you read this?"

"Well, it popped up, so."

She shook her head, baffled. "Do you think he's trying to make me jealous?"

"Seems like. Are you going to answer him?"

She laughed. "No. I think he's going to wake up in the morning and be very embarrassed."

"How's he doing, anyway?"

"I don't really know. Okay, I guess. We haven't talked much. We're both - "

"So busy," he finished. "Yeah." He fiddled with his own phone, watching as she finally chose season three. He should ask.

He shouldn't ask.

But he had to know.

But if she'd wanted him to know, she would have damn well told him.

He found himself saying, "I have to confess something."

She widened her eyes at him as Ron and Leslie bickered on-screen. "You deleted Sawbones?"

"No, I told you I'd leave it alone. You've still got like twenty episodes. No, uh - " He dug his fingers into the upholstery. "I kind of read more of your texts with Julian."

She frowned at him. "Why?"

"I - you're right. I shouldn't have. But I was in there anyway and - I'm sorry."

She shrugged, tucking her legs up under herself. "I'm sure they were very exciting."

"A little," he said. "Caitlin, why didn't you tell me?"

A little silence, and then she said, "Tell you what?"

"Why you really broke up with him."

Color seeped away from her cheeks. She turned her head to stare fixedly at the TV. "I told you. The distance and we were busy and - "

"And you're in love with someone else."

"Oh god," she whispered. "You read that far?"

"Yeah," he said. "Why is this the first I'm hearing about it?"

"I - I couldn't," she said. "Not to you. I couldn’t." She covered her face with her hands. "Do you want me to move out?"

"Move out?" he almost shouted. "What the hell? Why would I ever want you to move out?"

She dropped her hands to stare at him. Her eyes were wet and red. "It would be so awkward if I stayed."

"Why?"

The chirpy, peppy theme music started, jarring in the taut silence. He grabbed the remote from her lap and hit pause.

"Caitlin," he sad. "Why would it be awkward? Who are you in love with?"

Her eyes went very wide. "You - you didn't see the whole conversation."

"No," he said.

She bit her lip. "Someone. From the hospital. You don't know him."

He looked at her hard. "Caitlin Snow, you are the worst liar I've ever met."

Her pale face flushed with color. "I'm not lying."

"That's exactly what you say every time you bluff at poker.” He nodded at her phone, now clutched tightly in her hand. “If I’d read farther back, what would I have seen? Who was Julian talking about?”

“Someone from the hospital,” she said stubbornly, getting to her feet. “You know what, I think I should get a head start on my laundry.”

“But,” he said. “Wait. What? You're just going to run away?”

She stopped in the hall, not looking back at him. “I need you to not push me on this, Cisco,” she said evenly.

A moment later, the door to her room shut with a snap.

He stared blankly at the TV screen for a moment. Then he got up and went to her door.

It looked blank and stolid, about as informative as Caitlin’s stiff back when she’d told him not to push her.

He scowled and raised his hand to knock.

His hand froze, and then he pulled it back and laced his fingers together on the top of his head, letting out a long whoosh of a breath.

Was he crazy?

Had Julian meant him in that text thread?

Or did he just want Caitlin’s mystery guy to be himself so bad that he was talking himself into believing it was?

He had been pushing, like she’d said. What was going through her mind? What could he say to get her to let down those walls of hers? Because he’d seen what happened when people tried to just bash through. It didn’t end well.

The doorbell rang, and he jolted. The food. Shit. Had it been forty-five minutes already?

After he’d taken the food and paid the kid, he took everything to the kitchen and unpacked the bag, setting out square boxes, opening one after another to figure out which was his and which was hers.

His brain churned around and around, but no matter what clever things he came up with, he kept returning to the one thing that felt like it would work. Only one thing that would get her to open up.

But it was one hell of a risk.

Far away, Caitlin’s door clicked open. He forced himself to stay where he was, snapping a pair of chopsticks apart and poking at his sweet and sour chicken.

Caitlin walked through the kitchen with a laundry basket on her hip.

“Food’s here,” he said.

Her eyes flickered toward him, then the boxes lined up on the counter. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll just get the first load in.” She ducked her head and continued on to the laundry room. The washer door clanged, and cloth rustled as she started loading it.

He fished a piece of bell pepper out of the box and lifted it to his mouth, but his stomach felt like a whirlpool. He dropped it back in the box, his heart slamming against his ribs. He opened his mouth a couple of times, just to close it again.

There was a click, and then water started whooshing into the washing machine. In a moment, she was going to come out here again and he was going to have to say this to her face. And he didn’t know if he had the guts for that.

“You know,” he called out, “I didn't tell you, but I was pretty happy when you broke up with Julian.”

Silence.

“Not because I don't like him, or because he was bad for you, or anything. He was an okay guy, Julian, and he treated you mostly pretty good. It’s just that every time I saw you holding his hand, or kissing him, or - “ He swallowed. “Or going to your room together, it reminded me that, uh. That you were with him. And more importantly, you weren't with me.”

He looked up. Caitlin stood in the door between the laundry room and the kitchen, looking at him. Her eyes were huge and her face was pale.

“And I wanted to be with you,” he finished.

She swallowed hard. “But I’m like your sister. You say that all the time.”

“And I’m like your brother,” he said. “Which you say all the time. But who are we saying it to, Caitlin? Because I’m mostly saying it to people I’m dating, to keep them from being weirded out that we live together and you’re basically my favorite person.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“Julian didn’t believe you, did he?” He had a balloon in his stomach now, instead of a whirlpool, blowing up wide, pushing his heart up into his throat.

She shook her head, very slowly. “No. And he - he wasn’t wrong.”

He licked his desert-dry lips. “So it was me you were fighting about?"

"I have so little free time," she said. "And he always thought that he should come first in my priorities when I did get a night off. He hated it that you did."

He remembered how she'd always waited to hear what he was doing before telling him that she was going to Julian's place, and how their more scheduled dates were always on his D&D night, or when he was going to a party. He'd always thought that was to take advantage of the empty house.

"Hard to blame him, really."

"I didn't realize how I felt when I started dating Julian," she said. "I really did like him. Just - like he said. Not enough."

Poor Julian. He'd come in second all the time; no wonder he'd snapped at her over text.

Cisco was finding it hard to feel too much pity for the other guy. After all, if he hadn't snapped, Caitlin wouldn't have broken up with him, and she wouldn't be here in this kitchen, drifting closer in soft little kitten steps.

"You said you wanted to be with me," she said. "Is that past tense?"

He set the box of sweet and sour chicken down on the counter, gripping the edge of it so he wouldn't just reach out and grab her.

"Present tense," he said. "I want to be with you. But I told myself I couldn't make it weird, what with you paying me rent and all."

She put her hand on his chest. His heart thudded so hard he wondered if it would just burst out and land in her palm. "I can move out," she said, mouth quirking. "I made the offer."

"The hell you will," he said, and pulled her close to press his lips to hers.

They did end up eating all the food. Eventually.

They didn't watch any TV, though.

FINIS

[saltslimes]

prompt-fill: insomnia

thx to @adioszombie for the prompt!

There’s a red eye on the front window, along with the name of the cafe. Insomnia Cup, isn’t that coy? Prompto has made every joke and he has also heard all of them at least 30 times apiece. He’s not cynical by any stretch, except that it’s hard not to be...something when a customer elects to take ten minutes out of their day to scream about the taste profile of their latte. Whatever that might possibly mean.

He was wiping the counter down when it happened the first time. One second he had his eyes on the rag, the spilled coffee, and then he blinked and he was bracing himself on the countertop with both arms.

“Hello? Eos to Prompto?” Aranea snapped her fingers in front of his face. He blinked hard.

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?”

“Were you asleep there?”

“No. Just...zoned out for a second.” I wish, he almost said. He swallowed instead and went to clean out the espresso filters. Aranea let him leave on his bike early while she finished stock and locked up, so he made it to Noct’s place with just seconds to spare. He still had five texts when he opened his phone, most of them from Noctis. One of them was from his dad.

-Flight cancelled, don’t wait up.

And then, as if an afterthought: Miss you buddy.

The ones from Noctis were just asking where he was and insisting he was going to fail chem if Prompto didn’t show up soon. Waiting outside Noctis’ door was when it happened the second time. He blinked and his forehead bounced off the polished oak. And then the door swung open a second later.

“I said I was coming, relax,” Noctis said. And then his smile slipped. “You okay? You look like… paler than usual.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You should quit your job if it’s wrecking you this much.”

“Nah, I only do three shifts a week.” Plus the other three shifts. But he didn’t need to tell Noctis about them, because they were on days he was always busy. “It’s no big. I just kind of have a cold.”

“Okay. Study first, or games first?” Noctis pulled Prompto inside and kicked the door shut behind them.

“Games, right?” Prompto stuffed his hands in his pockets. That one moment, the rush of warmth when he stepped inside the apartment, that was the one second it felt like he could hit a pillow and be asleep instantly. And then he followed Noct to the couch and took up the second controller.

The third time it happened, he was filling his glass with water. One second he was holding it and the next second it was in the sink, a thick crack running up one side and the water running down the drain.

“Uh, Prom?”

“Oh shit. I mean, uh, sorry! I’ll--I can pay for that--”

“What? It’s just a glass, Prom. I have like 20 of them. Iggy’ll throw it out later. Come help me with hydroxyl groups.”

That night he lay down in bed, every muscle screaming. His eyes felt like they had a thick layer of felt on them. The ceiling spiralled with snow. Nothing happened. The sheets got hot under him. He looked at the clock at 5am. He drifted, and then he was awake. It was six. Time to get up.

So the fourth time it happened, he was alone in the shower. His head snapped up at the sudden pain. He rubbed his forehead, and he rubbed the spot on the tile smeared with shampoo.

And the fifth time, he was just sitting at his desk as class began. He looked out the window and when he looked back the bell was ringing.

“Prom. Prom!” He blinked, and Noctis came into focus. Wow, his eyes hurt, and he wasn’t even wearing his contacts. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“My--what?” Prompto pressed two trembling fingers to his upper lip, where blood was indeed slowly leaking.

“When was the last time you slept, dude?”

“What--Noctis, we have to go to--to math.” There were students for the next class filtering in, dropping their bags and giving the prince and his weird friend pointed looks. Prompto started to stand but Noctis pushed him back into his seat.

“No. We don’t. You need to answer my question. Legally. Because I’m the prince.”

“Uh, no I don’t because specifically there are laws to preclude you from--oh, shit, my head hurts so much.”

“Infirmary. Come on.” Noctis heaved Prompto out of his seat and all but carried him down the hall. He didn’t both protesting. It felt like the first words out of his mouth would be directly followed by vomit.

The nurse was inclined to send Prompto back to class, but she also didn’t seem in the mood to argue with the prince. So she left them alone on the cot in the back and returned to her filing. Prompto sat there with tissues pressed to his nose and tried to ignore the way Noct was looking at him.

“Are you going back to class?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”

“Nothing’s up with me. I have a nosebleed.”

“When was the last time you slept. Like actually slept. You didn’t zone out in class, I watched you like, exit your body for a full half-hour.”

“I don’t know,” Prompto said softly.

“No, I do, I watched--”

“No, I… I don’t know when the last time I slept was.”

“Oh.” Noctis dropped down to sit on the bed. Prompto pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… it doesn’t happen. I’m so tired but that just makes me more awake and nothing helps, nothing fixes it.” Prompto’s breath hitched. Noctis half-wanted to flee the room, or call for Ignis, or pull the nurse back in and insist she do her job, but then the tears spilled over and Prompto’s hand darted out and took the front of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Noctis looked down at Prompto in bewilderment.

“Dunno.” Prompto used his free hand to scrub tears away, and Noctis reached out and wrapped his arms around him. He tugged him in to his chest. It had the opposite of the effect Noctis intended. Prompto just cried harder. He took two tight handfuls of Noct’s shirt and he sobbed snot into his shoulder. And then, after a few minutes, the crying evened out. And then his breathing evened out too, and when Noctis tried to pull away Prompto flopped back onto the pillows like a ragdoll.

For a second, a lance of incredible fear shot through Noctis’ heart. But he watched the slow rise and fall of Prompto’s chest. He was asleep. Noctis leaned over the side of the bed to see the nurse. She was staring idly into her coffee mug. What was she gonna do? Kick the prince out? Well, probably. But not immediately. So he lay down beside Prompto and did exactly what he was best at.

There was no sixth time.

[notsugarandspice]

Spin for Me (Chapter 3)

Spin for me, I'll let my bruises do the talking. If you close your eyes, I'll disappear, but maybe not tonight. You're too good for this world, I won't save you.

Pairings: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Warnings: Angst, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma

Previous chapters on ao3.

 There’s nothing but a nauseating dull pain when Richie wakes up the morning after his twenty-first birthday. His throat feels dry and bitter, the stale taste of alcohol and puke lingering on the walls of the esophagus. It’s a combination vile enough to send him running towards the toilet. The clear liquid hitting the water isn’t that astounding - anything that wanted to come out did so last night. Memories are a black haze, occasionally filled with snippets of the evening. Blue thong between tanned cheeks. Pink on brown. Stanley’s guffawing face. The green and red of street lights as they drove down Pine Tree Drive. His tears hitting the bottom of the tub. Plunk. Plunk. Stanley was long gone.

Richie doesn’t know how long he stays there, nausea slowly subsiding from the coolness of the toilet seat. He flushes lazily after several minutes, unable to stare into the repercussions of his own mistakes. He doesn’t get up right away, afraid that any movement would instantly trigger another vomiting fit. He thinks of how to go about the events of last night. How to talk to his friends about the importance of boundaries. How to tell his boyfriend that they just don’t work anymore.

His head eventually slowly lifts up as if on its own accord, his stomach producing terrifying sounds that can only mean hunger, but the last thing Richie wants is anything in his mouth. He pushes himself up from the toilet and stands in front of the sink, contemplating surging forward and smashing his head in the mirror. When has life gone to complete and utter shit?

Richie looks up, meeting the eyes of the ghost reflection of himself staring back. His skin is sickly pale, with a tint of purple green that people typically associate with things like mono, except he’s perfectly healthy. There are several broken blood vessels around the brown irises. The dark circles under his eyes have a deep red forming from constant insomnia and overwhelming stress. Last night was the first time he slept more than five hours in the past three years.

The acne on the hollows of his cheeks has gone into overdrive, feeding on lack of hydration. Richie bends down and splashes his face with cold water, rubbing it with amplified intensity. He opens the mirror to pull out one of Stan’s prescription scrubs and makes work of the tiny stinging beads, focusing on his cheeks. He’s supposed to leave in on for five minutes, but Richie decides to wash it off right away instead, caring very little about the long-term effects. He brushes his teeth quickly and spits out without rinsing, clinging to the relief that spearmint brings in lieu of a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

Richie walks to the dresser, rubbing his abdomen absentmindedly. He hasn’t eaten well in weeks, and it shows - his stomach isn’t just flat anymore, it falls in from lack of nutrition. He picks the red t-shirt with a little pocket on the right side, spraying a large amount of cologne all around, trying to avoid showering as long as possible. Someone undressed him the night before, and he feels fresh nausea hit the back of his tongue from the image of Stanley kissing his thighs after pulling the jeans off. He doesn’t know if it even happened, it might just be a recurring memory.

Pulling on a pair of old jeans he stumbles into the hallway, zipping up on his way to the kitchen. Richie just notices a fresh smell of coffee that clings to the entirety of the living room area. He rounds the corner to the kitchen and sees Stan sitting on the breakfast table, folded newspaper in hand. The ominous domesticity almost makes him vomit again.

Stanley lifts a finger motioning not to be disturbed, and Richie rolls his eyes. As if I wanted to fucking talk to you. He opens the fridge door, ignoring the pancakes resting on the large white plate, butter melted on top. He knows his boyfriend’s schemes through and back: he does some shit-fucked move, fucks up their night, and then apologizes with greasy breakfast and a blow job. Neither seems appealing to Richie, and he ignores the food, pulling out the milk carton to pour on top of his coffee.

He sits down next to Stan on the table downing half of the mug in one go. His boyfriend doesn’t even bat an eyelash, engulfed in another boring political article, sipping black coffee from the smallest mug in their kitchen. Richie wants to throw it against the wall.

“You going to say anything?”

Stan finally lifts his eyes, a very disinterested expression on his face. “What do you want me to say, babe?”

“Don’t call me that.” He knows I hate it. Why does he insist on doing things that make my skin crawl?

“I don’t have time for arguments if that’s what you’re here for.” Stanley’s eyes shift back to the article.

Richie’s entire body fills with rage so powerful he has to dig unkempt nails inside the heels of his hands. He’s done. Done, done, done, done. Done feeling like he doesn’t deserve better. Done being with someone who wants a submissive servant for a partner. He doesn’t want anything to do with this relationship anymore. It doesn’t just make him unhappy - he is downright miserable.

Richie grabs onto the newspaper and gets up from the chair, throwing it on the floor. Stan’s expression barely changes, and he looks back at his boyfriend with an amused leer as if he expected this to happen.

“I’m fucking done, do you hear me, Stan? I’m done with this shit!” Richie knows he probably looks like a stubborn child but his throat feels tight and tears are stinging his eyes. This has to happen. This SHOULD’VE happened a while ago.

“You say that every time. And every single time you come back.” Stan leans into his own palm, probably waiting for another outburst.

“I mean it this time. I’m not sticking around. You need someone who’s going to keep up with your shit and crawl around you like a dying puppy. I’m not doing that anymore.” Richie’s voice is cracking, disturbing sounds of his suppressed sobbing filling the small apartment.

“Look, why don’t you go have a walk, and we talk later? How does that sound?” Son of a bitch.

Richie puts his hand on the table, leaning towards Stanley’s face close to get the message across. “I. Said. I’m. Leaving. Got it?” His voice is ice cold. He shivers from it himself.

Richie turns around on his heel, his head pulsating from receding anger and relief that’s shooting through every inch of his skin. He’s done something that was in the works for a while. He did this. For himself. By himself. I don’t need him and his controlling fucking words, and his manipulative ass sitting on my breakfast table every morning. Fuck this.

He goes back to the bedroom to retrieve a jean jacket and put on his most worn leather boots. There are no sounds coming from the kitchen, the only noise is Richie’s heavy breathing and the shuffling of jeans. Since the car he usually drives is Stanley’s, he decides to take a taxi instead, devoid of a specific destination. He puts his hands into the pockets of the jacket, feeling for the wallet and cigarettes. The pack is there, completely empty, but not the other item. Richie furrows his brows and then closes his eyes in realization, an image of a dollar bill on top of the black glossy bar passing through the blackout haze.

Richie sighs heavily and strolls towards the front door in haste. He doesn’t even look at Stanley, but he can feel the judgmental eyes on him, causing his hands to shake on the doorknob. The smell of fresh coffee is soon replaced with the scent of a moldy carpet in the hallway, and Richie smiles.

Eddie feels awkward. He never feels awkward. The fingers holding the cigarette are shaking, ash falling down in his lap. The pressure with which he presses the breaks is irregular, and both he and the passenger are flung forward at every red light. But he doesn’t hear the man complain as they drive around in silence, smoking, smooth rock music coming through the old speakers of the Toyota.

He’s never had anyone in this car before. It was his ma’s. He can’t afford a new one, and it fell into his hands after Sonia’s death, along with the house and anything else she owned. He sold the house a month later, and the rest of her belongings were sent to his aunt who he never held contact with. What do you mean, Eddie? Sonia would never touch you that way. Baby, she probably wanted to make sure you don’t have a disease. You know how the fags in your town are. He wants to vomit.

Eddie eventually pulls over to the bar on Collins Ave, parking in two spaces to make sure that nobody scratches the doors of the car. He can’t afford to patch it up. He looks over to the man in the passenger seat, taking a moment to observe him briefly. He sees somewhat a reflection of his own exhaustion on the other’s face. Brown-eyes’ hair is greasy, sticking to the top of his head, there are slight burns on his cheeks that Eddie recognizes as the acne medication. When their eyes meet, Eddie’s heart clenches at the raw misery and pain reflected in the dark chocolate. He knows that look. It watches him in the mirror every morning.

Look at this, Eddie, you found another victim. Why don’t you hit him? Hit him now and see if he runs. Maybe the pain won’t scare him. Maybe it will take him longer than the other. Maybe he even likes it.

His eyes start burning with approaching tears and Eddie steps out of the seat, quickly rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of the jacket. He hears the door creak and knows that the man got out of the car but he can’t lift his head from the crook of the elbow, afraid of his own mind.

“Hey, you okay?” asks the man quietly, and his voice is very close, Eddie guesses he’s standing right in front of him.

He finally lifts his head and squints a little, even though the stranger is conveniently obscuring the smoldering October sun, hanging mid-sky. The temperature rarely ever drops below eighty here. Eddie smiles in response to the warm voice, and he doesn’t want to feel as safe as he does. He doesn’t deserve to be safe.

“Yeah... um, I’m good.” Brown-eyes smiles, sunlight framing the thick black hair, and Eddie can’t help but want to know everything about him, against better judgment. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d be nothing but a daydream.

Eddie starts walking towards the glass door of the bar, and there’s a typical jingly noise when he opens it, signifying their entrance. The whole place reeks of cheap whiskey and tobacco but it reminds Eddie of the club, and he instantly relaxes. It’s not sickly sterile. I hate sickly sterile.

They walk towards the orangey oak bar, taking a seat right in the middle. It’s too early in the day for anyone else to be here but Mike used to work at this joint, and it makes Eddie feel sheltered.

A bartender is in the back, and Eddie leans over the counter, grabbing a random tequila bottle. He makes a ‘that’ll do’ expression upon reading the label and leans downward again, snatching two shot glasses between his fingers. The man sits quietly next to him, looking over the small wooden pieces hanging on top of the bar top with beach paintings on them. He seems genuinely interested, and Eddie smiles at the smallest glint of shine in the other’s eyes. Eddie thinks he deserves to smile more.

“You okay with this?” Eddie pushes a full shot towards the man. His expression seems unreadable at first, something dark flashing in front of his eyes but then it’s gone, and he downs the tequila in one go.

“Yup,” says the man, popping the last letter and smiling wider than Eddie has ever seen. Eddie’s heart jumps straight to the back of his throat.

He downs his own shot, feeling the dull warmth spread somewhere in the middle of the chest. He sighs in relief and instantly refills them.

“So, are you going to tell me what you were doing there yesterday?”

The man seems taken aback for a second, confusion crossing over his features and then his mouth becomes an understanding ‘O’.

“My friends wanted me to have fun, I guess. I’m not a club person at all. Everyone thinks so, but I’m not.” Eddie just now notices how young the other’s voice is. His looks scream thirty, but his innocence is all teen. But Eddie knows how unforgiving outer layers can be. You’d know all about it, won’t you, Eddie?

He clears his throat to respond, pushing the lump further down. “Why did you let them?”

“What?” asks brown-eyes, downing another shot.

“Drag you there. You don’t seem like someone who can be taken anywhere against his will.” Eddie’s eyes trailed up and down the man’s body quickly.

Brown-eyes laughs and Eddie honest-to-god wants to jump him right there. “Looks can be deceiving. I’m tall, but I weigh practically nothing. All bones.”

“Bones are heavy.”

The man grins and pushes the shot glass towards Eddie. He notices how long and bony the other’s fingers are. Eddie feels goosebumps cover his forearm. “Are you a nurse by day?”

Eddie snorts, filling the shots again. “Definitely. I’m all about helping the needy.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Eddie turns to see what caused a delayed response. The man sits there and just stares, searching all over Eddie’s face, then looking lower. Eddie feels his knee twitch as the stranger’s eyes get stuck on the hole there.

He nervously pushes the shot in the other’s direction but the man doesn’t move, fingers tapping against the bar in contemplation. “Gonna tell me your name?”

Eddie can’t help but smile. And he wants to, really does but he also wants nothing more than to protect this wonderful, young man from himself.

“Not yet. Why don’t you tell me about that boyfriend of yours.”

The man’s face contorts, and Eddie sees the jaw clench irritably. He wants to say that he regrets saying it but everything about last night intrigues him. Everything about you. I want it all.

“How did you know?” asks the stranger, downing another shot with an empty void in his eyes.

“He seemed like he didn’t want to let you out of his sight.”

“Yeah, he suffers from those tendencies,” says the man and his voice is strained and final, but Eddie wants to hear anything and everything. Press, press, press.

“Tendencies?”

Brown-eyes pauses for a second as if composing himself. “Manipulative.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Eddie decides to give him a break. He’s never too afraid to ask a personal question but the last thing he wants is to make this man uncomfortable.

The guy is sitting in complete silence, shoulders slouched and face staring at the empty shot glass and Eddie is about to ask if he stepped over the line when the bartender enters the room. Eddie instantly recognizes him, along with the distinct reek of a drunk man. Polly has always been like that - careless and generally very bad at his job.

Eddie quickly realizes something and is about to stop the bartender from talking, but it’s a losing battle with someone drunk at eight in the morning. “Polly-“

“Eddie! What a fuckin’ riot! Can’t believe you’re here this early in the day. Aren’t ya a night owl?” screams the bartender, leaning on the counter right in front of them.

Eddie hasn’t blushed in years, but he must be now - he feels his entire body burning. He’s secretly hoping that the man didn’t catch the name and turns his head carefully. The guy’s face is nothing short of pure fascination: mouth open, eyes wide and black eyebrows raised almost to the hairline. Eddie’s face drops into his hands.

“Fuck me sideways! I know your name now!” Eddie laughs into his hands and looks back at the man who is still grinning, cheeks flushed and eyes a little glassy. Shit, you’re gorgeous.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait a second. How come you have a client this young?” asks Polly, looking over the man darkly. Eddie suddenly wants to shield brown-eyes from view.

“He’s not a client, P.” Eddie really doesn’t want to elaborate on the implications of that word. He already senses confusion coming from the stranger.

Before the conversation gets out of hand, he pulls out a stack of cash and smacks two worn twenties on the counter. He nods towards the door and starts walking, waving goodbye to Polly. Polly works a lot with clients too. But he also doesn’t use protection, so Eddie hurries out in case the stranger is more inebriated than he looks.

Brown-eyes follows Eddie, and they both end up leaning on the car, lighting the last pair of menthol sticks that make the suffocating humidity somewhat manageable. Eddie stands in silence, simply enjoying the other’s company. He is pleasantly buzzed, feeling even more so when the nicotine spreads itself through his darkened lungs. Thoughts of his father come rushing back, and Eddie feels another episode of choking fear of death come back. But he’s not even sure he’d mind it. Dying. He’s inflicted so much pain, enough so that if hell and heaven were real, Eddie knows where he’d end up.

He feels eyes on him, and he turns to look at brown-eyes. There is some color on his face now, on both of their faces, and it makes for a nice change. Eddie doesn’t feel so empty anymore. The stranger is smiling smugly, and it makes the soles of Eddie’s feet tingle. He doesn’t want this to end. I don’t want to let you go, but I have to. I know I have to. I’m like a sleeping volcano. And you’re Pompeii.

“Hey, so I was thinking-“

“You do that a lot,” says Eddie giving the man a wink. He feels a smile tugging the corners of his mouth, and there’s something beating the inside of his stomach. It’s all too unfamiliar.

Brown-eyes laughs and Eddie’s eyes water instantly from the gratifying sound. “Right that. It’s unhealthy, I think. Nothing good happens when I do.”

“Same here.” Eddie smiles warmly, the muscles of his cheeks already used to the novelty of sensation.

“Are you hungry? There’s a nice Mexican place next to my office. We could eat there. Should open at nine.”

Eddie wants to ask him about the job. And why in the fucking hell a guy like him, with charisma and heart of gold works a stuffy 9-5. But getting to know him more might cause Eddie to get attached. And that absolutely cannot happen. No, Eddie, attachment leads to commitment and we all know you can’t do that. You can’t even commit to the same cigarette brand. Piece of fucking shit.

Eddie swallows the malevolent voice down and forces a smile. “I actually have a lot to do. I can drop you off home if you want.” Fuck. No. Bad idea, Eddie. You can’t know where he lives. Come pounding on his door begging to be loved. You can’t be loved. Piece of fucking shit.

“Oh… Okay. Um… Sure.” The disappointment in the man’s voice is as clear as the bright blue sky above them. Eddie suddenly feels the stifling heat approaching midday slowly but surely, and he wants to get indoors. The alcohol is making him sweat, so he finishes the cigarette, throwing it close to the storm drain without stopping. He takes off the jacket, feeling the tingling of burning UV light on his forearms. Brown-eyes is watching him, cigarette long gone, his hands in the pockets of dark jeans. Eddie wants to take them off right there in the parking lot. Take his skin off as you go. You’re good at hurting people.

Eddie blinks back another rising hysteria and leans on the car in front of the man, stepping closer. He can smell the unmistakable sticky sweat that’s not entirely unpleasant, a scent of strong, cheap liquor and expensive cologne. Smell of a man. It makes Eddie’s mouth water.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” He shouldn't ask, really shouldn’t. But he wants to know everything. God, everything.

The stranger smiles nervously, his eyes darting between Eddie’s eyes and lips. Eddie feels the tension resonate in his groin like a shockwave. It’s an avid reminder of how long it’s been since he’s been with someone he wanted.

“I guess you’d have to make me a promise that I’ll see you again.” Eddie’s hand involuntarily goes to the man’s chest, and it rests there, feeling a speedy heartbeat. It matches the punching of his own ribcage perfectly. It’s terrifying. There’s an intake of breath and Eddie is afraid to look at the other’s mouth. He might lose it.

“Sure,” he answers and puts the hand away. It feels cold and empty now.

He gets into the driver’s side and starts the car after a couple of tries. Brown-eyes gets in almost a minute later. Eddie wouldn’t blame him if he just walked away.

The man guides them back to his place, pointing the long bony finger in the direction of the correct turns and exits. Eddie’s eyes linger on those limbs longer than appropriate, and the stranger probably notices. A sweet strawberry redness covers his cheeks charmingly, and Eddie wants to press his lips to the color. They finally pull up to a five-story apartment building in a good neighborhood. Eddie saw a crowd of girls on the street corner so he might be wrong. The man gets out instantly and leans on the open window.

“I’m not going to live here anymore. Gotta find a place to crash. Can I see you some other time?” There is an alarming amount of hope in his voice that makes Eddie’s chest tight.

“Your boyfriend wouldn’t mind you hanging out with me?” Eddie wants to be closer. He doesn’t even care about the boyfriend.

“Nada. Kinda useless to ask for someone’s permission when you’re not theirs anymore.” The man nods towards the building and Eddie connects the dots. He said it as if he’s some sort of property.

Eddie’s palms are sweating where they’re clasped in front of him, and he wants to hold the stranger’s cold ones. Brown-eyes straightens and fishes for something in the pocket of his jeans. He takes out a business card and reaches it out for Eddie to take.

RICHARD TOZIER

Sales Associate

(305)676-9988 ext. 667

Eddie smiles at the name, something pounding the inside of his tightened throat. The logo of some nonsensical company is on the back, and so is the address of the office. It’s too much and too little information all at once. Eddie leans over to the passenger seat and waves the card in front of him, smiling.

“Thanks.” Richard, Richard, Richard, Richard. Rich.

“Okay, well, I’m not gonna lie. I don’t ever sit at my desk, but I’m gonna now. Please call.” Rich slaps a palm on top of the car and strolls to the main door. He bends down to wave before he goes in and Eddie starts driving several minutes later, tears slowly rolling down his face.

Three months will pass until he sees Richard Tozier again.

[radiostationman]

Group Mom-bro

Inspiration for this fic came from this as well as this.

Also because I love Nino, he is my son. He deserves OT4 love, yes he does.

Warning: Kinda NSFW-ish

---

If you had asked him, Nino wouldn’t have been able to tell you how it all started. Sure, he was their friend and it was his job to be there for them… but becoming the ultimate mother hen to four of Paris’ greatest heroes?

How was this his life?

“Come on, he is definitely the better blogger! Just look at his black and white pictures about-“

“Current models dressed as old timey people in old timey clothing? Al, those already exist and are definitely unoriginal.”

Alya grabbed at her chest in mock offense, “How dare you call this MASTER photographers art UNORIGINAL! I’ll have you know that he graduated the top of his class in the navy seals and-“

Nino was quick to cover her mouth with his hand, eyes wide and shoulders hunched in disgust. “That meme has finally died, please let it stay buried and at rest forever.”

He nearly shrieked when a gross warm and wet tongue sloppily licked a stripe up his palm, resulting in him pulling away and desperately scrubbing at his hand with a fistful of napkins. “ALYA!”

All he received was an amused smirk and an eyebrow waggle.

Groaning, he tossed the used napkins onto the café tables surface and cupped his hands around the ceramic mug before him, pointedly dropping his gaze into the tea’s swirling depths and not at the gorgeously powerful woman before him.

“Now now, Lahiffe, don’t give me the, ‘I’m pretending to ignore you but can’t because I’m too nice’ stance. I know you too well for you to get away with it and will tickle you into submission if need be!”

The twitching of his lips was a dead giveaway that her words had taken affect, yet he kept his eyes trained on his green tea.

Alya sighed in mock defeat, holding her hands up in an ‘oh well’ gesture.

“It seems like you have forced my hand. Prepare to be- “

The whole building suddenly quaked, hanging lights swinging and forcing many of the cafés occupants out of their seats, including Alya and Nino. When the shaking had stopped, all went silent, as though no one knew what to do with themselves.

Turning to the blogger next to him, Nino opened his mouth only for a car to smash through the window right next to their table. Alya tackled him to the ground and out of harm’s way just in time, covering him from the shower of glass and the screaming of civilians inside and outside of the building.

As the chaos around them continued, Alya pulled him to his feet and quickly checked him over before giving him an apologetic look. Before she could say anything, he gave her an encouraging smile and tipped his head in the direction of the latest akuma. “Go, and be careful.”

Grinning dangerously, she nodded and ran in the direction of the restrooms, calling over her should as she went.

“Rain check?”

“Rain check.” He confirmed with a warm smile.

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

When Nino had returned home later that night, he flipped his bedrooms light switch on and made his way inside only to stop with a look of surprise on his face. There, standing in the middle of his room, was Volpina. In her arms were an assortment of sweets and delights, as well as a small bouquet of his favorite flowers.

She placed the objects down on his bed before a feral look took over her face, sharp teeth glinting as she trained that look onto him. “Now, about that rain check?”

Nino closed his door just in time for the fox heroine to pin him the wooden surface, her clawed hands smoothing up his thighs to his waist, slipping beneath his t-shirt to turn him into a trembling red-faced mess.

“Yes p-please!”

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

After a week of no akuma’s, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when one showed up at school in the form of an angry janitor seeking justice against the school board. Specifically, their school.

After everyone fled, Nino managed to stay at a safe distance while also keeping an eye on the four heroes. Luckily, after only- he glanced down at his watch- forty-five minutes, the akuma had been dealt with and school was called back into session.

They had ten minutes to sort themselves out and Nino took it upon himself to drag them all to a secluded alley where he handed out the necessities to everyone. Food for the kwami-bros, an emergency makeup kit for Chloe, and some bandages and muscle-rub from the medkit for anyone in need of it.

“Alright guys, we have t-minus eight minutes and twenty seconds to freshen up and get back to class. So, let’s hustle!”

The DJ exclaimed while helping Chloe brush and retie her hair as she applied her makeup as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had two hairclips held between his teeth as he did so, too focused on the blonde’s hair to notice the lovesick looks the other three sent his way.

The four kwami munching on their individual snacks only some feet away shook their heads in bemusement. Their partners were such dorks.

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

“-and that’s why you should totally date all three of us!” Alya exclaimed, hands on her hips and as confident as ever.

Adrien and Marinette stood beside her, clearly nervous but standing strong.

Nino on the other hand felt as if he were dreaming… or about to faint? Probably both from how he swayed the slightest bit, a dazed look taking over his features. Of all the places to ask him out it was after he was already hyped and excited that his favorite album finally came out. He was on his way to get to the store before the crowds came in, only for his three best friends to stop him in the middle of the park and hand him not only said new album on vinyl but-

“Aaaaaand we broke him.”

“Shit!”

Was that Marinette?

Suddenly, petite yet strong arms caught him before he hit the ground.

“Nino! Are you alright?” She asked in a panic, pretty blue eyes staring down at him from above. Wait, above? He shook his head to ward off the dizziness, wondering why everything looked all fuzzy around the edges, before realizing the Mari was dipping him. As if they were dancing and she had taken the lead, that kind of dipping.

“Uhhh…” He blinked, eyes widening in amazement as he snapped out of his stupor.

Marinette, as if suddenly realizing their position, squeaked and turned red. Nino knew he must be matching her with how hot his face felt. Damn him and his thing for stronger women.

With a mental shake, he gave her a nervous smile and murmured a quiet thank you. She had saved him from the hard ground, after all.

Seeming to calm down a bit, she returned the smile and straightened them both.

“Well, that was a beautiful example of a heroine and damsel in distress, eh Adrien?” Nino and Marinette’s heads both snapped in the direction of Alya’s voice, balking at the phone in her hand that was obviously recording the entire scene. Adrien, looking relieved yet also amused, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the mischievous girl.

“Seems like it.”

Nino was thankful he wore his contacts that day, as well as his favorite hooded sweatshirt. Why, you ask? So he could become a literal turtle and hide from the world. He did just that by throwing his hood over his head, as well as his entire face, and making a frustrated (and definitely not a whining) sound.

“Aww, don’t be like that Nino.” A warm hand settled atop his hood covered head, before gripping the fabric and pulling it back down. Adrien’s face came into view and, oh wow he was super close! Noticing this, Nino felt his face heat up all over again, and could tell that his best bro knew just from the way his eyes tailed across his flushed cheeks.

“I can be anyway I want as long as it’s legal and not hurting anybody, bro.” Nino replied, smiling even though he was eyeing the ground as if it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

The model hummed before stepping closer and tipping Nino’s head up with his fingers. Green eyes locked with golden ones for a moment. Instead of feeling awkward, Nino felt comfortable. Sure, he was a little nervous with how close they were but…

Once their lips brushed against one another’s, his hands flew up in surprise to grip onto Adrien’s shirt. He considered pulling away until he felt the other male become more confident in his actions. Thinner lips pressed much more firmly against his own, hands sliding around his waist to pull their bodies together completely. Nino nearly melted at the experience of it all, similar yet completely different to Alya’s ministrations. Hands larger than hers but not any less strong and sure of their place on his body, only staying in one area instead of immediately conquering every inch on his person because this was Adrien; his best and most loyal friend- although the friend part was starting to shift into something more. Sure, he had always had a crush on him, as well as Mari, but he never thought they’d all feel the same.

Yep, he must be dreaming. That’s the only way this could be happening, but he’d be a complete idiot not to enjoy said dream. With a moan he slid his hands up from Adrien’s chest to around his neck and relaxed against him, somewhat deepening the kiss in the process.

The tightening of the arms around him made him shudder, his sole focus on the male before him. They most likely would have continued if it weren’t for the squeal beside them.

Pulling apart in shock, they turned to the currently embarrassed Marinette who had clearly made the noise, if her own hands covering her mouth was anything to go by. Alya, on the other hand, was once again holding up her phone with a victorious grin.

“So we can take that as a definite yes then?”

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

When Nino woke up he noticed it was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He struggled to open his eyes for a few minutes, nearly falling back asleep in the process several times, but was finally able to at least crack an eye open to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

In bright green numbers the electric clock flashed 11:00AM. That’s the earliest he’s gotten up in months, considering the fact that his career in the music industry involved a lot of traveling, late nights, parties and random meetings that his agent set up for him.

Sighing, he nuzzled his cheek into one of the many stupidly soft pillows littering the bed and tried to remember what he had to do for the day.

It was Saturday, he was in a large king sized bed (although it seemed bigger), he was alone and-

Wait, if it was Saturday then why was he alone?

With a frown, he racked his groggy brain for answers and after a moment he remembered. He was able to take the next two weeks off before meeting with his new producer in order to finally solidify his presence in the music business. His significant others, who were able to get weekends off depending on the season, mentioned something about a fashion event nearby that they had to attend. With Adrien taking on his father’s business and Marinette beside him as a lead fashion designer, both of them were a force to be reckoned with for sure, and it would be no surprise that they would be attending something so important. Alya was quick to work her way up as an editor to publisher and editor-in-chief of her own websites, magazines, and even channel on tv where she put E! news to shame. So, she would be there to get the latest scoop first hand, considering she wasn’t one to let her own workers have all the fun.

With a sigh he tried not to frown at the thought of his boyfriend and girlfriends being away from him. He was proud of them, and damn it all he would not admit to being the clingy one!

While his thoughts distracted him, Nino didn’t notice the bedroom door opening, nor the slight rustle of expensive sheets behind him. It wasn’t until a warm, toned body slid up against his that he snapped out of his thoughts and gasped, still too tired to react properly.

“Good morning~” Adrien purred into his neck, his hand sliding from the waistband of Nino’s boxerbriefs to his stomach.

With a sigh a relief, Nino relaxed and carefully flipped over to face his boyfriend. “You dork, you scared the heck outta me.” His actions betrayed his irritation as he wrapped his arms around Adrien’s torso and leaned forward to eskimo kiss him.

He nearly grinned when the affection-lover melted against him and tightened his grip around Nino’s waist. Adrien and Marinette were both romantics and went to great extremes to show it. If they loved you then they would make sure you knew it, by nearly any means possible.

“Uh oh, the bed goblin strikes again.”

Pulling back just enough to send Alya a playful glare over Adrien’s shoulder, Nino untangled his hand from his boyfriends torso to flip her off, only to have it grabbed and yanked on. He was stunned to find himself on his back in the middle of the bed, mentally cursing himself for forgetting how strong not only Alya was but his other significant others were as well.

“Really?” He deadpanned, feeling his eyebrow twitch at her growing smirk.

“Really.” She confirmed, pushing his legs up and open to slide in between them.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know we were having a party. I would have brought macaroons.” Marinette smirked as she walked in, untying her ponytail at the same time.

Alya turned to send her girlfriend a grin over her shoulder, “Didn’t you hear? Nino is going to let us do whatever we want to him in order to show how much we’ve missed him while he was away for all those lonely months. He was all alone, with no one to give him love or affection and he is starved! We must fix that at once!”

Nino felt his face heat up, “W-wait- “

“That’s a great idea, Al! We can’t let our boyfriend think he’s unloved and alone, now can we? Right Adrien?” It was Marinette’s turn to send a cheeky grin to their next partner in crime, who sat up with a matching grin and agreed, “Definitely not, my love~”

Suddenly, Nino found himself pinned down by three gorgeous super heroes and tickled mercilessly.

“OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS ARE SUCH DORKS!”