#secret springfairy

[everamazingfe]

The Kumbaya Approach

Fic Summary: Trevor is the captain of his own ship and is in need of a new pilot when his old one abandons the crew. Fortunately, his trusty engineer Gavin knows of a good one. Unfortunately, the cargo he brings along with him is a little more dangerous than they anticipated. 

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Words: 15113 Pairings: Michael/Jeremy, Trevor/Alfredo Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence and blood

Notes: This was written for the Secret Springfairy fic exchange in the @rtwritingcommunity discord for @doolray! This was a ton of fun to write, I hope you enjoy, and big thanks to @fornhaus for proofreading/editing! Check the source for a link to read it on A 0 3!

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“What do you mean you quit?” 

“I mean I quit. I’m done with this bucket of bolts. Every day there’s a new problem, a new critical failure, a new busted part, and I’m sick of it! What kind of commander can’t get a handle on his own ship?”

“Hey! Those problems aren’t my fault, it’s the-”

“-The ship’s AI, right. Heard that one a thousand times. But they’re part of the crew, too. Which means they’re your responsibility. And if you can’t keep them under control and keep your ship in shape, I’m out of here at the next port.” 

The arguments had gone on like this for several days, nearly a week now, and it was the same thing every time. Jeremy would yell about how he was sick of being on the ship and lay down blame for its problems, and Trevor would defend himself against the barrage of insults instead of trying to change the other’s mind. He knew that was a futile effort, and he knew better than to fight losing battles.

The pair were silent for a long time, staring each other down. Jeremy was looking for a reason to get more wound up, to start yelling all over again. Telling off his commander for mistakes that everyone had seemingly let slide for far too long felt really good, and he wanted to keep going. Meanwhile, Trevor was calming down and calculating his next move very carefully. It was fine if his crew wanted to question his authority, they did it plenty and he never took it personally. But as far as he was concerned, Jeremy was no longer crew and no longer privy to that same mercy. After all, he’d quit.

“Fine. You can empty your quarters out and sleep in the observation deck, then. You’re no longer a member of this crew, so you no longer get to stay in crew cabins,” he stated after a few long moments, his tone cold. 

Jeremy blinked in surprise, not expecting Trevor to actually do anything about it. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. You don’t get a room anymore, those are reserved for the crew. If you’re unhappy with that arrangement, I can tell Lindsay to get the airlock open for you.” 

“You know... If I leave, Michael’s gonna go with me. He goes where I go,” he reminded, though he was no longer yelling confidently. He was stumbling and faltering. Trevor had called his bluff effectively, and it was hard to keep up steam. 

“Then you can help each other clean out your quarters and keep each other warm on the deck,” he responded, shrugging casually. “Finding a new science officer will be just as easy as finding a new pilot.”

“And just how do you expect to get to the next port safely?”

Trevor chuckled softly, smiling. “Lindsay is more than equipped with satisfactory navigational skills, isn’t that right Linds?”

The comms system beeped to life, and a cheerful voice was heard over the speakers. “That’s right, Commander! Jack’s charting us a course as we speak. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

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There was some truth to Lindsay’s words. They were equipped with the best-in-the-market autopilot functionality, but Jack was not charting a course. The entirety of the crew was gathered around a large monitor in the communications bay, watching the whole ordeal unfold through Lindsay’s eyes. There were bets on how it would end. Most of the money was on it ending in blows at this point. 

“Like hell I’m going with him!” Michael shouted, waving his hands and scoffing in disbelief as he looked at the screen. “I’m not idiot enough to throw away a good job when I’ve got it. I mean, sure the place is a shithole, no offense Linds-” 

“None taken.”

“-But like… It’s not like we have to do anything. If I try and find another crew, they may make me do actual work! Can you imagine? I am not going anywhere.”

“I don’t think he’s going to give you a choice,” Jack said from beside him, the others all nodding in agreement. “I think you’re gonna have to go with him.” 

Michael huffed, rolling his eyes and turning up the volume on the terminal. “If there’s one thing you fuckers should’ve learned about me right now, it’s this: I don’t have to do shit. Especially not for my boyfriend.” 

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Jeremy grumbled to himself as he packed up his things. Michael was, of course, no help. He just stood in the doorway and spectated, making snide remarks when he saw fit. 

“You know, I’d really appreciate it if you could be on my side with this,” Jeremy said, balling up a shirt and throwing it at him. “Or at the very least, help me pack.”

Michael laughed, knocking away the shirt before it hit him in the face. “Fuck no, you dug this hole yourself. I’m not the moron who quit.”

“This place is a shithole and you know it.”

“Yeah, but you never have to fix any of it! You just have to sit there in your comfy pilot chair and wait for Gavin to do it.” Had Michael always been a little jealous of his boyfriend’s job? A little bit. The med bay was cold and unwelcoming, but the cockpit was cushy and warm. Plus, with Lindsay on board, the pilot didn’t really have to do much at all unless their systems went down. Which, to be fair, did happen a lot. “You pilots are always so snooty. You knew what you were getting into when you took this gig, you can’t expect it to be like the Ritz now.”

“Just fucking go,” Jeremy muttered, swiping up the last of his clothes from the floor. “Don’t even bother visiting, either.” The comment hurt them both, but that didn’t make him mean it any less. He didn’t want Michael to visit, he wanted him to stay at the port with him. 

The other just laughed heartily and shook his head, turning on his heel to leave. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

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The observation deck was, as it always was, cold and lonely. The warm blankets and fluffy pillows that were on his bed were technically part of the quarters he had previously taken residence in, so all Jeremy had to sleep on was the metal floor, cushioned by his clothing and a few other soft belongings. The things that he owned that were unfit for laying on were stacked around him. The observation deck’s window was huge, and as he laid there unable to sleep, the vastness of space no longer brought him the same comfort it had when he was in the pilot’s seat. 

“Hey, Lindsay?”

The comms beeped to life once more. “Yes, Jeremy?”

“Am I making a mistake?” He asked, sitting up and leaning back against the stack. 

There were a few long seconds of contemplative silence before they spoke again. “Yeah, you are. A huge one, I’d say.”

“That’s not really comforting... I don’t suppose Trevor would be willing to… Reconsider?”

“No, I don’t think so. You insulted the ship. The commander takes that personally.” Lindsay did too, but they figured that Jeremy already felt guilty enough without them piling on as well. 

“C’mon, you know I didn’t mean it.” 

“Do I, though? Because I really don’t think I do,” they stated. Maybe Jeremy didn’t feel as guilty as they had hoped, so their politeness parameters were temporarily suspended. “This is a ship made from stolen parts, what do you expect? For everything to run perfectly all the time? If you wanted that, you should’ve signed up for one of the legal spacefarers out there,” they quipped. If they had eyes, they would have rolled them. 

Jeremy sighed heavily, sinking down the wall and burying his face in his hands. Maybe it wasn’t too late to take Trevor up on that airlock offer, he was sure he’d be happy to oblige.

“Is Michael going with you?” Lindsay asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and sounding innocent enough. Jeremy couldn’t tell whether they wanted a yes or a no, but there was no use lying to them. They’d seen Jeremy packing alone, his quarters empty while Michael’s were still very much full. 

“No,” he responded, shaking his head, “No, he’s not. He’s gonna be staying on board.”

“Oh, good. I like him. I’d be sad if he left.”

“But you’re not sad that I’m leaving?” There was no response to his words, just the comms beeping to signal that Lindsay wouldn’t be answering more of his questions. Jeremy sighed again and lowered his hands, staring back out at the stars. “I don’t even think that Michael’s sad that I’m leaving,” he muttered to himself, laying back down in his pile of clothes and shoving an old jacket under his head for a makeshift pillow.

He couldn’t exactly blame him for it, either. Maybe he could’ve been a better boyfriend, maybe he should’ve just bitten his tongue and held back whatever criticisms he had of Trevor and the ship. But part of this felt like it was inevitable, like he was always going to blow up like this. The worst part was that he didn’t even feel guilty about any of it, he was only sorry that speaking up had the consequences that it had. It was hard to have any regrets about it when he fully believed he was doing the right thing, though.

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It only took them another week to reach the nearest spaceport, some podunk trading and tourist hub located pretty centrally to all the bigger colonies. Trevor liked it because they’d be able to stock up on supplies without having to scrounge or overpay. That was something that desperately needed doing, the last few ports had single rations sold for thousands of credits or reasonably priced ones that were nearly a century past date. Plus, they’d have pretty good odds at finding a replacement pilot there too. Jeremy liked it because it didn’t seem like the worst place to be booted onto, he could find work with another crew or in the port pretty easily. Everyone else liked it because being at port meant a few days of rest. Lindsay didn’t have to worry about some of the more power-hungry systems that came with flying a ship, which meant that Gavin didn’t have to run around making patchwork repairs at every hour of the day. But for some, their work didn’t stop. Matt always had to keep his ear to the radio for any incoming transmissions, and Michael and Fiona could only leave their experiments and samples unattended for so long before there were catastrophic results.

Reaching port this time was different this time around, though. They’d never had to say goodbye to one of their own before. Jeremy had been permitted one last night on the ship, but in the morning he’d have to go. To honor that last night, Gavin and Michael decided to organize a going away party for their fellow lad, complete with drinks and proper food (not just freeze-dried rations that pretended to be edible) and parting gifts. 

It made Jeremy feel better about going when he saw how sad everyone seemed to be, how sincere they were in expressing how much they would miss him. He’d convinced himself that they all hated him for speaking out the way that he had, no one had come to speak to him in the observation deck and the only time he saw anyone was when he was brought his rations, but the party was a good indication that they didn’t hate him: they just pitied him. 

Michael was certainly the most upset, despite the fact that he’d pretended to be unbothered only a week prior. Even if they had to do it from lightyears away, they promised each other they’d find a way to make things work. The communication technology was there, they’d still be able to talk. Michael was just glad that he wouldn’t have to worry too much about Jeremy while he was gone. It was a busy port, there’d be plenty of people around looking to hire a skilled pilot. And even if he couldn’t find work right away, it was safe enough that he could stay there for a while without running into any trouble unless he went looking. 

Despite all the fun of the festivities, Trevor’s absence was hard to miss. Jeremy had to admit that he’d been foolish for expecting it, but not getting a final goodbye from his former commander stung. 

However, Trevor had decided that his day was best spent working instead of partying, arranging for fresh shipments of supplies to be loaded into the cargo bay and beginning his search for a new pilot. The first task was successful, the latter one… Not so much. No one was really giving him the time of day, not believing him when he told them he captained his own ship and could afford to pay handsomely for work. Or they simply weren’t interested in the cargo that would need to be transported. After he was fed a lot of bullshit from people who clearly didn’t know anything trying to weasel their way onto his ship, he reached his limit and returned to the ship, thoroughly disheartened by the end of the night.

Trevor spent the evening in his quarters, agonizing over the situation for a few hours. There were a few solid candidates when he looked past all their unfavorable qualities, but he still wasn’t thrilled about any of them. Everyone was busy partying with Jeremy, he was grateful for the peace while he tried to work something out. The only thing that pulled him out of his thoughts was Lindsay’s chime. Usually that signaled that he’d been working for too long and it was time to get some rest, so he began to stand up, stretching his arms out over his head to ease away the stiffness.

“Commander, Gavin’s outside the door. Should I let him in?” They asked, sending a feed to his terminal of the lad standing outside the doors. He sat back down slowly, squinting as he looked at the grainy footage on the screen. 

“Does he look like he’s carrying any stink bombs? I can’t tell.” 

There were a few moments of silent examination before the comms beeped to life again. “Nope, he’s clear.” 

Trevor waved in approval then, twisting around in his chair to face the door. “Let him in, then.” 

The doors slid open to reveal Gavin standing there, fortunately empty-handed, with a smile on his face. “Commander! Missed you at the party, you should’ve been there! I saved you a bev, if you want it.” 

“No thanks. Some of us had actual work to do, y’know.” He paused, looking the other up and down. It was always hard to read Gavin, he was always brimming with so much energy, it was hard to tell if his fidgeting was excited stimming or covering up for anxious nerves. There was no telling what he wanted to share. “I really hope you didn’t come here just to chastise me for not going to a party for someone who couldn’t stop insulting the ship every chance he got.”

“Nah, I get it. No one insults our Lindsay and gets away with it. But… I do think I can help with some of your problems.” Trevor arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “I know a pilot at this port. He’s one of the best. Well, actually, he is the best. And! He owes me a favor! So he’ll definitely be taking the job.”

“If he’s the best, how can you be sure he’s not currently in a crew?”

Gavin laughed at that, and Trevor’s face turned to one of confusion. “He’s rather picky about the jobs he takes. And, like I said: He owes me.”

He was quiet for a few moments, biting his lip as he thought it over. Gavin hadn’t led him astray before, it was how they’d ended up with Michael and Fiona on the crew, but it all felt a little too good to be true. Coincidences made him uneasy, but what choice did he have? “How soon can I meet him?”

“Tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“I’d like to, yeah. After breakfast. Lindsay, set an alarm for the engineering bay to make sure Gavin wakes up in time.”

“Yes, commander.”

“Hey!”

Trevor grinned as the other pouted. “Anything else, Gav?”

Gavin flipped him off before breaking out into a grin of his own. “Nope! That’s it. I should get back to the engines ‘case they bust again, but I’m happy to be of service. See you tomorrow, Trev.”

“See you tomorrow, Gavin. Get some rest, don’t stay up too late pestering Matt.”

“Will do, won’t do, goodnight!”

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The next morning came soon enough, the crew having breakfast together for a change since Michael had been kind enough to grab some fresh ingredients and cook them a nice meal. It was refreshing to have real food, not just the usual freeze-dried rations or nutrient slurries they normally relied on. And real coffee was always a treat, though no one would dare insult Fiona’s synthesized seaweed coffee replacement for fear of losing the one caffeine source they had between stops. 

After the meal, Gavin and Trevor set out as planned. They had a pilot to search for, and the lad wouldn’t stop ranting and raving about how great this guy was supposed to be. Trevor just hoped that he was going to live up to all the hype.

“When you said this guy is picky about the jobs he takes, just how picky did you mean?” He asked as they searched through the first hotspot. There were a few places this mysterious pilot liked to hang out in apparently, and there was no telling which one he’d be at. 

Gavin chuckled softly, glancing over at Trevor with a smile until he realized he was being serious. Then, he just shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. He won’t complain about the ship, if that’s what you mean.”

“Kind of. I just want to make sure he’s not too high class to run the sort of jobs we run.”

“Oh, trust me. He’s not. He is exactly low class enough to run these sort of jobs. But, y’know, like everyone else he wants to make sure the money’s real, and that he’s not gonna end up space dust.” 

“Fair enough.” Those were reasonable requests, and ones that were easy enough for Trevor to guarantee. No one on his crew ever ran out of credits, and no one had gotten seriously injured on a job. The ‘on the job’ part was the most important part of that sentence, because injuries did still happen around the ship, despite everyone’s best efforts. 

Spots two and three were as equally bust as the first one, but Gavin was just as determined as he’d been at breakfast. Trevor, not so much. It was well past mid-day by the time they reached the fifth spot, some sort of hotel and lounge for people to catch their breath and put their feet up. 

The moment they stepped in the door, there was a big beaming grin on Gavin’s face. “Fredo!” He shouted, raising his arms as he cheered. “Took us long enough to find you!”

The man in question was seated casually on a sofa, nose buried in a magazine, though his attention was broken by Gavin’s shouting cutting through the ambiance. “Gavin?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he set his magazine aside and stood. “What the hell are you doing so far out?”

“Ah, well, that’s a bit of a long story,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss the question as he walked up to the man and wrapped an arm around him. He dragged him over to Trevor, still beaming. “Trevor, this is Alfredo. Best pilot on this side of the universe. On both sides, probably, but he doesn’t like to brag. And Alfredo, this is Trevor. He’s the big boss of the Morrigan.”

“I, uh… Yeah, that’s me. I’m the cap- The commander.”

“Cat got your tongue, Commander?” Alfredo asked, smirking as the other’s face tinted red. “C’mon, let’s go somewhere else and chat. There’s way too many people listening in out here.”

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They ended up in Alfredo’s room, crowded around the small table underneath a dim light. However, Trevor didn’t need a lot of light to get a read on someone, and he noticed a lot of things about their potential new pilot in a short time. He didn’t fidget like Gavin did, each movement seemed like it was with purpose, but sometimes he’d flex his fingers and roll his wrists. It told him that he was as experienced as Gavin said, because Jeremy had started to do the same thing after a long time behind the helm. His jacket was well worn, the red still bright in some spots but faded in others, and patched in places where it’d been damaged. That told him that Alfredo wasn’t afraid of a fight, and he was resourceful enough to not let good things go to waste. All good things, in his book. 

“So, what’s your offer?” Alfredo asked, breaking the silence once they’d all gotten settled around the table. 

“My… Offer?” 

“Yeah. If I work for you, what do I get?”

Trevor and Gavin looked at each other for a moment, the latter stunned by the bluntness of the question, but the former was used to unprofessionalism like that. In fact, he preferred it. “Well, for starters, a spot on the ship. You get your own private quarters. However, you really are there as a backup to our ship’s computer in case things get extra… Challenging. They’re good, but there’s limits to every AI.”

Alfredo’s eyebrows raised at that. He’d never been on a ship that had a computer like that on it before. “Sounds like a fancy ship.”

Gavin snorted out a laugh, shaking his head quickly. “Trust me, it’s not. It’s all cobbled together, and the only reason we ended up with Lindsay was because their system was gonna be salvage otherwise.” 

“Right…” He cleared his throat, looking back to Trevor. “What about money?”

“We all get an equal cut of the credits. We’re all important on the Morrigan, no one gets more or less than anyone else.” Everyone put in a lot of work to keep the ship running smoothly, sometimes Trevor felt like he wasn’t doing enough in comparison. Every now and then, he’d take less from his own cut to give everyone else a little more. It felt fair. “And we kind of just go wherever when we’re not running jobs.”

Alfredo was quiet for a few moments, thinking things over. He knew he owed Gavin a favor, but at the same time this whole deal seemed too good to be true. No commander was ever this reasonable, this good to his crew. “Can you go wait outside for a minute? I’d like to talk to Gavin,” he said finally, and Trevor was happy to oblige. He didn’t take his eyes off the other man until the door closing forced him too, then they were fixed on Gavin. “This smells like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you Fredy, it’s not. We all get an equal cut, the rooms are pretty damn lush, and the jobs are alright. I don’t do much but patch up the ship after them, but we haven’t had any major hull breaches yet.” He seemed quite proud of himself for that, but deflated when Alfredo didn’t respond in kind. 

“Yeah, but what about your last pilot? What happened to them? No one just leaves a gig this good.”

“Ah, well… Actually, some do. There were a few… Disagreements. He wasn’t happy on the ship, and Trevor doesn’t like when people insult the Morrigan, or Lindsay,” he explained, choosing his words carefully. He wasn’t sure either of the men involved would be happy if the story started to get spread. “But it’s a good ship, a good crew, and Trevor’s a good man. Plus, you owe me.”

“I know, and that’s the worst part!” He groaned, slumping forward with his face in his hands. “I hate owing you, you always make people pay you back in the worst possible ways!”

“Oi! I’m getting you a job!”

“Yeah, and it all sounds shady as shit! I know you’re smugglers, but damn. Trevor’s cold.”

Gavin just chuckled softly, because he couldn’t exactly disagree with him. The commander had his moments, but didn’t everyone? “Look, Fredo. You need this, and we need you. So just… Take the job, would you?” 

Alfredo chewed the inside his lip as he thought it over, letting out a long sigh after a minute. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Gavin said with a grin, clapping Alfredo on the shoulder before yelling for Trevor to come back inside. 

He genuinely couldn’t guess what they had been talking about in there, but judging by the look on Gavin’s face it was something good. “You’ve decided, then?” He asked Alfredo as he took his seat again.

“He has! He said that he’d joi-“

“-Gavin, dude. Let me talk,” he said, swatting at the other man to get him to shut up. “I’ll join your crew, on one condition…” He trailed off, wanting to gauge the other’s response before he continued.

“And that is?” Trevor asked, arching an eyebrow and waiting for him to go on. 

“I have some cargo I need to get off this asteroid. It’ll be a win/win for the both of us: You get to see how good I fly, I get this job off my back, and you, me, and your crew get to split the money.”

It’d be a good reason to get out of the spaceport faster too. Trevor wasn’t planning on leaving until they had a job anyway and now one had fallen right into their laps with a new pilot in hand. “Sounds like a deal to me,” he said, reaching a hand out for Alfredo to shake and smiling across the table at him. It was a genuine smile, the facade of the stern negotiator falling away. 

Alfredo grinned right back at him, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Hell yes.”

“We can get into the details of the job back on the ship, but I wanna introduce you to your new crew first.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love them, Fredo. They’re all brilliant.” 

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The Morrigan welcomed its commander back onto the ship with a cheerful musical tone, the doors sliding open as he approached with Gavin and Alfredo in tow. 

“Oh, now who’s this?” Lindsay asked, curious about the new arrival. If they were being honest, they hadn’t expected Gavin to be telling the truth about knowing a pilot, or for Trevor to be convincing enough to get him to join. Their expectations weren’t pessimistic, just realistic. They knew their crew.

“Lindsay! Hey there, perfect timing,” Trevor said with a grin as Gavin scurried off to go gather the rest of the crew. “This is Alfredo, he’s gonna be our new pilot! And Alfredo, this is Lindsay, our ship's computer, and your co-pilot. If you have any questions about the ship, they’ll be the one to ask.”

“That’s right!” They chirped, “Not to brag or anything, but I know more about this ship than anyone, except maybe Gavin. We’re about equal, but don’t tell him I said that!”

Alfredo chuckled, amused by just how much personality this supposed AI had. “Are you sure there’s not a person on the other side of those comms, commander?”

Trevor simply shook his head. “Nope, just a Lindsay!” He answered, motioning for Alfredo to follow him as he led him further into the ship. Doors opened and shut behind them automatically as they went, which meant that Lindsay was keeping a close eye on them. They’d really taken Jeremy’s comments about the ship to heart, and they had to make sure the new guy wasn’t going to say the same thing. 

“No offense, but… How does a ship like this afford a computer like that? I know how much these jobs make, and how much those things cost, and… The math just isn’t adding up.”

The speakers beeped to life with a gentle tone, and Lindsay spoke up for themselves. “I was a rejected version of an even more advanced system, but because of how advanced I still was, they couldn’t just shut me down and wipe out all my data. So, they put me up for sale instead.”

“We got a pretty good deal on them, actually. No one really wants a buggy AI, too much of a risk or whatever, but for a smuggling crew who doesn’t care about perfection, they’re perfect.” The bugs that the programmers had rejected Lindsay for were hardly even bugs in Trevor’s eyes, they were just things that made them too hard to control. There was no speech filter, no way to control them or make them do whatever you wanted, which is why they’d been rejected. You had to treat them like a person, and their programmers had hated that. 

Alfredo was genuinely impressed by the state of the ship, and how smoothly things seemed to run on the surface. Lindsay gave him a quick brief on the engine the ship was powered by and some tips for when he was at the controls to help work around some of its quirks. By the time their spiel was done, they’d reached the bridge where everyone had been gathered so they could get introductions out of the way all at once instead of hunting people down one by one.

The Morrigan was no small ship, and its crew matched it. It was, by far, the largest smuggling ship that Alfredo had ever stepped foot in. Probably the happiest as well. Every role had a person to fill it, and none of them seemed to have many complaints either. 

The first person to speak up and introduce herself was Jack, the ship’s navigations officer. She worked with Lindsay to chart their courses, keeping in mind everything that they’d have to avoid ranging from rogue space debris to the ever annoying authorities. The three of them would be working very closely together, so Alfredo was glad that she spoke up first. 

Michael and Fiona introduced themselves next, the former being the ship’s medical officer and physician while the latter was a scientist. She had her own experiments to run, but she also spent a lot of time helping Michael keep everyone on board the ship healthy. It was a much more difficult task than one would expect, apparently. Alfredo asked Fiona what she was doing on the ship, but she refused to say anything more than “nunya business,” and Trevor insisted that it was better if he didn’t know, so he dropped the subject. 

The communications officer introduced himself after that. Matt was more quiet and reserved than everyone else seemed to be, but he still seemed quite content in his role. It seemed like there wasn’t much to do - there were no aliens trying to make contact, or even that many other ships for that matter - so he spent a lot of his time misusing the comms to catch up on radio shows from Earth or the other space outposts. 

“Alright! Well, feel free to hang out with everyone for a bit,” Trevor said, noticeably relieved that everyone seemed to like Alfredo, and vice-versa. It was a good first step. Gavin was usually a pretty good judge of character, but one could never be too careful. 

“You’re not gonna stick around?” Alfredo asked, frowning a little. “You can’t just leave me alone with these guys.” That comment was hushed, he didn’t want anyone else to hear. 

“Sure I can. I’ve got some work to do, and besides, they don’t bite.” He looked pointedly at Michael. “Usually.” Alfredo whirled around to follow Trevor’s gaze, eyes going wide as Michael snarled at him. The pair broke out into laughter, making Alfredo huff in displeasure.

“That’s not funny, man.”

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t resist. Just… Relax.” He put his hands on the other’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Everyone here is great, they’re the nicest people on this side of the galaxy. You’re gonna have to get to know them eventually, so you might as well start now. I got some work I gotta do to get us loaded up, but come up to my quarters later. We need to hammer out the details of that job so we can get outta here soon.”

Alfredo nodded slowly, mumbling a confirmation and watching as Trevor turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Michael and Gavin slammed a hand down onto each of his shoulders, snapping him out of his trance as they whirled him around. 

“C’mon, Alfredo! We’ve still got some booze leftover from Jeremy’s going away party,” Michael told him with a wicked grin, “Jack makes the best drinks, you gotta try one.”

“I dunno... I just joined, is that really smart?”

“Is what smart?” 

“Drinking.”

“Nah,” Gavin scoffed, shaking his head quickly. “Drinking’s always smart, trust me.”

Alfredo rolled his eyes. He knew firsthand that trusting Gavin was a bad idea when it came to alcohol, but on the other hand… Maybe it’d be a good way to get more comfortable around everyone. He was still a little wary, and a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of the crew, some help feeling more at ease was definitely welcome. It was called liquid courage for a reason. 

And after a few drinks, he certainly felt more at ease. At the same time, it was weird being accepted so quickly. Sometimes he was stuck on his own, even when he was on a crew. Space had a tendency to be a very lonely and isolating place, it seemed like these people were well aware of the fact, and worked hard to make sure no one fell victim to its clutches. Fiona saw him standing off to the side, trying to edge away from all the excitement, and dragged him right into it. Jack gave him drinks when she spotted an empty cup, alternating between alcoholic and not to make sure he didn’t end up too far gone. And Michael and Gavin were something else entirely, wasting no time in filling him in on the latest ship gossip and ongoing pranks. Ultimately, he decided that he’d made a good choice in trusting Gavin and joining the Morrigan. 

When the festivities died down and everyone began to clean up and retreat to their quarters, Alfredo took it as his sign to go and find Trevor and discuss the job with him. Finding his quarters was easy enough, but he hesitated outside. 

“He already knows you’re there, you know,” Lindsay piped up, giggling when they saw Alfredo jump and search around for the source of their voice. It was all around them, coming through every speaker in that part of the hall. “He’s got a video feed that shows the hall outside of his door. Put it in after Gavin pranked him a few too many times,” they added, this time only speaking from the nearest speaker. 

“Yeah, Gavin’s always been one for pranks.” He stepped closer to the door, but still didn’t go in.

They hummed softly, some sensors whirring in a far off room of the Morrigan. “Why are you hesitating?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because!” Alfredo gestured in exasperation, activating the door’s motion sensor. He jumped again as it slid open, staring through it and making eye contact with Trevor, who was seated at his desk and smiling knowingly. 

“Thank you, Lindsay.”

“Any time, commander! That trick never fails.”

Alfredo looked at Trevor with wide eyes, stammering out an excuse that was immediately waved off. “Just come on in, there’s no use putting it off,” he told him. “The sooner we get things sorted, the sooner we can get out of the port.”

“Why the rush?” He asked as he stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a loud thunk. “It’s pretty nice, as far as spaceports go.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a disgruntled former pilot hanging around here now, and I really don’t want him deciding that he wants to get revenge.”

“Fair enough.” Alfredo sat down in the chair across from Trevor, watching him from across the desk. When the other didn’t speak right away, he took it as an opportunity to do so instead. “So, the job. It’s several crates of cargo, will you have enough space in the hold for all of that?”

“How many is several, exactly?”

“About ten, all pretty decently sized. A yard or two each way, at least.”

Trevor chuckled, nodding as he made a note. “Oh yeah, we’ll have plenty of room. I’ve got some supplies getting loaded up tomorrow, if you talk to a man named Geoff at the mercantile he’ll be sure to slip ‘em in, make sure no one suspects anything.”

Alfredo raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s it? No questions about the cargo?”

Trevor let out a long sigh at that, lifting his eyes from his notebook to look at him. “Usually, I don’t want to know. It’s not my business to know. I’m not paid to know,” he explained, waiting until the other nodded in understanding to carry on. “But, since you brought it up, I feel like I should ask… Is it alive?”

“Uh… Yeah, it is.”

“Is it people? Cause I don’t do that shit.”

“What? No. No! It’s… Well, it’s-“

“Is it gonna break out of the crates and kill us in our sleep?”

Alfredo didn’t have an immediate answer to that one. Trevor didn’t find that comforting. 

“Probably not?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, gauging each other’s reactions until Trevor broke the silence. “Works for me! Like I said, talk to Geoff at the mercantile, let him know where you keep everything, he’ll get it all worked out.” He extended his hand, offering it to Alfredo for him to shake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Alfredo.”

“Likewise,” the other man said, reaching out and giving Trevor’s hand a firm shake. “The Morrigan seems like a real nice ship, I can’t wait to see how they fly.”

With that, Alfredo took his leave, but Trevor kept his eyes on the door long after he walked out. 

The comms beeped to life, and Lindsay spoke from a speaker on Trevor’s desk. “I like him already.”

“Yeah, I do too,” he said whimsically before shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind and pointing a finger at the speaker. “I never said that. You didn’t hear that.”

“Of course, Commander. I heard nothing.”

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

The cargo was loaded up without issue the following day. All Alfredo had to do was give the boxes a small mark once they were in the hold, that way they’d know what was the smuggled cargo, but that was an easy enough task. They spent a few more hours at the port, letting everyone do a small tour around for some shopping and giving Michael a chance to say some goodbyes to Jeremy before they set out. 

“Alright, let’s see how this baby flies,” Alfredo said with a grin once he was in the pilot’s seat, cracking his knuckles. This was the one place where he truly felt confident and in his element, and it was so good to be back where he belonged. “Jack, we got a course set?”

“Yup, Lindsay’s got all the info, and there should be a copy of it there on your terminal,” Jack said from her station, turning in her seat to look at Alfredo and give him a thumbs up. She grinned as she got one in return. 

“Sweet. Lindsay, you ready to take off?” 

A few melodic beeps came through the speakers as they checked in with Gavin to make sure the engines were all in working order, then they spoke. “I am! Gavin’s on standby in case anything goes wrong, too.”

“Perfect, start the launch sequence for me, please?”

“Ooh, how polite! I like this one,” they hummed, and Jack laughed softly from her station at the way Alfredo’s cheeks tinged pink. “Sure thing, Fredo. One launch sequence, coming right up!”

The Morrigan shook and creaked as the engines fired up, groaning with effort as the sound roared through the engineering bay and echoed around the spaceport. It was a big ship that required a lot of power to get going, even more so to break away from the gravitational field surrounding the port, and every time they took the crew was terrified that it would come apart at the seams under the pressure. But, like it did every time before, it pulled through, and it wasn’t long until they were up in the atmosphere and out into space. 

“Wow,” Alfredo breathed, slumping back in his chair once things had stabilized. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. “Is it always like that?”

Trevor chuckled from behind him, smiling and nodding. “Yeah, pretty much.” He walked up and patted Alfredo on the shoulder, making eye contact with him in the window’s reflection before looking past it at the stars. “Get used to it, buddy.” The clanking of the ship he’d long since learned to tune out, but seeing the stars? It never got old to him. They were just as beautiful every time he saw them, and it was easy to get lost looking at them as they went by. 

“Guess I’m gonna have to.” It was clear that Trevor was lost in thought, so Alfredo just nudged his hand from his shoulder and leaned to look around him at Jack. “How we lookin’? Smooth sailing?”

“Smooth sailing. No asteroids, no authorities, no other ships if we’re lucky. I’ll let you know if that changes, though. It’ll take us a while to get to our next stop, few days at the most.”

“Can this thing handle lightspeed?”

Jack and Lindsay both broke out into laughter, and even Trevor snapped out of his trance to join in. 

“Absolutely not,” Lindsay told him, laughing brightly. They took great pride in the Morrigan, but even they knew its limits. “We’ve been trying to get our hands on a new warp drive for a while now, but no such luck. We’re stuck inside this solar system for the time being, unfortunately.”

“Put my cut from the job towards one, then.” Trevor’s eyebrows shot up, and he met Alfredo’s eyes through the reflection once more. “I’m serious. The further you can travel, the better jobs you can get.” And even for short distances, Alfredo wasn’t really one for travelling at a space snail’s pace. “The better jobs you get, the more money you make.” 

Trevor couldn’t disagree with that logic, so he simply just nodded in approval. “I’ll start putting my cut towards one too, then.” 

“Seriously?” Jack piped up, “like Gavin doesn’t have enough to fix around here?”

The commander turned towards her, arching an eyebrow. “Everyone’s free to spend their cut on whatever they like, and that’s how Alfredo and I are choosing to use ours. Do I say anything when you spend it on baseball cards just cause Geoff and Gav talked about ‘em?”

“No…”

“No, I don’t. So, you mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.” Trevor could take a ribbing as good as the rest of the ship’s crew, but there were some things he just wouldn’t take. The ship was still a very sore subject for him. Jack let out a long sigh but nodded, knowing that there was no use in pushing the matter further. “So, Alfredo. You don’t have to stay here all the time, Lindsay’ll put an alarm out if there’s any immediate threats you’re needed for. I don’t expect you to be sitting here all day, every day. That’d just be mean.”

Alfredo nodded in understanding, spinning around in the chair to get a look at Trevor. “I’ll probably hang out here most of the day, though. Nice view, y’know? Plus I wouldn’t want Lindsay and Jack to get bored,” he joked, cracking a smile. 

“Good plan.” Trevor nodded in approval before he spun around to leave, though he lingered just out of sight. Alfredo was agreeable, almost too agreeable. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the guy, or that he cared if he was a troublemaker, but it was certainly an oddity to have a crewmember that actually wanted to do their job. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. 

Jack scoffed from her seat once she thought Trevor was gone, glancing over at Alfredo from her terminal. “You let him walk all over you, dude.”

“He’s the boss, I’m gonna listen to him,” he responded simply, looking to her for barely a second before his eyes were back on the stars. 

“Yeah, but you can push back a little, he’s not gonna bite your head off for it.”

“He gets enough of that from the rest of you assholes.”

“Whoa, okay. Just trying to help.” 

Alfredo turned in his chair then, meeting Jack’s eyes. “I don’t need your help. Did you hear what Trevor said? ‘You mind your business, I’ll mind mine?’ That goes for me too.” He’d put up with enough bullshit from the other crews he’d been a part of and jobs he’d taken, and he wasn’t going to let this be like the rest of them. He knew the difference between letting himself get pushed over and keeping his head below the fenceline so he didn’t end up losing it. 

They stared each other down for a few long moments, sizing each other up. Jack realized then that she’d misjudged Alfredo. He wasn’t some rookie pilot pulled off the streets, he was the real deal, and he wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone. On the other hand, Alfredo realized that he’d judged Jack correctly, and he didn’t like antagonists much. He knew he’d warm up to her eventually, he had to if he didn’t want this whole thing to fall through, but that was an awfully bad start. 

Lindsay couldn’t stand the tension that was building in the room, making the air so thick that the vent system was having a hard time sucking it up for purification. So they did the only thing they could to break it: Sound a station-wide alarm. Trevor had to come out of his hiding spot then, running up to the main console to check the system. 

“Lindsay, what the hell’s going on?!” He asked, having to shout over the blaring alarm. 

“I don’t know, the alarm just started going off!” They shouted back, sounding panicked, although it was all an act. They pretended to flounder for a moment, making sure that there was enough time for the tension to fade entirely and that Alfredo and Jack had forgotten about their spat before they killed the alarm. “There! All sorted, I think it was just a crossed wire or something. Crazy, huh?” They could tell that Trevor didn’t quite believe them, but at least Jack and Alfredo had gotten back to work. “Maybe you should stick around for a bit, commander. Just to make sure nothing like that happens again.”

“Hm.” He hummed as he took a seat in the commander’s chair, kicking his feet up onto the console in front of him. There was no way to tell what they were playing at, but keeping an eye on the new recruit wasn’t exactly a bad idea, especially if Jack was going to be giving him trouble. “I think you’re right, Lindsay. Can’t be having any trouble on the bridge now, can we? Good call.”

“No commander, we can’t. And thank you.”

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

Things were quiet for a few days. Too quiet. There were the usual pranks and fights and other nonsense, but there were no large scale problems. Any commander would be happy about that and proud of their crew for avoiding disaster, but not Trevor. On the Morrigan, that meant there was a ticking time bomb hidden somewhere on the ship, and it was only a matter of time until it blew. He allowed himself to sleep, but only for a few hours at a time, and when he was awake he was on constant patrol. The previous longest record for going without a major incident was about three days, and it was now encroaching on a week. He wasn’t counting the detour they’d had to make to avoid some random authorities patrolling the system as a major incident, just a minor setback, so they were still due for something. 

When it hit a week since their last incident, he was almost convinced that he could relax, that he could let his guard down and accept that there was nothing waiting just around the bend for him. Almost. Barely a second after that thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps quickly approaching from behind him.

“Hey, Trevor-boy!” Gavin called out for him, making him spin on his heels. “So, got a bit of a problem for you.” It was weird seeing someone relieved to learn there was a problem, but Trevor certainly looked that way. “There’s a lot of uh… Banging, coming from the storage deck.”

“Have you gone down there to check it out?” He asked, already knowing the answer before he even asked. 

“Absolutely not! Are you insane? Michael won’t go either, before you ask, you’re gonna have to go down there and look,” he informed him, and Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey, don’t give me that! We don’t know what Alfredo brought on board, and I’m not trying to get eaten.”

“He promised me it wouldn’t kill us in our sleep.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t kill us when we’re awake, though.”

Trevor sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment as he thought his next words over carefully. “Lindsay?” He called, his attention no longer on Gavin as he began to walk

The speaker system chimed to life, and Lindsay greeted the two of them cheerfully. “Yes, commander?”

“Where’s Alfredo?” 

There was a beat of silence as they checked all of their ocular systems. “He’s in the bridge, why?”

“Have him meet me down by the storage bay, would you? And have Michael bring down a few weapons, I don’t know what we’re dealing with. Can you tell if anything’s started moving down there?”

“There is a lot of movement down there, but I think whatever it is, it’s still in the crates.” The comms system buzzed as they went quiet, searching the cargo bay to make sure they weren’t sending their crew down into certain death. “Yeah, no, it’s definitely still contained.” There was a beat of silence before they whispered, “for now.”

That brought some relief, at least. Still, he didn’t want to go in there with nothing, just in case. At least they managed to hit a new record. He’d have to mark it on his calendar when he got back up to his quarters. 

He let Gavin get back to work somewhere along the way down to the bottom of the ship, waiting outside the door to the hold and tapping his foot as he waited for Alfredo and Michael to join him. As he opened his mouth to ask Lindsay to let them know he was waiting, he heard the telltale sound of yelling that signalled Michael’s approach. Alfredo was much quieter, but he had no doubt that he was in tow.

Still, he was impatient. Trevor always was when it came to the safety of his crew. If there was anything that had the potential to harm them, he wanted it dealt with as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was no room for wasting time. He already had his hand out as Michael rounded the corner, and he didn’t lower it until he felt the weight of a gun settled in it. 

“Gave you your usual rifle, boss. Figured you’d want something reliable,” he explained, watching as Trevor inspected the rifle to make sure it was up to his standards. “Gave Fredo the harpoon gun, figured it might be handy and he said he’s used one of those before. Plus pistols for the both of you. Try not to miss your shots, though. Gavin’ll be pissed if he has to do a hull repair.” 

“Thank you, Michael. We’ll take it from here, but…” He trailed off, noticing that Michael himself was also armed with a variety of weapons. “Standby out here, just in case. Lindsay’ll let you know if we run into trouble.” They nodded at each other in understanding, the doors to the cargo bay sliding open in front of them. “Let’s go.”

Alfredo could only give a tiny nod himself, following behind the commander as they stepped into the hold. It was bright, the lights at full blast to make sure there weren’t any shadows to hide in. But that wasn’t enough to stop him from being nervous. His hands didn’t shake, but he was chewing on his bottom lip so much that it was starting to bleed, and every little noise made him raise the harpoon gun and aim. 

“You wanna tell me what’s in those crates?” Trevor asked as they worked their way towards the center of the hold, checking every nook and cranny as Lindsay kept them updated on any movement around them that was out of the ordinary. “I was fine with not knowing before, but-“ He was cut off by the sound of wood scraping against metal, dull thuds as whatever was inside of them grew restless. “But because of things like that, I can’t let things slide anymore.”

The other man hesitated, continuing to bite at his lip, but Trevor’s gaze was piercing and it made his blood run cold against his tongue. Nothing got past the commander, even the smallest of lies. “Plants. It’s plants.”

“Plants don’t move like that,” Trevor pointed out, and Alfredo couldn’t exactly refute his claim. “Now, what the hell is actually in these crates?”

“I’m being serious. It’s plants.” A beat of silence, more piercing stares, before he continued. “Mutant plants that were definitely overfed a ton of fertilizer and who only knows what else, but… Yeah. Plants.”

“Mutant… Plants?” The words fell slowly off of Trevor’s tongue, processing what they meant at the same time they left his mouth. “Just how mutant, exactly?”

“Depends. Some of ‘em are still pretty plant-like, but… Others are getting pretty close to Audrey II territory.” 

“As much as I appreciate the comparison, I’d appreciate a little more seriousness even more.” Alfredo murmured an apology, but Trevor’s silence made it clear that the time for talking was over. 

After a few more paces they reached the crates, specially marked to make it stand out from all of the other similar crates, but only to the trained eye. Sure enough, there was some banging coming from inside the crate, as well as some angry hissing, but it wasn’t exactly loud enough to be heard from the engineering deck, especially not over the roar of the engines either. If Gavin was able to hear it, it had to be something much bigger, much louder. 

They began to inspect the crates one by one, making sure each one was intact and tightening whatever screws had started to get knocked loose by the thrashing within. All the noise and movement had Trevor on edge, his heart racing and normally steady hands shaking each time he had to touch one of the boxes. 

“That’s all of them. Nine crates, all secure.”

Alfredo frowned, eyebrows furrowed together as his eyes flicked from crate to crate. “There should be ten here.” They both counted, and re-counted, and counted one last time for good measure. Sure enough, there were only nine crates with no sign of a tenth. 

“Lindsay, double-check the manifest for me?” They did, which only confirmed that there was a crate missing. Trevor’s face mirrored the pilot’s then, concern etched deep into their features. “Alfredo? Any explanations?” 

“Alright, this isn’t my fault.”

“I’m not saying it is, but I would still like an explanation. Or at least some way to make sense of… This.”

Alfredo shifted, uncomfortable under Trevor’s gaze. “Well… Best guess is that… Either Geoff miscounted or left one off the ship, or-“

“-Which is pretty likely-“

“-Or one of the plants escaped. Which is also pretty likely. Maybe even more likely.”

“Well. Shit.” They both hoisted up their weapons simultaneously, knowing that they couldn’t afford to get caught off guard by anything. “Lindsay, lock down the cargo bay! Nothing gets in or out of here, not even the two of us. If anything starts moving other than us or those crates, you tell us immediately, got it?”

“Sure thing, commander. There’s just… One teensy-tiny problem.”

Trevor groaned loudly, looking up at the speaker. “And that is what, exactly?”

“Well, you see… There’s so much movement in those crates that… I kinda can’t see any movement anywhere else in the ship, and especially not in the cargo bay. It throws my whole system off, I can’t see anything.”

He whirled around to look at Alfredo upon hearing that, rifle still raised, and for a second he thought that the commander was going to shoot him right where he stood. The thought crossed Trevor’s mind, he wasn’t going to lie about that, but he decided that it would be unwise. He needed someone to watch his back, even if that someone was the one who got him into this mess. Turning back around and marching on, he let out a very slow, very shaky breath as he tried to control his anger. 

“Alfredo?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You and I are going to stay in here and keep watch on the rest of these crates to make sure no more of these…” He trailed off, glaring back at the crates before his gaze was back on Alfredo. “Things escape before we reach our destination. Michael and Jack are going to be patrolling the rest of the ship to keep everyone else safe. I don’t know what the hell these things are capable of, and I’m assuming you don’t either, so we need to be on high alert. Got it?” 

Alfredo nodded quickly. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Now… Lindsay, how far away are we?”

“We’re about a day out. I’ll try and push the engines so we can get there faster but-”

“Don’t bother, I’d rather not blow the ship. Alfredo and I are just going to have to find some way to keep ourselves occupied.” 

A day stuck in the cargo hold with the commander, who was very armed and very angry, really wasn’t ideal for Alfredo, but he acknowledged that there were worse punishments he could be given. He was just glad that he’d already opted to put his cut towards the ship, because there was no way he’d be given all of it after this. 

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

“Got any sevens?”

“No, go fish. Got any threes?”

“Nope, go fishin’! Got any… Got any aces?”

There was a long moment of silence, and then: “This would be easier with cards. I don’t remember what I have or don’t have anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

It had been several hours since the start of the cargo bay lockdown, and they were already running out of things to do. They’d searched the hold over and over until they found scrapes in the floor that lead to a splintered crate at the far end, but nothing that told them where the plant monster had run off to. Then, they reinforced all the remaining crates, doing what they could to make sure nothing else would try to escape and end up succeeding in their attempt. After that, they’d sort of run out of things to do to keep busy. “Imaginary Go Fish” was only entertaining the first time (though Trevor would disagree), and Lindsay had shut off all their sensors in the hold in an attempt to get everything else back in working order so they could help Michael and Jack. Not only were they cut off from the rest of the crew, but they were alone for the next twenty or so hours. 

“At least we’re down here with the supplies so we don’t starve,” Alfredo muttered, trying to find any possible brightside to the situation. 

Trevor hummed in agreement, standing up and shaking out his arms. “Yeah, at least we won’t starve,” he agreed, the slightest hint of mockery in his tone. He had yet to outright voice his displeasure, but he was sure Alfredo could put the pieces together. After stretching, he checked his watch. “Time for another walk around. You stay put.” 

Slumping against a crate, Alfredo nodded, making sure he had his own weapon in hand as Trevor readied his own and walked off. They did this every half hour or so. Trevor made him do the first few, but he must’ve gotten tired of sitting around because it was the first time he’d offered to go. 

His footsteps echoed off the thick metal walls of the hold, and Alfredo listened intently to them. The only other sounds were the dull thuds of the contained plant monsters and the usual creaks and groans of the Morrigan itself, but those were easy to tune out once they droned on long enough. When the footsteps stopped, it was like the hold went completely silent. 

He was immediately on edge, standing up quickly and hoisting the harpoon gun up as he went. “Trevor?” he called, taking a few hesitant steps forward. When there wasn’t an immediate response, he took a few more, heading towards where he’d last heard the other’s footsteps come from. 

“I’m fine,” Trevor called back after a minute, “Just stay there, everything’s fine!”

“You don’t sound too sure,” was the response he got, and he just let out a huff. 

It was true, he wasn’t too sure, because in a corner Alfredo had surely overlooked on his previous patrols, the plant had taken over. Its thorny vines stretched across the floors and up the walls, writhing and squirming as it supported the weight of what looked like a giant flower bud but… Flowers weren’t supposed to have teeth. That was the one thing that had been consistent across the planets he’d been to. Plants didn’t have teeth. “I’m not,” he muttered to himself, wondering why the hell he’d agreed to take this job in the first place. You needed a pilot, he reminded himself as he took slow, careful steps back in an effort not to startle the thing. But I don’t think we needed one this badly.

“What’s going on? I’m coming over there.”

Trevor turned around slowly, carefully, just in time to see Alfredo running up. “No, don’t!” he shouted, putting a hand up to stop him, but something stopped him instead. 

A vine wrapped itself tight around his arm, the thorns digging in deep and latching on. It had been resting peacefully before, able to slumber without being disturbed by the occasional movement and noise from the two men, but Trevor’s sudden shouting had woken it up. And it was not pleased. 

He cried out in pain, instinctively trying to pull his arm free, but it only made the vine hold on even tighter. It reminded him of those finger traps Jeremy had brought on board one time: the more he pulled, the more it constricted his arm. But unlike those finger traps, it had no intentions of letting go once Trevor relaxed. 

Alfredo stood there in shock, eyes wide and frozen in place until the commander barked out an order. He didn’t even register the words, just that he needed to move, and he needed to move now. Gavin was going to kill him for the damage later, but there was no time to aim the harpoon gun properly before he was pulling the trigger. Though it missed the bud by a few feet, the harpoon did manage to sever a few of its tendrils. The plant monster let out an ear-piercing shriek, untangling itself from Trevor in order to start scaling the wall and worming its way into an air vent. The metal of the grate covering it bent and snapped from the force, and the ends of several vines hung out through the remaining slats. 

“Nice work,” Trevor managed through gritted teeth, trying to pretend like his arm wasn’t bleeding as badly as it was and didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did. Alfredo saw through the act in less than a second, retrieving the harpoon before dropping the gun and approaching Trevor. 

“That looks… Bad. I should’ve given you my jacket,” he muttered, pushing his sleeve up to get a better look at the damage. Bruises were already starting to form where the vine itself had been, and there were several grisly cuts from the thorns, all bleeding pretty badly. “Fuck… Lindsay! We need Michael down here, now!”

Trevor pushed Alfredo’s hands off him before sinking to his knees and gripping his arm, trying to cover at least one of the cuts in an effort to stop the flow of blood. Whatever wasn’t soaked up by his shirt dripped down to the floor, creating a pretty sizable puddle beneath him that began to soak into the knees of his pants as well. “They can’t hear you… They shut down all their sensors for this room, remember?” There were a lot of flaws in their plan, he saw that now. But at least he knew that the beast was for sure in the cargo bay, not that there was anything that could be done about that right then. “There’s… There may be some emergency supplies by the door, Michael makes sure there’s some in every room.” Accidents happened everywhere, and the lad hated having to run all the way back to the medbay for a bandage every time someone got hurt. 

Once Alfredo had retrieved the medkit, he helped Trevor to his feet and guided him back to their makeshift campsite. The further they were from that vent, the better off they were, though the plant monster would easily be able to follow the trail of blood Trevor left behind right to them. They sat down together there, Trevor still clutching his arm as he leaned back against the crates with a soft groan. He was feeling a bit woozy, 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna bandage this up for now, hopefully that stops the bleeding, or at least slows it,” Alfredo murmured, popping the kit open and breathing out an audible sigh of relief when he saw that it was fully stocked. “Thank the stars,” he breathed, almost smiling as he grabbed a roll of gauze and began to wrap up Trevor’s arm. He was silent as he worked, faltering when the other spoke up. 

“Can we please talk?” he asked softly, eyes meeting Alfredo’s when he looked up. “I’d really like something else to focus on other than the pain.” 

“I thought you were mad at me?”

“I was… I am, but… I’d still rather talk than sit in silence.”

“Oh.” He continued to wrap his arm, securing it with some tape once he was done. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything. Something. I really don’t care.” He held his arm to his chest, cradling it in an effort to soothe the pain. 

“Well, how’d you become in charge of your own ship?” Alfredo asked, settling in beside him and leaning against the crate as he began to rummage through the medkit. 

Trevor chuckled quietly, turning his head to look over at the other. “Now that is a very long story, but… I guess we’ve got the time.” He checked his watch, taking a deep breath. “I worked on a lot of ships that treated their crews like shit. Treated their ships like shit too, honestly. I bailed on one before my contract was up once I had enough credits saved up, hid at one of the starports until they stopped searching for me, and then… I bought a ship of my own. It was small at first, real small. Couldn’t do much with it, couldn’t really go anywhere with it either, but I managed to swing a few small jobs.” He stared off into the distance as he spoke, looking out the small port windows at the stars outside the ship. It had been a while since he’d thought about any of this, even longer since he’d talked about it, but there was a fond smile as he did. “I don’t miss any of the bullshit at the start.”

Alfredo listened intently, a small stack of things from the kit forming in front of him. More gauze, disinfectant, rags, a suture and thread. He wasn’t really thrilled about the prospect of stitching up Trevor, but those wounds were so deep that something more needed to be done. “I don’t think anyone here misses the bullshit at the start. I sure had my fair share.” 

“How did you get started, then?”

“I used to be a pilot back on Earth. I was good at my job, really good, so they bumped me up to piloting shuttles between the colonies. After a while, I guess I got sick of seeing the same places over and over again,” he explained, letting out a soft ‘a ha!’ as he pulled a bottle of painkillers from the bottom of the kit. “Lotta ships need good pilots, and they paid better than the other gig, so I jumped ship, so to speak.” Shaking out a few pills, he passed them to Trevor who swallowed them down dry with a grimace. Anything to help the pain. “Never really wanted to own my ship, seemed like too much work, but… I was cool with piloting them. I get paid to see space, how cool is that?”

“It is a lot of work,” he agreed, still trying to get the pills down. “Sometimes, it’s too much work. But at the end of the day, it’s all worth it.” 

Alfredo was quiet for a few long moments, the silence hanging heavy between them. “Will this be worth it?” 

“Yes.” Trevor didn’t need to think about his answer as much as Alfredo had needed to think about his question. “Absolutely. You seem surprised.”

“But you got hurt. That thing could have killed you!”

“But it’s still in the cargo bay, and it didn’t hurt anyone in my crew. Better me than anyone else.” His crew was his family, and if he had to get hurt to keep them safe, so be it. It was a small price he was willing to pay. 

Alfredo scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t get you.”

“What?”

“No commander gives this much of a shit about their crew.” No captain gave their crew an equal cut, they always took more for themselves. No captain would sacrifice themself for their crew, they always forced their crew to do the sacrificing for them. No captain would adopt a broken AI like one would a stray cat. It just didn’t happen. “Not a single one. I’ve been trying to figure out your game from the start, and I just… I can’t.” The laughing only added to his confusion. 

“I know. No other commander does, but I do. And you’re gonna have to get used to it, Alfredo. All those assholes on the other side of the door are my family, and I’d sooner die for them than let anything bad happen to them,” he stated firmly, making sure the other was looking at him and meeting his eyes as he spoke. “There’s no game, no ulterior motive. You’re part of that family now too, so you’re just gonna have to learn to live with it.”

It had been a long time since Alfredo had been a part of any family, since anyone had accepted him so completely so quickly. While he didn’t fully trust Trevor just yet, he trusted him more than he had a few minutes ago. “Alright. I’ll learn to live with it.”

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

Alfredo was silent as he worked to stitch up Trevor’s arm, hands steady as he did so. He’d spent some time cleaning up the now dried blood, disinfecting the wounds and getting a better look at them. Some of the cuts were only surface wounds, already scabbed over and barely noticeable, but others were pretty gruesome. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to freak Trevor out, but he was pretty sure that he could see bone in a few of them. “Michael’s gonna have to redo these, but they’ll hold for now,” he murmured, tying off the last one and bandaging him up again before things got too bloody again. 

“How bad am I, doc? Am I gonna make it?” Trevor asked, really glad that he’d taken some more painkillers because he couldn’t imagine all of those stitches would feel great in a few minutes. 

“Yeah,” Alfredo said with a soft smile, taping down the end of the gauze. “You’ll make it.” I hope. 

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

As hour six rolled around, the comms hissed with static and a few musical beeps, surprising Alfredo and making him lift his head. He and Trevor had decided that sleeping was a pretty good way to kill time, so the commander had ended up fast asleep and slumped with his head on Alfredo’s shoulder. The other man hadn’t been so lucky, wide awake and checking every few minutes to make sure that he hadn’t gone and died on him. 

“Lindsay?” he asked softly, hoping they’d see the situation and match his tone. 

“Alfredo! What the hell happened?” They could see everything the second their cameras were back online: The broken vent grate, the vines coming out of the grate, the severed tendrils on the floor, the puddle and trail of brown dried blood leading to Alfredo and a very injured Trevor. “Is he… He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, he’s alive. We found the plant, and it… It got him good,” he explained, tipping his head forward to make sure Trevor was still asleep. “I patched him up, but… He’s gonna need a lot more than some stitches.”

“I’ll get Michael to come down-”

“No,” he stated, and Lindsay let out a soft scoff of indignation. “No one else comes down here. If you lift the lockdown, that thing’ll get free run of the station through the vents. We’ll be fine… We’ve got food and water, this kit’s got enough supplies to last us, and… I think as long as we leave it alone, it’ll leave us alone.” 

Lindsay hummed as they scanned the room. The plants in the crates had calmed down a little bit, and as far as they could tell the one in the vents was perfectly still, only shifting every now and then but not making any grand movements. “What should we do, then?”

“Make sure everyone else evacuates the ship the second we touch down and send Michael down here with a flamethrower. We’ll take a bit of a hit to our pay because we’ll be short a crate, but I don’t care. I want that thing dead.” 

“I’m sure the commander feels the same way… Are you sure he’s gonna be okay?” They asked, dimming the lights a little. If it was dark, the plants would probably stay calmer. It would make sleeping a little easier for the pair as well. 

Alfredo bit his lip, shrugging a shoulder before shaking his head. “No, but I’m trying to be optimistic.” He leaned his head back against the crate and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief he’d been holding for far too long. With Lindsay back, it meant he wasn’t alone. There was a buffer between him and the commander, someone to help fill the silence. 

They were quiet for a few minutes as they relayed information to the rest of the crew, before the comms crackled in the hold once more. “You should try and sleep too, ‘Fredo. Now that we know where it is, I can keep an eye on it.” 

“No, I gotta make sure he’s still breathing.”

“I can keep an eye on him too. The crates are quiet, so all my sensors are in working order. His heart rate is normal, if a bit weak, but he’s breathing fine. You should rest.”

He didn’t really have the energy to argue with them further, so he relented. “Wake us in a few hours. I’m gonna have to change his bandages and clean those wounds. Michael’ll kill me if I let those get infected.”

“Yes, he will.”

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

As hour twelve rolled around, Lindsay brightened the lights slowly and chimed softly to wake the pilot and the commander. They hoped that the plants wouldn’t be disturbed as well, but considering how long it took the pair to wake up, they weren’t really too concerned. 

“Trevor,” Alfredo said softly, jostling him gently with his shoulder. His ass and his neck ached from sleeping on the hard metal floor in such an awkward position, and he was sure that the other man would need another round of painkillers too. “Trevor, c’mon man. Wake up.” 

He did so with great reluctance, groaning softly as he registered several different aches and pains. “Was this really necessary?”

“Yeah, it was. Gotta change your bandages so Michael won’t have to cut off your arm,” he said, encouraging him to sit up before reaching for the supplies in front of him. “Or my head.”

Trevor laughed softly, starting to stretch his arms out over his head before he stopped short, wincing and clutching his bandaged arm to his chest. “Fuck… I thought that was a dream,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I wish it was,” Alfredo sighed, “But while you were sleeping, we got Lindsay back. So that’s good, at least. Told them everything. They wanted to send Michael down here, but I told them not to.”

“And why the hell did you do that?” Trevor winced as Alfredo started to unwrap the gauze. Despite how careful he was being, it still pulled at the cuts uncomfortably. 

“Because,” he started, murmuring an apology when he saw him wince and trying to go slower. “If the lockdown gets lifted, that thing can go through the vents and go anywhere it wants, which is bad.”

Trevor hummed in agreement, but it was reluctant. He didn’t like knowing Alfredo had been giving orders while he’d been asleep, even if they were the same ones he would’ve given. “What’d you tell them to do, then?”

“Keep the lockdown going, evacuate everyone once we land, and then send Michael down here. With a flamethrower.”

“Good thinking.”

“Why, thank you.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence then, Alfredo removing the last of the gauze and cleaning up his arm. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, so now it was just a focus on preventing infection, which he hoped would be easy enough. It would be even easier once they got back on solid ground, when Michael could actually get in here and kill the thing. Bullets probably wouldn’t do the trick, they’d just piss Gavin off by causing damage to the ship, but fire was pretty damn effective in every circumstance. 

“Lindsay?” Trevor called softly, feeling instantly comforted when he heard their voice over the speakers. “Where is the thing? Still in the vent?”

“Yep. Still in the vent. It’s almost cute like this, even if it did try to eat you.”

“It didn’t… It didn’t try to eat me.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, commander. Oh, and Matt would like me to tell you that he thinks it’s hilarious you got your ass kicked by a plant.”

Trevor huffed, rolling his eyes and sinking back against the crates. Even when he was isolated from his crew, they still found a way to pester him. 

Beside him, Alfredo shrugged off his jacket, flipping it inside out so the soft lining was visible before balling it up. “You should get some more rest,” he said as he held it out to Trevor. “It’s not much, but it’ll be better for your neck than the crate.”

He hesitated a moment before taking it, sinking right down to the floor to lay flat since he had a pillow now. “It’s weird seeing you without your jacket on.” Alfredo had been wearing it from the moment he’d met him until now, he hadn’t seen him with it off once. 

“He even wears it to bed,” Lindsay piped up, laughing as Alfredo’s face went as red as the leather. 

“I do not!” He shouted defensively, glaring up at the ceiling.  “It’s just part of my style, that’s all.” 

“Relax,” Trevor chuckled, reaching out blindly to pat Alfredo’s arm. He missed and hit leg instead, but neither of them said anything. “I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s a good style, I like it.” He turned his head, looking up at Alfredo with a small smile. 

The other couldn’t help but smile back, getting comfortable against the box behind him. He didn’t know why that compliment made him feel so warm, but he was lucky that his face was already red from Lindsay’s teasing so it didn’t give him away. “Thanks, Trev.”

“Anytime, Fredo.” 

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

The hours rolled by easily, the pair spending most of them asleep because there wasn’t much else to do. They woke up a few times so Alfredo could change the bandages, munching on some rations at one point since the last meal they’d had was breakfast that morning. Chatting with Lindsay was another good way to pass the time, too. They were able to keep the crew updated on the situation down in the hold, and keep the commander updated on things going on on the other side of the door. There wasn’t much going on, just a lot of worry, but Trevor still didn’t want to be out of the loop. 

Once they’d slept as much as they could and talked to Lindsay until there was nothing more to talk about, they decided to do the only thing they could to pass the final few hours before the ship landed: Talk to each other. 

“You said you used to work on Earth. What was that like?” Trevor asked, looking down at Alfredo. They swapped who got to use the jacket-pillow every couple of hours, and since they weren’t going to be sleeping anymore Trevor had decided to surrender it back to its original owner (even though it was still technically his turn for another thirty minutes). 

“You’ve never been?” he asked, sticking an arm beneath his head to prop himself up as he looked back at the commander, who shook his head. “I mean, it was fine? I guess? Kinda boring compared to space. The sky was always the same, and there were way too many people. Have you seriously never been to Earth?”

“No, I grew up out in the Terra 2 colony. Then I got sucked up into a spacer crew, and that was it. Never saw any reason to go once I got the Morrigan, and now without a warp drive we’re too far out.”

“I’m shocked a job hasn’t taken you there, people there are always looking for stuff smuggled in from the far reaches,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Customs was a bitch to get by, but he still had a few buddies down there who’d be willing to let them through. He was sure of it. “Once we get that drive, we’ll pick up a few jobs that’ll take us there.”

“Whatever you say, man. But you didn’t exactly make it sound worth the hype.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely not, but still. I can’t believe you’ve never been!” 

Talking to Trevor was a lot easier than it had been before. He wasn’t as scared of him, and a lot of the distrust had faded. The feeling was mutual, as well. The commander wasn’t angry at Alfredo anymore, because ultimately, none of this was his fault. He was the one who hadn’t checked in on the cargo sooner, he was the one who’d startled the monster, all of this fell on his shoulders because it was his ship and he was responsible for everything that happened on it.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said out of nowhere, almost startling Alfredo with the suddenness of it. “I’m sorry I blamed all this on you.”

“It’s fine.” He hadn’t been expecting an apology from the commander. Maybe a month or two on bathroom cleaning duty, sure, but not an apology. “We both had our fuckups in this mess.”

“We did, but it’s unfair to blame the whole thing on you. Most of it, sure?” Alfredo cut him a look, and he just laughed. “Kidding. I’m kidding! Don’t give me that. It’s really more like… Fifty/fifty.”

“Sixty/forty. You’re the sixty.”

“Yeah, okay. Fair enough.” 

They grinned at each other, oblivious to the way the ship began to creak and groan around them as Lindsay initiated the landing sequence. The plants in the crates kicked up again, but the one in the vents was still. 

“You know what? You’re alright, Fredo. Gavin was right about you.” 

Alfredo’s face matched his jacket all over again, and he had to fight hard to get the words out despite how flustered he was. Trevor hadn’t called him by any sort of nickname until now, it made him feel good to know that the commander was finally warming up to him. “What… What did he say about me, exactly?”

“That you were the best of the best. And he was right. Normally he’s not right about these things, but… He nailed it with you.”

“You sure you’re not still woozy from blood loss?” Alfredo asked, arching an eyebrow as he sat up, meeting Trevor’s eyes. “Because I know we just did that whole heartfelt apology thing, but… I definitely almost got you killed.”

He shook his head fervently. “No, you didn’t. You saved my life.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you die.” 

“And I owe you big time for that.”

The ship jostled as it landed on uneven earth, and Alfredo grabbed onto Trevor quickly to prevent him from sliding around with the crates around them. Even as things settled, he didn’t let go, hearing something hiss in annoyance from the far end of the cargo hold. 

“Lindsay… Please tell us Michael’s on his way,” Trevor said, sinking back into the pilot in an effort to hide as he scrambled to grab the harpoon gun. 

“He’s outside the door, we’re just waiting for everyone to be off the ship so I can lift the lockdown. I suggest staying out of his way… He’s been wanting to use that thing for the last eighteen hours, and I don’t think anything’s gonna get in his way.”

“If he dies, Alfredo’s the new medical officer.”

“Noted.”

Using a flamethrower while they were in flight was unwise because of the oxygen rich environment, but back on terra firma it was the perfect weapon for dealing with unruly plant monsters. Michael’s cackles of delight echoed off the walls, mixing with the roar of the weapon and the shrieks of the plant as it burned. The noises kicked off another escape attempt in the other crates, but the reinforcements they’d made held firm. Only a few crates of supplies got caught up in the crossfire, and Michael was relatively unharmed aside from the ash staining his lab coat. 

Alfredo let the harpoon drop from his hands once he realized he wouldn’t be needing it, instead helping Trevor to his feet and keeping him steady as they made their way to the bay doors. “Michael,” he said, watching as the man kept scorching the charred remains. “Michael!” He stopped firing quickly, whirling around with wide eyes. “Stop dicking around, Trevor needs help.” 

“A thank you would’ve been nice,” Michael muttered as he dropped the weapon, knowing he’d need his hands free to help Trevor. 

“Thank you, Michael. Now help him, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lindsay told me that you were trying to steal my job, I just hope you didn’t make things worse,” he said as he swapped places with Alfredo, supporting Trevor’s weight to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “Alright, Trevor-boy, let’s get you to the infirmary.” He started to lead him out of the cargo hold, and Alfredo watched them go for a second before turning to start cleaning the mess they’d left behind up. 

Trevor stopped after a few paces, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re not coming?” he asked, the smallest hint of a frown etched into his features. 

“Uh.” Alfredo blinked, not sure how to answer. “No?”

“Yes, you are. C’mon.”

“Why?”

“I need someone there for moral support. Michael’s not as gentle as you are and I need someone’s hand to hold while he patches me up.” Trevor cracked a grin despite the fact that he wasn’t telling a joke, and Alfredo mirrored the expression after a moment to process exactly what he’d said. “Come on, I don’t have all day,” he insisted, holding out his hand towards him as Michael began to pull him along. 

Alfredo jogged to catch up to them, abandoning the task at hand in favor of taking Trevor’s hand. He was happy to have escaped the cargo bay alive, and even happier to know that he was back in the commander’s good graces. Their relationship was different, stronger and a lot friendlier than it had been now that they were no longer wary of each other. Trevor couldn’t think of a single member of the crew that he would’ve rather gone through that ordeal with, either. 

“Thanks for not letting the boss die, Fredo,” Michael said, cutting into the silence once they reached the infirmary. 

“Yeah, thanks for not letting me die, Fredo,” Trevor agreed, smiling kindly at him and giving his hand a squeeze. 

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

[sorcererinthestars]

Pastries and Other Sweet Things

For the @rtwritingcommunity‘s Secret Springfairy prompt! When I find out my recipient’s tumblr, I will make sure to tag them here. Until then - I hope you enjoy, Rowen! :)

TW: domestic abuse mentions, food/body shaming

WC:  4180 Prompt:  Jeremwood bakery AU — oh god, Jeremy just has the BIGGEST crush on the guy with the sweet tooth that comes in every damn day. It’s a shame Ryan only seems to have eyes for the desserts.

-

Life was normally pretty easy running a bakery, most of the time. Jeremy rarely had to deal with unruly customers or people who didn’t pay. His bakery was located on the corner of Earl and Somerset, near the grocery store, and he had a pretty normal stream of regulars that would come in and out. The worst of his problems boiled down to quietly ushering sobbing customers out when his bakery was the chosen spot for a breakup. But a cookie and a smile normally helped soothe the worst of broken hearts.

He thought so, anyways.

Today was a day like any other. He made himself busy behind the counter, done serving the lunch rush looking for his sandwiches made on his fresh-baked bread, when the bell over the door rang. Expecting just any customer, he looks up with a smile, wiping his hands on his apron and moving to the cash register to take the order.

When he saw the man, though, his heart dropped out of his chest and down towards his shoes. Holy shit. He’d never seen this man before. He would fucking know if this specimen came into his store before now. With dusty blond hair, a dad bod that was just on the right side of chiseled, and a dumb ass backwards cap on his head, the man was attractive in a way that meant he had no idea, which was genuinely all sorts of appealing for Jeremy, who was used to dating men (and women) who knew they were attractive and boasted about it constantly.

He shoves back memories of his last messy breakup and grins brightly at the new customer, happy they were - for now - alone. “Hey,” he hums. “How can I help?”

“Hi,” the man says back and Jeremy’s toes curl in his shoes at that delightful baritone. “Are those cannolis?”

“Fresh baked,” Jeremy chuckles. “I grew up in Boston and learned from the best. These rival Mikes, if you can fuckin’ believe that.” Shit. He needed to remember not to swear in front of customers, but the man just made him feel at ease. Thankfully, it made the blond smile back. “Don’t know what Mikes’ is, but I’ll try one for sure, thanks.”

Jeremy nods breathlessly at that smile and grabs a cannoli, placing it on the top of the counter. “Is this for here or are you taking it out with you?”

The man frowns, glancing at his watch, and swears a bit. “Fuck, I promised my boyfriend I’d meet him outside his work in ten. Can I get another to go?”

Boyfriend. Well, that took the wind out of his sails. Jeremy tried not to show the disappointment that curled in his stomach at the statement. Of course a hottie like that had a boyfriend - although, he had to admit, boyfriend wasn’t a bad first sign. And relationships didn’t last forever, right...?

Fuck, Dooley, you were getting desperate. He needed to find someone soon or he was going to start stalking his customers and that would be a workplace violation if he ever fuckin’ saw one. He forces the grin back on his face. “Sure. Your boy have any special tastes in cannoli?”

“Plain.” The man didn’t even seem to be looking at him now. Instead, he was glancing at his phone in a semi-nervous fashion, seeming much more agitated since he realized he may be late. “Can you move quick? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Jeremy raises his eyebrow but doesn’t protest, placing both cannolis in a single box and wrapping it with his special ribbon. “For the both of you,” he purrs a bit as he hands the bag over. The man smiles a bit distractedly. “Thanks.”

“For sure. That will be $7 with tax.” The man digs a five and two ones out of his wallet and hands it over and for a moment their hands brush as Jeremy goes to take the cash. The customer looks a bit startled and glances up, making real eye contact with Jeremy for what seemed like the first time. He swallows, eyes flicking up and down Jeremy’s form, and Jeremy forces himself not to grin. Ah. So, some interest then.

“Thanks - uh - ,” he says again, a bit more strained, looking for a nametag.

“Jeremy,” he supplies readily. “And it’s my pleasure. I bake all of these myself.”

“Do you?” the man blurts. “They look delicious. I - uh - gotta go, but thanks Jeremy.”

The way his name sounded in the other man’s mouth was positively delightful and Jeremy had to force himself from reacting. Get a grip, genius. He just smirks back a bit. “Hope you enjoy and spread the word if you like them.”

The other lingers a bit in the doorway as if he wants to stay, but he just nods and slips out, seeming like he takes Jeremy’s light with him. Jeremy slumps against the counter, humming softly to himself as he plays back the memory.

--

As does all good things when they’re not nurtured, the memories of the mysterious customer fades from Jeremy’s mind over the next few days in the bustle of the weekend rush. He doesn’t give another thought to the man other than a vague warmth until suddenly, he’s back.

He slips in again with the Monday lunch rush and Jeremy doesn’t even notice him until he’s back up at the counter. “Hi,” he says again, but this time he seems a bit more agitated than before. Jeremy doesn’t push, too thrilled to see him again. He beams at the other man on the other side of the counter. “I remember you!” he says - hoping that wasn’t uncomfortable. “Back for more cannolis? I told you that they were the best in this city.”

The blond huffs out a bit of a breathy laugh and Jeremy takes that as his own personal victory. “Yeah. My boyfriend loves them. He - uh - requested I grab two more on my way over to meet him for lunch.”

“That so?” Jeremy asks as he starts to pack two up, not exactly liking how the word ‘requested’ hung in the air. “You eat with him every day?”

“Yeah,” the man says distantly, poking at the counter as he stares at all the sweet treats. “It’s not so far of a walk. We meet up and eat in the little park outside his office when the weather is nice.”

“That’s nice,” Jeremy says, figuring he may as well be supportive. The man was adorable, the way he looked so earnestly at the sweets, the almost childlike passion in his eyes. “I heard it’s romantic if you like - Lady and Tramp the cannoli. One on each end.” He smirks a bit.

“Oh, I don’t eat much,” the other says a bit distractedly. “John says I need to watch my weight. Doesn’t want me developing a dad bod.” He pops up to look at Jeremy and chuckles a bit as if the statement didn’t ring terribly in Jeremy’s ears. He pats his belly. “We’re getting there. But fuck, your cookies do look beautiful.”

“Taste better than they look,” Jeremy says quietly, giving the other a concerned look he can’t hide. The other seemed so .... kind. Funny, gentle, and amazingly beautiful. To think that his boyfriend wasn’t letting him have a fucking cannoli made Jeremy’s blood boil. But he doesn’t say anything. He worked at the damn bakery. Who was he to get involved?

He rings up the cannoli, the guy hands over his $7, and gives him an earnest look. “Thanks. My name is Ryan by the way. I think I’ll be back.” He shoots Jeremy an actual smile, nodding at him a bit, and disappears out the door.

Turning back to the line of some of his more regular customers - one of them smirking at the hearts in Jeremy’s eyes - he tries not to think about Ryan, his beautiful customer, and the potentially problematic confessions he gave over a counter to a stranger.

--

Ryan starts to make regular, daily appearances during the rest of the work week. Jeremy’s crush doesn’t get any better. If anything, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper for the man and the cannoli, counting down the minutes until 1:15pm when Ryan arrives, sometimes breathless from his run over here.

He finds out Ryan likes Diet Coke and always has one fresh pulled from the fridge. When it’s slow, they get into more teasing arguments over the counter. Jeremy tries to convince him that it’s the Diet Coke that’s going to kill him over the sweets and he should try coffee or tea or something, Ryan joking back that it was a brown-liquid-filled grave that was awaiting him and he was okay with that.

Jeremy never once sees Ryan eat one of his baked goods over that week, but doesn’t press. What can he do? Despite their borderline flirting, he knows Ryan has a boyfriend. One he likes quite a lot, despite the disturbing things Jeremy heard on that second meeting. Ryan will sometimes mention this ‘John’ in passing when they are talking - interestingly, more often when they’re edging closer and closer to actually flirting. 

He takes this as his cue to back off. He’s not going to be a dick. 

However, the meetings with Ryan are the bright spot in his otherwise boring days. He loves learning everything he can about the other in the few minutes he has with him. He starts wrapping up the two cannoli early so he can have a bit more time to just talk to Ryan, to see him smile and the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

He can’t stop thinking about his lips. How his body must look under all those clothes. Late at night, when he closes up the shop and disappears to the apartment upstairs, he lays on his couch and tries to fill his thoughts with anyone other than the blond asshole who had utterly consumed his thoughts with this stupid ass crush.

It would be creepy, he tells himself, if he acted on this fixation. But he doesn’t, other than casual flirting that he stops when and if he sees Ryan getting uncomfortable. It’s just a crush and it feels nice to be in love for once. It’s been a while since he’s crushed on anyone, for it to be anything other than a night of hot lust and an empty bed in the morning.

Jeremy can’t help but admit to himself he wants something real. He’s not going to get that with Ryan, certainly, but he can nurture something like a middle school crush if it doesn’t do any harm and makes him feel nice and giddy when the other walks in.

--

That Friday at 1pm, Jeremy’s just finishing wrapping up the cannolis when the bell rings over his shop door. He looks up and sees the familiar sandy hair and grins brightly again. “Ryan! Welcome back.” Except, this time, Ryan’s not alone. A man follows. Bigger, built more like a traditional football player. Muscles. While he doesn’t have height on Ryan, who was a taller man himself, he does have a build of a man who wasn’t easy to oppose. A man who was used to getting his way. Attractive, if you were into the big muscly types. Jeremy, who prides himself on being pretty jacked himself, wasn’t into that.

Must be John. 

Jeremy forces himself to settle down and treat John like any other customer, even though the few things he had heard about the man over the course of their warm counter conversations weren’t at all pleasant.

“Hey Jeremy,” Ryan says, smiling a bit, but Jeremy can instantly tell it doesn’t reach his eyes. Which were slightly red. Was he rubbing at them, or was it the remnants of tears he sees? Ryan doesn’t seem like the guy who would cry easily. He’s got his jacket on. He doesn’t normally wear his jacket. Jeremy doesn’t want to follow that road to its inevitable conclusion.

He doesn’t push. What can he say? In the end, he’s a fucking store clerk. His crush doesn’t mean he can try to invade this guys’ life.

“We want the two cannolis,” John says, stepping somewhat in front of Ryan and glaring at Jeremy like he wanted to intimidate him. But Jeremy fought for fun. He grew up in Boston. He wasn’t going to let this guy intimidate him. So he stands tall, meeting his gaze easily, and takes the pre-prepared box with the dumb red ribbon he had carefully wrapped around it, sliding it over.

John takes the box wordlessly, glancing at it. He pulls the ribbon off and drops it on the floor without breaking eye contact with Jeremy and steps on it, putting the cannolis on the counter by the cash register.

Ryan steps forward. “John, don’t be a fucking dick, Jeremy’s got nothing to do with this.”

“He’s got everything to do with this,” John growls. “Shut up.” 

Ryan falls silent. Jeremy hates it. He hates it with every fiber of his being. The way Ryan, with his bright eyes and soft smile, the way he seemed to give up to the other with the look of constant frustration. His eyes flick over to Jeremy and the other meets them.

Something in Jeremy’s stomach flips. So, the attraction was mutual. All the days Jeremy thought that maybe the flirting was reciprocal even though Ryan spent most of the time salivating over the pastries were validated. Ryan liked him. And John wasn’t happy about it.

“You’re hitting on my fuckin’ boyfriend,” John says lowly, looking over the counter at Jeremy. His eyes narrow and he slams the box of cannolis down, crushing them. “I thought these were a gift, for me, from a loving boyfriend, but instead they were a pity gift from a slut who just wanted to make moon eyes at the whore behind the pastry counter.”

He whips around to glare at Ryan, who set his jaw in a furious way. “Don’t say that. Just because I was done with you being a possessive piece of shit doesn’t mean that I was fucking thinking about cheating on you.” Ryan takes a step forward.

It happens quickly after that. Jeremy, with a lot of knowledge of street fighting, sees the spring uncoil in John’s shoulder two milliseconds before the fist crashes into the side of Ryan’s face, sending the man sprawling sideways. “You’re a slut!” John snarls, stalking forward.

Jeremy both praises and curses the fact that the shop was empty at this point - maybe other people would have stopped it from escalating this far - but he couldn’t do anything about it now. He leaps over the counter and springs over, grabbing John’s arm before he could hit Ryan again, who was sitting up with fire in his own eyes. “You fucking ass!” 

“Don’t talk back to me!” John howls, moving to hit again. But he must be used to dealing with weaker men than Ryan and Jeremy. Jeremy doesn’t know how long Ryan had been dealing with this man hitting him, yelling at him, calling him names, but finally it looked like he had enough. Originally, he was going to jump in to defend Ryan from any further attacks, trying to stop any more damage to his store than what was already caused by the fight, but Ryan didn’t seem to need help.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Ryan snarls, shoving John viciously and sending the other stumbling backwards. John seemed to realize he was cornered between two people who didn’t seem to like him all that much and he stumbles towards the door with an angry look. 

“Fine,” he snaps. “I don’t want a whore as a boyfriend anyways.”

Ryan just flicks him off and balls his fists as the other turns and leaves them alone. There’s a beat of just breathing as Ryan watches his now ex-boyfriend stalk down the street, back towards his work and out of Ryan’s life. For now, at least.

Then he turns and glances at one of the splintered chairs, which had cracked as Ryan fell on it with the punch. The shifted tables. And ultimately, the smushed box of cannoli. “....fuck, Jeremy... I’m - I’m so sorry, I never could have...”

“Shhh,” Jeremy says quickly, moving over to him and boldly taking his hand, glancing up to the face of the other man, who - with the fading adrenaline - now looked stressed. “Stay here.”

He moves to flick the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and Ryan gives him a confused look. “I can help you clean...”

“You need that face looked at,” Jeremy breaks in. “I’ve taken a lump or two in my day and unless you get ice on it now, you’re gonna have a hell of a shiner. Sit.” He pushes Ryan into one of his chairs. “I’ll be right with you, okay?”

Ryan - bewildered and settling into a bit of a panicked breakdown - just nods. 

Jeremy hates seeing him like this, but was just happy John was seemingly out of the picture. He rattles down his mental list of what to do after a fight, having been in a lot of them in his college and high school days. He trashes the broken chair, rearranges the furniture, sweeps the dirt from the footsteps off the floor, and fixes disturbed centerpieces on his few tables before moving back over to Ryan, crouching so he can look him in the eyes. 

The blond is forcing himself to breathe quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose in order to focus, but looks up when Jeremy bends down in front of him. “Hey,” he says weakly. “I can fuck off, I’m sorry - can I give you money for the chair... for the inconvenience to your shop...?”

“Fuck that,” Jeremy says, startling Ryan enough that he actually focuses for the first time on Jeremy, blinking. “I’m sor--”

“Stop apologizing,” Jeremy cuts him off. “I’m fucking impressed, dude. That guy has obviously been a source of mental shit in your life for a long time and you were ready to kick his ass even though he just laid you out. That takes balls. It was honestly really hot.” He smiles a bit, his cheeks turning red as Ryan’s ears burn the same crimson.

“Come upstairs to my apartment,” Jeremy coaxes. “No strings attached and I swear to god, I’m not going to do anything other than to just get you some ice and a more comfortable place to relax.”

Ryan bites his lip for a moment and then smiles back despite how it pulls on the already-forming shiner near his eye. He stands and takes Jeremy’s hand.

--

As the clock strikes five, Ryan is still in Jeremy’s small apartment. He’s wrapped in a quilt, a bag of frozen peas on his face. Jeremy sits next to him but far enough apart that it wasn’t weird.

Conversation had varied. Jeremy had called the police, informing them of a domestic abuse altercation that happened at his shop, giving them John’s description. They promised to keep additional cruisers in the area, just in case.

They had just sat for a while, Jeremy’s tv flickering across an episode of The Office, a show they had talked about over one of their weekly meetings. Ryan still seemed shaken. Understandable. From what Jeremy could glean and learned over their week, Ryan lived with John from only a few months into their relationship. It was a good one at first - John had a good job and liked to take Ryan out; they had fun together. But Ryan was quickly taught the rules of this relationship and by the time he knew them for real, he was in too deep to climb out without a catalyst like what had just happened.

Jeremy got it. And didn’t press. Although, he couldn’t help but think of the fact that the current man of his desires was sitting on the couch he had once laid on while fantasizing about him only a few days beforehand.

Finally, Ryan spoke up. “Thanks,” he says quietly, pushing the quilt down and adjusting his seat a bit. “Seriously. I couldn’t have asked anyone to do what you did.”

“What? Stand there like an ass while he hit you and then offer you ice? That’s not exactly heroic.”

“Open your house for me. And don’t lie, you were ready to leap in there.”

Jeremy shrugs. “I guess so. Fighting is nothing new for me.”

“And yet you opened a bakery?” 

“I’m full of surprises,” Jeremy flirted and then bit his lip. “I - I just flirt. Listen, Ryan, I’ll be blunt. I like you. A lot. I’m not asking for anything, I know you literally are currently dealing with a messy-ass breakup, but... I’ll be the whore behind the counter if you wanted me to be.”

There’s a silence. Ryan stares at him for a long moment. Jeremy just sits there, hands folded in his lap so he doesn’t rip the shit out of his fingers picking the skin from anxiety. 

Then Ryan surges forward, grabbing Jeremy’s shirt, and before Jeremy can do or say anything, they’re kissing fervently. Not used to being manhandled, Jeremy goes to grab Ryan’s hands and direct the kiss, but he knows this is just as much Ryan’s show of dominance and authority after what had been done to him, so he lets the other do what he wants.

And it’s good. Fuck, it’s so good, a kiss fueled not only by lust and curiosity but also a crush that had been nurtured for days, stirring something down in his gut and making it burn, a kiss fueled by the desperation of a man who hadn’t kissed anything he wanted to kiss in months.

When Ryan’s tongue slips into Jeremy’s mouth, he lets it, making a breathless little moan that causes Ryan to miss a beat as he reacts. It’s messy and sloppy and fast, no one knows what they’re doing, but if this is what Ryan thinks he needs, Jeremy is not going to say no.

Ryan pulls away before Jeremy’s able to start rutting against him, probably for the best - sex wasn’t what was needed right now even though Jeremy was rock hard and thinking solely of the way Ryan tasted. They pull apart, lips red and gasping a bit, and then stare, again.

When Ryan licks his lips, Jeremy’s eyes track his tongue, forcing himself to try to stay calm. “Uh....,” Ryan says weakly.

“That was .... really, really good,” Jeremy breathes, looking at him for a bit of a smile. “I can die happy with that kiss. Jesus, man. Your tongue though.”

“I’ve got many talents,” Ryan snorts breathlessly. And then the tension breaks as they’re both laughing, starting quietly before chuckling before laughing uproariously as the tension seems to leak off of Ryan’s limbs. 

“I don’t know if I can do anything ... I dunno, serious,” Ryan says when they stop laughing. “But ... if you can wait...”

“I’ll wait,” Jeremy shrugs. “Hell, it’s not like I have a lot of options, nor want any other after that kiss. You take the time you need. And if you ever want to come back for more kisses - no strings attached - I’ll be ready for you. And whatever you want to give.”

“Maybe I am a slut,” Ryan chuckles, and Jeremy shrugs. “There are worse things to be.”

Ryan shrugs and smirks. “Hey. If I date the baker, does that mean I can eat anything that is on those shelves?” His eyes dance with mirth.

Jeremy fakes rolling his eyes. “I see! Just using me for my sweets.” He scoffs for a moment before surging forward to steal another breathless kiss, lingering on those soft lips. “Too bad I like your dad bod so much.”

He moves towards the apartment door to run down to the shop to grab him something. When he looks back, Ryan is still wrapped in his quilt, sitting on his couch, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

He may not have the relationship he wanted. It would be a rocky road before Ryan felt comfortable again with anything that required actual serious commitment, and Jeremy did respect that. Hell, he’d find it insane if Ryan didn’t want to take it really slow after what he just witnessed.

But he had his sweet kiss, more flavorful than his best cherry tart and even more red, and that memory would linger in his mind forever more. And the promise of even more sweet kisses and memories to be made, should he have the patience to wait for them.

No one would call Jeremy Dooley a patient man. But he could - and would - learn.

If only for the hungry, sweet-loving demon in the next room.

[krembearry]

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones/Gavin Free

Additional tags: Original Character(s), Temporary Character Death, Violence, Secret Santa

Summary:

they meet a wild boy. the three grow close, they learn, they become so much more. this is the end as much as it is the beginning, and they will always have each other.

my secret springfairy for zita.

[shadeofazmeinya]

A Hiss in the Darkness

Summary:  A routine cave expedition for resources turns sour after an unexpected run-in.

‘Gavin almost doesn’t hear it, so faint in the dark as he is lost in thought. But the hair on the back of his neck stands up and the slow hiss creeps behind him. A sound that stops his heart as he realizes.

Creeper.’

A/N: For the @rtwritingcommunity‘s secret springfairy event! My fic is for @fornhaus. As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! Hope you enjoy!!!

“Have you found anything besides fucking cobblestone and coal?” Michael grumbles as they walk deeper into the mine. They had been in for hours to try to find anything valuable to bring back to the village. Jack is needing more iron to craft tools and Matt is asking for precious gems for reasons Gavin’s not gonna ask about. But despite how deep their mine is and how long they’ve been using it, today they just weren’t finding much.

 “Just coal,” Gavin says, raising his lantern to look around. The low light flickers around them, making the dark edges only more ominous. “Maybe we should go back up… It must be getting late.”

 “Let’s just try one more end,” Michael sighs. “Don’t want to come up with nothing.”

 Gavin sighs but continues with Michael. Walking through the dark cave in search of anything to provide their village. These mining expeditions were becoming more and more frequent, with needing to have more supplies. Their village was expanding a lot after all. Growing with new members and expanding in size every day. And while Gavin enjoyed all their new friends, it was nice to spend time with just Michael again. Maybe that’s why Gavin also doesn’t push to go back up even if he is getting tired. Just to have a bit more time with his boi.

 Of course, they are around each other often. They’ve been friends for years at this point. But it’s been… more than that recently. Likely due to Fiona pointing out Gavin’s obvious fucking crush the last time she visited. Gavin hadn’t (wouldn’t) considered the crush on his best friend but now he couldn’t deny it. He wanted to do more, but how? He won’t risk losing his friendship. Gavin is silent as he ponders his predicament yet again as they head into the darker tunnels.

 Gavin almost doesn’t hear it, so faint in the dark as he is lost in thought. But the hair on the back of his neck stands up and the slow hiss creeps behind him. A sound that stops his heart as he realizes.

 Creeper.

 It’s pure instinct after that. Gavin reaches for Michael, shoving him away as hard as he can. He throws his body over his. There’s no running. No time. Only instinct to save Michael from the blast.

 And the blast comes, a horrible explosion that rocks the cave. The force of it pushes them to the wall and Gavin’s whole body flares in white-hot pain. The air is punched right out of his lungs as he falls into Michael. He feels Michael duck into him, but can’t hear a sound as his ears ring. The whole earth shakes as rocks start to fall, the ceiling cracking and dust coating them.

 Silence. But it only lasts a moment, a breath.

 Then the ground shakes again.

 The walls vibrate and the cracks from the explosion deepen. Stretching down the walls, racing through the ceiling. Rocks start falling and they both pale realizing what this means. A cave in.

 “Move!” Michael yells, grabbing Gavin and yanking him. Gavin just tries to move his feet as best he can, blindly pushing his legs as Michael pulls him. But pain is flaring up his back, aching from the first blast making it hard to keep up. His lungs still burned as he tried to catch his breath.

 Gavin can’t see but the sounds of crashing stone behind them explains enough. He feels rubble at their heels, the whole cave collapsing in. They push up as best they can, jumping up steps as the walls groan. Then they see the entrance, a bit of light at the mouth. A strip of blue sky.

 And then it's gone.

 There’s a thunderous crash, rocks cracking and then folding in just at the entrance. They both fall besides it as the vibrating finally stops. The way behind was cut off and the way out firmly sealed. They were trapped.

 Michael curses, trying to dig out the rocks but Gavin reaches out and holds him arm. “Don’t,” he coughs, brushing dust off his face. “You could make it worse.”

 “Worse?!” Michael snarls. “How much fucking worse can it get?! Look at this! A fucking creeper took out the whole cave!”

 “I know,” Gavin sighs, sitting down as the pain catches up to him and it was taking too much to stand. “But you could collapse the rest of it. On top of us.”

 Michael snarls, hands clenching his fists but finally huffs and steps away. “What the fuck do we do then?”

 “Wait,” Gavin groans, resting back against the wall. “The others will come. They’ll notice we’re gone.”

 Michael sighs but turns to look at Gavin. Really look at him, seeing him grimacing in pain and the thin trail of blood on the side of his head. “You need help,” he frowns, sitting down beside him. “Let me take a look. You took the full brunt of that creeper. Which you didn’t fucking have to do.”

 Gavin just nods, sitting back but letting Michael shift over and start poking at him. “Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

 Michael scowls, gently lifting Gavin’s shirt up. “Well I can take it. I don’t fucking want you hurt.”

 Gavin’s too tired to argue. He rests his head back on the rock as all his energy just feels drained. His head is swimming and it's getting a little hard to focus on much. “M’sorry.”

 “Let me try to clean and wrap this with what we have,” Michael just sighs. “Lay down so I can look at your back.”

 Gavin groans as he shifts positions but manages to lay down. The lantern was warm besides him, providing the only faint glow around them. The shadows flicker far too close as the darkness seems to grow around them. Michael rummages around their packs and Gavin sends a silent thanks to Jack’s preparedness so that they have at least enough food and water if they’re stuck here a while. Though he dreads the thought of it too.

 Michael gets to work wiping off dust and debris and grabbing bandages Jack had thrown in the mining packs ages ago. It’s a careful job but he manages to at least wrap around the worst of the wounds. The pain stings but having it wrapped feels comforting in a way. Gavin is afraid to ask how bad it is, but Michael’s frowns say enough. Michael sighs and sits down as he’s done, glancing back at the entrance. Gavin reaches over to take Michael’s hand. Michael glances down to it and then offers a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll be ok, right?” he mumbles. “Just have to wait.”

--

 “Do you think they’re looking for us yet?” Gavin murmurs in the dark. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed. Enough that the lantern has fully gone out and they haven’t bothered to find a way to light it again.

 “Should be,” Michael sighs. He’s sitting besides Gavin, resting his head against the wall. Gavin’s laying down on his stomach, trying to keep off his back. It had been awkward at first, but then Michael had let Gavin rest his head onto his lap. Gavin tries to not think about the intimacy of it all, glad the darkness is hiding his blush.

 “Probably dinner time,” Gavin hums. “Fuck, I hope we don’t miss it. Geoff’s cooking is the best.”

 Michael snorts and hesitantly reaches down, brushing a hand in Gavin’s hair. Gavin blushes even more, but in his tired, hurt state, he leans into the touch before he can stop himself. Michael blinks and smiles softly. “I’m sure Geoff will save us some food. Or make new food after they get us out.”

 Gavin hums. “You think they’ll be able to get us out?” he murmurs, almost not even heard.

 Michael frowns. “Of course they will,” he huffs. Though really he doesn’t know for sure. Who knows how these walls will hold as they get the rocks away from the entrance. Their rescue could just as likely be their demise. But Michael isn’t going to tell Gavin all of this. “We have some smart people in our village. A lot smarter than us.”

 That earns a small chuckle from Gavin, though it turns into a groan as his back flares again. It makes Michael frown as he continues to brush his hair, gentle circles to soothe him. “We’ll be ok,” Michael assures.

 Gavin frowns. “If we’re not… I just…” Gavin reaches up, taking Michael’s hand and squeezing gently. “I want you to know-”

 “I know,” Michael assures. “Fuck, I’ve suspected for a while. And been told by others but I was too scared to believe them. And we’re both stupid and too scared to make a first move.”

 Gavin gives a small chuckle. “We’ve both been getting yelled at for it then? I’ve been told that you liked me just how I liked you, but I was never sure…”

 “Who wouldn’t?” Michael smiles. “You’re fucking funny and a good guy. And despite how stupid your face is, its attractive too.”

 “You find me attractive?”

 “Unfortunately, I do,” Michael chuckles.

 “Well, I find you attractive,” Gavin smiles. “If we get out of here, we’re going on a date.”

 “When we get out of here,” Michael corrects.

 “When,” Gavin hums, but it doesn't sound like he believes it. “Until then… Can I kiss you?”

 There’s a silence that twists Gavin’s heart, Michael not responding for a long moment. Gavin shifts, opening his mouth to back down, say it was a joke but suddenly Michael pulls him up and a pair of soft lips are against his.

 It’s soft, careful as they kiss for the first time. Both hesitant but slowly sinking into the feeling. Michael holds him close as Gavin wraps his arms around his shoulders. They both gasp for breath before pulling in again. Seeking each other.

 And then a voice cuts in. “Michael?! Gavin?!” a voice calls from the other side of the rubble. “Are you there?!” It’s Jack, sounding worried but it brings instant relief.

 They quickly pull apart but stay holding each other’s hand. “Jack!” Michael calls back. “We’re both here. Fuck, its good to hear you.”

 “Oh thank the Gods,” Jack sighs in relief. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

 “Creeper caused a cave in,” Michael explains. “Gavin’s back is hurt but we’re ok for now. We just need to get out past the entrance.”

 “I can see,” Jack sighs. “I’m going to get everyone else and come back. We need to move these rocks carefully. Are you ok if I leave?”

 “We’ll be ok,” Gavin speaks up. “Just rather not spend the night here. Bloody uncomfortable.”

 That earns a chuckle from Jack. “Ok, good. I’ll be right back.”

--

 It takes a few hours, well past sunset but slowly they get free. They had to slowly remove stones along the side until they made a hole big enough for them to squeeze through. There had been some debate about who would go out first but Michael won out and Gavin climbed through first to freedom. The second they are both out, Geoff is throwing his arms around them. “Thank the fucking Gods you’re ok,” he nearly sobs against them. “We were so worried.”

 “We’re alright,” Gavin chuckles, hugging him back. “Though, I would like to get home and bloody sleep for three years.”

 “Let me check out that back first,” Jack hums. “Then sleep. I think we all can use some.”

 After getting checked out, both boys were cleared to go home. But Michael took Gavin to his house and then didn’t leave. Still having that fear, the flashbacks of Gavin getting hurt. But also the gentle kisses that would be rather nice to continue.

 They both crawl into Michael’s bed, a little tight but they make do. They both smile, stealing soft kisses but not pushing it. Too tired to go any further and too happy to want to leave each other’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re ok,” Michael murmurs in the space between them.

 “I’m glad we’re both ok,” Gavin hums, burying against him. “Now we can officially go on dates.”

 Michael laughs, pulling him close and kissing his hair. “Now we’re going to go on so, so many dates.”

[uy8hg-art]

A Shoulder to Lean On

It’s been a minute but it’s time for @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy! Happy Springfairy, @shadeofazmeinya​ !

Prompt: Recovering from an injury (nothing drastic). And of course the best medicine is cuddles and comfort food in bed. Could be an injury from an accident, a fight (like in fahc au), or in protecting one another.

Summary: When a heist fails in a big way, no one is exactly pleased. But Michael notices that Gavin is even less pleased than the others, and decides to investigate what's got his friend down.

Preview:

To say the heist didn’t go well would be an understatement. The Fake AH Crew had had their fair share of chaotic heists, but this was a new record just for how poorly things could go. It hadn’t even happened in a fun way that they could laugh about later, but in a just downright Not Good way. Somehow, the cops had gotten tipped off about their plan, so the crew aborted Plan A in favor of Plan B before they’d even started. This normally would have been fine, as none of them could remember a time that something hadn’t gone wrong, except this time, they’d been on a time crunch. Plan B was nowhere near as well researched or planned as Plan A had been, and thus, a whole bunch of their information was just plain wrong. This would also normally be fine, since improv was what they did best, except the universe was extra not in their favor that day. Their comms system hadn’t been stable, and every warning they tried to yell at each other sounded like they were going through the world’s longest tunnel that was also somehow underwater. To add to this, no one felt at the top of their game physically, which could most likely be blamed on the intense Wii Sports competition the night prior.

So yes. The heist had ended before they’d even made it to their prize. Not the finest day for the Fake AH Crew.

“That sucked,” Michael declared to the silent car for the fifth or sixth time as they drove lazily around the upper hills of Los Santos. They didn’t know if anyone was following them, and as much as everyone wanted to get to the penthouse and sleep for the next year, they needed to make sure they weren’t leading the cops right to them. Jack had taken half the crew in her minivan for a tour down by the water, while Geoff had taken the other half and squeezed them into a small hybrid car to venture into the hills. “How did that go so bad?”

Read the rest on AO3!

[bioshoook]

A Love as True as Mine

summary:  He gulps involuntarily as the hangman steps towards the lever to control the trapdoor underneath him as the sheriff finishes up his speech. Trevor shuts his eyes tight. He suddenly doesn’t want to see the drop coming, he just hopes that his death is quick and he’s not left dangling for minutes until his body succumbs to gravity. Though he wants to remain still and emotionless he can't stop the trembling that starts to shake his frame now, though he tries to diminish it as best as possible.

He really wishes that he could have talked to his crew one more time- talked to Alfredo one more time.

pairing: Alfredo/Trevor

also available on AO3

[Written for the @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy event! I got @futureboy as my springfairy this time around. If you enjoy please make sure to like and reblog, it always goes a long way!]

He didn't let his legs shake when he walked up the stairs to the gallows and he won't let them shake now with the noose settling heavy around his neck. Trevor keeps a stony expression on his face as the sheriff reads off his rights, what little he has left of them. He looks at the crowd of people below the platform he’s standing on, he’s surprised more people haven't turned out to see him hang, but he reckons that has to do with the lack of time between being captured and being sentenced to hang. The town’s lawmen had come to the conclusion at his capture that it would be wise to be done with him as soon as possible, not wanting to give his gang of Fakes any time to hunt down their leader.

If the hanging had been properly announced he wouldn’t be surprised if thousands of people came to watch Trevor "The Boss" Collins dance the hangman's jig. You can’t be the infamous leader of a group of outlaws known two states over without gaining some kind of reputation. Though most of the people who met the end of his gun or lost their prizes to him deserved it in his opinion. Hell, some people would come just for the hell of it, whether they knew who he was or not. It was more entertaining to watch a person hang in the town square, whether cleanly or not, than to be subjected to another endless day of gossip and routine practices.

The Texas sun is hot and unrelenting above him and he can feel the sweat trickle down his back. He wishes he still had his hat and bandana on, but the good town sheriff was kind enough to relieve him of his effects shortly after being brought into town in tow on foot behind a horse. He would even take his black duster- just to break the contact of the sun from his skin, but whoever nabbed him failed to grab that from the camp he had been occupying. The duster that got left behind in the campsite with Alfredo.

Alfredo.

Trevor feels the sadness and regret weighing his heart down at the thought that he will be dead before he ever gets to tell the other man how he feels. He had realized his feelings for the other man some time ago but he had been too afraid to say it out loud and now look at where it's led him. If only he had one more chance, just one, to tell Alfredo how he really feels.

The executioner standing to his left must mistake Trevor’s forlorn sigh over a love not even given the breadth of a chance to flourish for a sigh of acceptance at the imminent death waiting for him, because the man lets out a deep chuckle exposing yellow teeth stained with age. A wad of chewing tobacco, brown and wet, lands at Trevor’s boots and it takes everything in him not to kick the man off the scaffold, his hand on the lever be damned. He settles for curling his lip in disgust and shoots a glare at the hangman. If his hands weren’t tied behind his back he’d be happily making that man swallow his just hawked up dip.

Trevor tries the rope binding his wrists together again and comes to the same conclusion he had when they were first tied behind his back hours ago: he wouldn't be escaping them any time soon, not without a knife at least. Certainly not soon enough to escape the circle of rope sitting heavy on his neck. Trevor honestly thinks he would have met his demise in a shootout or from falling off a speeding train, not strung up in front of a gawking crowd with nothing better to do than watch a man meet his untimely end.

He gulps involuntarily as the hangman steps towards the lever to control the trapdoor underneath him as the sheriff finishes up his speech. Trevor shuts his eyes tight. He suddenly doesn’t want to see the drop coming, he just hopes that his death is quick and he’s not left dangling for minutes until his body succumbs to gravity. Though he wants to remain still and emotionless he can't stop the trembling that starts to shake his frame now, though he tries to diminish it as best as possible.

He really wishes that he could have talked to his crew one more time- talked to Alfredo one more time.

The beating of his heart is so great that it fills his ears, blocking out all other noise. He cracks his eyes open one more time to squint at the sun beaming down on him. Well at least it’s a beautiful day for him to die.

Trevor is so focused on the rope around his neck and the drop waiting for him below that he doesn't hear the thundering of hooves coming down the main road of the town. He doesn't hear the murmurs of confusion ripple through the crowd as the floor beneath him gives way, the release of the wood door as loud as a shot. He shoots a quick prayer to anyone that may be listening that his death is quick. He’s never been one to believe in higher beings, but he figures now's a better time than ever. He hears someone yell out as the rope around his neck constricts around his neck but just as suddenly the rope releases him.

He lets a surprised yelp as he falls from suspension onto the back of a horse racing underneath the platform of the gallows. He turns to look back at the shocked expressions of the townsfolk and he lets out a disbelieving laugh, high in pitch and loud.

"What the hell?" Trevor shouts his question as he turns to face the rider who just saved him. His hands are still tied behind his back and the noose is trailing from his neck, the knot still too close to his neck for comfort.

He would recognize those strong shoulders and black hat, just like Trevor’s, anywhere. Someone out there must have been listening to his prayer because he has somehow found himself on the back of the horse belonging to one such Alfredo Diaz. Before he answers, Alfredo lets out a yell and kicks his heels to his horse’s girth urging it to go faster. The buckskin gelding underneath snorts and digs his hooves deeper into the hard-packed dirt. Once Alfredo feels the speed is as good as it's going to get, he turns to glance back at Trevor.

"Are you ok," Alfredo yells the question over the wind whipping around them. Trevor can hear the angry yells of the lawmen from the town following behind the pair and hears a bullet race by him.

"Ok as anyone who was about to be hanged can be, I imagine," Trevor yells back as he ducks down instinctively.

He tries to scoot up more on the horse so that he isn’t so precariously sat upon it, but he’s limited on what he can do with his hands still bound behind his back. In a flash Alfredo is snaking an arm around his middle and pulling Trevor flush to him. Though the saddle isn’t hardly big enough for two grown men it’s better than nothing and being pressed close to Alfredo is just an added bonus that Trevor will happily keep to himself. He’s glad that Alfredo can't see the blush blooming on his face right now at the lack of space between them.

This is a silly time for his body to be overly aware of how close he's sitting behind the other outlaw, of how only a few inches lay between him and the tan skin of Alfredo’s neck escaping beneath his shirt. Of strong arms that he knows full well could pick him up if the need arose.

It seems his mind is apparently occupied with other matters at the moment, but his body is still shaking from his close call with death. Though the trembles have grown weaker with each mile put between him and the gallows they still remind him of their presence every few minutes. Another bullet flies by the pair, this time a little too close for comfort, and Trevor has no choice but to lay his head against the outlaw's back as they dodge the lawmen’s bullets. Alfredo places one hand on Trevor's knee and gives it a firm squeeze, as if trying to reassure Trevor that he's got him now. Trevor would be lying if he said the touch didn’t make his heart flutter in a peculiar way. They ride strong for a few minutes, lengthening the distance between them and the group of lawmen with the occasional return fire from Alfredo’s pistol.

"Hold on," Alfredo shouts again and before Trevor can question how in the hell he's supposed to exactly do that with his hands still tied, Alfredo is veering his horse sharply to the right down a small corridor between two canyon walls, away from the open landscape they had just been on. He pulls the reins to the left and they slip into a tight, dark crevice in the canyon wall.

The buckskin stops just short of brushing the wall with his nose and Trevor lets out a rush of air in the form of a sigh. Alfredo quickly dismounts while giving his horse a quick pat of thanks on the neck, while Trevor lets his eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light. He swings his legs over the horse’s back and dismounts in a way that would have had the whole crew laughing at him under different circumstances. Before he can trip on the rock that just so happens to be under his foot Alfredo has a firm hand on Trevor's arm.

"Easy, I got you," Alfredo assures him softly.

He turns Trevor around and begins to cut through the rope around Trevor's wrists with the knife he had tucked away in his belt.

"Should have shot those bastards," Alfredo mutters hotly as he pulls the frayed rope away from Trevor's wrists and sees the deep red marks they've left behind. He immediately begins sawing at the offending rope around Trevor’s neck.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down," Trevor says with a tired sigh once the rope falls to the dirt. He couldn’t blame them honestly, even he, himself, wouldn’t be able to resist the bounty hanging over his head. If he hadn’t gotten soft and left himself open like that, in the middle of the night no less, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was most likely due to the fact that he's grown used to having at least 10 people at his back, not just him and Fredo, that has made him so unguarded. It's a lot easier to sleep at night when you have a good share of the most wanted criminals in Texas behind you. Though it seems Alfredo's presence was enough, back at their makeshift camp, to soothe his usual paranoia about sleeping on the road. It made him soft and today that softness almost cost him his life.

His hand rubs lightly over the now raw skin of his neck and he catches Alfredo’s worried stare. He takes a drink from the canteen Alfredo offers him and has to restrain himself from downing the whole thing in one go.

“It’s not as bad as it looks," Trevor says as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He knows the lie falls flat when Alfredo lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Whatever you say boss," Alfredo says, with a barely held back eye roll. He's been friends with this man long enough to know when he's lying, but he lets it go for right now. Alfredo will fuss over him later when they can put some distance between themselves and this town.

"It was my fault they caught me in the first place," Trevor points out. He knew better than to sleep that close to the road even though there was no moon out that night. Maybe it was the dying light of their fire that had attracted his captors?

“You can't blame yourself for that Trevor,” Alfredo says stubbornly. "Who knows how long those bounty hunters had been following us? They could've been tailing us since San Marco for all we know!"

Trevor opens his mouth to continue arguing, because how is he supposed to be an infamous gang leader when he gets caught sleeping like that? But before Trevor can argue further the sounds of men shouting and horses growing closer to their hiding spot makes him whip his head toward the entrance of the cave.

Alfredo grabs his arm and pulls Trevor behind him, pushing both of the men as far into the hole of the canyon as they can go. He hopes the darkness of the cave is enough to hide them and his horse. Alfredo presses into Trevor further when the sounds of the lawmen start to bounce off the walls of the canyon. With one hand he blindly reaches back and grabs Trevor's hand, while the other is holding onto his pistol.

Trevor squeezes Alfredo's hand in what he hopes conveys a message of comfort. He doesn't chance taking a glance over Alfredo's shoulder, but instead presses himself into the wall hard enough to feel the rough rock poking through his clothing. He feels utterly useless without his pistol or his knife. He may have his fists, but that does shit all against a revolver. The sounds of men can now be heard right outside the opening of their hiding spot. For a panicked minute Trevor wonders if the men hunting them down can hear the furious pounding of his heart echoing off of the canyon walls.

He decides right then and there with steely resolve that he would die fighting before they can get him within ten miles of those gallows.

If it's the end of a pistol versus the weight of the noose then he knows which one he will choose.

The shadow of a horse and rider passes over the entrance of the cave and both men hold their breath in fear of being heard. What looks like the deputy, if the star glinting on his chest means anything, stops his horse at the cave entrance and glances around. Alfredo, as quiet as possible, pulls the hammer of his pistol down. He'll be damned if he lets them take Trevor away from him again.

For an agonizingly long minute the man sits and listens and Alfredo hopes beyond all hope that he doesn't look their way. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead when the man turns his head slowly to the left. All the muscles in Alfredo’s body tense for a fight. He's pretty sure he's crushing the bones of Trevor's hand as the man's eyes land on him and in the next second slide right over them. Someone yells down the canyon calling to the deputy, snapping his attention away from them.

"There ain't nothing here," the lawman shouts back as he directs his horse away from the outlaws and back towards the entrance of the canyon. “Just dirt and rocks."

The two men listen closely to the sound of retreating hooves. A few moments of strained silence pass before they both let out sighs of relief and let their tense bodies relax. Trevor puts his hands on his knees as Alfredo steps away from him, his usually neat hair falling in his face. He doesn’t know how much more of this he or his body can take.

His body decides to go ahead and make the decision for him by sitting him down in the hard dirt beneath his feet. Alfredo turns around at the sudden movement and suddenly he’s in Trevor’s face, hands firmly grasping his shoulders.

Trevor most certainly does not have the energy right now to deal with the fact that Alfredo's face is merely inches from his, that Trevor can count each mole on his face. Can see how chapped his lips are from the dust they stirred up in their escape. He doesn't know if it's from the heat or the utter exhaustion that makes him play with the idea of closing those few inches between him and Alfredo. To kiss that worried expression off his face.

“Trevor, are you ok?” Alfredo is brushing his hair away from his forehead and all Trevor wants to do is lean into the touch. To just close his eyes for a moment and soak in this moment that he's been dreaming of for too long.

“I’m- I’m ok, just need to rest is all,” Trevor reassures him, though Alfredo looks to only believe his answer for Trevor’s own sanity. He will have to thank him for that later. Now that he's sitting down thoughts of sleep slowly take over the soft mantra in his head of touch him, kiss him, tell him you love him you ass.

“We’ll hide out here for a bit, wait for dusk to come and then make our way back to camp," Alfredo says. His words wake Trevor up a bit, pulling his attention away from himself and the storm going on in his head.

“We’re staying there tonight? What if they find the camp again?”

Alfredo shakes his head, “No we’re just going to stop there to collect your belongings and your horse. We’ll set up camp once we’re well enough away from this town."

The relief that Trevor feels spreads through him at the thought that for once someone else has a plan is immediate. He sags against the wall and runs a tired hand down his face. He wonders if his cheeks are flushed from the thoughts in his head or the sunburn he most surely has from being under the sun with no hat or cover. His pale complexion has never taken kindly to having extended contact with the sun.

Alfredo takes a seat next to him and takes his hat off his head. Trevor watches as he runs a hand through his black hair causing the dust that had collected there from the ride to float lazily in the afternoon sun streaming through the entrance. Without meaning to Trevor leans into Alfredo, the press of his arm against his calming him further. He’s too tired to think of the implications the other man may gather from this and Trevor is sure he’s aware of how close they are together, but if it bothers Alfredo he doesn't say a thing. Instead, he smiles softly and begins to hum a song quietly as the two wait for the day to pass into dusk.

Trevor is shaken awake a few hours later by Alfredo and sees that dusk has started to crawl up the canyon walls, painting the previously sun-drenched walls in deep reds and purples.

“Hey, it’s time we get moving,” Alfredo says quietly as if pressed not to disturb the quiet that has fallen around them. Trevor nods as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He stands and stretches his arms above his head until a satisfying crack sounds from between his shoulder blades. Alfredo’s eyes linger on him while he tightens the girth of his saddle, but Trevor assumes it’s only out of concern and nothing more.

His head feels clearer now with a few hours of sleep under his belt and he begins to wonder how he will tell the rest of the Fakes about his almost-demise. He can hear them now, guffawing and exclaiming their surprise when he retells the events of his escape at the hands of his daring rescuer. Some details he’ll leave out of course and other’s he’ll stretch, but it’s all in the name of good story-telling.

Trevor watches Alfredo check the stirrups of his saddle one more time and then swing himself gracefully into the saddle, the leather creaking under the sudden weight. It’s funny to think that just this morning he thought himself to be a dead man. And it’s all thanks to the man offering a hand now to Trevor to help him mount his horse. He can feel the warmth of endearment blossoming from his chest as he gladly takes the offered hand and in one fluid motion puts his foot in the stirrup and settles himself behind Alfredo. He relinquishes the stirrup back to Alfredo and the trio walk on into the growing night.

For a couple hours they share a comfortable silence, making their way slowly through the brush with just the moon and the occasional critter to keep them company. The terrain gradually turns from dirt to a more uneven rockier ground as they get closer to their destination. A rock suddenly gives away under one of the horse’s hooves causing the animal to trip. To stop himself from sliding off the gelding Trevor’s arms shoot out instinctively to grab onto something, which just happens to be Alfredo. The gesture gets a small chuckle out of Alfredo and he pats a reassuring hand over the arms ensnaring him. Trevor can’t see his face, but he’s sure Alfredo has one of those smiles on his face, the kind that makes his whole face light up. Trevor answers with his own snicker and though he would rather keep them wrapped around Alfredo, Trevor loosens his hold and draws his arms back to him when he feels the horse find his footing underneath.

He leans back taking note of how bright the stars are tonight. “Do you think, if we stared long enough, we would be able to count all the stars up there?”

At Trevor’s question Alfredo looks up at the sky, taking in the thousands of stars dotted across the night sky, “I don’t think so. Don’t they go away when the sun comes up?”

Trevor makes a hum of consideration, he hadn’t thought about that.

“One day, I think I would like to see one up close,” Trevor says after a minute.

“See what?”

“A star. I reckon they’re even prettier up close.”

“Yeah, I reckon they are.”

They continue on for another hour like that, talking about anything and everything that pops into their heads. Trevor would be lying if he said that he didn’t nod off a few times before they finally made it back. He’s not sure if it was a dream he had during one of his quick dozes or if he really did it, but he blurrily remembers wrapping his arms around Alfredo once more.

He pushes that thought away for later as he dismounts Alfredo’s horse once they arrive. The relief he feels seeing his black mare standing right where he left her brings a smile to his face. She lets out a low nicker at the familiar faces and noses his hands.

“Hey girl, thought you were going to be riderless for a bit huh,” Trevor croons softly to the horse as he runs a hand down her nose. Most of his stuff is right where he left it, except for his bedroll, which he managed to kick into the bushes during his struggle with the kidnappers.

After collecting their belongings the group rides for another hour before finally stopping for the night. Or rather the early morning.

"I think we can stop here for the night," Alfredo says as he pulls his horse to a stop amongst a clump of trees. From what Trevor can see in the moonlight it looks to be a decent spot as any. He's just happy that he's finally going to be able to sleep in the next hour, the nap he took in the canyon had worn off hours ago. It's harder to see what they're doing with the light of the moon having to filter through the trees, but Trevor's grateful for the cover. If anyone comes along the main road they used they won't be able to see them or their horses without advancing through the line of trees. Tired as he may be, Trevor offers still to help with the horses.

"You don't need to do anything but eat and sleep," Alfredo declares sternly as he turns to take the saddles off of both their horses.

"Alright, alright." Trevor grabs their bedrolls from their discarded saddles and goes about setting up their beds with the little bit of light he has. The quick thought of starting a fire runs through his head, but it's quickly dashed away. He can't risk anyone seeing them from the road, so they will have to do without a fire tonight.

"I don't know if the others are gonna believe our story when we see them," Trevor says with a small smile on his face as he straightens out the corner of his bedroll. He guesses the ring around his neck and wrists will be proof enough if they don't believe his or Alfredo’s words.

"Honestly I don't even know if I believe it. I've never heard of anyone being rescued from hanging. Not successfully at least." The silence that answers him causes Trevor to look up from what he's doing. He can see in the moonlight the way Alfredo's shoulders have tensed up in that way they do when he's about to say something he would rather keep pushed down, hidden inside himself.

"Fredo? You alright?" Trevor more so hears the sigh the other outlaw releases rather than sees him release it. He takes a step towards Alfredo, but stops short when the man starts talking.

"You know, I thought I would find you dead in that town. Thought all I would be able to do is watch you swing because I was too late to get to you," Alfredo confesses, his back still facing Trevor. "I thought," Alfredo clears his throat, "I thought, when I saw that door open beneath you that I was about to lose the one person I hold closest to my heart. All because I failed to wake up while my best friend was being kidnapped." His words make Trevor's heart twist in sympathy, he can only imagine the panic the other man must have felt when he woke up in the morning to find him missing.

"Fredo," Trevor says his name just above a whisper. "If you had woken up they would've killed you." Trevor remembers vividly the way one of the men had held his pistol a few inches away from Alfredo's sleeping face. "One of those men looked right at me and said 'If you make a noise or he wakes up I'm shooting his pretty face clean off.'"

Alfredo turns around to face him with a scowl on his face.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. Not if there’s some way I could prevent it from happening,” Trevor continues on. “You’re too important to me.”

“So what? You just let them take you, because of me? What if you had died?” Alfredo blurts out the questions with his voice rising in frustration. Trevor knows that Alfredo’s anger is only out of fear and concern, but it still turns something in his gut.

“If it meant keeping you safe, then yes I did. And hell, I’d do it again,” Trevor argues, stepping into Alfredo’s space. They are both equal in height so they’re staring eye to eye now. The stubborn expression on Trevor’s face dares Alfredo to argue with him, to try and tell him just why he shouldn’t put his life on the line for his best friend. But Alfredo doesn’t do that, instead his shoulders sag and then Trevor is being pulled into an embrace, strong arms encircling him. Without hesitation Trevor wraps his arms around the outlaw and presses his face into his shoulder.

“I just can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Alfredo admits quietly after a minute. Trevor exhales, his hot breath ghosting against Alfredo’s skin. If he doesn’t do this now he doesn’t think he ever will. Trevor had asked for one more chance and he’d be damned if he was going to let this one pass him by. He lessens his grip around Alfredo and pulls back slightly. His eyes dart across Alfredo’s face before he decides to swallow his fears and asks a question that he has been meaning to for a long time, “Can I kiss you?”

For a moment Alfredo looks at Trevor, his eyes unreadable, and then they shoot down to his lips and quickly back up to his eyes.

He nods.

That’s all the permission Trevor needs to surge forward and capture Alfredo’s lips with his own. The closing of space between their faces pushes Alfredo’s hat off and it falls to the ground with a quiet whump. Trevor’s fingers are quick to bury themselves into Alfredo’s hair, pushing through the black locks passionately. He tastes of grit and sweat and the heat of the sun, but underneath his lips are soft. Trevor lets out a gasp at the sensation of Alfredo biting his lower lip gently. The easiness of the kiss takes Trevor aback, their bodies are reacting and moving with each other like this isn't the first time they have ever locked lips.

Warm, heavy hands frame Trevor’s hips and pull him flush to Alfredo. Trevor presses harder against him and Alfredo lets out a quiet moan as they breath each other in. The opening is all Trevor needs to deepen the kiss, pushing all the years of want and need into it. Alfredo's thumbs press gently against the thin skin of Trevor's hips and a warmth erupts in him that rushes through him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. It’s warmth like he’s come in from the harsh cold to a warm fire and good food. Like he’s finally home. And home has been standing beside him all this time.

After more kisses are shared the two break apart for air. “Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do when we make it back to the others” Trevor says softly, his grin matching the one on Alfredo’s face.

Alfredo lets out a low chuckle as he brushes his nose against Trevor’s, “Somehow, I think they’ll be just fine darlin’.” A thrill runs through Trevor hearing the term of endearment slip off his tongue. A smirk takes its place and Trevor can’t help the smile that grows ever wider on his face in response.

“They wouldn't be the Fakes, if they weren't," Trevor agrees.

The fact that Alfredo feels the same about him is enough to make him burst with happiness. He wants to yell it from the top of the tallest peak, so loud that even those bright stars that hang above can hear him.

His hands remain clasped around Alfredo’s neck and an expression of mock seriousness grows on his face as he looks into Alfredo’s eyes. “Alfredo Diaz, I am in love with you and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you for as long as I live.”

“Well, Trevor Collins, as long as I’m here in this world, I’m yours sweetheart. And I’m gonna love you with every beat of my heart.”

One of the horses behind Alfredo lets out a snort, as if reminding them they still need to be fed. The two men laugh and break apart just long enough for Alfredo to finish taking care of their horses.

After the horses are fed and situated Alfredo takes a seat beside him underneath one of the surrounding trees. "You should really get some sleep. I’ll make us something in the morning."

Even in the dark of the night he must see the quick gleam of worry in Trevor's eyes at the prospect of going to sleep. With a sigh and an expression Trevor could only describe as fond on his face Alfredo moves them around until Trevor is laying propped up against his chest, the tall oak behind them reaching towards the stars.

Trevor tilts his head back and stares at the man above him. He feels he could stare forever at the way the moonlight coming through the leaves dances across his skin, highlighting the curves and dips of his face.

He presses another kiss to the top of Trevor's head and wraps his arms snugly around him. "Go to sleep. I've got you," Alfredo assures.

With his head cushioned against Alfredo’s chest and the other man’s strong heartbeat in his ear, the events of the last 24 hours finally catches up to him and he feels his body sag under the exhaustion. With the warm reassurance that the person he loves feels the same and has his back just like he always has, he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.

[dreamonhunters]

we’ll have tomorrow

tw // blood, alcohol, canon-typical violence, gang violence, medical procedures

some hurt/comfort myan i wrote for the @rtwritingcommunity secret springfairy 2020 ! this was a gift for my wonderful qpp @thisiswhatmylifehasbecome ♡

read it here on ao3!

“You’re gettin’ blood on my carpet,” Ryan complains, but Michael doesn’t respond.

It’s almost standard procedure, by this point. Michael gets himself fucked up, crawls to Ryan’s apartment, and the aforementioned teen fixes him up. Rinse and repeat. It’s a fucked up little system they have, but it works. Besides, it’s not like Gavin possesses the medical skills to prevent Michael bleeding out.

“‘m not,” Michael mutters, and Ryan ignores him. The blood soaking into Ryan’s carpet is proving him wrong, but it’s easier not to address that. Instigating an argument isn’t going to get either of them far.

“C’mon,” Ryan sighs, looping one arm around the ginger’s waist. He tenses, but he doesn’t resist. He doesn’t need help. There’s a dark red liquid slowly seeping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but he can stand. He can almost walk. He doesn’t need help.

Ryan knows to avoid that word. It ignites a rage inside Michael, one he doesn’t like to deal with unless strictly necessary. The concept of weakness. The assumption that he can’t handle himself. His plea of assistance to Ryan is unspoken, and he can respect that. He knows full well Michael could stitch himself up if he wanted to, but he also knows he can do it better. That’s why Michael showed up on his doorstep to begin with. So instead of speaking, he guides Michael to the bathroom and sits him down on the toilet. At least cleaning blood off tiles is easier.

“What happened this time, hm?” Ryan asks, already digging through one of the cabinets for his medical kit. It’s pretty extensive by this point — it’s a well known fact that Ryan’s window is always unlocked for one particular reason. It’s a silent promise. For several years now, he’s offered his apartment as something of a safe haven for street kids to get fixed up, eat a solid meal, and have a soft place to crash for the night. It’s the least he can do, that’s what he always says. Ryan isn’t much older than half the kids he takes in, but that’s beside the point. He’s prepared for just about anything.

Michael is something of a regular. He first stumbled across the kid up in an alleyway, beaten and barely breathing. He’d resisted Ryan every last step of the short walk back to his apartment. Nowadays it’s a slow week if the fiery ginger doesn’t tumble through his window at least once a week — occasionally, he’s not even injured, and he's just paying Ryan a visit. They’re friends, in a slightly twisted sense of that word.

There’s no response for a while, until Ryan rocks back onto his haunches and fixes Michael with a look that just screams ‘this isn’t going any further until you tell me’. The ginger lets out an indignant huff.

“Some fuckin’ gang kids. Started threatenin’ me an’ shit, then got all surprised when I pulled a knife.” he grumbles. Ryan lets out a sigh — he’s disappointed, but this really shouldn’t be any kind of shock. Most of Michael’s visits were the result of petty street conflicts.

Now he’s kneeling before the boy, the bright, artificial bathroom lights truly reveal the full extent of Michael’s injuries. Aside from the still-bleeding wound in his side, there’s a lurid bruise purpling high on his right cheekbone, and his bottom lip is broken and swollen. His knuckles are bloody, small patches of skin peeling off.

“You didn’t have to fight them, Michael,” Ryan reminds him, but there’s no real heat in his voice. He doesn’t have the energy to fight this battle right now. Michael mutters something inaudible, but he doesn’t care to find out what. “Take your shirt off. I can’t do anything with that in the way.”

A hiss of pain escapes Michael as he practically rips the shirt off, face contorted with pain. There’s a whole collection of scars and bruises littered across the boy’s body, but those pale in comparison to his latest wound. Most of his torso is coated in sticky blood, although his platelets have begun to do their job. Around the edges, the wound is starting to scab up, and the bleeding is lesser. It’ll still need stitches, though.

With a heavy sigh, Ryan pulled on a thin pair of latex gloves. “I’ll clean it up, alright? And when I’m done I can make dinner.”

Michael doesn’t reply, because as much as he knows Ryan won’t let him leave, he hates accepting people’s charity. He knows Ryan doesn’t think he’s weak, or helpless, or can’t look after himself. But he can’t shake that idea out of his head.

He doesn’t wait for a response, fortunately, and sets about applying pressure to the wound. Michael hisses again as a cold, damp force pushes against his side. “Coulda fuckin’ warned me,” he spits, glaring daggers at Ryan. Fortunately, the older boy learnt to ignore that look long ago.

“Would you prefer to bleed out?” Ryan asks pointedly, releasing the pressure just enough to sift through his medical kit one-handed. It’ll need cleaning first — the day Ryan stops cleaning wounds properly is the day he dies, even if Michael whines and bitches through every last second of that process — and then he can get to work on stitching. It’s deep, but it’s not the worst he’s had to work with.

There’s no response from Michael, and he’ll keep it that way for as long as possible. The pressure on his side disappears entirely, and he can breathe again, until a heartbeat later it’s replaced by a sharp, stinging sensation.

“Fuck sake, Ryan,” Michael grounds out, flinching at the coldness.

“I’m not doin’ stitches without cleaning you up properly,” is his defence, and Michael goes back to muttering insults under his breath. Ryan cleans in silence, interrupted by the occasional wince or strangled insult from the boy.

As soon as he’s done cleaning, a cold gel is slathered across the edges of his wound. By now, the bleeding has almost entirely stopped. There’s a whine of discomfort ripped from Michael’s throat, but he doesn’t complain further. Most people wouldn’t bother with lidocaine. Ryan always tells him to be grateful.

At least there’s some relief from the pain that lances through his body with every tiny movement. Michael doesn’t let it show on his face, but Ryan can read his body language like a book. He’s in agony, but agony is weakness and Michael doesn’t do weakness. Ryan lets the gel settle for a few moments, taking full effect. It’s not much, not nearly enough to stop him feeling, but it’ll dull the pain at least a little. There’s a needle and thread in his hand by the time Michael looks back at him.

“You ready?” he asks softly, and the minute nod that Michael gives him is enough. Silently, Ryan hands Michael a whiskey-soaked rag. He likes something to bite down on, and the alcoholic burn serves as something of a distraction from his pain.

Ryan works quickly and methodically. They pull the flesh together properly, forming a singular row of neat, tidy stitches. His stitches are clean, evidently practised from the amount of people he has to fix up. He learnt how to stitch up a wound properly back when he’d been in Michael’s position. He learnt how to stitch up a wound effectively when he started doing it for others. Messy work didn’t quite cut it when he had to look at it on somebody else’s body.

“You done?” Michael groans, spitting the rag into his left hand and scrubbing the right over his mouth. “That fuckin’ killed.”

“I know, I know. It’s over,” Ryan reassures, already moving to grab some bandages. Michael didn’t need to tell him how much it hurt. The small whimpers and hisses that escaped him were evidence enough, even if the rag muffled the worst of it. “Jus’ lemme bandage it up, alright?”

Michael doesn’t answer, and so Ryan sets to work covering his torso in thick white bandages. It’s more of a precaution than a necessity — a visible reminder to Michael. The boy has a habit of pulling his stitches out. Sometimes bandaging it up made him think twice about doing more reckless shit.

Sometimes.

When he’s done, Ryan rocks back onto his haunches and gazes up at Michael. The boy’s face is still twisted into a grimace. “You need some painkillers?” Ryan offers. He nods.

The room is silent, aside from the sounds of Ryan sorting through his medical kit to find the aforementioned painkillers. He pulls out a small cardboard box and offers it to Michael. The ginger pulls out a foil-covered tray and pops three out, swallowing them down dry. The box is tossed back in the general direction of Ryan’s kit.

“You staying for dinner, then?” Ryan asks, and they both know the answer. “Get changed. There’s clothes in the bedroom. You know I have stuff that’ll fit.” he concludes, packing up the last of his medical kit and shoving it back into the cabinet. Slowly, Michael gets to his feet. There’s an unintelligible grunt for a response.

It’s a dysfunctional relationship, but Ryan can’t help but feel some kind of protectiveness over Michael. He’s been in one too many shitty scenarios not to see himself in those brown eyes, the same eyes that glow the colour of whiskey when the light hits them. Even if he doesn’t speak of it, the years of pain and trauma are hidden into those depths. Ryan likes to think you can’t see it in his own eyes.

x x x

It's been a week or so since Michael last came to Ryan with the immediate threat of bleeding out, and for once he’s not injured when he comes tumbling through the older teen’s window. It’s unlocked, as always, and Michael already feels like he’s at home.

“Ryan?” he calls out, decidedly more cheerful than his last time here.

There’s no response.

That’s unusual. Ryan doesn’t tend to leave all that often, and when he does the window is always locked. As much as he loves these kids, like hell is he gonna trust them in his empty apartment. This is Los Santos.

“Hey, Ry, it’s me,” he tries again, already feeling for the switchblade in his pocket. He can taste the tension in the air, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Ryan isn’t the type to play games with him. “Quit fuckin’ around.”

There’s a muffled sound, which could quite easily have been a groan, and Michael’s blood runs cold. He’s definitely not alone. If he had to guess, he’d say it came from the kitchen. The weight of the switchblade in his palm is little reassurance, but he reminds himself that it’s better than nothing.

His movements are slow as he approaches the kitchen, in an attempt to create as little sound as possible. The closer he gets, the more he can make out. Two men speak in hushed voices, and there’s a third man moaning in pain. The third voice is muffled, and Michael suspects he’s gagged. He also suspects it’s Ryan. By this point, his heart is in his mouth.

If only he had a gun.

The heavy wooden door banged as it hit the wall behind it, and suddenly he’s faced with two young men and Ryan. He’s laid on the floor, but Michael doesn’t stop for long enough to survey his injuries. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits, venom practically dripping from his voice.

The two men before him couldn’t be older than twenty-five. One had jet-black hair and icy blue eyes, too sharp to be kindred; the other sported sandy blond locks, the same blue eyes and muscular arms covered from shoulder to wrist in intricate tattoos. Siblings, most likely. The first man, dark haired, fiddles with an expensive-looking lighter. A lit cigarette hangs between his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face. His companion twirls a knife around his fingers, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here.

“And who might you be?” the first one drawls, eyes flicking from Ryan to Michael.

Michael sneers at him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but I think it does,” he responds, and the other’s eyes seem to light up beside him. “Can’t you see we’re busy, kid?”

“Fuck off.”

When the man speaks again, the challenge in his voice is evident. “Make me.”

Michael lunges for him, but the blond by his side is quicker. He barrels into the ginger’s side, and it takes every ounce of his strength to remain upright. Miraculously, he doesn’t drop the knife, and before he’s even realised it the blade is plunged deep into his attacker’s side.

The man howls in pain, and suddenly his friend doesn’t seem so confident. That cocky smirk is wiped from his face, and if it weren’t for the shitty lighting in Ryan’s kitchen, he could’ve sworn his face paled. Michael’s gained the upper hand.

“Get the fuck out,” Michael warns, glaring down the man with an almost animalistic ferocity. “Or I’ll gut him and make you fuckin’ watch.”

Clearly, he’s no fighter. It isn’t hard to work out that the blond is purely muscle, and he’s the brains behind the operation. It’s evident from his lighter, his stance, the slim stature and expensive clothing. He’s the boss, and his partner is a disposable some hitman trying to make a living. If it wasn’t Ryan laid on the floor, fading in and out of consciousness, Michael might have found it within himself to feel sorry.

When no reply comes, Michael tries again. “I said, get the fuck out, and I’ll think about not killin’ you here and now.”

That seems to jerk him into motion, and suddenly his gripping the blond’s shirt and yanking him in the direction of the window. Michael watches them go, a thunderous expression marring his features.

Normally, he would’ve killed them on sight. But he’s not stupid, and Michael knows just enough about Ryan to make him hesitate. The teen is secretive, but he’s known him long enough to have heard the stories of his own time in various gangs across the city. He can do without another furious gang on his ass.

When he’s certain they’re gone, he returns to the window and locks it. Ryan is still sprawled across the kitchen floor, breathing shallowly. There’s blood splattered across the linoleum, seeping into the cracks where the material meets furniture. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.

“Ryan?” he asks, surprised by how quiet his voice is. The word comes out cracked and broken, and suddenly it’s painfully obvious just how much of a scared teenager Michael still is.

The teen manages a pained groan, struggling to sit up. “Stop, jus’ fuckin’, I dunno, try and stay still.” Michael insists, and then he practically sprints to the bathroom. All he knows is there’s a medical kit in one of these cabinets, and he needs to find it before Ryan passes out. There’s a large plastic box, and before Michael has time to second guess himself he’s yanked it out and run back to Ryan’s side.

He practically crashes to his knees beside the boy, glancing over the injuries. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem too extensive. There’s a stab wound in his side, not dissimilar to Michael’s own, and there’s small burns scattered across his collarbone. Desperately, he racks his brain and tries to remember anything and everything Ryan has ever done for him.

“Michael?” Ryan groans, managing to lift his head just enough to catch sight of the boy.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me. What the fuck happened?” he asks, trying not to let anxiety colour his tone. It’s not possible to keep that fear out those whiskey-brown eyes, though. Ryan can immediately tell he’s scared.

“My old gang...they’ve still got bad blood with me,” Ryan manages. “I killed one of their members. They hadn’t forgotten about it.”

So he was right not to kill that fucker there and then, Michael thinks to himself. Sometimes he truly is grateful he’s not as trigger happy as some may believe.

“Aight. I can handle this,” Michael mutters, more for his own sake than Ryan’s. There’s antiseptic solution in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. All he needs to do is recreate what the teen did for him all those times before.

“It’s fine, Michael, really,” Ryan tries.

Michael scoffs. “You’re gettin’ blood on the floor. Now shut up an’ let me fix you up.”

Ryan doesn’t argue back, and Michael soaks a couple of thick gauze pads in antiseptic. Applying pressure seems pointless, considering the man is laid down and that slows the blood flow significantly as it is. Ryan grits his teeth as the boy begins to work, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“You want somethin’ to bite on?” Michael asks, tipping the whiskey onto that same rag Ryan always offers. There’s a pained noise of acknowledgement, and Michael hands it over.

He doesn’t waste time numbing the wound. He doesn’t even know what to use. Michael’s mind is running a mile a minute; he doesn’t have time to think carefully over every single move. Ryan sounds like he’s about to protest, but Michael is already threading the needle before he can vocalise words.

Ryan cries out in pain when Michael first pushes the needle into his bloodied flesh, hot tears stinging at his eyes. He won’t cry, not in front of Michael, even if the ginger is paying no attention to his face right now. His face is twisted with concentration, hyperfocused on his work. They both know he can stitch up a wound, but it’s not exactly his strong point.

Compared to Ryan’s neat stitching, Michael’s is messy. Panic makes his hands shake and there’s tears blurring his vision. It wasn’t until he saw Ryan in such a vulnerable state that he realised just how important the boy was to him. If he’s really honest, Michael couldn’t be sure how long he’d have survived on the streets without Ryan’s assistance.

But his work will hold the skin together, and the bleeding has stopped. He can relax a little. “Think you can sit up?” Michael asks. Ryan manages a small nod, pushing up onto his elbows. Michael grabs his shoulder and helps him up, trying to ignore the hiss of pain that slips past Ryan’s lips.

“You need any painkillers?” is his next question, already popping two small white tablets into his palm. Ryan nods, and grabs the bottle. The two pills are washed down with a swig of whiskey.

“Thank you, Michael,” he mumbles weakly. Never had he expected to be in this position, having one the kids he was supposed to be looking after stitching him up. Bleeding out on his kitchen floor wasn’t exactly on his list of things to do, mind. “‘m sorry.”

“Shut up. Don’t apologise.” Michael mutters, face set into a dark scowl. “I woulda killed ‘em, y’know. I jus’ didn’t wanna cause more problems.”

“Good. Because they would’ve come after you too,” Ryan sighs, pausing to take another swig of whiskey. “You didn’t do a bad job.”

“I know you’re gonna pull ‘em out and redo ‘em tomorrow,” he replies, although there’s no real heat behind his voice. If anything, he’s just relieved that Ryan’s okay, he’s alive and he’s breathing and there’s still life in those crystal blue eyes that Michael never realised he loved so much.

It’s a strange feeling.

“C’mon, you needta go to bed,” Michael says. It’s a good distraction from his own complicated emotions, and Ryan doesn’t fight him on it.

Slowly, the older teen struggles to his feet. He clings to Michael and the kitchen counter, but soon he’s on his feet. They’re able to hobble to the bedroom, and Ryan all but falls onto the bed. “You stayin’?” the boy asks softly, and Michael nods.

“Yeah. I’ll sleep in the spare room. An’ then I can check on you in the morning,” Michael explains.

He leaves Ryan for a while, offering the boy a little privacy to change. While Ryan sleeps, he can clean up the kitchen. For the time being, he grabs a glass from one of the wooden cupboards and fills it. There’s a few more painkillers in his free hand, and he leaves both on Ryan’s nightstand. The boy in question is fast asleep, evidently having passed out the moment he hit the bed. There’s a small smile on Michael’s lips as he turns off the light and shuts the door behind him. The sense of responsibility that swells in his chest isn’t something he’s used to. But it’s a surprisingly pleasant feeling. A foreign warmth that starts in his chest and spreads through every last inch of his being.

There’s so much he could say — wants to say — to Ryan. Maybe he’ll sift through those feelings one day. But for now, he busies himself with cleaning up the kitchen.

They’ll have tomorrow.

[transvavsquad]

title: creatures of habit pairing: freewood wc: 4747 notes: a gift for @cloud-of-pimps for the rt writer’s discord springfairy fic exchange!  summary: 

fresh starts in fresh places. gavin free moves out of england and secures a job at a secret base, hoping to keep his civilian life on track as much as he can. and then the fakes step in.

ao3 link

[achievementtooth]

The Cavalry is Here

Summary: Ryan and Jeremy get into unknown trouble all the time, and usually get themselves out of it. But when something goes wrong, only Gavin believes they're in any real danger, and it's up to him to get them out before the situation gets worse.

Rating: T

Warnings: Blood, mentions of torture

Read on AO3 This was written for the Secret Springfairy event hosted by the @rtwritingcommunity! 

[rtwritingcommunity]

Event Sign-Ups!

Hello! 

We here in the RT Writing Community Discord server run events all year around in the style of Secret Santas - and we’re about to start our Secret Springfairy event! We’d love to get some more people involved, so if you’re interested and haven’t joined the server yet, read on below to see how to join in! 

If you have any questions after reading below, please also feel free to send us some asks here. We’re happy to clarify anything!

Sign-ups for Secret Springfairy 2020 close March 8th 2020.

To take part, you need to join the RT Writing Community server. Click here to join! (Make sure to read the rules page, too!)

Our sign-up form will be available until March 8th 2020, and mods will DM you your recipient along with their prompts the following day. Then it’s time to get writing!

You will have until May 1st 2020 to complete your fic. If you need to drop out, you must tell a mod by April 17th 2020 so we can get someone else to write for your recipient. This is to ensure that everyone still participating gets a fic.

Please note: we cannot provide a replacement writer if you drop out after April 17th 2020. We know that real life throws curveballs sometimes and that’s absolutely fine, but if you know you’re going to be busy during the event period, remember that we run four events throughout the year! These events are meant to be fun, not stressful.

Once you’re all done writing, hold on! During the event, we will send out another form where you can choose which date during the posting week works best for you (May 4th-May 10th 2020). When your date comes up, it’s time to post your gift fic! 

Each event has its own special characteristic, so make sure to check out the event page to see what this one’s all about! 

[sig-nifier]

The first thing the crew learn about Gavin is that he talks a lot.

He walks into his first meeting, a bright grin on his face and a red bull in his hand, and he talks.

~

‘That’s, huh,’ Ryan clears his throat, ‘you don’t think I look deadly?’

Gavin laughs. ‘I think you look like freshly fallen snow.’

It’s probably the most romantic thing Ryan’s ever heard.

~

Prompt - 'not many people really talk to me'

another round of secret springfairy in the rt writing community discord (that u should join if u like writing rt)! some good ol freewood for @narvaeztrash

[leftsmitteninbritain]

The Prince and the Dragon

Ships: Alfredo/Ryan/Geoff

Rating: Teen

Universe: Kings

Wordcount: 9,438

Once upon a time, there was a prince, a knight, and a historian.

The prince had made a discovery, one he ached to understand before he took to the throne. The long suffering knight and historian, as always, followed in his footsteps, so they could protect and chronicle, as they were destined to do.

In the end, they found more than just dragons: they found each other.

(My Secret Springfairy fic for @roma-nee <3)

AO3 Link

[sorcererinthestars]

Tattoos, Lattes, and Ghosts?

RED WEB AU! Written for the Secret Springfairy event as part of the @rtwritingcommunity! This one is for the lovely @deleriousfromcoffee. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3372 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38843610 Ship: Trevor/Afredo

--

Their town was known for the occult and the spooky, the supernatural and the just plain weird. Alfredo knew that when he picked out the location for his new tattoo parlor. The little venue had only been on the market a week before he had leapt on it. It was right on the main drag, perfect for tourists and locals alike. People would want a tattoo to commemorate their trip to the city, right? It was the perfect spot.

Two weeks later, he was moved in. The place was snug, but cozy. He had vintage movie posters hanging, two fun tattoo chairs for him and his assistant to work on people, a rad sign-in desk that he had worked to DIY. It was fun. It was sanitary. It was really exactly what he needed.

Opening day is a smash hit. People come from all over to get tattoos and support him. (Although the extra savings on tattoos probably also helps.) He probably does twenty in the day before they have to close up shop. But right as Alfredo moves to go close the door and clean up from a long day’s work, slender fingers wrap around the doorknob and catches it from the other side. “Hey!”

Alfredo jumps and curses. “Fuck, man, you scared me.”

The man, pale and handsome with dark hair and dark eyes, just blinks. “Sorry, sorry. I just — uh.” He’s got a small letter in his hands? Alfredo’s eyes flick to the letter back up to the man and something starts his heart beating. He’s not sure why he’s so confused by this man. “We’re closed,” he says. “If you want a tattoo, you can come back tomorrow, we’re open 10am to 4pm.”

The man at the door shakes his head adamantly. “No, I didn’t want a tattoo,” he says quickly. His slender mouth quirks into a smile. “I wanted to give you this. It’s from me, obviously. I run the bookstore next door. Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” He pushes the envelope closer towards Alfredo. “I’m Trevor, by the way.”

Alfredo freezes. It’s like his brain goes on lockdown for some reason. Are people normally this nice around here? Back in San Francisco, he didn’t normally see people welcoming others to another block. But what the fuck was he supposed to know about Massachusetts? He grabs the letter and rips it open as delicately as he can.

Inside is a small card with a black cat on it — a cheesy welcome from the historic city. He opens it and skims it before breaking into a grin. Inside is a $10 gift card to the man — Trevor’s — shop. “Man, you didn’t have to do this.”

Trevor shrugs. “It’s just to welcome you. Come on over and check it out. I got all sorts of cool shit a guy like you may be into.” He gives a fake little salute and another winning grin. “I’ll leave you to clean up. Talk later.”

With that, he’s gone, and Alfredo is left holding the letter, feeling completely out of his depth.

It’s over a week before Alfredo has a moment to check out the bookshop next door. He had almost forgotten about Trevor, but it was really hard to fully forget the man after that somewhat weird interaction. As soon as he pushes through the door — which chimes pleasantly — Trevor looks up with a bright grin. “Hey, I was wondering when you would come over.”

Alfredo shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, but is immediately distracted by the décor of the place. It’s all brick like his building and the shelves are a lovely mahogany, but the books are all old hardbacked things that seemed to be yellowed with age. There’s strange art and posters on the wall, but honestly, its nothing different than anything else he’s seen in this town. “Nice place.” Trevor just chuckles. “It’s kinda my thing. You into like — the supernatural and shit? I mean you must be, right?” He chuckles again, to himself, like it was some inside joke. “I mean, you moved here.”

Alfredo just shrugs. He supposed he did move to the town that prided itself on being as spooky as possible. “I guess so. I like mysteries.”

“Mysteries!” Trevor jumps to his feet, looking eager to help. He still has a sort of wild enthusiasm, the same that Alfredo had sensed the last time they met, making him feel a bit unpredictable. “Let me help you find a book. There’s a ton of good mysteries. Do you like them solved or unsolved?” He moves away deeper into the shelves, rummaging among the books as Alfredo trails along behind him, leaving him no time to answer the question.

The titles of the books are batshit wild as Alfredo starts to skim them. Stuff about vampires and werewolves and demons and witchcraft. Something turns in Alfredo’s stomach as he turns to look back at Trevor, eyeing the man carefully as the other feverishly scans the shelves.

Despite being oddly pale, Trevor seems normal. Alfredo quickly shakes his head, trying to cast that thought aside. What is he, insane? But he’s knocked out of his conspiracies about if Trevor was a vampire or not when the man suddenly straightens, a bright grin on his face, and pushes a book towards him. “This one. This one’s a book about the Phoenix Lights. You know, the time that all those lights were seen over Phoenix, Arizona and everyone thinks they’re aliens?”

Alfredo’s brain truly does do some sort of factory reset at that. He must stand there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before he narrows his eyes and tries to form a sentence. “Excuse me… what?”

That devilish grin creeps back onto Trevor’s face and without another warning, he reaches out and grabs Alfredo’s hand, gently tugging him towards the front desk. “Sometimes I forget that you’re new here and haven’t heard all my random stories,” he teases. “I’ll give you the rundown because it's one of my favorite mysteries. On an evening in 1997 or so, there was this series of strange lights seen over Phoenix. Thousands of people saw them, and …”

Alfredo leans over the counter and just listens to him as the book store owner starts talking and gesturing wildly. At first, he wants to go. This man is like nothing he’s ever seen, all insane comments and a weird shop and an almost overly-friendly demeanor that leans right on the side of creepy. Like a cat when you’re not sure if it's going to turn around and bite. But he’s just so — welcoming, and he’s got this way about him, and despite not knowing what the hell he was talking about, Alfredo can’t help but sit and listen, leaning against the counter and let the man rattle passionately on.

He must have been there almost an hour, Trevor explaining the story of the lights. After a while, Alfredo can’t help but get into it and shares theories and comments. He doesn’t think either of them realize how late it's actually gotten. No one had come in this entire time but this doesn’t feel like a bad thing. Trevor doesn’t seem to care, so Alfredo doesn’t comment.

“Sorry,” Trevor does say to Alfredo though as he finishes talking, a bit of pink coloring his cheeks. Not a vampire, then, Alfredo’s mind helpfully supplies. “I didn’t mean to keep you for so long and I think I spoiled the book.” He grimaces. “Take it. Free.”

“How about I use my gift card?” Alfredo asks, digging into his wallet and pulling out the $10 card Trevor had given him the first time they met. Trevor smiles a bit. “Didn’t know if you would use it.”

“Course I will,” he replies smoothly, “and now I want to know more about those damn lights.”

They’re both leaning against the counter, close enough their fingertips can brush. Trevor abruptly leans back and Alfredo can’t help but mourn the end of their closeness, coughing a bit before he says, “Uh. I can come by again sometimes? And if you want a tattoo, just ask, man. I can schedule you in.”

Trevor nods and smiles. “I’ve got more mysteries, if you’re interested.”

“Done.”

“Great.” There’s a slight pause before Trevor smirks. “Be smart out there, Braveheart.”

Alfredo lets the door jingle behind him as something swells in his heart. Braveheart.

**

“Owls?? It ain’t about the damn owls, Trevor!” Alfredo bursts out as they sit, side by side, in the local coffee-shop. Alfredo can’t really trace back the exact pattern of events since that first unforgettable conversation about lights, aliens, and conspiracies. All he knows is that he’s got a pile of books in front of him and a friend(?) across the table.

They’d been doing this a while. Alfredo really doesn’t have the heart at this point to correct Trevor that he wasn’t really interested in conspiracies or time travel or unsolved murder cases or whatever the hell was the topic this week. Except… was that even true any more? At first, he was just humoring Trevor. The man was so excited about what he was saying. There’s a certain sort of edge to Trevor’s actions that Alfredo can see mirrored in himself. A little cut of loneliness that makes him lean a bit too close. Hunt a bit harder than he should for a shred of connection, a glimpse of shared experiences or pleasures.

Maybe it was that loneliness and ache for a friend — a companion, something more? — that kept Alfredo coming back. But at this point, a month into their time together, he actually cares about the mysteries. They banter more, taking their chats away from the counter in the bookshop or the tattoo shop and now into coffee shops, restaurants.

Were they dates? Neither had said anything, but both of them felt something. That, Alfredo could tell. If their hands brush when they’re waving them in excitement, neither say anything but they don’t pull away. Braveheart is a term more and more frequently used, turned first from a joke into a term of endearment.

Today, the lattes warm in their hands, Trevor finishes discussing an internet mystery named after a bug — Cicada? — that had led them through very nearly three “dates”. Alfredo had kept up as much as he can as they reference a small book that Trevor was pulling his info from. They had been jokingly calling their meet-ups “book clubs”, if that could be used for two people.

Trevor leans back when he’s finished and Alfredo just pounds the table. “That can’t be it,” he complains. “Seriously? No one knows who they were?”

“No one,” Trevor smirks. “Sorry. You should know by now I really don’t like stories with simple-ass endings.”

“I guess not,” Alfredo grumbles, “but god, it’s starting to get frustrating.”

Trevor’s smile does fall away a bit at that. “You don’t have to come out with me if you don’t like it,” he says, sounding a bit wounded. Alfredo’s quick to throw up his hands.

“No! No, no,” he backpedals. “I like it. I like you.”

There’s a pregnant pause where Trevor just sort of stares at him for a moment and Alfredo feels himself turn six shades of red. “I mean, I like your stories! I like this!”

Trevor just grins a bit. “I like you too, Fredo,” he says smoothly before standing up as Alfredo flounders. “Same time next week?”

Alfredo can barely squeak out a yes before Trevor’s gone.

**

They don’t talk for the next few days and Alfredo thinks he’s ruined whatever good thing they have. He can’t bring himself to start the conversation. Did he make it awkward? He wasn’t even sure what he meant with the 'like' comment. It seemed so middle school. Did he like like him? God.

But the thing is, the more Alfredo spent time here, the more he thinks he does like Trevor. More than friends. There’s got to be a reason why he’d subject himself to these horrifying tales on more or less a weekly basis. But Trevor is just so genuine when he talks, so passionate about making sure Alfredo has all the facts, and there’s something so charming about that. He has fun, too. Enjoys Trevor’s company and learning all this wild shit.

He’s just about to call Trevor to — do what, apologize? — when Trevor beats him to it. Alfredo is in the middle of a job, though, and can’t answer, letting the phone go to voicemail. When he finally grabs it, Trevor’s voice comes through. He sounds a bit awkward, nothing like his normally smooth, knowledgeable tone. Somehow even more authentically Trevor.

“Hey, Fredo. I — uh. I know you don’t really like scary things, but I was thinkin’ it could be fun if we did a walking tour of the city. I know you’re new here and it could give you a good history of the area. Plus, it’s spooky!” Trevor’s chuckle comes through faintly. “Call me back. Figured we could…you know… make it a date?” There’s the sound of shuffling as Trevor must have quickly moved the phone. “Just let me know!” he squeaks before hanging up.

Alfredo sits, holding the phone in his hand, and then bursts into laughter before quickly dialing. Trevor picks up on the second ring and there’s just the sound of his breath. No hello’s, no nothing. Just waiting.

“Count me in.”

**

Trevor meets Alfredo outside his tattoo shop at 9PM the next evening, looking a bit nervous. He’s dressed nicer than normal, maybe because this was a date. He looks slick and even more like the vampire Alfredo isn’t certain he’s not.

“Hey,” he hums, meeting him at the door. He’s also dressed up a bit, but nothing too wild. Trevor’s hand flickers, like he’s not sure if he should take Alfredo’s, and Alfredo just rolls his eyes. “Let’s not make this weird, man,” he says quickly. “Let’s just see where this night goes? I cannot fuckin’ believe you want me to go on a ghost tour as a first date.”

That breaks the ice and gets Trevor to laugh. “You don’t know what to expect from me by now? Me and all my conspiracy theories, weren’t like five of them about ghosts?”

Alfredo huffs. “And you should know I don’t like them, so you better be out there watchin’ my ass.”

“I’ll keep an eye on that booty,” Trevor chuckles smoothly and Alfredo can’t help but blush. It’s natural after that quip to take his hand and Alfredo doesn’t pull away as they stride down the street towards where the ghost tour starts. Despite all his teasing, Alfredo actually feels quite… calm. There’s just a touch of a chill in the air and the moon is bright overhead. It’s a rather nice night.

They join a gaggle of tourists, some dressed up, some not, some nervously looking around. Alfredo sympathizes and inches closer to Trevor as the guide appears. The man is young and has a deep voice, introducing himself as Christian. Fredo finds the name somewhat ironic, but doesn’t say anything.

After giving a brief history of the sordid affairs of the town, they start walking down the street back up towards their shop. Alfredo doesn’t let go of Trevor’s hand and Trevor continues to give him a whispered commentary about whatever Christian is saying. He cracks jokes, which helps Alfredo laugh and feel a bit braver. Stupid shit like a ghost called ‘Babyhands’, for one, based on the size of some old handprints pressed into cement on the ground.

Some of the history Alfredo already knows, based on Trevor’s extensive knowledge of the area. He had spent so long listening to the man rattle off information about this or that topic and now he’s honestly grateful he did. He has Trevor on his arm, for one, which is a fantastic bonus, but he’s also not as spooked when he already knows the story.

That is, until they approach the graveyard. It’s quiet at night. Eerie. There’s a low fog, which really isn’t fair because it makes it look just like something out of a horror movie. “So, none of the actual hangings were done in this town,” Christian says. “They were actually all conducted in about twenty or thirty minutes down the highway, back when the borders of this town stretched a lot farther. Behind the Walmart, actually.” He smirks. “But bodies are here, and so are memorials, and I want to walk you through here and see if we can’t rustle someone up to say hello. Shall we?”

The moment they pass through the gates, Alfredo knows this was a bad idea. The hairs on the back of his neck goes up and he starts clinging closer to Trevor. It’s darker now, later, probably pushing 10:30PM. Everything seems scary in the dark of the night. Trevor tries to calm him, but Alfredo's heart is racing. He’s not the only one in the crowd that seems nervous, people peering around cautiously.

As they approach some specific graves, Christian stops to talk about their history, but also the history of the hauntings that have happened on site. It’s after the third story that something in Alfredo snaps. It’s just a simple story, really — a restless ghost that likes to inhabit bodies for a while — but in the pause afterwards that Christian takes, there’s a loud sound.

Later, Alfredo probably could have described it as wind pushing something against a building, or a transformer blowing, or anything. It could have been really a whole host of things. But the combo of the eerie story and the sound is enough for his shallow nerves. Everyone jumps, but Fredo just bolts. He wasn’t about to be the one who dies for no stupid ghost tour.

“Fredo!” he hears Trevor call, but he doesn’t care about that, just backing up frantically before turning into a run. He makes it about a hundred feet before his foot catches on a small grave marker and he goes sprawling, face first, into the mud.

As soon as he hits the ground with a painful thud, reality filters back in. Maybe it was the cold of the mud, or the pain, or the embarrassment, but he realizes that he’s running for no reason after a fucking scary story, running away from his date, from a good time. He was such a coward.

He picks himself out of the mud and pulls himself to his knees, but as he turns around, he sees Trevor there. He crouches nervously, gentle, like you would with a nervous animal. “Fredo?” he asks quietly. Hesitantly. “Braveheart, you ok?”

“Should probably get rid of the name Braveheart,” Alfredo says weakly, trying to brush off his pants. “I just ran like a scared kid.”

Trevor laughs quietly once he sees Alfredo is ok, just a few scraped palms for his trouble. He takes his hand. “Nah, man. What I see is a guy who did all this, mustered up all his courage to do this thing because I wanted to and he didn’t want to let me down. Faced somethin’ that freaked him out just to give me a nice night.” Trevor’s look was earnest. Soft. “That means more than you can say. No one’s ever listened to me before, not like you have, let alone done something like this.”

Alfredo glances from the mud on his pants up to Trevor. “I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he admits. “Still do. Just no more ghost tours.”

The moon breaks out from behind a cloud and illuminates how muddy and dirty they both are. Trevor takes both his palms and gently kisses where the scrapes are. “No more ghost tours.”

There’s half a second of hesitation before Alfredo leans up and catches Trevor in a kiss. It’s soft and warm, Trevor pulling him close with no second thoughts.

He may have been a tattoo artist who ended up in a quirky town that likes its spook a bit too much for his shallow heart. He may be stuck tattooing witch hats, cats, and pumpkins until the day he dies. But with Trevor by his side, telling him the stories that fascinate him so much, maybe that won’t be so bad.

Who knows? Maybe he could be a Braveheart after all.

[uy8hg-art]

Reunion of Sorts

It’s time for @rtwritingcommunity Secret Springfairy!! I got to write this cool fic for @nb-rimmytim / @everamazingfe  Prompt:  Character A is suspected of being a witch/some other forbidden magic thing, and is brought before the ruler of the kingdom, Character B, who must decide their fate. Except, B recognizes A as their childhood friend who 'disappeared.' Summary:  Gavin got caught doing a bit of outlawed magic, but his trip to the palace swerves in an unexpected direction when he recognizes the person on the throne. Preview: Gavin had messed up. Really bad. The good thing was that he was aware that he messed up. Then again, it would be very hard not to notice when you’ve been escorted through town and toward the castle, a place he’d hoped never to go to. He would never forget the looks he drew from bystanders. Mostly it was judgment and scorn, which he was used to after so many years living on the outskirts. But every now and then, especially after one of the guards would jostle him along violently, there would be fear. What had he done? They probably thought. What had the guy who looked like he hadn’t bathed in a week done to face the wrath of the guards? And soon, The King. Gavin wished he could pull his creeper hide cloak up, toss the hood over his head, and hide from all their looks like he normally did, but it had fallen off in the scramble to escape the guards. Even if he still had it, he likely wouldn’t have been able to adjust it, not with his hands cuffed behind him and the guards moving him on at a steadily-increasing pace. He just hoped Michael would find it and realize what had happened before it was too late.

Read the rest on AO3!

[sorcererinthestars]

Starlight, Starbright...

It’s that time again - another Secret Springfairy writing event for the @rtwritingcommunity​  <3 

Summary:  Young Prince Gavin is cursed. He's bound to a star, a literal star, and in order to free him, the Jeremy, the Court Mage Apprentice, has to find a way to keep a star from falling. When its only you between the universe and the death of the person you love the most, drastic measures start to look appealing... AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31002023

‘Mommy, can you tell me a story?’

Fiona laughs and sits down at the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket up closer around her daughter’s chest. Every night, the girl asked for a story and every night she had to oblige. Lindsay meets her eyes from the doorway, their own dancing in mirth. There was one story that their daughter would love more than anything.... the story about the mythical King and his Mage. The story of the time they wrangled the stars and won their place in story and song. 

Closing her eyes for a moment to remember, she sits back, takes a breath, and...

The people of Achievement City never have seen the Star Prince. Born after a birth that had snatched away the beloved Queen, the Prince was too weak to be announced properly to his people. They had hidden him away at the top of the tallest tower to keep him from danger. At least, that’s what the King had said. The Prince was too weak to come out. He was alive. But only that. 

Only that.

The townspeople knew better to question their King, but there were rumors. Of course, there were always rumors. They say that the Prince was kept in the tallest tower because he was cursed. Because he shouldn’t have been born. Because the King had given everything - even the life of his Queen - to have a son. An heir. Even a sickly heir was better than nothing. Even a sickly heir meant succession, peace. For now, at least. 

There were whispers along the people that the Prince, with his curse, was given Demon powers. That he gleamed when people saw him. Servants told each other that the Prince glowed, that he shimmered with what could be sunlight but was too silver, too pale. It’s said you can’t spend more than a few minutes with him without being dazzled by his iridescence, like he had actually swallowed a star and it burned within him, dazzling all who saw him in a dangerous light that revealed your coldest secrets.

Here, Fiona can only shake her head as her daughter’s eyes grow round. Lindsay chuckles, sitting next to her and rubbing Fiona’s back as she continues her tale.

See, she explains, the Prince was cursed like people had said. On the night of his birth, the Queen was dying. Desperate, the King had turned to his Mage for help, who had summoned a demon to make a bargain. A being who dealt in tricks as much as assistance; who would not offer help freely. They saved the baby but not the mother. One life for another. She gave her life freely for her son, but there was a catch none of them expected.

Using its magicks, the demon pulled a star from the sky, feeding it to the Prince, the youngling who would soon be named Gavin. The Prince had swallowed the shining thing, a bead of glowing white light, and never again would stop shimmering. His energies would be different than the world around him. During the day, he would be listless. Lethargic. Cut off from his source. During the night, he would shine and shimmer, full of energy. Ready for dancing and singing and so much life. Or all the life he could have, hidden away from the world.

And on the night of his 30th birthday, unless a proper replacement could be manifested, the Prince would die as a meteor shower would drive his star from the sky. Terrified of the Bargain he had made, the King banishes his son to the tallest tower. Keeping him there to keep him close to the sky, the stars. His son’s ever-beating heart tied to something so unfathomable. 

Her daughter gasps. Fiona soothes her. Because this was not a scary tale or a sad story! The Prince was not alone. He had a companion in the castle: the Court Mages’ Apprentice - young Jeremy Dooley.

“Have you thought of anything yet?” Gavin asks as he moves his piece across the gaming board, frowning more at the conversation than the easy way Jeremy snatches his piece. The apprentice sighs back, scratching their chin. “No. Not unless you know a way to stop an astrological event. But we’ll figure it out, Gav, you know we will.”

Gavin’s shine flashes for a moment as he grows more agitated. “You know the curse. I’m fucking 29 years old, I’ve never seen outside during the day, never really talked to my people - I’m stuck in here I die in less than six months unless... “

“Don’t say that,” Jeremy snaps back. “I know, Gav, and we’re working on it. Demon deals are complicated. This is the boundaries of life and death - its not so easily tinkered with. If you know how to create a star to keep you from becoming one, I’d really love to hear your input.”

Gavin frowns. There’s a beat. One and then two, before he sighs. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just...”

“Scared? Frustrated? Angry? Join the club.” Jeremy hefts a sigh. “I know you’re the one that’s dying, but trust me, its no walk in the park not being able to help your friend, either.” 

There’s a pause and then Gavin shoves the game board away, climbing over the table. Jeremy has to shield their eyes, despite being enchanted to be able to withstand the shimmer and shine of the skin of their Prince. But Gavin doesn’t let that stop him, brushing his lips across the other’s. “I love you,” he says quietly. “I know you’re going to think of something. You’re the smartest person I know.”

A single tear rolls down Jeremy’s face that Gavin brushes off with a silvery fingertip. “What if I...”

“Then I’ll die, knowing I have the love of one of the strongest magicians in Achievement City,” Gavin shrugs. “Now shut up about it and lets start a new game. There’s only an hour or two left before sunrise and I want to kick your *ass*.”

There it was, Fiona explains. For the Court Mages’ Apprentice was in love with the Prince and cursed in their own way with an impossible task. They were to figure out how to stop the star from falling from the sky and save Gavin’s life. 

They lay next to each other on the tower top. Here, they were as high up as any manmade point in the whole city. If Gavin raises his hand, it was as if he could brush the very stars that gave him life. Jeremy sits next to him, studying the constellations as if they could give them information. 

“Maybe we could ask the Gods,” they suggest quietly and just has to deal with Gavin’s soft chuckling. “You know that’s not going to work. If the Gods had any desire to save the life of the human Prince, wouldn’t they have done it by now?”

Jeremy just sighs, rubbing their thumb over Gavin’s knuckles. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking.”

“All you ever do is think,” Gavin sighs back, sitting up as he shimmers against the backlight of the beautiful starry sky. For a moment, Jeremy loses their words. Gavin really does look every inch of the creature of magic that he had been cursed to become. His life tied to the stars that glimmer behind him. “We need to try something. We have less than six months. You know Dad’s already given up on me..”

“That’s not true,” Jeremy shoots back, “and you know it. The King loves you. He’s the one who is funding my Master’s research to save you. He just...”

“It’s easier to lose someone you barely know,” Gavin says bitterly. “I know.” He looks down over his city, his lands, a place he owns by name only but had never even seen. “Would it be so bad if I could be among them?”

“You know the King just wants to keep you safe,” Jeremy murmurs, hand brushing down Gavin’s spine. Gavin grumbles. “It’s a demon that did this, yeah? A life for a life, it took my Mum’s. But because she was 30, I’ll die when I’m 30. Unless we keep the star up there, or someone else dies and I get their years too.”

Jeremy looks a bit stricken. “Gambling with someone elses’ life is dangerous. My Master told your dad that much. We can’t sacrifice someone to save you, we don’t know if that would even work...”

“I’m not asking someone to give their life for me!” Gavin shoots back. “But if I could talk to the demon, maybe it would have the answer, maybe...”

Jeremy wraps his arms around him. “Maybe.” They kiss his temple, thrilling at the taste of magic under their lips as Gavin sparkles with it. But they start to think...

“Aren’t demons dangerous?” her daughter interrupts. Fiona chuckles a bit. “Yes, darling. But that doesn’t stop the magic apprentice from scheming. From reading late into the day when he’s supposed to be sleeping, working, or planning. From figuring out how to summon not only a demon, but the very demon that cursed Gavin. A figure named Lucae, a mysterious demon of the stars, a being who gave and took power as They deemed fit.

The candles shimmer in the air as Jeremy stares at the summoning circle. They had said the magic words, done the incantation. If they are right, the demon would be trapped within the circle and forced to answer a few questions.

If they were wrong... Jeremy doesn’t let themselves dwell on what would happen if they were wrong.

There’s a few tense heartbeats before a flash of light and energy that almost blinds Jeremy, throwing them backwards as they raise their arm to cower from the brilliance of the light. When it fades and they are able to blink the spots from their vision, a tall humanoid figure stands there. It has a tail and black eyes and jet black hair. Not to mention a brilliant smile full of cunning and arrogance. “Hello, Mr Dooley. This was brave. Or foolhardy.”

“I’m not planning on trapping you here,” Jeremy says quietly, hands clenching by their sides. “I’m just here to ask you one question. A question you’ve been likely asked before. I don’t want any bullshit, just give it to me straight, ok?”

“I’m a demon, Dooley,” Lucae grins wickedly. “I know what you’re going to ask and I know you won’t like the answer. Are you sure you want to ask it?”

Jeremy just spits at him. “Shut up. How do I reverse your fucking spell on my Prince?”

Lucae is quiet for a long moment and sighs, sitting crosslegged and hovering above the summoning circle in a wickedly innocent display of incredible power. He makes a show of thinking for a long moment despite the fact that both know he is fucking with Jeremy. “You know the answer to this,” he says finally. “I’m giving you one more chance, child. You are a human. You have much to live for.” He sounds almost... regretful.

Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe it would get him killed. But they both know they don’t have much time left anyways. Jeremy throws a candlestick at the demon’s head and they both wince as it passes through the demon like smoke.

Lucae sighs. “Such a temper. You want to save the Prince I cursed? Climb to the top of Mount Amber on the night of the Prince’s thirtieth birthday. Then wish on a star at the stroke of midnight. You can die for him. That’s the only way to save him. My magic is foolproof, you know. I gave him the life of his mother, who only had 30 years to give.”

Jeremy knew what the answer was going to be. As soon as the demon says it, with a coy little grin, and Jeremy’s veins grow cold as ice, they knew that they always knew the answer. The only way to continue Gavin’s half-life is to give another and give him a few more years. Jeremy didn’t have many - a measly twenty-eight to Gavin’s thirty. But it was... something. It would get him to 58. That’s twenty-eight more years to solve the curse.

It would buy him time. Time to run the Kingdom. Time to be the King Jeremy always knew Gavin could be.

With their heart in their throat and ice in their veins, Jeremy waves his hand aggressively and the candles go out at once. Without their light, the spell is broken and the demon dissipates with a soft laugh.

I told you you wouldn’t like the answer...

Fiona pauses in her story to see her daughter with tears running down her face. “J-rimmy can’t die!” she whines. “That’s not a nice story, Mama.” Fiona is about to respond, but before she can, Lindsay pulls their daughter onto their lap and kisses her head. “Let Mommy finish the tale,” they say soothingly. 

Jeremy and Gavin don’t see each other much in the next few months. Jeremy pours themselves into their work and Gavin just grows increasingly more anxious. He’s visited by his Father, the King, and some other advisors. Talking into the night about plans. Action. Trying to stop a curse everyone knows is inevitable.

But the hollowness remains in the back of everyone’s minds. The answer is obvious. They all know what has to happen, no one just wants to say it out loud. Someone has to give their life for Gavin. But no one except the little Court Mage Apprentice knows how. 

It’s late in the day, a week before Jeremy knows they have to take their fateful climb up Mount Amber, that they know they have to tell Gavin. But they can’t tell Gavin the truth. No chance in hell - Gavin would balk and panic before they could even get through the sentence. And no amount of pity or shame or grief would stop Jeremy from doing what needs to be done.

He had made up his mind the night after talking to Lucae that he would do it. What was his life compared to that of a Prince? It was his duty, really, to give his life over for his Prince. And besides...

It’s what you did for the one you love the most.

Jeremy meets Gavin in his tower after a week of avoiding each other and before they could open their mouth to say something, Gavin is slamming the door shut and dragging Jeremy into a breathless kiss. Jeremy melts against his lips and for a moment they just cling to each other, Gavin’s silvery radiance cascading around them, cool like a summer’s breeze on their arms.

When they break apart, Jeremy notices Gavin is crying. He’s coming up at the end of his borrowed time, the world taking back what was Theirs. Jeremy feels whatever conviction was inside of them harden. They wouldn’t watch Gavin die. And besides - Gavin would be heartbroken, but he’d get over their death. Eventually. Better living to grieve than dying, anyways.

“What’s the book?” Gavin says hesitantly, gesturing to the tome Jeremy had in their arms. “A solution?” 

Jeremy sighs and forces themselves to affix a small smile to their face. “I - I think so. You are made of starlight, right? I was thinking if - on the night it is s-supposed to happen - if we are at the top of Mount Amber. M...maybe we can Wish on a star. They say Wishing Magic is the most powerful during a meteor event. Maybe...”

Gavin scoffs. He doesn’t want to be rude, but... “You’re hinging my life on wishing upon a fucking star?”

No, Jeremy thinks. I just need you at the top of that mountain. “It’s foolish, I know, but...” A broken sob rips from their mouth without meaning to, sinking down to sit on Gavin’s plush bed. “I’m s-sorry, I ...” They hiccup. “I’m sorry.”

“J...,” Gavin says immediately, moving over to draw them against his chest. “You have better plans than the entire rest of this castle. I love you. If you think it’ll work, I’m willing to try.”

“And if it doesn’t...?” Jeremy whispers. 

Gavin shrugs and when Jeremy looks up to meet his eyes, they can see the human green shot through with liquid silver tears. “Then I’ll die under the stars with the person I love most in the world.”

Jeremy can’t stop themselves from sobbing then. 

Their daughter is breathless now. Just watching Fiona with wide eyes, unable to say another word. Riveted in the story, her own tiny tears on her face, holding the blanket tight. She knows stories, know they always get worse before they get better, but this... this better have a happy ending! It was a bedtime story, for goodness sakes!

The day they leave, the atmosphere is ... somber. It had taken the King some convincing, but at this point, they were entirely at a loss. Gavin had spent the last two days being poked, prodded, fed potions, underwent rituals, nothing. Lucae had not come when he was summoned. Apparently such a demon did not have to answer if he didn’t want to. Frankly, the King didn’t want to see the demon that had so cursed his family.

A few hours before the supposed end, the castle was in preemptive mourning. Jeremy had given the King a brief fake idea of what they were about to do. No talk of their own death. They had spent the night before saying a brief goodbye to the few people they had a connection with. The only person that mattered in the end was Gavin, and they didn’t have to say goodbye to him. Not just yet, anyways.

They had started climbing during the day, but Gavin lagged. His energy being connected to the stars and the night, he found it hard to exert himself during the day. They don’t say anything. Jeremy doesn’t dare ask Gavin what he’s thinking about. Likely not much different than what Jeremy is thinking about. Both expect to meet the gallows at the top of this mountain. 

After a few breaks, night slowly descends around them and Gavin can walk a bit faster. They break the summit at 11pm. One hour before the meteor shower that will drive their star from the sky and kill the Prince in front of him. Gavin looks ...tired. Resigned. But he never lets go of their hand.

Never let it be said he would go into the dark without an anchor to the light.

They sit for a while. Silent, feet dangling off the edge of the highest cliff, and watch the world slowly settle into the warmth of night. Neither speak. What is there to say? When Gavin starts crying incandescent tears, Jeremy is there to kiss them away. They hold each other as the sky illuminates with the brilliance of a thousand - million - glistening points of light. They are at the highest point possible and Gavin glows brighter than all of them, a beacon of magic power that can be seen miles away.

When the first shooting star erupts across the sky, Gavin winces. As more start to fall, he shudders, but Jeremy is faster. They yank Gavin up to his feet.

“I lied,” they say sharply, staring right at Gavin. The man doesn’t have a moment to respond before Jeremy breathes “Forgive me,” and kisses him viciously.

Gavin is still reeling when Jeremy backs away and stares up to the falling brilliance of the stars above their head. “LUCAE!” he hollers. “I did everything you asked, you fucking bastard! And now I WISH TO willingly give my life for ...”

“NO!” Gavin shouts, leaping forward, tackling Jeremy bodily down to the stone, knocking the wind out of both of them. Jeremy wheezes, gasping, but it’s too late. “I wish to willingly give my life for Gavin.”

“Jeremy!” Gavin shrieks as the wind unnaturally picks up around them. The stars flash brighter, almost blinding as it feels like they’re falling and hitting the ground, shattering into bright incandescence that shimmers around them. Gavin himself is still glowing, which means he’s still *here*, still alive, and Jeremy...

Jeremy coughs a few times. Blood dribbles out of their nose, likely from the impact of Gavin tackling them down to the stone of the mountaintop. Gavin can’t bring himself to care as he watches instead a beautiful silver shimmer erupt from Jeremy’s chest that seems to elevate, lifting into the sky. As if it was about to become a star. Like he had been told his mother’s did, the star that gives him life on earth.

Wishing Magic. The very magic that is older than demons, older than the very earth under their feet. The magic that stitched the universe together, the magic of will and want, the magic of the very fabric of space and time. 

So... Gavin wishes.

Through the shrieking of the wind around him, the exhaustion that pulled on every edge of his bones, Gavin breathes in the Wishing Magic around him and makes his own wish. 

“I WISH FOR US!”

With fingers that glow like quicksilver against the tan skin of his people, Gavin grabs the white orb that glows above Jeremy’s chest and forces it back down against Jeremy’s chest. He holds it against the skin as the brilliance escapes from his fingers, begging and pleading for it to go back inside Jeremy’s rapidly cooling skin. His tears, shimmering and bright, fall on the back of his hands.

For a few breathless moments, it seems hopeless, Jeremy’s body rejecting the orb that strains against Gavin’s fingers to go into the sky. But Gavin is not a man.

In this moment, Gavin is a star himself.

“I wish for us,” he repeats firmly, leaning down to kiss Jeremy with all his might, and pushes with every ounce of magic and starlight that drip through his veins.

And it all goes brilliant white before flickering into the blackest black.

Fiona is cut off by their daughter shrieking. She climbs out from under the blankets and off of Lindsay’s lap, moving over to tug on Fiona’s shirt. “No! No~! They can’t be dead, you can’t... bad story, bad!” She tries to punch with little fists, but laughing, Fiona grabs them and kisses the pudgy little hands.

“Hush,” she scolds. “Do you really think my story will have such an unhappy ending? This is a bedtime story, after all.”

When Jeremy opens their eyes, they first see a bright blue that focuses into a sky, filled with puffy white clouds. They let out a breathless little cough, their ribcage feeling like something had been pounding on it. Like that one time they had choked on a cherry pit and needed someone to give them the Hemlich and CPR.

But this time, its ... Gavin.

Except, it doesn’t look like Gavin. His brown hair is streaked through with silver. The tips of his fingers on both hands sparkle bright silver as if he had dipped them in a vat of molten metal. But he doesn’t shimmer. He doesn’t glow. He looks... normal.

Then Jeremy realizes what day it is. And what was supposed to happen. They stagger backwards. They’re alive, which means... “Gavin!” They shake the other man frantically, desperately, tears growing in their eyes, but...

“....ughsjfh.”

“Gavin?”

On the day after his thirtieth birthday, their cursed prince opens his eyes. Not green, not silver, but a combination of both, their star-cursed prince breathes his first free breath.

His second is captured by Jeremy’s lips, holding him close as they cling to each other. Free to live and love together to the end of their days.

Fiona grins at her daughter, who releases her shirt and slumps back, pouting a bit. “I like the one about the horse princess better,” she says with a shrug and climbs under the blankets. “But this one is good too.”

Lindsay bursts into laughter as Fiona throws up her hands. “Not everyone loves a happy ending,” she smirks, kissing her head. They say goodnight to their daughter and leave the small bedroom, looking out the window to the castle on the hill - where the Star King and his Consort still reign to this day.

Happily. Ever. After.

The End.  

[achievementtooth]

Forever and Always

The @rtwritingcommunity has put together a secret springfairy event, and this is the fic I wrote for it! It was great fun.

Summary: When a heist goes bad, Ryan finds himself fighting to stay alive and get help. It's a desperate fight that's fueled only by a centuries-old promise, and the knowledge that Jeremy will always be there to help him up.

Rating: T

Pairing: Jeremy/Ryan

Read on AO3