#she's just in full goblin mode in this fic it's fine

[sesamestreep]

Jyn/Cassian for 18, "squishing the other’s cheek"

cross-posted to ao3, whoops 😇✨

There aren't a lot of comforting places to spend time on a rebel base, Jyn is starting to realize. She supposes the point of military bases is not to be cozy, per se, but it's still fairly inconvenient on occasion. Her quarters are fine--better than Wobani any day--but they're designed for practicality rather than warmth, physical or emotional, and she shares them with a perfectly nice Twi'lek pilot who is almost always off on one mission or another, so they’re not really hers by any stretch of the imagination and thus lack a certain feeling of home. Even the mess hall is not a particularly welcoming place, for all she's had her fair share of nice memories there by now, sharing meals and catching up with the crew when they're all on base at the same time. Still, it's not exactly the sort of place she'd choose to spend time if it also wasn't where the food was.

She'd much prefer to be in any one of those places rather than where she is now, though. In fact, if she had to pick a least favorite spot on the entire base, she'd pick the med bay, hands down. It's bad enough on its own, with its general air of hushed crisis and the cloying, repetitive sound of medical machinery beeping and droids humming about from bed to bed checking on patients, but it is much worse now, because all she's doing is waiting, which is a thing that she hates, mostly because she is terrible at it.

The smell of bacta freaks her out pretty bad these day, after Scarif and all. It turns out you don't come out on the other side of the evisceration of a whole planet with just minor cuts and bruises. The medics did a good job with an extremely bad situation and most everyone who survived had only a few scars to show for it, but it had been touch and go for a while there, so much so that none of the original Rogue One crew had even been conscious for the Battle of Yavin, let alone fighting in it. It would be another several weeks before the first of them was released from medical observation, and several months before the last of them was. Jyn landed somewhere in the middle there, not bad all things considered, but the scent of bacta lingered on her skin for what seemed like ages and it clung to her sheets and her clothes in spite of her best efforts to remove it.

The smell of it is everywhere now, and that combined with the steady beeping of monitors nearby is driving her slowly insane, but she still can't bring herself to leave. If it were anyone else, she would. It's sentimental and frankly stupid to think that sitting by someone's bedside while they're unconscious will have any impact on their recovery, but here she sits anyway. It's not that she thinks Cassian will care if she's there when he wakes up, it's just that she wants to be there. She wants to know the moment things are going to be alright and she won't trust anything but her own eyes.

The medic she spoke to said he would be fine and, while Jyn knows the basics of first aid, she should definitely trust the medical opinion of someone with more training over her own instincts. It’s not easy, though; she's a bit of a cynic thanks to her lifetime of experience with things not working out the way she was promised they would, so she's going to stay right here until she actually sees that Cassian is fine with her own eyes. The medic hadn't seemed offended by her insistence and just gestured to a chair next to Cassian's bed before swanning away to deal with, presumably, less annoying patients. The 2-1B unit accompanying them had stuck around a little longer, to get some readings off the monitor and to inform her that he should be awake sometime in the next three hours or so before scooting off.

That had been three hours and fifteen minutes ago now, and Jyn's patience is well past worn thin. She thinks about summoning the droid back or bothering a passing medic, but there's been no change in Cassian's condition, for better or worse, so she imagines they won't see the urgency. After what she hopes is a surreptitious look around to see if anyone is paying them any attention, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

"Cassian," she whispers, and receives no response. She tries saying his name a little louder with the same disappointing result, but she doesn't dare to raise her voice any more for fear of being sent away.

With another check to make sure the coast is clear, she leans over and shakes him by the shoulder. "Cassian, come on," she hisses under her breath. No response.

She pokes her finger into his chest, once gently and then again with all her might. "Seriously, it's time to wake up," she says, and it somehow comes out gentle in spite of her impatience. It makes no difference.

Jyn bites her lip as she thinks about what to do next. She doesn’t have a lot of opportunities to just look at Cassian without interruption or self-consciousness in the normal course of their lives together. Not that they’re together, in that sense, but they work closely with one another and even on the rare occasions they’re not working, they’re still usually together in some fashion. She didn’t intend, when she’d semi-reluctantly joined the Rebellion, to build her entire life around him but it had happened regardless. In spite of all that, watching him sleep is a new experience for her and it makes her feel itchy in her own skin.

He looks more peaceful like this, which makes sense, of course, but she still finds herself relieved he’s getting some rest untroubled by bad dreams. She doesn’t want to ruin that, but the urge to touch him in some way, just to wake him up, is still strong. She has a few vague memories of being woken up by one of her parents with a kiss on the forehead, but after dwelling on those recollections a moment, she remembers that those instances were usually followed by them telling her to pack her things because they needed to run off to some new planet in the middle of the night.

That mental association offers a pretty good reason not to kiss Cassian on the forehead right now, though she has plenty of others if she needs them. In fact, she’s had a lot of practice thinking of good reasons not to kiss him anywhere, so she abandons this idea readily and tells herself what she always does when these inconvenient feelings arise: what she has now with him and with their team is the best part of her life and she wouldn't risk complicating it for anything. The two of them, with their trust issues and their scars, could never make it work in that kind of relationship. It's better to have less than she wants than to have nothing at all.

In spite of this, she finds herself reaching out to him again. She hesitates at the last second, suddenly panicked at the idea of touching his face with even her hand. It still feels too intimate and familiar somehow for what they are to each other. Then again, she's been watching him sleep for hours now, so maybe she's past the point where she can reasonably worry about such things. She brings her hand to rest on his jaw and, before she can get used to the feeling, she jabs a finger into the soft skin below his cheekbone.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," she whispers furiously, punctuating each command with a poke. When that does nothing, she pinches his cheek as hard as she can and then squishes the other between her fingers for good measure. She sighs when that has no effect either. After a final glance over her shoulder to see if anyone is watching, she pulls her arm back and brings her palm against his cheek in a firm slap. It's hard to tell if any of the other people in the med bay notice this, because it’s also the moment that Cassian wakes up and immediately begins coughing loudly, and suddenly she doesn’t care about anything else.

“Cassian,” she says, hands fluttering about uselessly as she tries to decide what to do with them that won’t be awkward. “Are you alright?”

“Probably not, based on our location,“ he replies, with considerable effort. He reaches up to rub his jaw. “Did you hit me?”

“What? No! You…must have dreamed that,” she says, quickly. “Do you need me to get someone? Are you in pain?”

“Not as much as I should be, I’m guessing,” Cassian says, closing his eyes as he leans back. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Jyn asks, and he replies by miserably shaking his head. “I should really get someone to look at you, then.”

She turns to go, but even in his injured state, Cassian’s reflexes are enviably quick. He catches hold of her wrist before she can get away, and says her name, just once, very gently. She tries to swallow the emotions that try to climb up her throat at the mere sound of his voice, but she’s not exactly in the best shape right now either. She has a few minor injuries and zero hours of sleep to her name, and she just doesn’t have the power to resist him like she might have otherwise.

Cassian must sense her acquiesce, because his grip on her slackens and he sits back with a sigh. “Don’t go,” he says. “Just—I want you to tell me what happened.”

“You almost blew the entire mission, Cassian! That’s what happened!”

There were nicer ways to say that, or gentler explanations of what went down on their mission, but Jyn’s a little hurt and a lot tired, so she doesn't really have it in her to mind her manners. She also doesn’t appreciate being outmaneuvered like this, and she wants Cassian to take his damn hand off of her. She should have owned up to that slap; it was the smartest thing she’s done all day.

He has the grace to at least look ashamed of himself. “Jyn, I—”

“No. Absolutely not,” she warns him. “If you think I sat by your bed, waiting for you to wake up so that I could hear you make excuses, or try to defend yourself, you’re out of your mind. You almost certainly have a concussion, which is the only reason I’m not punching you in the face for that stunt you pulled back on Kaddak.”

Cassian groans, letting his head flop back on the pillows. “Oh, right. It’s starting to come back to me.”

“Good, because I’d love to know what you were thinking,” Jyn says, sharply. “I gave you the kriffing signal, Cassian. I told you to get out of the warehouse, and you didn’t listen!”

“I couldn’t leave without the asset, Jyn,” he says, eyes pleading with her to understand. Normally, they’d be lit up with anger at her questioning his judgement, but the circumstances he woke up in must have impressed the recklessness of his own actions on him, for once. “It would have been destroyed in the blast and then the whole mission would have been for nothing!”

“You could have died,” she shouts. “Don’t talk to me about the mission!”

Belatedly, she realizes she’s gone ahead and done the thing she was trying to avoid: capturing the attention of a medical droid. One immediately winds its way over to Cassian’s bed and begins taking his vitals diligently, effectively ending their conversation for the time being. It’s just as well, she thinks; she was starting to get emotional and that’s the last thing she needs when she’s dealing with Cassian. She needs to keep her feelings neatly stored in a box, preferably one with a padlock and maybe a deadbolt or two, when he’s around, or she’ll surely break something she can’t bear to lose. She folds her hands in front of herself and attempts to regain her composure while the droid works. The mechanical whir of its limbs moving about, extending and retracting, is oddly grounding and she closes her eyes for a brief moment while it asks Cassian some routine questions.

“I am satisfied with your recovery so far, Captain Andor,” 2-1B finally says. “I’m administering additional pain medication. You may experience some drowsiness, as a side effect. I advise you not to fight it, and to sleep if the opportunity presents itself.”

Cassian grumbles his thank you to the droid, before it swivels to address Jyn. “Guests are invited to stay at the discretion of Chief Medic Myreen. Further disruptions could result in your removal from the med bay. This is your last warning,” it says, before lurching off in the direction of another patient.

“Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble,” Cassian says, under his breath.

“Once again,” Jyn replies tersely, “you are very lucky you have a concussion right now.”

“You’re making me long for Kay’s bedside manner,” he says. “Where is my droid, anyway? Don’t tell me he couldn’t be bothered to stay.”

“You know the only thing he hates more than dealing with me is dealing with medical droids. The medbay just happened to have both,” she says, taking a moment to crack her neck. She winces at the loud pop it makes—hours of sitting in the same spot, tensed up and lightly injured is not good for the body. “I can go find him for you, if you want. Now that you’re awake, that is.”

When she looks at him again, Cassian is now staring at her, wide-eyed with…confusion? Horror? It’s not actually clear. “What?” she snaps, her defenses rising against her better judgment.

“You haven’t been here the entire time, have you?” he asks, and now it’s very clearly horror that he’s feeling.

Jyn feels her cheeks warm, and she fights the urge to snap at him again. “It hasn’t been that long,” she says, instead, looking down at her boots and scuffing them gently on the floor. “I was kidding before about K2. He would have stayed, but with you out of commission, Bodhi had to report to Draven and he wanted Kay’s help, so I offered to wait here. The droids take the ‘one guest at a time’ rule very seriously.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me to wake up, though. I would have been fine.”

“I didn’t want to miss out on the chance to be the first person to tell you what an idiot you were. If I’d let Baze or Chirrut stay, they might have gone easy on you.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Cassian says, his head drooping to the side as his eyelids briefly drift closed before he startles awake again. “You get that looked at?” He asks, in a casual way that implies he thinks there’s been no lull in their conversation.

“What?” Jyn asks.

“Your head,” Cassian replies, gesturing weakly. The pain meds must be really kicking in now, and against medical advice, he’s fighting the urge to drift off the sleep. She could set her watch by Cassian Andor’s stubborn streak, she thinks.

“My head’s fine,” she snaps, irrationally annoyed at him for caring about a minor injury when he’s literally in a hospital bed.

“No, s’not,” he protests, feebly and narrows his eyes at her. “There's a…cut.”

“It’s barely a scrape,” she lies.

The medic she spoke to said she didn’t need stitches, but that it would need to be bandaged at least, if she didn’t want bacta fluid. And she most certainly did not. By tomorrow, all her bruises will come up to the surface, but for right now, she looks a lot heartier than she feels, which is good for the purposes of this conversation. Cassian would normally be sharp enough to catch a lie that obvious, but the medication’s effects are also working in her favor. He’s doing a creditable job glaring at her despite that, though.

“I promised to see the medic on my way out,” she says, relenting.

“Okay,” Cassian says, relaxing slightly and letting his head rest back against the pillows. “I’m not gonna remember, am I?”

“Remember what?” Jyn asks, feeling panic rise inside her again. She doesn’t want to summon the droid again but she will, if she has to. If something is wrong.

“This…conversation,” he answers, with enormous effort. “Because of the pain meds.”

“Oh. I’m not sure. Maybe not.”

He reaches out for her again, this time capturing her hand instead of her wrist. He twines their fingers together and then contemplates this for a moment. Jyn’s breath catches in her throat, and she finds she couldn’t speak even if she knew what to say.

“You’ll tell me, though, right?” Cassian finally asks, after a long stretch of silence. She’d kind of hoped he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, but no such luck.

“You mean, what the droid said?” She asks, confused. “I can try to remember, but I think they—”

He shakes his head. “Not that. I don’t care about that. I want you to tell me about you.”

“About me? I don’t understand.”

“When I wake up again, you should tell me that you stayed,” he says, looking at her seriously, probably so she doesn’t blame this outburst on the medication. “I don’t want to forget that.”

“Okay,” Jyn says, even though she feels like her heart is beating loudly enough to drown out the word. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Good,” Cassian says, finally allowing his eyes to drift closed. He falls asleep immediately, it seems, still holding Jyn’s hand in his own.

“I guess I’m staying a bit longer,” she says, under her breath, as she settles back into her uncomfortable chair. She doesn’t know who she’s trying to fool, anyway. She never intended to leave his side.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

My first Five Faves of the year. It's been A While, I know. I have drafts for others in the pipeline, and then @oknowkiss went and posted two bangers within a couple of weeks and it all went out the window because I just had to go all oknowrec, ya know? Look, whenever I read anything that I ADORE, the first people to hear about it are always my buddies @tackytigerfic and @sitp-recs - and you know I mean it when it's full on caps lock raving DMs - see also @wolfpants' The Hollow and @moonflower-rose's Pissing For England (reclists for both authors hopefully coming soon!) I swear I must have spent a full week going on about the first Elaine fic I read, any day now. I mean, truly, I went through all the emotions with that one: elation at finding such an amazing author, grief at my own inadequacy, anger that it was over - it was a rollercoaster, believe me.

Elaine's turn of phrase is always spot on, her inventiveness in world-building is second to none, and her fics somehow seem to retain this fabulous lightness of tone that keeps things just on the right side of heartbreakingly raw. She's undeniably hugely talented, and now has a fabulous AO3 back-catalogue for you to sink your teeth into, so please waste no more time in checking out her fics!

Read oknowkiss' work here on AO3!

💋 Historians (E, 30k, fake relationship, Gryffindors (and some hangers on), bad skiing, bunk beds, hot tubs, getting together)

Summary: It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

💋 in between two tall mountains (there's a place they call lonesome) (E, 8.3k, Relic Chaser Harry, researcher Draco, campervans, treasure hunting in Oregon, inappropriately timed wanks)

Summary: In the shadow of a mountain on the Oregon coast, there may or may not lie a shipwreck, on which there may or may not be a magical relic, lost hundreds of years ago. Harry's been tasked with finding it, and Draco is there to take notes, and they're stuck in a campervan pretending to be married, and it's all going to be just fine. That's what Draco's gotten rather good at telling himself, anyway.

💋 any day now (E, 17k, prisoner Draco, Auror trainee Harry, secret codes, a feelings puppet, morally grey everything and everyone)

Summary: Draco supposes he should be grateful. 

The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices. All guests–because no one is a prisoner here, the literature brags–are to be provided with shelter, food, clothing, and the guided support of a Mind Healer via a programme they call “ideological restructuring,” which is, of course, mandatory. 

OR: Draco Malfoy considers the circle.

💋 draco malfoy's substitute murder service (E, 11k, curse breaker Harry, various incredible mythological monsters, Christmas)

Summary: When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

OR: the one where Draco goes goblin mode, and Harry has a thing for monsters.

💋The July Tree (E, 52k, Eighth Year, Greenhouse Four, Draco Malfoy does Muggle Scotland, The Who, First Times)

Summary: Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

OR: It’s Eighth Year, and Harry Potter has detention. What else is new? Well, since you asked: Greenhouse Four and the Tree of Life, for a start, and then there’s the new shared Eighth Year common room, and Harry’s sexuality, and these pesky dreams he keeps having about a blond man pushing him into things…

Previous Five Favourite Fic Posts: thestarryknight | vukovich | fwooshy | lq_traintracks (and 10 more) | tackytiger (and microfics) | m0stlyvoid | peachpety | magpie_fngrl | shiftylinguini | onbeinganangel | veelawings | shealwaysreads | loveglowsinthedark | birdsofshore | maesterchill | frayach | graymatters | bixgirl1 (part one/part two | skeptique)

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 55]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 22 and what’s done of chapter 23 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 My Master Post

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Also, if you’re interesting, don’t forget that I am constantly updating the timeline as I write. :)

I probably won’t do much tonight, but I’ll do at least a few.

Janus did not respond to Roman’s quip about the car. Instead, he shoved past Roman the second he heard the boy’s voice. Roman recognized the kid immediately from the pictures he’d been sent along with his mission directives.

“Virgil,” Janus said, crossing the room to get to his little brother without regard to anything else. “Thank god. Are you alright?” He grabbed his face and titled it as though to look for injuries. Nothing about what Roman had learned about Janus in the past few hours would have prepared him for the way he descended directly into mother-hen mode, cupping the boy’s face with delicate fingers.

He was even less prepared for when Virgil shoved his hands away with an eye roll and a “I’m fine, Janus,” and Janus immediately started to cry.

Janus pulled Virgil into a hug, and Roman winced in sympathy for Janus’s injured ribs when the kid hugged him back tightly. They should really get that checked out as soon as the two of them had their moment. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said, voice all types of wrecked. The past few hours of worry that Janus had kept careful hold of lashed out suddenly, and it was even more than Roman had anticipated. “I showed up to the house, and you were gone, and the window was broken.” Virgil was getting a bit wobbly lipped himself, and Roman couldn’t exactly blame him with how gutted Janus sounded. “Where did you go? How did you get here? How did you know to come here? Did Logan send someone else after you?”

“Dad let the name slip,” Virgil explained, “and Mom sent someone to pick me up, but I’d already accidently heard that she’d killed him with the radio Dad keeps in his room. So, I really didn’t want to go with the man, and he was mean especially when I said no.” His voice cracked a bit as he spoke and he too started crying. “I didn’t know where to go or what to do. At first, I just wanted to get out of the city so Mom couldn’t find me. Once I was out, I decided to try to get here because dad said he worked with the owner, and no one was answering their phones.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Janus said. “That was my fault. I broke my phone. I should have thought about you wanting to call me.” He pulled back to kiss Virgil ever so gently on the forehead.

“Hey, what gives,” another man said, and Roman blinked because that was Remy Gates and Remy was definitely supposed to be dead. “I was dead, and I didn’t even get that much of a heartfelt reunion.” Janus seemed to freeze for a moment and then turned to him.

 There was a long almost painful moment of silence where Janus just stared blankly at Remy. Roman recalled the short conversation that Remus and Janus had in the car about Remy and how Janus was probably more upset about the man’s death than he was allowing himself to express. Remus clearly had known what he was talking about, because there was a stunned, surprisingly vulnerable look on Janus’s face as he looked at his brother’s father.

Remy casually put his hands in his pockets. “Sup, kid.”

Roman had never seen someone’s face change so dramatically so quickly. His face twisted up into a scowl and his eyes lit up with fury. He looked like he was about to finish the job for his mother.

 “You bastard,” Janus spat. “You bastard, you aren’t even dead?”

Remy seemed unconcerned with the fact that the man was basically foaming at the mouth. “You sound disappointed.”

“Do you know how much stress and hurt you caused… Virgil?!”

“Virgil, huh?” Remy asked, and goodness the man must have a death wish. “Don’t worry, Virgil and I already worked that out. I’m going to teach him how to shoot as an apology.”

“No! You aren’t!” the man next to Remy that Roman didn’t recognize said.

“Like that is a sufficient apology for all that duress! How could you?!

“It wasn’t exactly my plan, Jan,” Remy drawled.

 “Remy please,” the man next to Remy said.

“Oh, well, pray tell, what the hell was your plan you absolute ignorant, wretched excuse for a human being?” Janus asked.

“Janus please,” the man said.

“Just let them do it, Uncle Emile,” Virgil said with a sigh.

Remy scoffed. “Oh, please,” he said. “There was no plan, obviously. Do you know me at all?”

Janus full on exploded in rage at that. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Where do you get off on being such an idiot all of the time? You have a 15-year-old child and you just waltz into danger like it’s nothing and almost die! I thought you were dead!”

 And like, seriously, Remy really must be comfortable with the concept of his own demise after whatever had happened to him earlier, because all he said was, “What, would you have missed me?”

“No,” Janus said, far too intense for that to be the truth. In fact, tears started to prickle at the corner of his eyes.

“Aw,” Remy cooed, still mocking, but perhaps just a bit gentler now. He walked the couple of steps to Janus and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t cry, kid. I’m okay. I promise.”

“I’m not crying,” Janus insisted even though his voice cracked a bit and the tears were starting to escape out of the corners of his eyes. He attempted to push Remy away, but his efforts were weak and easily resisted. He gave up a moment later. “You’re crying!”

“I’m really not,” Remy said with a chuckle.

“You will be if you don’t shut up and let go of me,” Janus insisted even though when Remy tugged him closer into a proper hug, he folded himself into the embrace like a small child and proceeded to cry into the man’s shoulder.

34116

Well that was… an event. Roman didn’t know what to think about Janus at this point. He’d been cold, calculating, and scary at the beginning of their adventure, and now he was sobbing into a man’s arms.

“Aw, there it is,” said Remus cheerfully.

Janus didn’t look at him, but just pulled one of his arms out of the embrace to flip him off.

“As touching as this is,” Dad interjected. “Now that everyone is here and aware that no one is dead.” He looked specifically in Remus and Roman’s direction. The expression on his face was one Roman was very familiar with from his childhood. Roman grimaced even before Dad continued with, “Would anyone care to explain themselves?” in a dark tone.

Uh oh.

  Chapter 23

“Would anyone care to explain themselves?” Logan asked the room filled with the most frustrating human being he’d ever met. He must have infused his voice with the desired amount of ire, because everyone in the room seemed to wince simultaneously except…

“No thanks!” Remus chirped. Logan shot him a tired look and stepped forward. “Wait! Dad! No!” Logan swiftly put him in a headlock.

“We’re going downstairs,” he told the others. His son was a bit wiggly when Logan started to pull him towards the elevator in the other room, but he didn’t actually put up much of a fight.

 He let Remus go when they got to the elevator. The elevator was small enough that they ended up taking it in two groups. Logan ended up in an elevator with Lena, his sons, and his brother.

There were a couple of moments of awkward elevator music. “I am very displeased with everyone in this elevator.”

No one responded but Patton who patted him on the shoulder. Logan turned on him. “You are at the pinnacle of my ire.”

There was a few seconds of drawn out silence, and then Patton removed his hand. “Wow,” he said after a moment. “You could hear a pen-acle drop.”

 “Kids, you no longer have an uncle,” Logan said coolly.

“That’s right,” Patton said with a smile despite the glare Logan was sending him. “You only have a puncle now.”

Roman snorted out a laugh but looked quickly away when Logan glared at him.

The elevator came to a stop and they climbed out of it. “You all go to the conference room while I wait for the rest. Except you,” he pointed at Lean. “Fred can debrief me. You go get that checked out.” She shot him a thumbs up (because apparently the lack of disrespect for his authority had rubbed off on her) and wandered off towards medical.

 “Um,” Roman said tentatively.

“Yes?” Logan asked, already even more tired.

“Also, Janus may or may not have a broken rib. At least he said he might have.”

“Why on Earth is he walking around, then?” Roman just shrugged in response to Logan’s question.

“And send someone down to look at his Janus,” he called after Lena right before she turned the corner. “Anything else pressing?” he asked the three still with him. “No? Then I’ll see you all in the conference room in a few minutes.”

“Conference room 16 or 17?” Remus asked.

“Remus, everyone here is aware that room 17 is a broom closet,” Logan said.

Remus sent him finger guns. “Conference room 17 it is,” he said turning to strut off down the hall. Roman shot Logan an awkward half smile before following after his brother, and Logan’s own brother jerked forward to smack his lips against Logan’s forehead before waltzing off after them.

Why was his family like this?

[loekas]

Web Of Secrets

Summary: Alright, let's do this one last time. Name's Aaron Davis, and for the past ten years, I've been the one and only Prowler.

(Or, in a world where an adult Gwen is the one pushed into the collider, the Prowler and Spider-Woman are enemies)

(Aaron Davis and Gwen Stacy aren't)

Link to the rest of the fic

Spider-Woman always gets away. That’s what Aaron tells himself as he walks through the ruin caused by the collider going out of control. Spider-Woman always gets away.

He keeps telling himself that even when they find the Green Goblin’s corpse. Don’t matter he thought that beast was indestructible too, Spider-Woman always gets away. Sure, she’ll be injured, but her healing will take care of that. She’s fine.

His denial gets broken by a wet cough echoing through the dust. Even then, he can’t accept the truth until it’s shoved in his face.

There she is. Suit torn and covered with blood, a leg pinned beneath a large piece of ruble. Her breathing is ragged, chest heaving with the effort it takes to keep her lungs working. One of her lenses is broken, revealing a too familiar eye.

“Now isn’t this a pretty sight?”

Part of Aaron is aware of the boss speaking but most of him can only look at the sight he’d hoped to never see. The worst part is that she ain’t even trying to get up. It's almost offending. After all she’s been through, all the crap he himself threw at her, this is when she decides to call it quits?

Get up. Push off that rubble and swing out of here. Go. Just go.

“I could get used to seeing you like this, little spider.”

“I'm not surprised.”

Her voice modulator still works. That’s good. Keeps the boss from running voice recognition.

Aaron realizes how stupid that thought is when the boss moves forward and pulls off Spider-Woman’s hood and mask.

It’s like getting punched in the gut. Every denial, every dumbass justification he ever made gets torn apart.

Spider-Woman is Gwen. The hair falling to her jaw, the faint freckles dotting her nose. The eyes closed in a pained grimace. It’s a face he knows as well as his own. And he knew who she was, has known for half a year now.

It feels like when he first found out.

Part of Aaron is aware he can’t throw up here. Another part notes that Tombstone is watching him, instincts tipped off by something in his body language. 

He can’t look away from Gwen. Gwen, hurt and exhausted and defiant as always.

“Going straight for the kill then?”

Her voice modulator still works. Not bound to her mask then.

“Oh honey.”

The sheer venom makes him look at the boss for real.

Vanessa is standing like a model and wearing a lethal smile.

Her eyes are alight with madness. She’s enjoying every moment of this. And she’s only just gotten started.

Vanessa leans towards Gwen, barely staying out of grabbing range. A risk she never would have taken before.

“By the time I’m through with you, you’re going to wish I’d killed you here.”

It’s a promise, not a threat. Ever since losing her husband and son, Vanessa has wanted nothing more than to make Spider-Woman suffer. And now she can.

Vanessa straightens back up, eyes still on Gwen.

“Lock her up. And cut off her arms and legs.”

The words snap him out of his shock. It’s clear what he's gotta do.

He's gotta save Gwen.

“It would be such a shame to have our little spider escape before we can play,” Vanessa says with a picture perfect smile. Savoring the horror Gwen is showing.

Aaron steps forward, plans taking shape. Vanessa will expect him and Tombstone to lock up Spider-Woman, and the transit will provide the best window to work with. Will be tricky to pull it off with Tombstone there but not impossible. Now, does he go with Gwen when she escapes or does he pretend to get overpowered?

Go with Gwen. The old Vanessa might have forgiven him for losing Spider-Woman but the new one won’t. Worse, she’s gonna go after his family and make him watch.

He's gonna need to kill the Black Queen. Damn.

All this runs through his mind as he nears Gwen. Who’s struggling to get free now. 

She fails. He’s relieved. If she gets out now, the odds will be against them. Better to have her unconscious for the first part.

He's really not looking forward to cutting off her air—choking her, hurting her, watching her struggle like an animal and it's  Gwen—but it's better than knocking her unconscious. Too much risk of giving her a real head injury.

Gwen lets out a frustrated cry—a pained cry. So pained. Just how hurt is she?—as the rubble refuses to budge before she clenches her jaw and looks back at Vanessa.

“Don’t you want to know what I saw?”

"Wait."

Aaron smoothly steps back. Gotta act normal. If he shows his hand now, there’s too much risk of him or Gwen ending up dead. 

Gwen takes a steadying breath. He worries over how it rattles. Pierced lung?

Gwen looks at Vanessa, determined. 

“I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. They’re gone.”

Aaron keeps a close watch on Vanessa. Normally he’d feel confident in predicting her response, but she’s been acting out ever since losing her family. Gwen driving in that knife even deeper? It’s gonna cause the Queen to lash out. Don’t know in what way though. She could come up with more torture for Gwen, but she could also lose her temper and shoot her in the head.

Vanessa shifts her weight, tense and trying not to show it. She places a hand on her waist, close to her gun. Shit.

Aaron don’t get a chance to come up with a course of action before Gwen speaks again, and what she says causes a wave of panic because he gets what she’s trying to do now.

She’s trying to goad Vanessa into killing her. 

“They’re going to hate you. And you’re going to hate them back.”

He’s gotta step in  now. Starts doing just that when Vanessa raises her hand and shit, if he don’t obey, she’s gonna know something is up.

“Because they’re copies,” Gwen says and Aaron curses her for doing this. Can’t believe this is happening really, Gwen and Spider-Woman ain’t ever read as suicidal to him. 

Spider-Woman has never been trapped like this.

Aaron’s mind races, weighing risks before settling on a plan. He moves forward despite Vanessa’s command, planning to cut off Gwen's air and claim he did it so Vanessa wouldn’t regret killing her too soon.

Tombstone grabs his arm before he can take more than a single step. Aaron glances at him, sees that Tombstone is holding a gun—not the armor piercing one—with warning but then his attention is drawn back to Gwen.

“Hollow, broken fakes. No matter how long you search, you’ll never get your family back.”

For a moment, Aaron has hope Vanessa won’t snap. Then she takes hold of her gun and he knows it’s all over.

He fires his boots, the force letting him rip his arm out of Tombstone’s hold, and tackles Vanessa, crushing her gun and breaking his fall by rolling off her. Gotta keep moving, Tombstone will pump him full of lead if he don’t. 

As expected, Tombstone starts shooting with both guns. Only the right contains armor piercing rounds, but while a hit from the left won’t be fatal, it’ll slow him down enough for Tombstone to get in a kill shot.

Aaron darts around and grabs the first piece of rubble he can, throwing it at Tombstone. Need to create an opening so he can close the distance.

The rubble don’t create that opening, but the web bullet splattering all over Tombstone’s eyes does. Spider-Woman quick to adapt as always.

Aaron closes the distance, but even blind, Tombstone knows him well enough to avoid the claws aimed at his guts. There’s no room for another kill shot, so Aaron settles for kicking Tombstone in the side, enhancing the hit with a repulsor and using the other to spin to his feet.

Tombstone hits a slab of concrete hard enough to crack it but Aaron knows that won’t keep him down for long. Could go after him and get in a kill shot, but that would mean leaving Gwen. In her trapped state that holds too much risk.

He runs to Gwen, gets his claws underneath the concrete and lifts the rubble keeping her trapped. Needs both gauntlets and boots to do it. Shit, that’s heavy. Also jammed, preventing him from just throwing it off.

Gwen gets her leg out and takes hold of his arm, using him as support to get to her feet. She's confused and alert and shows no sign of recognition. 

She’s trusting him despite only knowing him as an enemy. Would be a dumbass move if he weren’t saving her for real.

His attention is drawn to Vanessa. She’s gracelessly getting to her knees and pressing down the gash he caused with his tackle. She’s looking at him with shock and hate.

He’s never gonna get a cleaner shot than this. Unfortunately, Gwen wraps an arm around his shoulders and a leg around his waist, making him shift his balance and get an arm around her on instinct, and then she’s shooting a web and yanking them up with a cry—a pained one—and Aaron is firing his boots and moving with the force before he even realizes what he’s doing. By the time his mind catches up to his body, it’s too late to go back. Tombstone will have recovered before he can make it to Vanessa.

Aaron turns on his night vision and looks for an exit. Should drop through one of the holes, the tunnels are the fastest way to his bike, and if they’re gonna get away, they’re gonna need speed.

Spider-Woman curses. With his visor in night mode, he can't make our Gwen's features. It's a relief.

“Shit, the kid.”

What kid?

He don’t get a chance to figure out the answer before Spider-Woman shoots another web and swings them back the way they came. Part of Aaron is cursing her even as he moves with her. She just had to make things more difficult.

The only reason he stays put after landing is cause they don’t end up quite where they came from. But they gotta hurry. Even with the echoes making it hard to locate the source, Vanessa’s voice is too close. And he’s pretty sure she’s calling for Octavius. No way in hell is he fighting that crazy bitch. 

“Kid, get over here.”

Aaron has just realized that some kid has somehow gotten caught in this whole mess, meaning Spider-Woman and her bleeding heart need to save them, when the kid in question scrambles into view, clumsily sliding down a slab of rubble. Another body to carry. Great. At least the kid ain’t big. 

Should switch to normal vision. Best to get a good look at the kid, to make sure he knows what to look for if they get separated. A real possibility, what with the route they’re taking. 

He could lose the kid on purpose. Will be easier to get away if it’s just him and Gwen. That's the thought running through his mind when his optics change and everything slams to a halt.

“Miles?”

What the fuck is Miles doing here?

“How do you know my name?” Miles asks because Miles is here and how the fuck is Miles here?

“Aaron?”

His eyes dart to Gwen and she’s looking at him with shock and denial and  shit. 

Alright, get it together. Miles and Gwen are both here, meaning he’s gotta get them both out. Everything else can wait.

“We've gotta go,” he says and doesn’t give Gwen a chance to respond before moving to Miles. Gwen, still wrapped around his side, makes an aborted move of some kind. Aaron would have paid more attention to that if it weren’t for one thing.

Miles is backing away, afraid. It makes Aaron freeze, a whole new terror gripping his throat. Miles should never be afraid of him.

His nephew is never gonna think him safe again.

Get going. Get out first, all else second.

“It’s okay, he’s on our side.”

Spider-Woman’s voice is steady. Part of Aaron wonders how much of that is thanks to her modulator, Gwen’s face shows just how not alright things are. 

Most of his focus is on Miles, who hesitates a mere moment before running at him fast. Too fast. Miles shouldn't be that quick.

And then Miles is jerking to a stop in front of him and babbling in a far too loud voice.

“Are you alright, I saw—why did you do that?” 

That last is aimed at him.

“You’re the Prowler, and you know my name and seriously, how do you know that?”

“Miles, shut up and get on.”

Aaron is grateful for Spider-Woman’s firm interruption. This is his worst nightmare come to life.

Miles hasn’t realized who he is. Didn’t hear the name Gwen used. He can still save this.

“I’ll explain everything after we’re safe,” Spider-Woman continues in a gentler voice. Aaron holds out a hand—not a hand, a gauntlet, a weapon he’s used to kill and now he’s aiming it at  Miles—and mentally begs Miles to take it. 

Gwen moves, messing with his cape and crawling on his back. Flexible as ever even with her injuries. Part of Aaron realizes she’s doing it cause he can’t hold Miles and her both, and he shifts his position to accommodate her. 

Most of his focus stays on Miles.

Miles hesitates, but when a loud yell echoes—the boss losing it as she never has—he jumps onto Aaron’s chest.

Reflex is the only reason Aaron don’t fall straight down his ass. That was a hard hit.

His hands are halfway up to support Miles when he remembers his gauntlets. Aaron adjusts his move so only his arms are touching Miles. 

Miles has his arms and legs wrapped around him hard. Too hard. Even with armor, the pressure is almost painful. Miles shouldn’t be capable of that. 

“Still got the key?” Spider-Woman asks, helping him get his head back in the game.

“Yeah,” Miles says, voice tight with fear. Aaron wishes he could comfort him but he’s busy switching to night vision and making sure they haven’t been found yet. Wish he could use heat vision, best way to keep from being ambushed, but turns out machinery that rips open dimensions runs hot and it don’t fade fast. Night vision will have to do.

“Good. Let’s go.”

With that, Spider-Woman shoots another web, and Aaron fires his boots when she yanks, taking some of the strain off her. Making sure his hold on Miles stays secure, he looks for the nearest exit. Don’t think about Gwen knowing, don’t think of how he’s gonna keep Miles from finding out. Just get them out of here. Get them somewhere safe.

For the most part, Aaron succeeds in staying on task. The skill is one of the many reasons he’s so good at what he does. But there’s a tension that’s never been there before.

He’s always known things were gonna fall apart one day. 

He never imagined it would all come crashing down like this.

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 56]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 22 and what’s done of chapter 23 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 My Master Post

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Also, if you’re interesting, don’t forget that I am constantly updating the timeline as I write. :)

We will be hopefully finishing Logan’s chapter today. I... actually am kinda struggling with wrapping this up. I have zero direction for Logan’s chapter and might edit it a bit harder than usual later.

Chapter 22

Janus did not respond to Roman’s quip about the car. Instead, he shoved past Roman the second he heard the boy’s voice. Roman recognized the kid immediately from the pictures he’d been sent along with his mission directives.

“Virgil,” Janus said, crossing the room to get to his little brother without regard to anything else. “Thank god. Are you alright?” He grabbed his face and titled it as though to look for injuries. Nothing about what Roman had learned about Janus in the past few hours would have prepared him for the way he descended directly into mother-hen mode, cupping the boy’s face with delicate fingers.

He was even less prepared for when Virgil shoved his hands away with an eye roll and a “I’m fine, Janus,” and Janus immediately started to cry.

Janus pulled Virgil into a hug, and Roman winced in sympathy for Janus’s injured ribs when the kid hugged him back tightly. They should really get that checked out as soon as the two of them had their moment. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said, voice all types of wrecked. The past few hours of worry that Janus had kept careful hold of lashed out suddenly, and it was even more than Roman had anticipated. “I showed up to the house, and you were gone, and the window was broken.” Virgil was getting a bit wobbly lipped himself, and Roman couldn’t exactly blame him with how gutted Janus sounded. “Where did you go? How did you get here? How did you know to come here? Did Logan send someone else after you?”

“Dad let the name slip,” Virgil explained, “and Mom sent someone to pick me up, but I’d already accidently heard that she’d killed him with the radio Dad keeps in his room. So, I really didn’t want to go with the man, and he was mean especially when I said no.” His voice cracked a bit as he spoke and he too started crying. “I didn’t know where to go or what to do. At first, I just wanted to get out of the city so Mom couldn’t find me. Once I was out, I decided to try to get here because dad said he worked with the owner, and no one was answering their phones.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Janus said. “That was my fault. I broke my phone. I should have thought about you wanting to call me.” He pulled back to kiss Virgil ever so gently on the forehead.

“Hey, what gives,” another man said, and Roman blinked because that was Remy Gates and Remy was definitely supposed to be dead. “I was dead, and I didn’t even get that much of a heartfelt reunion.” Janus seemed to freeze for a moment and then turned to him.

 There was a long almost painful moment of silence where Janus just stared blankly at Remy. Roman recalled the short conversation that Remus and Janus had in the car about Remy and how Janus was probably more upset about the man’s death than he was allowing himself to express. Remus clearly had known what he was talking about, because there was a stunned, surprisingly vulnerable look on Janus’s face as he looked at his brother’s father.

Remy casually put his hands in his pockets. “Sup, kid.”

Roman had never seen someone’s face change so dramatically so quickly. His face twisted up into a scowl and his eyes lit up with fury. He looked like he was about to finish the job for his mother.

 “You bastard,” Janus spat. “You bastard, you aren’t even dead?”

Remy seemed unconcerned with the fact that the man was basically foaming at the mouth. “You sound disappointed.”

“Do you know how much stress and hurt you caused… Virgil?!”

“Virgil, huh?” Remy asked, and goodness the man must have a death wish. “Don’t worry, Virgil and I already worked that out. I’m going to teach him how to shoot as an apology.”

“No! You aren’t!” the man next to Remy that Roman didn’t recognize said.

“Like that is a sufficient apology for all that duress! How could you?!

“It wasn’t exactly my plan, Jan,” Remy drawled.

 “Remy please,” the man next to Remy said.

“Oh, well, pray tell, what the hell was your plan you absolute ignorant, wretched excuse for a human being?” Janus asked.

“Janus please,” the man said.

“Just let them do it, Uncle Emile,” Virgil said with a sigh.

Remy scoffed. “Oh, please,” he said. “There was no plan, obviously. Do you know me at all?”

Janus full on exploded in rage at that. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Where do you get off on being such an idiot all of the time? You have a 15-year-old child and you just waltz into danger like it’s nothing and almost die! I thought you were dead!”

 And like, seriously, Remy really must be comfortable with the concept of his own demise after whatever had happened to him earlier, because all he said was, “What, would you have missed me?”

“No,” Janus said, far too intense for that to be the truth. In fact, tears started to prickle at the corner of his eyes.

“Aw,” Remy cooed, still mocking, but perhaps just a bit gentler now. He walked the couple of steps to Janus and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t cry, kid. I’m okay. I promise.”

“I’m not crying,” Janus insisted even though his voice cracked a bit and the tears were starting to escape out of the corners of his eyes. He attempted to push Remy away, but his efforts were weak and easily resisted. He gave up a moment later. “You’re crying!”

“I’m really not,” Remy said with a chuckle.

“You will be if you don’t shut up and let go of me,” Janus insisted even though when Remy tugged him closer into a proper hug, he folded himself into the embrace like a small child and proceeded to cry into the man’s shoulder.

34116

Well that was… an event. Roman didn’t know what to think about Janus at this point. He’d been cold, calculating, and scary at the beginning of their adventure, and now he was sobbing into a man’s arms.

“Aw, there it is,” said Remus cheerfully.

Janus didn’t look at him, but just pulled one of his arms out of the embrace to flip him off.

“As touching as this is,” Dad interjected. “Now that everyone is here and aware that no one is dead.” He looked specifically in Remus and Roman’s direction. The expression on his face was one Roman was very familiar with from his childhood. Roman grimaced even before Dad continued with, “Would anyone care to explain themselves?” in a dark tone.

Uh oh.

  Chapter 23

“Would anyone care to explain themselves?” Logan asked the room filled with the most frustrating human being he’d ever met. He must have infused his voice with the desired amount of ire, because everyone in the room seemed to wince simultaneously except…

“No thanks!” Remus chirped. Logan shot him a tired look and stepped forward. “Wait! Dad! No!” Logan swiftly put him in a headlock.

“We’re going downstairs,” he told the others. His son was a bit wiggly when Logan started to pull him towards the elevator in the other room, but he didn’t actually put up much of a fight.

 He let Remus go when they got to the elevator. The elevator was small enough that they ended up taking it in two groups. Logan ended up in an elevator with Lena, his sons, and his brother.

There were a couple of moments of awkward elevator music. “I am very displeased with everyone in this elevator.”

No one responded but Patton who patted him on the shoulder. Logan turned on him. “You are at the pinnacle of my ire.”

There was a few seconds of drawn out silence, and then Patton removed his hand. “Wow,” he said after a moment. “You could hear a pen-acle drop.”

 “Kids, you no longer have an uncle,” Logan said coolly.

“That’s right,” Patton said with a smile despite the glare Logan was sending him. “You only have a puncle now.”

Roman snorted out a laugh but looked quickly away when Logan glared at him.

The elevator came to a stop and they climbed out of it. “You all go to the conference room while I wait for the rest. Except you,” he pointed at Lean. “Fred can debrief me. You go get that checked out.” She shot him a thumbs up (because apparently the lack of disrespect for his authority had rubbed off on her) and wandered off towards medical.

 “Um,” Roman said tentatively.

“Yes?” Logan asked, already even more tired.

“Also, Janus may or may not have a broken rib. At least he said he might have.”

“Why on Earth is he walking around, then?” Roman just shrugged in response to Logan’s question.

“And send someone down to look at his Janus,” he called after Lena right before she turned the corner. “Anything else pressing?” he asked the three still with him. “No? Then I’ll see you all in the conference room in a few minutes.”

“Conference room 16 or 17?” Remus asked.

“Remus, everyone here is aware that room 17 is a broom closet,” Logan said.

Remus sent him finger guns. “Conference room 17 it is,” he said turning to strut off down the hall. Roman shot Logan an awkward half smile before following after his brother, and Logan’s own brother jerked forward to smack his lips against Logan’s forehead before waltzing off after them.

Why was his family like this?

 He turned to wait for the elevator to go back up to the factory and down again. He crossed his arms as it arrived. “You’re injured?” Logan asked as the doors opened.

Most of the occupants looked confused, but Janus looked slightly annoyed. “Remus,” he muttered.

“Roman actually,” Logan corrected. “I’m having someone sent down to look at you.”

“I’m f-”

“Don’t even try to argue right now; your second on my list today.”

“Remus is first?” Janus asked.

“Of course, Remus is first.”

“Where am I on the shit list?” Remy asked with interest.

“Somehow, only 5th.”

“Score!”

“But you’re inexorably moving up.”

 “But I’m not in the top three.”

“No, my children and brother fill up the spots above you.”

“You said I was second,” Janus said with a frown.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Also, you’re grounded.” Then, he turned to walk towards the conference room.

“Wait, Logan, what does that mean?!” Janus asked his back.

“It means, Logan owes me a buttload of child support,” said Remy.

“I am not your kid. You are not my dad.”

“Sure, son.”

When Logan made it to the correct room, his family was already hard at work making his life a series of aggravations. Before even stepping into the room, he turned to the opposite side of the hallway and opened the door to the supply closet.

 “Get in the correct room before I make you get into the correct room,” Logan said.

“Come on dad, you know it’s not nice to force someone out of the closet.” On most days, Logan would not have found that at all funny, but today for some reason, it elicited a snort of surprised laughter. Remus smiled up at him from his seat on the floor like he always did when he’d done (or thought he’d done) something clever.

“Don’t,” Logan warned, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t. That doesn’t mean your forgiven. I am very, very unhappy with you.”

 Remus just kept grinning.

“I’m relieved that you are safe and happy to have you back with me,” Logan said, “but I am also very angry.”

“Eh, that’s fair.”

“Now get out of the closet.”

Remus found it fit to obey him for the moment, and stood, following him to the conference room where the others had gathered. Patton had somehow found a stack of name tags and a box of markers somewhere and had managed to convince Roman to help him draw little pictures on them along with the names. Patton stuck one with a broom drawn on it onto Remus when he came in.