#small post-posting edit because OF COURSE i missed a spot in the lower left corner

[laikaflash]

There's something about Leixa's smug expression here that's so amusing to me. I keep imagining a Morshu-esque "MMM" from her every time I see it.

I've relearned layer masking for the umpteenth time. This was supposed be an excuse to practice with GIMP. From page 42 of New Legends of Project Soul, just a little crop with the other sketches near it hidden.

[wayhavven]

Love’s Philosophy

Gift fic for @mewsly as a part of @loveinwayhaven

Pairing: Adam Du Mortain x Detective Orianna Moreau

Rating: All

Word Count: 2712

Notes: Ah! I’m so nervous to post this! I really hope I did your detective justice, she seems amazing 🥺 I went for sort of mid-romance vibes... this is also the first time I’ve written Adam, or anything TWC actually, so I have been a little worried about how he comes across as well. I really hope you enjoy😅

Summary: Adam spends some time in the library.

Adam grunts as his large fingers slip over the leather bound books on the shelf. He’s tucked away right at the back of the library in the bunker, looking for absolutely nothing in particular. If each title that flicks in his peripheral is decidedly not something else, then, well, he wouldn’t notice. And he certainly doesn’t notice the mug ring on the coffee table at the end of the row. Still wet. He can say with ninety-nine point nine percent accuracy that this is a result of a sickeningly sweet, creamer-laced coffee, probably left half full and forgotten momentarily because it’s owner had been perusing the shelves for something else about the supernatural.

And then it catches him, an old—perhaps very early edition if he remembers right—edition of Pride and Prejudice. She doesn’t know it’s here, because he’s sure she would’ve said.

But when he reaches for it, his hand stops by itself. It drags across the direction toward the dark corners, moving at speed until—plod. Something leather-bound with a worn bookmark partway through. As he gently slides it out, Adam notes the gold type font on the front: a poetry anthology. Shelley, to be specific. He knows a lot of these by heart, three-hundred odd years of people raving about the rakes and romantics will do that to a guy. All the same, he’s sure to thumb carefully to the bookmarked part. The spine squeaks as it opens, a quiet yawn where Adam is waking it from a nap. A little dust flies up and is highlighted in the strips of dim lamplight from above. He looks up briefly, checking his surroundings. Not that the detective would be able to come anywhere near him without his pheromones going off. Even if he wasn’t a vampire, he’s sure he’d recognise the sound of her footfall underwater. Because he has to know to protect her properly, of course.

The page the book has squeaked open to has one poem on it: ‘Love’s Philosophy.’

Adam, not particularly taken with poetry for the most part, doesn’t know this one. Only the very famous ones when it comes to Percy Bysshe Shelley: ‘Ozymandias,’ ‘To a Skylark,’ ‘Stanzas Written in…’

Reading for enjoyment as a rule isn’t his thing. But the little he does recall never really lit anything in him. He has never felt how he was told poetry should be making him feel. Maybe he is too worn from years spent focusing on most things aside from feeling. Absentmindedly grazing his thumb over the page, feeling each grain of the pulp on his finger tips, Adam finds his eyes wandering back to the wet mug ring on the coffee table to his right. Drying now, the sheen dulling to match the light wood. It’s nice wood, light, fresh, slightly enthusiastically holding the weight of forgotten books. Adam’s a little lost in the colour. Because it echoes in his mind a similar colour that has been the focus of many an accidental daydream.

Suddenly, he’s seeing pretty light brown eyes; caramelly, iridescent when they’re in that one chair in the office where the sun has a chance to shine on them. Lighting up when she learns new things, particularly those of his world; the supernatural world. Creasing a little in the corners when she makes the odd sarcastic quip. Dilating every so often when he’s talking to her, for reasons he isn’t sure.

One of the books on the table is leather-bound in a deep red, and Adam finds himself imprinting the image of coils of long hair that exact shade into the space he stares at. Adam actively does not enjoy that his brain wanders like this. That it seems to veer off task for silly reasons.

He shakes his head. If only he had a use for sleep. He doesn’t often find himself wishing that, but these days… perhaps more often. Perhaps he wonders what he might dream of.

But he doesn’t want to lose the control of consciousness. It keeps him in check. It keeps him able to protect the detective.

And he doesn’t want to lose control full stop. Doesn’t let himself think too deeply about any of it for fears he may push himself past retrieval.

Adam finds, as he stands there almost frozen, that his mind wanders to a day not so dissimilar to this one. When he had been reading late, against his wishes, for some information Rebecca requested.

—-

With each line he reads, Adam can feel his biceps twitching to get some combat under his belt. This is more Nate’s expertise; he’d far rather be out trying to get one up on Morgan. But, alas, he has been given other responsibilities. And he always fulfills his responsibilities. He finds himself sighing each time he turns the page, increasingly frustrated that he actually seems to be learning less.

Like a saving grace, the library door creaks open and he looks up from where he stands by the window. One hand in his pocket, one under the old book. Detective Orianna Moreau enters, a candle highlighting the high points of her soft, deep brown skin, shining in the light-hued eyes which find him almost immediately. Her silhouette casts subtle grey shadows on the wall behind her as she nears him.

He’d known she was coming, of course. He always does. But it’s always a different thing actually seeing her. Like he’s never completely convinced she’s really there.

She smiles gently at him, nearing with the candle in her grip melting down itself, flickering.

“You’re up late,” she says, placing the candle down by him on a ledge. “I thought you might need a bit of light.”

Light. Like her. Her charming, friendly, easygoing nature always lights up the room. Adam reveres it sometimes. Sometimes he doesn’t.

It makes him a little nervous, actually. And he hates feeling nervous. Hates losing himself in the light when he has to focus on work and tasks.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but is acutely aware as he remains standing in his spot, that the detective goes to sit on a nearby sofa. She’s supposed to be researching too, so it’s not too odd, but humans do have to sleep, after all.

“Should you not be asleep?” He turns just enough so that he can see her from the side of his face.

“I have to learn this, and want to. There are far worse ways to be spending an evening.” She smirks at him, suggestive and amused. “Come and sit with me.”

At first, Adam was going to outright point-blank say no. So he’s not completely sure why his legs carry him over to the sofa and lower him down beside her. But far enough away that there’s significant space between them. She laughs and rolls her eyes, scooting over next to him. The small amount of her body which presses up against him sends a shock of ice up his veins. She’s warm, so warm, that he feels like his ice is melting a little. It’s almost terrifying, but Adam doesn’t move. Doesn’t show outwardly how he’s feeling. Lets his thigh burn quietly as though he’s already extinguished the flames.

The book in his hand drops to his lap, his other hand twitching on his thigh. She gives him that smile again and his heart almost stops. Settling back into the cushions, Orianna picks up the book from his hands and starts to dig into it.

“I was reading that.”

“I know, but you weren’t enjoying it.”

That she seems to know this about him, though, isn’t lost on Adam. He believes himself to be stoic and mysterious perhaps, but maybe Orianna can see past that. Through it. The way Nate always does.

She holds the book in her left hand, her right sitting on her thigh somewhat restlessly. Just inches from his own. Ensuring that she’s pouring all of her attention into the book, which she seems to be, Adam drops his eyes subtly to her hand. Unsure why, but seemingly doing things of his own accord, Adam’s impulse is to make contact with her. His pinky falters, reaching out a little by itself, quivering in a way he isn’t used to. A way he isn’t sure he likes. Nonetheless, he uses its movement to bolster the moving of the rest of his hand. Slowly, millimetre by millimetre, Adam lets his hand move away from his body. Slip across to the detective’s. He places his down on top of hers gently, encompassing it, letting his fingers and thumb curl around its shape. He doesn’t dare look at her, but he can’t miss in his peripheral the smug beaming grin which takes over her expression.

They sit like that a long while, Adam still, holding her hand. He should be frustrated that he’s not getting anything productive done, but he can’t be. Something about her hand in his means he cannot be anything other than content and a touch conflicted. The detective’s expression never falters as she reads, doesn’t worry when she has a hard time turning the page with the use of only one hand. Seems quite amused by it, actually. Adam chuckles himself a little internally, unable to stop the smile which spreads over his face. With his free hand, he reaches over and turns the page for her.

“Thanks.”

“It is my pleasure.”

When the detective repositions their hands, winding hers around and up, so that their hands are completely joined, Adam can’t help but finally look at her fully. She squeezes his hand, and looks up at him too. Their eyes bore into each other, melting.

It had all been going so well until Farah bounded in like a puppy with a new toy. Quickly, rushedly, Adam pulls his hand from the detective’s.

—-

He thinks about that day a lot. Wishes he didn’t. Wishes he didn’t think about a lot of things pertaining to the detective.

As though on cue, the fine hairs on his arm stand to attention, and his ears zone in on the sound of smart shoes on the linoleum. She’s coming back.

Forcing his eyes back down to the page, Adam has completely forgotten what he had even been looking at. ‘Love’s Philosophy,’ that’s it. Shelley.

She’s entering, though, and he can’t focus himself enough on what he’s holding to seem entirely nonchalant. Doesn’t give himself enough time to consider that it probably isn’t in his best interests for Detective Moreau to see what he’s holding. She’s bold, flirty. She’d pick up on something and make a remark that would have his cheeks hot and his jaw tightening in a way he doesn’t want it to.

Through the gap in the shelf he can just about see a fitted pencil skirt, shirt tucked in, emerging into the library. She’s holding another book, something supernatural focused that smells a little of blood and Adam isn’t sure where exactly came from.

Next thing he knows, she’s rounded the corner.

“Oh.” He hears her from the side, always debating how the next words will come from his mouth. She just seems a little surprised he’s there, is all. “Hi.”

He can hear the smile in her voice, senses how she places her book down on the coffee table he’d been so fixated on before. The title looks to be written in Haitian Creole.

“Hello. You have been busy.” He nods to the table. She grins. There’s always a sparkle in her eyes when she’s learning new things; especially new things about the world which only opened up to her not so long ago.

“Always have to know more, you know me.”

He does. Knows her scent, the exact amount of time which passes between each step she takes, how she shines like the sun whenever something otherworldly occurs. Knows she would be interested to know about the early edition of Jane Austen he completely accidentally came across. Knows that a large part of him wishes he didn’t know these things.

“What are you reading?” she asks, the tone of her voice something Adam hadn’t even realised he’d been yearning to hear.

“I am not. I picked it up. I will be putting it back now,” he nods, hesitating at the sight of the page. His eyes drag over the words subconsciously: heaven, sweet emotion, sunlight, moonbeams, kiss.

Things which are meant to be pretty and emotive and only seem to be making him think of the one thing he doesn’t really want to think of.

How maybe he doesn’t believe in heaven, but that it might be something close to her eyes when she smiles. Or how sweet emotion is something that Adam doesn’t feel like he can achieve, but if he were to, maybe it would be because of her. The sunlight which shines on her in her office, which highlights her features and matches her personality. Moonbeams… electric, softly-glowing, other-wordly. Kiss… well, he tries not to focus on that one.

But he also thinks sometimes he thinks too much and of too absurd topics. That he shouldn’t allow himself to think these things. He has responsibilities. Duties.

He might have closed the book and placed it back when he hears her start to near, but he feels a little too frozen on the spot.

“Shelly,” she smiles again, pulling down on the corner of the book so that she can see the contents of the page. “A love poem! Romantic,” she teases, in the way that only Orianna knows how.

“I was just interested in the bookmark.”

“Oh, that might have been me, I like this one.”

He nods, moving to close it, but his hand is caught by Orianna instead. He stiffens, the brush from her climbing up the brim in his arm right the way to his heart. Reminding him of when he’d held her hand before.

“Let me read it again.” She smiles, letting her eyes drift back over the page. She’s stubborn, so there’s no point arguing. Not that he’d have much reason to, anyway. Adam finds his curious eyes slipping over the page, too, and he reads the words in front of him.

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

When he pulls his eyes from the page, he looks to the woman beside him. She’s mouthing the last line, subtle warmth on her face, and it’s impossible to not focus on the movements of her lips as she rolls through the vowels and consonants.

“Yes, it’s lovely. Just as I remember.”

“I suppose it is not awful.”

She lets out a little snort. “You hate reading for pleasure.”

The smile he returns is ever so miniscule. She’s absolutely right, but seeing her find joy in it makes it not so bad.

He’s drawn in by the pull of her eyes again, struggling to find the right words. Creasing his brow a little, he watches her edge a little closer. Finds himself willing down the impulse to hold her hand once more.

She smiles at him, in a way that tells him she knows the look on his face. It’s frozen, unsure, repressing. So she just leans in, and places a gentle, soft kiss just below his ear. Her lips on his skin sear simultaneously hot and cold, soft. She lingers a little, hand ghosting at his jaw. A little cold touch from the jewellery she wears.

That spot feels incredibly warm even as she moves away again. Even as she pulls the book from his hands, closes it, places it back on the shelf.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Adam.”

Adam starts, not even remembering what the date was. Perhaps he’d been a little too distracted.

“I—well, yes. Happy Valentine’s Day, I suppose.”

[weasleypogues]

brother’s best friend (j.m.)

request: hiiiiii I love all of your other fics and was wondering if I could request one where you’re jj’s sister and dating john b and jj finds out??

new edit: soo some one pointed out to me that i read the prompt wrong and i did haha so so soo sorry so i’ll be posting a new one soon w the right prompt!!

master list.

eee thank u sm that means a lot and i loooveee this prompt in writing hehe this’ll be fun

you didn’t love the idea of having to lie to your brother, john b, about your relationship with his best friend jj. but you also didn’t hate the thrill of having to sneak him in or out or tell little white lies in front of john b and the other pogues. 

it was obvious that with all these secrets and rendezvous, the longer it took to tell john b and keep it a secret from everyone, the worse the blow up of emotions would be when the truth finally came out. and that’s what scared you the most. 

maybe john b would forbid you and jj from ever being in the same room again, but it was your choice on who you could and couldn’t date, right? or you were afraid of losing that bond that you had with your brother because you two were all each other had since your dad went missing at sea. 

there were so many of these thoughts racking against your skull that you didn’t even notice jj tap lightly on the window in your bed room. your eyes grew wide quickly before glancing at your door and than back to him. he gave you the sheepish smile you had fallen in love with while you opened the window and he jumped through, landing with a thud on the ground. 

your face scrunched together at the noise and your body froze along with jj’s, listening for footsteps that weren’t there. thank god. a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in is let out and you playfully hit jj in the shoulder.

“do you wanna be murdered by your best friend tonight? or do you want me to do it first?” you asked, running a hand over your face. jj only chuckled, clearly not taking you seriously whatsoever. 

“murder me in what way?” jj asked with a smirk, his eyebrows raising up and down. you let out a laugh and rolled your eyes. how does he possibly make everything a sexual innuendo?

“i saw you wrote in the group chat that you weren’t planning on hanging out with the rest of the pogues today so i thought it would come over, seeing as the rest of them were going out for the day.” jj whispered innocently, shrugging his shoulders and helping himself to a spot on your bed. you quickly put a finger to jj’s lips to get him to be quiet. 

“see you later, (y/n/n)!” you heard john b yell out from across the house. you and jj waited in silence as you heard his van pull out of the driveway and the loud engine faded away. your once tensed body had relaxed at last and you gave jj a small smile.

“that’s sweet that you did that. but you should probably answer saying that you can’t just so no one gets suspicious, yanno?” you stated, running your hands through his blonde hair. he pulled his phone out of his pocket and responded to the group chat. 

“look. done. now can we chill out a little?” jj inquired, although he didn’t wait for an answer because he playfully tackled you to the bed and prompted himself on his palms to get a good look at you lying down. the chain dangling in front of your face would be the death of you. 

it wasn’t long until he leaned down, placing his lips on yours. no matter how many pecks, kisses, or makeouts you guys had, he still gave you butterflies. from under him, you let your hands freely roam his body, light tracing over any crevices. your right hand soon found a permanent spot at the nape of his neck, letting your fingers lightly tug on his hair. 

this moment could’ve easily lasted forever and you wouldn’t even notice. however, it ended when jj pulled away, slightly out of breath and looking into your eyes. 

“lunch break?” jj asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. you couldn’t help the smile that overtook your own face before nodding and following his lead off the bed. 

you made your way to the door first and with a little hop in your step, walked towards the kitchen. it was almost inevitable, but jj couldn’t help himself from smacking your ass as you walked in front of him. this obviously let a little squeal and giggle leave your mouth. 

“the fuck?” this was possibly the last voice you thought you’d hear and last one you wanted to hear after jj hit your ass. 

both of your heads snapped towards the front door to see sarah, pope, kiara with surprised but scared faces as they stood behind a fuming john b. 

you felt your body go slightly numb from the amount of trouble you knew you were in but also felt your hands sweating that if john b were to find out, it was of course after he saw his best friend slap his little sister’s ass. classy. 

“what are you doing home? y-you guys were supposed to be out.” you asked, your voice slightly shaky and your eyes wide. only silence followed as you could practically see fumes leaving your brother’s ears.

“this is exactly what it looks like.” jj clearly stated, nodding his head, frozen in fear. you gave jj a what the fuck? face and slapped him on the chest. 

“what is this?” john b asked, waving his pointed finger back and forth between you two. 

“do you actually want me to answer? because i feel like there’s no way you’re gonna wanna hear the truth.” you answered, giving your older brother raised eyebrows. for some strange reason, your fear quickly turned into slight anger. this emotion change was weird because he had every right to be angry with you two because you two shouldn’t have kept this a secret from him but yet again, he can’t control who you date. 

“out of all guys, you gotta choose my best friend?” john b asked, sounding still angry but slightly hurt. you hadn’t really thought of this that maybe he would feel like you were taking his best friend away from him and that his best friend would be taking his little sister away from him. 

“it just kinda happened. i really really love your sister, but nothing is going to change the friendship we got, man.” jj answered sympathetically, taking a couple of steps towards john b cautiously. 

“shut the fuck up. love? you told me last week that you went home with some touron and hooked up with her. how is that loving my little sister?” john b responded, his face becoming slightly redder and his voice rising. 

jj quickly put his hands up in defense. “that was a lie! i didn’t go home with anyone. we just couldn’t let anyone find out that we were together or someone would get suspicious so we kept making lies.” john b’s face faltered slightly.

“how long have you two been lying?” john b asked, blankly. jj looked back at you, hoping you would take it from here before john b tackled him to the ground.

“three months.” you said, pretty confidently. john b lowered his head as he ran his fingers through his hair before letting his hand fall and grasp onto the old black bandana hanging from his neck. 

“do you love him?” john b asked, taking a few steps closer to you. your face softened and you got goosebumps.

“yeah. a lot.” you responded, slightly chuckling as a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. john b didn’t even ask jj but turned around and jj nodded exessively.

“so fucking much man. this is 100% different than some random hook up.” jj said, before letting his eyes softly flicker to yours and giving you a small smile. 

“i feel like i would’ve been mad either way but i’m just more annoyed you guys kept it a secret from me...but to be honest, i probably would’ve kept it a secret from me too if i were you.” john b said, a light laugh coming out to ease his sentence. you had completely forgotten that pope, kie, and sarah stood behind him until sarah spoke up.

“i think this is kinda cute.” she said with a cute pouty face that couldn’t hide her smile. you gave her a smile in response and walked to jj, wrapping your arms around his left one. 

“yeah, yeah, yeah, what sarah said or whatever.” john b replied in defeat, giving you a small smile. “if she ever comes home crying, angry, or literally anything but happy, i will not hesistate to beat you the fuck up.”

“permission granted.” jj replied, giving john b a joking salute. 

[afinepricklypear]

Confessions & Deleted Scenes

I get a lot of anxiety when it comes to comments on my writing. When a story of mine starts to garner a lot of attention, replying to readers and continuing the work, becomes increasingly difficult. Maybe it’s a touch of Imposter Syndrome, but I get stage fright. Yet, if I got no comments, or I saw no increase in comments, I couldn’t continue either. It’s this strange “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” struggle. I used to get around it by starting new fanfiction accounts and starting over, rebuilding an audience in a new fandom, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to run from my stories. But. I’m in that mental place right now, even looking at comments and trying to muster the werewithal to reply makes me sick to my stomach and want to break down. I can’t breathe and I start crying, the thoughts in my head: I’m not this person, I didn’t write this thing that you liked so much, it’s trash, it’s all trash, and if I did, it was a fluke, and I can’t recreate it. Then the paranoia sets in: the readers are leaving, they see that I can’t do this, they hate me, they hate my work, I knew all along it wasn’t good enough.

Ah. Well. I’m working on it. I want to move past this and feel confident and continue with the stories in my head without the fear that no one will like it or they’ll like it too much so that eventually I’ll disappoint them. The words are there, I just can’t get them on to paper right now in a way that is satisfactory. So I’ll try and I’ll fail and I’ll try and I’ll fail.

In the meantime, while I get my shit together, here’s the original chapter 1 from my first attempt at writing “Wake Up” for my BSD fanfiction series Release (posted here on AO3). I haven’t read it since I retconned it, so it’s not edited. I wonder if anyone will find this here.

*Chapter*

A cold gray frost coated the windows of every building along the dusky alleyway. Chuuya leaned back against a building’s brick wall, crouched low to the ground, head tipped to one side, and a heavy gray, linen coat draped over his shoulders. He tried not to think about the lingering scent of urine on the air, or the fact his thin shirt and jeans provided little protection from the severe drop in temperature that evening. The hair on his arms and back of neck prickled on end, his ability, For the Tainted Sorrow, was desperate to unleash and wreak havoc on the cityscape around them. But like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, he wouldn’t be using his ability that night.  

A week had passed since Chuuya was forced to join the Armed Detective Agency after his violent departure from the Port Mafia. The injuries he sustained from leaving the organization he’d called home for seven years, and the incident leading up to it out in Hiratsuka, were little more than dull aches and scars, now, thanks in part to the Agency doctor and her healing ability, but the memories lingered like bad dreams. He kept waking in the middle of the night, lost and disoriented, in a vaguely familiar bedroll that his instincts rejected as ‘home’. It was only Dazai’s slumbering embrace, unconsciously blanketing Chuuya with No Longer Human that kept Chuuya from doing damage to his surroundings on instinct with For the Tainted Sorrow.

On top of that, he was still adjusting to his change in employment, still settling into his decision and the concept that it could be right for him, even beneficial, to work with the Agency of detectives he’d called enemy a month ago, and even tried to kill on more than one occasion. Those facts, of course, were the reasoning behind the strict conditions of his joining the Agency, which included a moratorium on his ability use without ‘permission’ from the Boss, Agency President Fukuzawa, and a zero-tolerance policy of No-Killing, No-Torturing. To say sticking to these conditions proved difficult was an understatement but Chuuya was nothing if not willing to rise to any challenge. Even despite Dazai’s constant efforts to rile him up at the office, or Kunikida breathing down his neck, eager for him slip up so they could oust him like the Port Mafia. Every day he felt like a caged tiger, gawked at by zoo patrons, while pacing his confines, flexing his claws and unable to do anything with them.

Luckily, and speaking of caged tigers, Chuuya’s week with the Agency had been spent shadowing his new “mentor” in the Agency, Atsushi. He worked alongside the boy and the boy’s partner, another newcomer to the Agency from the Port Mafia, Kyouka. They were the greenest detectives in the Agency, so while the rest of the detectives took on any higher priority cases that walked through the door, Atsushi and his mentees were tasked with handling all of the smaller, more tedious, and lower risk ones. That night they were following up on a serial burglary case in a prominent neighborhood following a lead given to them by the Agency’s resident smug bastard detective, Ranpo. After hitting multiple dead-ends on their case all week, Atsushi finally took their case file to the “best detective in the world” and appealed to him with a box of candy to use his “Ultimate Deduction”. He recommended they stake out a particular convenience store in the targeted neighborhood that night – odd, because all of the burglaries had been at residences – and he warned that they were dealing with an ability user.

“As if we hadn’t already figured out we were dealing with an ability user,” Chuuya muttered under his breath. He hadn’t been impressed with Ranpo’s display. There had been no signs of a break-in, no forced entry, just items missing. The only clue was uncovered at one of the victimized houses, the back portion of a shoeprint cut in half by the house’s exterior wall. Chuuya shuddered again from a wintery breeze nipping at any exposed bit of his skin. He knew he should’ve brought a scarf, but he’d been too preoccupied about ensuring Dazai was properly packed and prepared for an overnight in Hiratsuka. Chuuya couldn’t decide if the other man was really so terrible at taking care of himself, or if he just got a kick out of Chuuya doting over him. Years of ‘hating’ one another had taught Chuuya the latter was more likely.

For the most part, the Agency was in limbo regarding their most recent case out in Hiratsuka that had revealed there was a mysterious organization kidnapping ability users for experimentation and using them to manufacture replica abilities. It was the kind of discovery that, according to everyone at the Agency, despite Chuuya’s skepticism, needed to be handed up the ladder to government officials for them to determine the next plans of action. Meanwhile, Dazai and his partner, Kunikida, were tasked with gathering any and all evidence left behind in Hiratsuka, as well as, maintaining relations with the leader of Hiratsuka’s syndicate, Lady Murasaki, who had hired Dazai to investigate the disappaereance of one of her employees, Fujiawra Sadaei, before the conspiracy was exposed.

It was Dazai who uncovered the entire plot, only to go missing himself, but not before setting up a series of cryptic messages to be sent to Chuuya. Chuuya had been ordered to ignore the messages and delete them from his phone, but he couldn’t turn his back on his former partner, and onetime Port Mafia traitor, regardless of the fact they’d spent the months prior sneaking off to play house together at a small house out in crater city, Suribachi. The decision, and a stack of intimate photographs from that Suribachi house that had been delivered unbeknownst to Chuuya to his former Boss, Mori Oogai, were the toppled pai gow pieces that led to his own fall from grace in the Port Mafia. He still didn’t know where the photographs had come from, but he narrowly escaped their fallout with his life.

Chuuya spotted Kyouka across the street at a park, sitting in a swing and fiddling with the phone she constantly wore around her neck. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a young, middle school aged girl, that was enjoying her winter break. Atsushi, Chuuya knew, was on the other side of the building keeping watch towards the backside. They all wore headpieces to keep in contact with one another.

“Was it supposed to be this cold tonight?” Atsushi’s voice crackled through the headset.

Chuuya frowned, letting his breath out in a puff of steam. He heard a crackle and pop from the metal dumpster beside him and, glancing to it, realized with a start that he could see the frost crystals growing, “I don’t think it’s ever supposed to be this cold, kid. Looks like an ice ability, user’s got to be nearby.”

“There’s movement,” Kyouka’s voice was soft, almost inaudible as a whip of wind roared from nowhere, but firm, “Above you. Third floor window.”

“I can walk up there, no problem,” Chuuya offered, itching for the excuse to defy gravity.

“No,” Atsushi quickly and sharply replied. Chuuya could feel the boy wince at the severity of his own reply through the headset, “I mean…what I mean is…I’ll go, Mr. Nakahara. You and Kyouka stay put, continue watching, in case anyone else shows up.”

Chuuya bit back his frustration, he knew Atsushi was only worried about him, as he said between grit teeth, “Fine. You’re in charge, kid.”

On the other side of the building, Atsushi activated his ability, Beast Under the Moonlight, partially transforming into a mystical white tiger form. He climbed up the wall in a few short jumps, and rounded the corner to investigate the movement Kyouka had seen. Chuuya tucked his gloved hands under his arms, his fingertips aching from the growing chill in the air around him. He stalked towards the back of the building to take up Atsushi’s post. After a couple minutes, Chuuya tapped his foot impatiently.

“You see anything interesting, kid?” he asked.

Silence.

“Atsushi? What’s going on up there?”

Still silence.

“Kyouka, you got eyes on Atsushi?” Chuuya said, pulling away from the backside of the building and hurrying back towards the front, spotting the little girl in her position at the park, dull gaze now fixed skyward, cell phone dangling from its chain around her neck.

“Yes,” she answered, her typical monotone trembling slightly, “He’s at the window. He hasn’t moved for many seconds.”

The sound of several gunshots erupted through the night, and before the ring of their report could finish, Chuuya was sprinting up the fire escape. One quick, last glance to the park to note Kyouka was gone from her post, as well, and without thought to his agreement in joining the Agency, Chuuya used his ability to lift the third-floor window, diving through its entry and rolling to his feet in a light fighting stance, hands loose at his side and senses on high alert. The hallway he’d landed in was empty and somehow cooler than outside, it felt like an ice box. Somewhere inside was the sound of soft sobs. He started forward through the dark apartment and nearly slipped backwards to the ground, catching himself on the wall and a hallway table, the framed pictures atop it quacking and falling over. He winced, but the sobbing didn’t stop, his carelessness hadn’t been heard. Breathing a sigh, his eyes dropped downward to find the wood floorboards were coated in permafrost.  

Delicately, Chuuya righted himself and took small, deliberate steps to slide with some semblance of control along the hall. He passed by dark, empty rooms towards a luminescent glow ahead in what, Chuuya assumed, would be the kitchen. He sidled up next to the entryway, listened for a moment. The sobbing, he surmised, was a woman. There were no other noises. He frowned, reached for the knife he kept strapped at his thigh and held it low against his side, out of sight but ready if he needed it. He stepped into the kitchen.

On the floor, there was a woman kneeling in a tattered gray bathrobe, a gun on the ground beside her. There was splintered wood around shallow bullet holes in the wall on the far side of the room where her gunshots had hit. Chuuya’s breath caught. Outside of the window was Atsushi, his skin pale and lips turning blue. His eyes were moving but the expression behind them was dull, as though staring through a fog, and, every so often, his breath steamed the window in wet puffs.

The floorboard creaked under Chuuya’s weight and the woman reached for her gun, spinning around to point the barrel at Chuuya. Her crisp green eyes were wide, her short, chestnut colored hair falling in greasy, uneven dregs around her tear-stained face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kyouka’s demon ability hovering beside Atsushi outside, its hand on the ethereal sword at its hip.

“Whoa, let’s be reasonable about this, lady,” Chuuya said, loud enough for Kyouka to hear from wherever she was hiding, undoubtedly nearby. He slipped the knife back into its sheath and put his hands up in as unthreatening a manner as he could, his mind turning possible outcomes from this encounter around in his mind. Every ounce of his body and heart was screaming to kill her swiftly, but then there was the niggling voice in the back of his head, that sounded not unlike Kunikida, whispering, when you slip up…

“I…I didn’t mean to…” the woman cried, whimpering, more, fresh tears forming, turning to droplets of ice on her cheeks, “It wasn’t my fault…I swear…it wasn’t…I had no idea what he was…I had no idea. Please…”

“It’s okay,” Chuuya told her, having no idea what she was ranting about, he assured her, “I know you had nothing to do with it. Not your fault, right? We all make mistakes, put our trust in people that turn around and betray us. You’re just a victim in all of this, huh? Why don’t you put the gun down, Lady Winter, and unfreeze my friend outside, and we can talk about this like civilized people, alright?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Atsushi outside, spotted the Demon before it could duck out of sight, and her eyes widened with panic. She yelped, half-crab walking towards the far wall, stumbling to her feet and dropping the pin of the gun, she pointed it back and forth between the window and Chuuya, her hands visibly shaking, unable to hold the gun straight. At that rate, she was more likely to miss than hit if she fired off a shot. Chuuya sighed, and placed his hands in his pockets. He was not cut out for this negotiation crap.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said, “We would’ve done it already if we were.”

That made her hesitate. Her eyes flickered from him to the window.

“Why are you here, then?” she demanded.

“Still trying to figure that one out,” Chuuya admitted with a shrug, he glanced at the wall behind her, those bullet holes and furrowed his brow, darting a look back at Atsushi, “Maybe you could start by telling us who you were shooting at.”

“No-no way,” the woman whispered, jabbing the gun at Chuuya, “You tell me who you are first, I’m not just going to confess my life story to some stranger that broke into my home.”

Chuuya smirked, tilting his head to one side, “Fair enough. We’re detectives, investigating the burglaries from that nearby housing community. Someone told us this would be a good lead for solving the case. I’ve got an idea who you are too. You own the convenience store downstairs, nice set-up, only store like it in this city block. I bet you know everyone in this neighborhood. Which house they live in, where they work, what kind of money they make, how many people they’ve got living with them, and what everyone’s schedule is.”

Another trickle of tears that froze halfway down the woman’s face and peeled off like crystalline beads.

“You and a friend get the idea that you could make a little extra cash, on the side. So, you start putting that information to good use. It’s gone good for a while now, but one of you got greedy…or maybe cold-feet, thought the other was going to talk. My friend shows up peeking in the window and it looks like betrayal. Shots are fired and your friend took off,” Chuuya said, “How’d I do?”

“Burglaries…?” the woman faltered, shaking her head, a look of puzzlement crossing her features, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Chuuya scowled, “Everything made sense though…”

Admittedly, there were still missing pieces to the puzzle. There was no sign of break-in, so he assumed her partner had the ability that got them into the houses undetected. The question of where the stuff was could likely be answered by a thorough search downstairs. Still, where was the partner, why had she been firing off a gun, and what had she been blathering on about when he got there…something about not being her fault and some mysterious ‘he’ – likely the partner, but what didn���t she know about him? Was he working another angle behind her back? As if on cue, a flicker of movement caught Chuuya’s eye, a man stepping through the wall behind the woman, a glinting chef’s knife in hand, poised to stab the unsuspecting woman in the back.

“Hey, watch out,” Chuuya shouted, moving before the words had left his mouth.

The woman, stunned by his sudden lunge at her, fired off a couple shots that Chuuya deflected easily. The man with the knife grabbed the woman, she screamed, Chuuya’s hand brushed the man’s forearm as the blade began to bite into her backside, and Chuuya sent the man flying back towards the wall. He passed harmlessly through. Chuuya pulled the woman behind him, darted looks around the kitchen, jaw set and muscles tense, searching for movement.

“Oh god! He’s going to kill us. You can’t do anything against him. You can’t, he’s too powerful,” the woman blubbered.

“Lady, we just met. Seems too early for you to make that call, don’t you think?” Chuuya felt the ground give out beneath him, and he dropped his gaze to find his foot sinking through the floor, “What the hell?” He darted an anxious look to the woman, barking out commands rapid-fire, “Unfreeze my friend. Find the little girl. Get out of here with them.”

He felt a pinch at his calf, he was starting to solidify in the floor. He sent out a shudder of energy and the ground gave out under him in a hailstorm of plaster and wooden splinters. He picked himself up from the wreckage, coughing and dusting away the debris, finding the startled man standing across from him.

“Dammit, that’s twice now you’ve made me use my ability. I’m on parole,” Chuuya yelled, rushing at the momentarily stunned man and swinging a roundhouse to his head. Chuuya’s leg passed right through, but he didn’t let it slow him down, swinging and thrusting kicks and punches with deadly precision, all of which would have landed if the man wasn’t a fucking ghost. Chuuya fell back, trying to hide that he was a bit out of breath.

“My turn,” the man grinned and began his own assault. When Chuuya raised a block, the man’s strikes passed through unhindered only to solidify and land their hit. He cut across Chuuya’s cheek, jabbed into his side, and blasted him back with a kick to the chest that Chuuya caught himself on with For the Tainted Sorrow. He spit blood and fixed his stance.

“So, you’re the thief, huh? Why do you want the woman dead?” Chuuya said.

“What business is that of yours? You can die with her if you’d like, though,” the man threw a cross jab and, as predicted, his hand passed through Chuuya’s block, but the second it was close enough to Chuuya’s face, the man was dropped to the floor with an increased density. The man used his own ability, and passed through the floor. Chuuya stumbled around as the man reappeared behind him and shot out a fist into his stomach. Chuuya stared down in surprise, puzzled at what the point was, the man’s entire arm was sticking through Chuuya.

“Do you know what happens when an incorporeal object becomes corporeal inside of you?” the man taunted.

Chuuya’s eyes widened, using his ability to propel himself backwards at a breakneck pace, feeling a growing tug as he flew away from the man. He stumbled rather than landed gracefully back against the far wall, gasping in pain, and grasping at his stomach, fingers brushing along a hand sized hole in his shirt, underneath the flesh was damp and jagged. He dropped to his knees and coughed out a thick wad of blood. His eyes blurred, and he shuddered, feeling like he might vomit. There was a crunch of debris under foot as the man approached. Chuuya steeled himself, his thoughts tumbling towards a singular decision: if he was going down here, he’d take the man with him. When the man became solid, Chuuya would crush him to a bloody pulp.

On his way across the room the man swept up a broken pipe from the wreckage, whistling dramatically some off-key tune.

“Where should I put this, I wonder?” the man mused, tapping the pipe in his hand, then pointing it to Chuuya’s forehead, covered in a thin film of sweat, “Your brain?” He lowered it to point at Chuuya’s jugular, “Your throat?” The man’s lip curled up into a sinister grin, as he hovered the pipe in front of Chuuya’s chest, “Your heart.”

“Do it,” Chuuya bit out, “You die with me.”

The man’s pupils dilated with his murderous intent, and he drove the pipe towards Chuuya…only to find resistance. The man frowned, desperately pushing the pipe at Chuuya’s chest but the pipe remained solid, refusing to pass through. Chuuya perked a brow up at the man, and the man scowled, swatting distractedly at something brushing the back of his neck.

“Oy, careful now. I almost lost contact,” a familiar voice chirped in mock cheer, the finger that had been gingerly touching the man’s neck giving way to a bandaged palm wrapping firmly under the man’s chin. Dazai’s face appeared peeking over the man’s shoulder, his other hand pressing a gun into the man’s side, “Hi, Chuuya! This seems like a bad situation.”

“Idiot. I thought you were in Hiratsuka for the night,” Chuuya replied, partially choking on his own blood and the mix of emotions swelling through him at the welcome sight of the other man.

“What’s this? Did you miss me already?” Dazai mused, his lips pressed into a thin frown, his eyes wide with amusement, “I suppose that means I’ll have to give you extra attention tonight...”

The man took their conversation to mean Dazai was distracted, seizing his opportunity, he swung the pipe over his shoulder towards Dazai’s head, and Chuuya’s hand shot out to grab the man’s leg and send him flying, first to slam into the ceiling and then crashing back into the ground, which cratered under his body. He wheezed, blood pooling around him, seeping from his every orifice. Chuuya guessed all of the man’s bones were broken, ground into a fine powder from the impact not unlike falling from a thousand feet overhead, and the thought made Chuuya feel a tiny bit better about the gaping hole in his stomach. Dazai stared blankly at the dying man and blinked a few times.

“That was dramatic, Chuuya.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole,” Chuuya said, words trembling, and his face flushed white, “Where’s the doctor?”

“I sent Kunikida to retrieve her, he took Atsushi and Kyouka with Miss Gould back to the Agency, as well. They should be returning with Yosano shortly,” Dazai knelt in front of Chuuya and smiled, careful not to touch as it was Chuuya’s ability alone holding his guts inside, and Dazai’s No Longer Human would nullify his one lifeline, “It’s a good thing Ranpo called or, it seems, I’d be coming home to a tiny pincushion. Ranpo said ‘Chuuya will definitely do something stupid tonight’. He’s never wrong, you know, so I had no choice but to come here.”

“We only showed Ranpo the file an hour and a half ago. There’s no way he called you with enough time for you to get back here from Hiratsuka. You never made it there, did you?” Chuuya replied.

“Hmm…what’s this? That’s very clever, Chuuya, to figure out on your own…Atsushi must be training you well. I’ll have to reward you later,” Dazai grinned from ear to ear, “A good dog deserves a good treat.”

Chuuya flustered and fell forward, Dazai scrambling back to avoid him as he slumped towards the floor.

“Hey, hey, slug, what are you doing? Taking a nap? I can’t reward a dog that doesn’t greet its master with energy,” Dazai cried out, concern laced beneath his otherwise lighthearted words. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, plopping his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands, he began to explain, “Don’t you want to know that you’re right? We returned early from Hiratsuka. The government contacted President Fukuzawa. We have a meeting with them in the morning.”

“We, huh? You’ll actually show up to it, then?” Chuuya murmured reply, trying desperately to keep his eyes open as black, inky splotches exploded along the edge of his vision.

“Wha-at? You make it sound like I skip out on important work all the time,” Dazai complained, “That’s not very nice, Chuuya. You’re worse than Kunikida, you know.”

“…crossing…the line…” Chuuya murmured.

“It’s not polite to fall asleep when someone is talking to you,” Dazai said, worry now heavy in his words, “I have no choice but to show up. President Fukuzawa personally requested I be there. Ah…but there are really so many other places I’d rather be, more exciting things I could be doing.”

“…oh yeah…like where?”

“Where…hm…anywhere, really. A small country village with a cottage, cobbled streets and cafes. Vineyards and sweet-smelling pastry shops…” he sighed, his voice faraway, “Somewhere where there is a quiet room with an ocean view.”

“…sounds nice…” Chuuya was struggling to draw his breath in, “…should go…sometime…”

“Mmm…maybe. I wonder if someone will be waiting for me there,” Dazai whispered, and Chuuya couldn’t muster a reply. He felt the other man lean over him, breath tickling his ear, “Rest now, Chuuya. Kunikida’s car is here. I’ll take care of you tonight; you take care of me in the morning.”

Like hell, Chuuya tried to reply, but his energy left him all at once, and he leaned unconscious on the ground. It was a few hours later when Chuuya woke in the Agency clinic. He pushed himself up to sitting, found the doctor, Yosano, rearranging the medical supplies in her cabinet nearby. She spared him a glance over her shoulder when his bed creaked protest of his movement. On a nearby bed was laid the ghost man.

“Starting to think we should set you up a permanent bed here. It’s only your first week, but I’m sensing a pattern,” the doctor said, there was an edge to her words that let Chuuya know she hated the thought of him spending more time than necessary in her clinic as much as he did, but the comment was an attempt to meet halfway. They were far from being friends but they were co-workers now. As much as she despised saving his life, she’d continue to do it as long as he worked at the Agency, it was her weird way of saying he could trust her on that, at least. Chuuya gave her a wary look.

“You know, I never had nearly as many near-death experiences working at the Port Mafia as I have working with your Agency. I’m starting to think forcing me to join here was part of a grand ploy to torture me the rest of my life,” Chuuya replied. His throat was dry and his words came out rasped. He gave a nod to the man in the other bed, “You managed to save this tool, too, I see.”

“Despite your best efforts. Quite the number you did on him. I’ve seen the dead bodies of people who fell from hundred story buildings that had less concussive injury than this guy when you were done with him,” Yosano crossed over to the man’s bedside to check on an IV drip attached to his arm. She spotted Chuuya’s questioning look and explained, “Drug induced coma. His ability would make it difficult to keep him locked up, and this seemed like the better solution than forcing Dazai to hold his hand until we could transfer him to government custody.”

“Would’ve been a better punishment to trap him with the waste of bandages,” Chuuya muttered, inspecting the bloody hole in his t-shirt with a click of his tongue.

“Speaking from experience?” Yosano pointed to a bag on the chair beside Chuuya’s bed, “He brought you some clothes from home.”

Home. Home, with Dazai. Their home that they shared. Chuuya smirked, picking himself off the bed and making his way to the chair on unsteady legs, “Fine. Maybe it would’ve just been more entertaining for me. Dazai ‘loves’ holding hands with strange men.” He frowned. “Where’re the kids?”

“Outside, in the office, I presume. Drafting the report for your case tonight.”

She hesitated, pressed her lips into a thin line, examining Chuuya in a way that sent a tiny, self-conscious shiver down his spine. He ignored her staring, picked out the garments in the bag and busied himself with changing. She averted her gaze when he removed his ruined t-shirt, revealing a bandage over his stomach where the ghost-man had stuck his arm. Yosano had the ability to heal him completely, but she never did, only enough that he would live, leaving the rest for him to heal naturally. She thought of it as her own way of getting a bit of justice for Chuuya’s ‘victims’ during his time with the mafia, but from what he understood of how her ability worked, he decided she was really letting him off easy.

“Atsushi is alright, if you were worried. The woman had entombed him in ice, but the tiger kept him safe while he was trapped. His recovery after she unfroze him took no time,” Yosano leaned back against the cabinets and folded her arms across her chest.

Chuuya pulled the fresh shirt over his head and bagged up the tattered one, tossing it in a waste bin. He swept his hat off the chair where it has been propped up next to the change of clothes and strode to the door, leaving without another word. As the doctor surmised, Atsushi and Kyouka were out in the Agency’s main office area, hovered together over Atsushi’s computer. Ranpo was also there, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, some flashy cartoon that looked to feature robots streaming on his computer screen and a box of caramel coated popcorn in his lap, he laughed uproariously between mouthfuls of the saccharine snack. Chuuya wrinkled his nose in disgust at the childish man and joined the kids.

“Mr. Nakahara, you’re awake. I’m so relieved,” Atsushi perked in his chair, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry…about what happened today…it’s my fault that…”

“Don’t stress it, kid, we were all caught off guard,” Chuuya shot Ranpo a scalding glare, Ranpo continued to watch his cartoon and showed no outward sign that he noticed the look, “Not that we couldn’t have been better prepared if someone had given us more to go off, but that’s not your fault.”

“Right…though I don’t know if any amount of preparation could’ve really prepared us for that. It’s a good thing Dazai showed up,” Atsushi said, and Chuuya bit back the reflexive bitter retort, reminding himself they were on the same side now, but it did little to sway the competitiveness he still felt towards the other man. He was doing just fine on his own, dammit, he didn’t need Dazai to rescue him, “We still haven’t pieced together everything, but it seems the woman’s name is Hannah Gould. She came to Yokohama from America to live as a refugee after her father died in the war. According to Miss Gould, the man’s name is Marcel Aymé but she doesn’t know anything about why he was at her place or why he was trying to kill her.”

“That doesn’t make sense. She said something about…something not being her fault and she mentioned a ‘him’ before that guy showed up. I was sure she was talking about this Aymé guy. She’s got to be lying,” Chuuya said.

“That’s what Dazai thought, Ranpo agreed but he told us she’s not lying about not knowing anything of the burglaries and Marcel is our burglar. We’ll be transferring his custody over to the Special Abilities Department in the morning when they come for that meeting,” Atsushi explained. He paused, his features furrowed. His eyes flickered away; his expression mildly guilty. Chuuya glanced at Kyouka but her face was lowered and features naturally blank.

“There’s more,” Chuuya decided, folding his arms over his chest and tapping his foot, “But you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi said quickly, his eyes shooting up to Chuuya’s, wide with emotion, “It’s just…”

There was the sound of a door opening and closing down the corridor where the Agency President’s office was located. Kunikida and Dazai’s voices preceded their entry into the main office area, bickering about something nonsensical. It seemed Dazai was trying to convince Kunikida that lemon juice mixed with a bit of clay was restorative when worn on the face and feet at night, President Fukuzawa trailed behind them. When they reached the office, Kunikida’s eyes swept over the room, deliberately avoiding Chuuya. He made a comment to the other two men, said in a gruff voice, “Atsushi, I expect your report on my desk in the morning,” and left for the exit.

“Nakahara. A word,” the Agency President said. Chuuya frowned, meeting Dazai’s eyes momentarily, but the other man gave nothing away.

“Sure thing, ‘Boss’,” Chuuya muttered, moving to follow President Fukuzawa back to his office.

“I’ll help Atsushi with his paperwork,” Dazai declared, cheerfully making his way to Atsushi’s desk.

“Shouldn’t you do your own paperwork…?” Atsushi pointed out to Dazai’s laughter.

“You’re so silly, Atsushi, if I did my paperwork, then what would Kunikida do?”

Once they were in the president’s office, Chuuya plopped down in the available chair and waited for Fukuzawa to pour out two cups of tea. Chuuya had only been in the office once before, when he delivered his choice as to what his post-Port Mafia fate should be. The feeling of that day, and the weight of that decision, came back to him as he settled back in the chair and braced himself for the inevitable fallout of his earlier fight with the ‘ghost’, Marcel. He’d used his ability multiple times, albeit the situation was life or death, and then did his best to kill Marcel.

“We’ve reached the end of your first week,” Fukuzawa began in a tone that Chuuya hadn’t expected. Fukuzawa set one tea cup in front of Chuuya, took his own to his seat. Chuuya glanced at the cup but said nothing. Fukuzawa fixed him with a cool stare, “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Chuuya replied, narrowing his eyes on the older man, scrutinizing him for the meaning behind his words. Mori could never be taken at face value, there was a plan in motion, and a plan underneath the plan, and a plan under that plan. No question, no matter how innocuous it may seem, was ever without some unseen intent. Working for Mori meant staying on guard, and being successful in the organization required looking under the layers to see the layers beyond, but also, understanding your place in those layers and, all the while, not questioning the parts you didn’t understand even as you were intended to predict their subtle meanings.

“You’re comfortable working with Atsushi and Kyouka?”

“Sure,” Chuuya shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of his chair.

“And the other’s in the Agency? I know some have expressed a distaste in working with…”

“Can we cut the crap?” Chuuya interjected, eyeing Fukuzawa dangerously, “I know I screwed up tonight. I used my ability without your permission and I did my damndest to kill that Aymé guy. I’m not even going to pretend I’m happy he’s still alive, I would’ve squashed him into mush like the roach he is if I’d known the doc was on her way, made sure he was good and dead before she got there.”

“Is that what you truly want right now? Aymé to be dead?” Fukuzawa mused, “In the moment, it could be construed as self-defense, but to still feel so strongly after the fact…to kill him now might be called vengeance.”

“He stuck his arm right through my stomach and out my back. Call me crazy, but I kind of hold it against people when they stick things in my body without my permission,” Chuuya grumbled, slumping down in the chair and tapping his foot on the ground, “So what now, huh? What’s my punishment, ‘Boss’? Am I out?”

“I wonder, if you were given the chance now, left alone with Aymé, would you kill him?”

“Huh?” Chuuya wrinkled his brow, eyed the Agency President suspiciously, “What are you getting at?”

“Merely curious. Is there harm in answering, if you’re already ‘out’, as you say?”

“No. I guess I can’t get in any more trouble, can I?” Chuuya leaned his head back and frowned at the ceiling, “We’d be better off if he was dead. His power was difficult enough for me to take on, hell, he almost killed me, and it’s no secret, I’ve got the most power and skill here in a fight. Not to mention, the man walks through walls, how do you keep someone like that locked up short of sticking them in a permanent sleep or gluing him to Dazai?”

“He has certainly proved himself to be a danger to society.”

“Same is said about me, though, right? Kill what you can’t control. But that’s the government’s style, not mine,” Chuuya smirked wryly at Fukuzawa, reaching forward to take a sip of his tea, and feeling a strange nostalgia from the scene, flashing to a meld of memories of being a younger man seated on a tatami mat across from an oddly serene woman in a kimono, katana sheathed and laid flat beside her. Their conversations then had the same energy and Chuuya felt an inexplicable tranquility cast over him, as he realized, there’s no Mori-level hidden schemes here, Fukuzawa just wants to understand, “Like you said, in the moment, I would’ve killed him because I want to live and, besides, he pissed me off. Same for him, I got in his way, so he wanted me dead. Self-defense, if that’s what you want to call it. But now, I don’t know the whole story and I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. It’d be better to wait for him to wake up so I can ask him, rather than kill him in his sleep and never know, right?”

“And when you have your answers? Would you kill him then?”

“Not my choice, is it?” Chuuya said.

“If it was,” Fukuzawa prompted patiently.

“No,” Chuuya met Fukuzawa’s stare evenly, “If he wants to come for my life or my organization again, I’ll accept the challenge and I’ll make sure there aren’t enough pieces left for the doc to save, but what’s the point in killing him otherwise?”

“I understand.”

“So,” Chuuya crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back in the chair, smiling at Fukuzawa, “You still haven’t told me my punishment for breaking my parole.”

“Even though it went against restrictions imposed on you by our Agency when you joined, you acted in the only way that you could to protect your team and our organization’s interests. I wonder, in this type of circumstance, would Dr. Mori have punished you?” Fukuzawa said, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Chuuya with a stern intent.

Chuuya cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, thought it over a moment before carefully answering, “Mori always said that it’s okay to bend or break the rules sometimes if it’s for the greater good of the organization.”

“A reasonable concept. Why then do you believe that I should act less reasonably than him?”

Chuuya ran his fingers over his palm where he could sense, more than feel, under the fabric that aching scar left behind by Mori’s scalpel driven through his palm. Fukuzawa caught the action, the corner of his lip twitching downward.

“I’m not Dr. Mori, I have no ulterior motives,” Fukuzawa said, in a tone as cold and firm as granite. Chuuya’s eyes flickered to his hard expression and then lowered to the ground, “If we’re to work together, you need to understand that. I’ve conferred with Kunikida and Dazai, we’ve concluded your actions were reasonable given the situation. There is no punishment. Rest tonight, your presence is expected in the meeting with the government’s representative tomorrow.”

“Oh good, and here I thought you said there was no punishment,” Chuuya muttered. He rose from his chair and started to the door.

“Nakahara,” Fukuzawa called him to a halt, “Thank you for protecting Atsushi and Kyouka tonight.”

Chuuya nodded, feeling stiff and a thousand times more exhausted than after using Corruption as he exited the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He found Dazai seated atop Atsushi’s desk, his legs folded and his body entirely blocking the flabbergasted tiger boy and his bemused partner from the computer screen and, what Chuuya could only presume, was their unfinished report. Dazai was speaking excitedly about something or the other, his voice trailed off when Chuuya entered the room and he bounced to his feet.

“Excellent! It’s decided,” Dazai declared.

“Decided? What’s decided?” Chuuya furrowed his brow, certain he was going to regret asking that question. Atsushi and Kyouka looked just as puzzled, and Dazai puffed up, looking rather proud of himself.

“Atsushi and Kyouka will come over for dinner tonight and Chuuya will make us all a wonderful dinner.”

“Who the hell decided that?” Chuuya shouted, his cheeks flustering with the heat of his emotions, and his stomach flopped knowing the futility of his protest.

Dazai’s smile, of course, never faltered, “It is, after all, Chuuya’s fault that we’re all still here.”

“What? No, no, Mr. Nakahara, that’s not…” Atsushi quickly attempted to amend. Kyouka covered a smile, and Chuuya softened his expression on the two young detectives.

“Fine, but we’ll have to stop by the store for ingredients on the way home. I’m not feeding them canned crabmeat,” Chuuya said, leading the way out the door. It only took Dazai a few long strides with his long legs to catch up, resting his hand between Chuuya’s shoulder blades. Kyouka and Atsushi had to scramble to follow after.

At Atsushi’s request, and despite a bit of prodding, because that can’t be all you want, Chuuya prepped some chazuke for dinner that night, topping Dazai’s with crabmeat and Kyouka’s with some fresh tofu cubes, and seared salmon on his and Atsushi’s. He used dashi instead of the traditional green tea, and let Dazai serve the bowls while he plated up some dinner for the kitten winding circles around his ankles. Dazai was regaling the youngsters with a story from their mafia days, with an embarrassing amount of embellishments that Kyouka looked to be taking with a grain of salt and Atsushi devoured wide-eyed and overflowing with naïveté.

“…at that point, my part was done and once they had me chained up in the backroom, all I needed to do was wait for Chuuya to come ‘rescue’ me,” Dazai was saying, Chuuya poured himself a glass of wine, “Of course, Chuuya was late as always. He cleared out the enemy, we returned the hard-drive to Mori, and still had plenty of time for Chuuya to lose ten bets with me before the arcade closed!”

“Amazing! And he really figured out where you were and what you needed him to do just by your turning one book on his shelf backwards?” Atsushi beamed before his features crumpled a little, “I wonder…is it wrong to say that you two made a really impressive team…since the work was for the Mafia?”

“No way, don’t fill his head with that kind of praise, kid. Dazai doesn’t need any more of an ego,” Chuuya complained, making his way to the futon.

“Ah, just who has an ego, glorified hat rack?” Dazai replied haughtily.

“Unlike you, my superiority is real and earned,” Chuuya shot back, scowling down at Dazai with a hand on his hip.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand though,” Atsushi interjected before the two could become fully embroiled in their bickering, “Once you were inside of the enemy’s headquarters, Dazai, it seems like you could have cleared the guards and secured the drive on your own. I’ve seen you fight and if you’d had a gun…I guess I can’t help wondering why…”

“Why he called me into all of it? That’s easy to understand. It was more fun for him to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night and make me do all the hard work,” Chuuya sipped his wine and took the seat next to Dazai on the futon, “Also, back in those days, I never let Dazai have a gun when we worked together.”

“Really? Why is that? I’ve seen Dazai shoot a gun before, he’s a very good shot,” Atsushi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“That was the problem exactly. He is a good shooter and…a suicidal prick,” Chuuya cupped Dazai’s chin, pulling the bandaged man’s face down to press a kiss to his jaw, and Dazai smiled sweetly at him in return, “I couldn’t trust him not to shoot me or himself.”

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” Atsushi murmured, happily spooning some chazuke into his mouth.

“Hmm…always taking care of me. Such a good dog,” Dazai grinned, slinking his arm about Chuuya.

They ate over light conversation and then Dazai saw the two young detectives to the door as Chuuya cleaned their dishes. He smiled when Dazai crossed the room into the kitchen, slipping his arms around Chuuya’s waist from behind and burying his face in Chuuya’s shoulder. Chuuya relaxed back into Dazai’s embrace, continuing to scrub clean the pot he used to cook their rice that night.

“Mmm…Chuuya…be my lover,” Dazai murmured against Chuuya’s neck, his words vibrating warmly against the skin there, soliciting several shivers of pleasure.

“No,” Chuuya replied softly, rinsing the soap from the pot and his hands, setting the pot on the drying rack beside the sink. He squirmed out of Dazai’s grasp, reaching for a towel and drying his hands. Dazai remained by the sink, head hanging and arms limp, empty and cold, by his sides. Chuuya went to stand in front of Dazai, reaching up to push the shaggy hair from Dazai’s face, curling the tendrils around his fingers and pulling Dazai to his eye level, “I know what you want to do with your lovers, sicko, and I’m not interested.”

“Ah…is that right. So, what are you interested in doing with me then?” Dazai said, grinning into the kiss Chuuya leaned up to his lips, his arms slunk around Chuuya’s body, squeezing out the space between them and deepening their connection. Chuuya ended it first, pressing his forehead to Dazai’s, heat of their kiss coloring his cheeks and smile breathless. He slid his hands down along Dazai’s arms to find Dazai’s wrists, untangling the hold Dazai had on Chuuya’s waist. Chuuya entwined their fingers and led the eager Dazai to their bedroom.

[markusstrayya-blog]

Once In A Freak (Part 1)

Support Me? | MASTERLIST | Who Do I Write For?

Pairing: Loki x Reader (eventual), Logan Howlett x Reader (Father figure), Avengers x Reader, X-Men x Reader

Word Count: 2670

Summary: Being a mutant has more downsides than upsides. How will your peers feel when you catch feelings for a certain trickster god. WIll your friends and family support you, or have they done enough already? I mean, you are a mutant, how much harder could life be?

Warning(s): Fluff, HYDRA mentioned, Infinity War Steve (God he looked delicious with that beard!), Language. I’ll probably add things as I go along.

Authors Note: So, this was originally posted on my other account, as all these repeated fics were, but Tumblr sucks. Anyway, I didn’t edit this one, as I already loved it, but I’ll be rewriting the entire series. I’ve got the writing bug! Anyway, I’m planning on posting this story to Wattpad, but I’ll probably wait until I have the first few chapters ready to go.

All I did for this one was combine the two parts I’d already written because I felt that it wasn’t going to read well if I didn't, so here we are.

Anywhoozy, requests are open, and so’s the taglist, so enjoy!

PROLOGUE

If anyone had told you all those years ago that you would work for the X-Men, S.H.I.E.L.D. and more recently, the Avengers, you would have called them insane. But alas, here you are, in your own spacious room at the Avengers compound, curtesy of Tony Stark, with your back pressed against a painted wall, viewing your handy work on the other 3 walls. Your (H/C) hair had been tied into a messy bun that had been slowly falling out over the past few hours, evident by the thick strands that had made it their job to block your view. Your white t-shirt and old denim overalls were blotched with a rainbow of colour. Your skin didn’t fare any better.

Your aching legs assisted in lifting your small frame from the ground, as your feet carried you into your ensuite bathroom, which, you had also painted last week. Peeling off your clothes and undoing the tangled mess upon your head to reach the tie, you sigh. That’s the last coat. Once your hair has been released from its elastic restraint and begins to flow over your shoulders and down your back, you enter the shower and begin cleaning yourself from the day’s activities.

The comforting feeling that the steamy water brings will always be something that you cherish, as it gets to work on cleansing your multi-coloured skin, the coloured water pooling atop the tiles surface around your feet. Running the soapy loofah over your wet skin, the hardened paint flakes off, leaving your skin to return to its natural colour. Now for my hair. Grasping the shampoo bottle in your right hand, you squeeze the liquid contents into your left palm before closing the lid. You moan as your hands begin to massage your scalp, making sure that all the paint is removed from your hair. Once your hair is rinsed, and the shower head returned into its slumber, you step onto the bath mat and thoroughly dry your hair with your hairdryer, combing it every so often.

Moving into your walk-in closet, you pick out your favourite pair of skinny jeans, and your Deadpool-themed tank top, curtesy of Wade (of course), both of which will fit nicely over your matching black undergarments. You slip your feet into your black converse before taking one last look at your masterpiece of a room. You’d had to paint all the walls white, as they were previously cream, whilst covering one wall, the one that your bed rests against, you’d painted lightning striking a darkened landscape, and in the center, a blue orb with a figure, watching the storm overhead. You smiled at the memory and headed out into the kitchen.

Spotting the cupboard, you race forward, opening it with such force that it almost swings off its hinges, reaching your hand in and grabbing a packet of (F/F) chips before slamming it closed. You tare open the packet and shove the largest chips you could grab into you salivating, hungry mouth, closing your eyes in ecstasy. BUZZ. BUZZ. Ugh, what now? Checking the caller ID, you hastily answer your phone. “What’s up Wolvie?” You could hear him groan before taking a swig of what was most likely whiskey.

“I told ya to call me Logan, but that’s besides the point. I wanted to know how you are settling in?” You snort, before eating another chip.

“Well,” you begin, “I think it’s going very well. I’ve just finished painting my room and I’m already on to (F/F) chips.” You knew he would be shaking his head, smirking at your antics. “Hey, don’t laugh at me! I’ll have you know I’ve been here a week and I’ve settled in just well.” He laughed at that.

“That’s good Bub, that’s really good. Y’know if they annoy ya too much, I’ll kick their asses for ya.” Giggling, you begin to reply before you are interrupted by a certain AI. “Ms. (L/N), Mr. Stark says that you’re needed in meeting room 8 as soon as possible.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y. Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You shook your head. “What did you really call me for Gramps?”

He gasped in feigned horror. “Well, I was asked by the Professor himself to tell you that we’re gunna have a party o’er next week. You’re welcome to come, but after that insult I don’t think-“

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry, I’ll come!” Humming he ended the call wishing me luck and promising to text me the details. Speed walking over to meeting room 8, you munch on a few more chips. What does he need me for? Surely it can’t be a mission! Mentally throwing those thoughts away, you opened the door, before stepping in, making sure to close the door behind you, moving to stand next to Cap. He has told you many times to call him Steve, but you like to mess with him, calling him Captain or Cap most of the time. Your eyes meet, and you smile up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. His blue t-shirt does nothing but to hide his broad shoulders and the protrusion of his large muscles. Even his jeans look too tight. How does he fit such a fine ass in those? He smiles back, before clearing his throat, gaining the attention of those present in the room.

As soon as Tony’s eyes see me, his face instantly lightens. His expensive suit does nothing but help him prove his importance and influence he has on the team. He’s loaded – with cash, that is. “(Y/N), you made it!”

You looked at him and around the room, confused. “Uhm of cour-“

“Now,” he interrupted, “I need to introduce you to an old friend…and a…seemingly new one?” You looked at him then, sensing his uneasiness. Logan had taught you how to read moods after he took you in as his own when he found you in the woods. You also noticed how he seemed to be trying to convince himself that this new person was a friend. Strange. He pulled you further into the room, stopping in front of two men. Men? Snap out of it (Y/N), this is Thor and Loki. They’re Gods! “No wonder…” you muttered.

Thor leant down to your level, his long blonde hair replaced with short hair. It suited him. “Pardon, Lady (Y/N)?” Shit. He heard me! You look up at him, taking in his missing eye, covered with a golden eye patch and his attire. Asgardian armour, or a king’s attire?  He was smiling at you. “Nothing. Sorry, I’ve just been busy.” You smile back, hoping he accepts the lie. “There is no need to apologise Lady (Y/N)! I assume you know who I am?”

Smirking at him you nod and hold out your hand. His hand, that is much larger than your own, pretty much engulfs yours, as he greets you. You turn and face his brother, clad in green, gold and black attire, who’s looking down at his feet. “And you’re Loki?” You could’ve sworn his head would have flung off his neck due to the speed in which his gaze raised to yours. “That’s me, Lady (Y/N).” Taking your hand in his, he slowly lifts it to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles, before lowering your hand back down. Even though he was much taller than you, he wasn’t as big and muscly as his brother. His hand was much smaller, making yours fit into it nicer. “Just (Y/N) will be fine.” You extend the chip packet towards him, his face, framed by that luscious raven hair, contorts into a look of confusion. “Chip?”

Glancing over at his brother, as though he’s seeking permission, he extends his own arm out, his slender hand reaching into the packet, before emerging with a good-sized chip. Still looking uncertain, you take your own chip and elegantly place it into your mouth. You can feel the stares of your teammates boring into the back of your head, they, themselves unsure about what’s happening. Thor, though, just smiles at the both of you and gestures for a chip himself. Loki looks up at his brother in what you assume is disgust before placing the chip into his mouth, taking in the mix of flavours that would be dancing around the inside of his mouth. “Thank you.”

--

After the whole chip fiasco, in the meeting room, you decided to leave and make your way back into the spacious kitchen. Placing your large phone on the counter, you turn, and tear open the fridge door, reaching your arm through, until you grasp the large bottle, pulling it toward yourself. Plopping the bottle of Coke down, you begin your search for a large glass, and once found, you begin to fill it to the brim with the dark liquid, returning the bottle back to its place in the fridge.

“Ahem.” Looking up, you spot Tony staring at you from the doorway. Rolling your eyes, you grab your glass, gulping down its contents. The familiar fizz that enters your mouth brings tears to your eyes, but you pay no mind. Staring over at Tony, you continue to chug the entire glass.

Placing the empty glass down on the counter, your hand lifts to your mouth, wiping the stray liquid on the back of your hand, before placing both hands on the marble top. “Yes, mister Stark?” It wasn’t that you don’t like him, it’s just you’ve begun to get a weird feeling about him, like something’s not right. Eyes still on Tony, he steps into the room, stopping a metre away. “What’s up, Tony?” You place your right hand on your hip.

“Why did you do that?” You looked over at him, quizzically.

“Do what?”

Rolling his eyes, he replied, “With the chips. Why’d you offer him some?”

“Look, Tony, I was just being friendly. You’re always telling me to make friends, so here I am, trying to do just that, and yet you’re here, saying I shouldn’t?” You couldn’t believe this guy. First he tells me I need more friends, and now he tells me not to make any. Make up your damn mind! Your inner thoughts cease as two new presences slowly enter the room. You’re not sure if Tony notices the two Gods, tiptoeing behind him, as they try not to disturb us.

“He’s dangerous, (Y/N). He’s killed before, and he will probably kill again. Just keep your distance, okay?” You scoff at his poor attempt to sway your opinion.

“What, and I’m not?” That makes the brothers stop. “Tony, I don’t think you realise this, but he’s not the only one in this building with a bad history. Just look at what happened to me, I mean, I’m still here, aren’t I?” It’s only when you stop talking do you notice Loki’s eyes on you, as they stop flickering back and forth – from you to Tony, and back again. “You see, where I come from, everyone had to fight for where they are now, for their place in society. I don’t think you realise how much people can change, Mr. Stark,” picking up your phone from the kitchen counter, you begin to walk towards the hallway, leading to your room, “Look me up, I’ll probably be in one of those old S.H.I.E.L.D. files!”

You storm into your room, lightly slamming the door behind you, before you slide onto the carpeted floor. What’s so wrong about making friends. We’ve all done things we regret. UGH! Allowing your fingerprint to unlock your phone, you take notice of a new text from Logan. Good ol’ Wolvie.

 Wolvie

 Wolvie: Tuesday at 6. Bring a plus 1, or whoever ya want if you’re up for it! 😉

Wolvie: At the Mansion. I’ll be expecting ya bub.

 Lips tilting up into a smile, you typed in your response.

 (Y/N): Not sure about the plus one old man, but I will be going! I can’t wait to see everyone again!😊

 Placing your phone back on sleep mode, you can feel the familiar tingling sensation as it runs up your spine, stopping, only for a moment, when it reaches your head before the feeling explodes all around you. You close your eyes, relishing in its addictiveness before you open them once more. Your body, covered in a purple and blue mix of electricity, zaps and pops around you, calming you down. It’s in this bubble, of sorts, that you can use your abilities without affecting the world around you.

“Miss (Y/N), Loki wishes to enter, shall I let him in?” Taking a deep breath, the bubble dissipates, the stored electricity evaporating into thin air. You nod at the AI. “Of course, let him in.” The soft thud of leather boots fills your room, as the god enters your room, quietly closing the door after him, before turning to you. He’s still wearing his Asgardian clothing.

“I heard what Stark said out there, (Y/N), and I-“ You interrupted him.

“Nope. Not hearing it. He told me to meet new people, and that’s what I was doing. He can shove it, if he thinks, even for one second, that you don’t deserve to have at least one friend.” He looks at you in complete shock, almost as if he wasn’t expecting that. “Let me guess,” you walked closer to him, “the silver-tongued God of Mischief didn’t see that one coming?”

Shaking his head with a small smile, he replied, “I am unable to be your friend, Lady (Y/N), although I thank you for standing up for me.” You give him a questioning look.

“What do you mean I’m “unable to be your frie-“

“I am a dangerous villain who does not deserve such kindness.” He turns, heading back towards the door, his arm outstretched reaching for the metallic handle. You grab his arm, spinning him back towards you.

“Now listen here Mr. Mischief,” he swallows hard, “yes, you may be dangerous, but that does not mean that you can’t receive kindness. Trust me, I may not be as old as you, a literal God, but I have been down that road before, and trust me, it gets you nowhere.” You take a shuddered breath, before continuing. “I don’t care what you’ve done in the past, but I swear to you I will not let you travel down that path of no return, the path where you believe you don’t deserve anything. The past does not define you. I learned the hard way.”

You can feel tears prick at your eyes, threatening to break free. You are aware the god in front of you knows. He’s been studying you throughout your entire outburst. “What…” He begins, “What do you mean you had to learn the hard way? What happened?” You bow your head, shaking it, as your eyes close tightly to stop the tears from shedding.

 Loki’s POV

 I’ve only known this mortal for at least an hour, and yet she stands before me, a God who will not hesitate to end her life, after standing up for me and proclaiming herself to be my much-needed friend. “What…what do you mean you had to learn the hard way? What happened?” I knew she was already close to tears before I asked but I couldn’t help myself. This fierce little mortal had stood up for me, and now was breaking down because of what others had done to her.

I wasn’t much of a hugger, let alone someone familiar with comfort. I was never the favoured child, always coming second, but this mortal had awoken something in me. The urge to comfort her was overpowering. Never, in my many, many years had this urge come over me. The only thing I could say it was like how I felt towards my moth-Frigga. Hesitantly, my arms wrapped around her small form, as I pulled her towards me, rubbing her back. How could something so foreign to me feel so natural?

What was happening to me?

Once In A Freak Tags:

@bluegirlusa1 @stupidlysarcastic @mirtaqueen @marvelest-marvel@wishrains @nhievyenne @excuse-you-dickwad @blackcat995 @missaphrodite23 @li-ssu @gay-hufflepuff16

Loki Tags:

@baoxiii

Forever Tags:

@theonegirlunderyourbed @jemjem-chan @reading-in-moonlight

Apologies if tags don’t work!

[all-year-autumn]

I haven’t seen anyone else post their Notice Me Senpai Secret Santa yet, but I’m going out of town tomorrow, so here we go. Hope you enjoy, Kashi!

Merry Christmas, Sensei

The boy with the fluffy brown hair stepped into the library and glanced around. Aha. He had quickly spotted the very person he hoped to speak to.

It wasn’t so much that Takeru had a particular wish to talk to the quiet, bespectacled boy who sat next to the tower of books. It was simply that he needed to ask someone from C Class a question, but keeping up with his A Class work didn’t leave him a lot of time to make friends with boys from other classes. Of all the students in C Class, Izumi seemed like he might be the most … approachable. Or the least eccentric, perhaps.

Glancing around to make sure Izumi’s red-headed, self-appointed guardian wasn’t hiding in the stacks, waiting to get the wrong idea, Takeru strolled over to the book-laden table. “Hello, sorry for interrupting,” he began. “You’re Izumi-kun, from Kyouya-sensei’s homeroom, right? I’m Takeru.”

Izumi lowered his book and adjusted his large glasses. “Hello.”

“Do you have time to answer a question for me?”

Izumi looked a little puzzled, but said, “Sure, have a seat if you like. What do you want to know?”

Takeru sat. “I drew Kyouya-sensei’s name for the Secret Santa exchange, and I’m having a hard time figuring out what I should get him. I was hoping that, as one of his homeroom students, you might know a bit better what he likes.”

Izumi considered it. “He likes Lurky the Dinosaur.”

“Huh, Lurky? What’s that?”

“He’s a mascot character. I think he was more popular before Pyo-kun came out.”

This was a surprising revelation. “So, sensei’s a fan of cute mascots. I never knew he had that side to him.”

“Although, it might be hard to find Lurky gear that sensei hasn’t collected already. Oh, but, you know, he and Haruka-sensei are good friends.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah. I bet he would have a better idea what Kyouya-sensei might like.”

“Well, thank you! That’s very helpful! Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well,” Izumi said, a little bashfully, “as it happens, I drew Haruka-sensei’s name, and I am also having trouble thinking of a gift, because I’ve never really talked to him. I’ve just sort of stood in the background while he patches up Wacchan.”

“Wow, Wakatoshi-kun really doesn’t let anyone put a finger on you, does he?”

“Well, no.” Izumi quickly changed the subject. “Er, anyway, maybe, when you go talk to him, I could come along and see if I get any ideas? I tried asking Kyouya-sensei, but he didn’t really tell me anything. He tries to pretend like they aren’t friends.”

How strange, Takeru thought. But he agreed to let Izumi tag along.

They met up the next afternoon, once classes were over, to ambush the doctor before he left the infirmary. He was startled to seem them lingering outside the door, but a little smile quirked the corner of his mouth when Takeru told him why they were there.

“Kyouya-sensei, eh? Let’s see …”

“I did tell him about Lurky,” Izumi piped up.

“Oh?” Haruka’s smile turned slightly unsettling, though his voice remained soft. “So that secret’s slipped out? I guess it’s all right, then. But it would be hard to find something with Lurky that sensei doesn’t already have.”

“That’s what we figured,” Takeru agreed.

“I mean,” Haruka chuckled, “apparently he even has the Lurky kigurumi!”

Both boys stared at the doctor in wide-eyed silence.

“Well, everyone needs something cozy to sleep in, right? Anyway, probably the only Lurky gear he doesn’t have are the really expensive, limited-edition items, and of course, the Secret Santa exchange is only meant to be a small token of appreciation. So, let’s think, what else for Kyouya-sensei …”

“What about Kyouya-sensei?” asked someone behind the boys.

They turned, but they had already recognized the voice. There stood the very teacher they were talking about.

“Oh, I was telling the boys I couldn’t stay and chat, because you and I were meeting for coffee,” Haruka said casually. “I wondered if maybe you would like to go down to the cafe instead of the office, just for a change?”

“Hm?” Kyouya scowled, just a little, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sure, if you want. As long as it isn’t too noisy.” He looked at the boys. “Would you fellows please excuse us?” When they nodded, he turned toward the stairs.

Haruka winked at the boys as he moved to follow. “I’m sure the students hanging around in the cafe will be nice and quiet, right?” he murmured.

As the adults walked away, Izumi turned to Takeru. “I think he wants us to follow them.”

“Eh?”

“Didn’t you get that impression? He wants us to listen in on their conversation, so he can give us clues.”

Takeru looked unsure. “That sounds like something out of a story.”

“Well, yeah.”

Not really knowing what else to do, though, Takeru went along with the idea.

After giving the sensei a few minutes’ head start, the boys went down to the cafe. When they spotted the men, they saw that Kyouya was seated so that his back was to the door. Had Haruka actually contrived it that way for them?

Kohai-chan started to call out a greeting to the boys, but cut herself off, confused, when Takeru desperately motioned for her to be quiet. She made a beeline for them, though, when they seated themselves right behind the sensei.

“What’s going on?” she asked, careful to keep her voice down.

Izumi whispered an explanation to her. Takeru felt a little jealous.

“I see! I’ll help, if I can. First though, what can I bring you?”

While the boys waited for their drinks, they focused on listening to the conversation one table over.

“Don’t you wish there’d been a cafe like this when we were students here, Kyouya?”

Eh? They knew each other going that far back? Takeru hadn’t known.

Kyouya took a long drink of his coffee. “Do you think I would have come into a place like this back then?”

The boys couldn’t see their teacher’s expression, of course, but Haruka had a tiny, amused smile. “One more place to get thrown out of, I suppose.”

Thrown out?!

“Hm. Maybe I could have behaved myself if the coffee was good.” He turned his head toward the counter. “Or depending on who was there.”

Wha-- did he -- was sensei looking at Kohai-chan while saying a thing like that?!

“Ah -- haha.” It was a weak attempt from Haruka. “You know, every time I patch up Wakatoshi-kun, I see a little reflection of you.”

Kyouya sighed. “I know.”

“Why does that make you sigh? Maybe he’ll turn out like you did, too. Nice and respectable.”

“Hm, maybe. Say, why are you bringing up old times, anyway?”

“I wonder why … I guess I just realized that I also see something of myself in Izumi-kun. All that time in the library, I suppose.”

“Ugh, don’t say that. He’s got enough bad influences around him without being like you.”

“What are you talking about, Kyouya?” Haruka pouted. “I was a model student.”

“... As far as anyone knew.”

The doctor couldn’t hide his smile. “Anyway. Those two are such good friends, even though they are such an unlikely pair.”

Behind the sensei, Kohai-chan arrived with the boys’ drinks.

“So I couldn’t help thinking,” Haruka continued, “… if we’d just talked to each other back then …”

“Hm. Well, I probably could have found a use for your devious mind.”

“... Say, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Enjoying peace -- and quiet -- on Earth.”

“Nothing special?”

“I might pick up a fried chicken meal to mark the occasion.”

“Aw …”

“Oh? Do you have big plans, Haruka?”

“Not yet. Are you asking if I’m free?”

“Wha-- You certainly don’t mind interpreting things whatever way you like.”

Kohai-chan was still standing at the boys’ table, listening in as well. She had a strange look on her face. Suddenly, she leaned close to Takeru’s ear and whispered, “I’ve got a great idea. It’ll solve everything for both of you!” She hurried away.

Takeru hoped that his face was not as red as he suspected it might be.

A few days later, the school buzzed with the exchange of gifts. Hinata was seen gleefully hugging a smartly-wrapped box to his chest. He wouldn’t say who had drawn his name, but everyone could guess. Hajime managed to bring an enormous takio to class. Viktor didn’t so much as blink. Reiji announced that he and Seiichi had something really special planned, and then introduced a confetti-spewing robot into the mix.

Wakatoshi looked as his feet as he presented a small package to Izumi.

“Oh, so you drew my name, Wacchan?”

“It’s fine if you open it now,” he grunted, still staring down.

Yamoto passed by as Izumi was peeling back the wrapping paper. “Hey, thanks again for the guitar strap, Toshi-kun,” he said, then walked on.

Izumi peered at Wakatoshi.

“What?” Wakatoshi blushed. “I just noticed you were missing this book in the series. It doesn’t mean anything special.”

“Wacchan … would you like to go get some fried chicken after this?”

“... Sure.”

Elsewhere, Takeru hesitantly approached Kyouya. He’d always been a little intimidated by the teacher, but after what he’d overheard in the cafe, he wasn’t sure what to think. Had Kyouya-sensei really been a delinquent in his school days, as it had seemed?

But all he could do was hope Kohai-chan’s gift idea would turn out to be a good one.

“Oh, so you drew my name, Takeru-kun?” Kyouya said pleasantly.

“Yes. It’s fine if you open it now.” He passed over the envelope.

Opening the card, Kyouya was a little surprised by what he found inside. “Well, thank --” he started, but he looked up to find Takeru was already gone.

As soon as possible, Kyouya escaped from the hubbub to the sanctuary of the infirmary.

“Ah, a headache pill so early?” Haruka admonished.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that Christmas is only once a year,” Kyouya grumbled.

“Oh, I thought the gift exchange was fun, though. Izumi-kun gave me a ticket to a figure skating exhibition.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it looks like fun!”

“... Takeru-kun gave me the same thing.”

“Really? What luck! We can go together.”

Luck, Kyouya wondered. He felt as though he’d been set up. “Well, I hadn’t decided whether I was going to go or not.”

“What? Oh, you have to go! It’s a waste otherwise. Think of poor Takeru-kun if he finds out you didn’t use his present.”

“Well, that’s true … but it will be so noisy.”

“I looked up the show after Izumi-kun gave me the ticket. It looks like there will be some former pro skaters there. It should be pretty good.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll be sure to dose you up on headache medicine before we go in.”

“Ah --”

“I’m really excited! We never go places together!”

“I didn’t actually say I would go, you know. And -- hey! Why are you talking about it like it’s a date?”

“After the show, would you like to go get a bucket of fried chicken?”

“... Sure.”

[queen-of-obsession]

Secret Santa gift for @egalitarianaquagirl for the @yjficexchange

All your suggestions were good but “Aqua-family going to the beach as if they were totally normal people” was too good to pass up lmao; although I actually combined it with your other prompt of something Kaldur/Lorena. Also I would like to make it known that this is only chapter one. This was originally going to be a one shot but like everything I write it got ridiculously out of control. I’m gonna try to post the other chapters over the next week or two.

Anyways Merry (late) Christmas and Happy New Year! 

Under a read more because this “chapter” alone is almost 14 pages long. (6,903 words, if anyone was wondering.)

Also! Quick edit already because I forgot to mention (just in case it wasn’t obvious) that any dialogue in brackets is translated from Atlantean.

Rest  |chapter 1|

WATCHTOWER February 1st, 09:17 EST SIX YEARS LATER

“Recognized: Aqualad, B02.”

A figure shimmered into view in time with the soft female voice of the Watchtower computer and surveyed the room for a moment before striding towards the room’s only occupant, a dark-haired man in black body armor.

“Hey, Kaldur.”

Surrounded by holographic computer screens, Nightwing paused his furious typing long enough to wave. “How was Hong Kong?”

“It has thirty less pirates than it did two weeks ago, so I’d say alright.” The Atlantean said dryly. He glanced around the empty room. “Is La’gaan…?”

“He should be out here any minute.” Nightwing pivoted towards the screen behind Kaldur, who sidestepped him neatly. The other man resumed his typing without missing a beat, throwing Kaldur a grin over his shoulder. “He’s so excited he can hardly stand himself. He must’ve asked me at least a dozen times this morning if you were back yet.”

Kaldur returned the smile, but found himself distracted by the complex-looking algorithms that his friend was apparently trying to decipher. “You look…busy.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Nightwing teased. He stood still for the first time since Kaldur had arrived and sighed deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. From the way it stuck up in all directions it wasn’t the first time that day that he had done so. “Riddler’s been hinting that he’s planning big for a couple weeks now, and it seems he’s finally ready to go through with it. He sent this coded message to Gotham P.D. three days ago. Decoding the message is just the first step, though. Knowing Riddler’s m.o., the decoded message will be a riddle. So, of course we’ll have to solve that once we solve this.” He smacked the screen for emphasis. “The catch is, every wrong guess and every hour that goes by with it unsolved, the lower this countdown gets.” He tapped a small counter in the corner of the screen that read ‘75’. “And once that hits zero, the message is automatically deleted. Once that happens we’ll be hard pressed to figure out his grand plan in time to stop it. Anyways, Gotham P.D.’s techs obviously had no success, and with both Batman and Batgirl in Blüdhaven for the next week on another case, the task of cracking it falls to me.” He glanced at the small sitting area set up along the windows lining the outer wall of the tower and smiled fondly. “Well, me and Robin. Poor kid’s been up the last two days straight helping me.” Kaldur followed his gaze and just barely spotted the dark head among the pile of pillows on the nearest armchair. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about the two of them slaving away over the Riddler’s latest puzzle while he and La’gaan spent the next several hours relaxing.

“Do you require any assistance?”

Nightwing spared him a quick glance and must’ve seen his concern, because he looked guilty himself for a second before grinning cockily. “What, and have to share the glory with you when I finally crack this thing? No way. I already have to share it with Robin.” He gave Kaldur a playful shove out of the circle of screens. “Not a chance. You already have somewhere to be. Go have fun; you’ve earned it.”

Before he could protest there was a flurry of activity behind him and a pair of slender arms yanked him backwards.

“Kaldur! You’re back!”

“Hello, M’gann.” Kaldur twisted around in the Martian’s arms and gave her a quick hug. “It is good to see you again. You as well, Superboy.”

Said Kryptonian gave him a short wave and a small smile over M’gann’s shoulder. “Welcome back.” A sleepy Beast Boy trailed the two of them, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “Hi Kaldur. Tell the prince happy birthday for me.”

“I will do that.”

“I still don’t get why you’re having his party at Aquaman’s old house by the ocean, though.” He yawned widely, fangs showing. “You guys live in Atlantis. You’re surrounded by water all day. Why would you want to go to the beach?” The older teens all laughed, but Kaldur quickly grew serious again. “That is an excellent question, Beast Boy; with a less than excellent answer, I’m afraid. Prince Arthur was born extremely prematurely. His lungs are not fully formed and it is difficult for him to breathe out of the water, especially if he overexerts himself at all. For his safety we do not dare travel too far from the ocean. Hence, the Atlanteans are going to the beach.” He looked amused again, but Beast Boy looked dismayed. “Duuude. That sucks. Poor little guy.” M’gaan moved to consoled him but was interrupted by a loud crash.

“You’re here?! Neptune’s beard, Kaldur, you’re LATE!”

“It’s good to see you, too, La’gaan.” Kaldur said amusedly, ducking back a step to avoid getting poked in the eye by the scaly green finger jabbing emphatically in his direction. “Are you ready to leave?”

“I’ve been ready for like three hours.” The younger boy grumbled. “You’re the one holding everything up.” He glanced around, readjusting the strap of the black bag he was carrying. “Did King Orin already leave?” Kaldur nodded.

“He left for Atlantis as soon as we got back.”

La’gaan nodded back. “Then what are we waiting for?” He pushed past Kaldur and darted to the center Zeta tube, cutting off an amused M’gann and an exasperated Superboy. “Have fun on your date, angelfish!”

M’gaan giggled. “Thank you, La’gaan.”

Kaldur paused long enough to catch Nightwing by the shoulder and said quietly, “Please call me if you need anything.” “Nightwing snorted and shoved him lightly. “I already told you, no way. But thanks for the offer.”

“Kaldur, hurry up!”

He rolled his eyes at Nightwing, who snickered. “You better get going before he explodes or something.”

“Indeed.”

He joined an impatient La’gaan at the teleporter. They both waved farewell to M’gaan and Superboy and shimmered out of sight.

“Recognized: Lagoon Boy, B18-“

La’gaan exploded out of the Atlantean Zeta portal so fast that if Kaldur hadn’t been so amused by his excitement he might have treated him to the lecture he and Nightwing gave to new members of the Team about the dangers of leaving a Zeta platform before one’s atoms had fully reassembled. But as it was, the moment he was solid enough to feel the faint water currents of Atlantis on his skin he felt the same excitement start bubbling up and couldn’t bring himself to ruin the other boy’s good mood. In a few swift strokes he caught up with La’gaan and the two swam shoulder-to-shoulder to the palace. A guard directed them to the outdoor garden at the back of the palace where a small group had already gathered.

La’gaan shot him a dirty look. “[I told you we’d be late.]” He floated to a stop in front of the foremost figure and touched a fist to his forehead. “[My king.]”

Aquaman clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically. “[La’gaan! It is good to see you again! Kaldur. Long time no see.]” He joked.

Kaldur chuckled. “[Indeed, my king.]” He saluted Aquaman and then repeated the gesture to the woman and child floating beside him. “[My queen.]” He smiled fondly at the boy. “[Prince Arthur.]”

“[Kaldur!]” The boy threw himself into Kaldur’s arms in a very unregal show of affection while his parents laughed. Kaldur scooped him up and balanced him against his shoulder. “[You were gone so long. I didn’t think you and Father were ever coming back!]” He stared accusingly at a guilty-looking Aquaman. Kaldur patted his arm consolingly. “[And we are both very sorry about that. We did not realize when we left that our mission would take so long. But we are here now, and I hear someone has a birthday today.]” Arthur threw both arms in the air and almost smacked Kaldur in the face. “[Me! Me! I do!]” Kaldur laughed. “[Well, shall we get going then?]” “[Yeeess!]” The gleeful seven-year-old rocketed out of his arms and into those of his father, who immediately swung the giggling boy onto his back and swam on ahead with him. La’gaan followed while Kaldur offered to take the large duffle bag that the queen was carrying. She accepted with a smile and touched his arm lightly. “[It is good to have you both back safe and sound.]” “[Thank you, my queen.]” She drifted past him to rejoin her husband and son while he dropped back a length to greet the young man swimming behind her.

“[Garth.]”

The dark-haired man gave him a small smile. “[Kaldur. It’s been a while.]”

“[Yes it has.]”

Garth made no attempt to continue the conversation and Kaldur felt a brief stab of pity. It had been two years now since Tula had died. Whereas he had eventually managed to bury his sorrow over her loss deep inside, Garth’s was still as visible as the eel tattoos on Kaldur’s arms. Tula’s death had changed him; and if two years of constant support hadn’t helped him recover, two minutes of casual conversation certainly wasn’t going to. So Kaldur let him be and turned his attention to the last member of their group. “[Hello, Lorena.]” The dark-haired girl floating behind them gave him a stiff smile that more resembled a grimace. “[Hi, Kaldur.]” She said haltingly, and he mentally kicked himself. “My apologies.” He said in English. “Old habits. We did not mean to exclude you.” The moment he switched languages a look of relief flashed across her face.

“No biggie. Queen Mera still hasn’t given up on teaching me Atlantean, but it’s a slow process.” She made a face. “Very slow. Should’ve paid more attention in freshman Greek; might’ve helped.” She joked. Kaldur smiled back. “Perhaps.” He hesitated before saying, “Perhaps I could help?”

“Help what, teach me Atlantean?”

“Yes. I happen to be quite fluent.” He managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, and then they both burst out laughing.

“I should hope so.” Lorena snorted. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that, if you promise not to laugh at how sucky my pronunciation is.”

“Never.” He promised. “That you are making the effort to learn at all is impressive.”

“Hey, how am I supposed to be “Aquagirl”, partner to Aquaman, king of Atlantis, if I can’t even speak the language?” Garth flinched visibly, and with a swift kick shot away from them to join the others. Kaldur and Lorena both stared after him, a stormy look washing over the latter’s face. “I am sorry. He is…still not used to someone else using that name.” Kaldur said softly, touching her shoulder. Lorena shrugged him off, scowling at the ground. “I was the same way when we first met.” He reminded her.

“Yeah, but you got over it. I’ve known him even longer than I’ve known you, and he still can’t hardly stand to be in the same room as me.”

“Tula was his whole world. Any reminder of her still causes him great pain.” Something in Kaldur’s chest constricted painfully. ‘That makes two of us.’

“It’s not fair.” Lorena snapped. “I’m sick of being treated like I’m contagious just because I share a nickname with a dead girl.” Kaldur flinched and she immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry. That was…insensitive, to say the least. But…look.” She huffed. “Aquaman explained to me about her before I took the name Aquagirl, and I still chose to use it because I wanted to honor her. She was a hero, a real hero. I realize that he’s still hurting and I’m sorry for him, for all of you. Really I am. But it’s not fair that I’m being…punished, for what happened to her.”

“No.” Kaldur agreed quietly. “No, it is not.”

Lorena seemed satisfied at that, at least for the moment, and dropped the subject. It was just as well, because they had arrived back at the Zeta portal and a continued private conversation would have been impossible. One by one they all swam through the portal, Aquaman overriding it to allow Mera and Arthur to pass through. They came out the other side concealed in a small stand of trees. Lorena wrung her hands, shaking off the buzzing feeling that always accompanied Zeta teleporting. “I’ll never get used to that.”

Aquaman ushered them out of the trees, where they found themselves on a short cliff. He threw his arm wide to indicate the small town below them.

“Welcome to Amnesty Bay.”

Mera looped her arm around his and leaned against him. “It’s nice to finally be back here.” They stood there for a moment, both smiling fondly, she at the town and he at her. Eventually, though, he carefully pried his arm out of hers. “Do you have my jacket?” She looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on the waterproof bag that Kaldur was still carrying.

“Sort of.” He chuckled. Kaldur handed it to her and she dug out a black jacket. Aquaman pulled it on and zipped it, effectively hiding his bright orange armor. Mera handed him a pair of sandals as well, and in a moment he looked almost normal. “Well, I’ll be back momentarily. I have to go pick something up.” He winked at Arthur and the boy’s face lit up.  

“What is it, what is it?! Is it my-“

“Arthur!” Mera laughed. “You’ll see what it is in a little bit! For now, why don’t we head down to the lighthouse while your father is picking up…whatever it is that he’s getting.” She and Aquaman exchanged mischievous grins. “Fine.”  Arthur sighed, taking his mother’s hand, but he quickly brightened again. “Let’s go then! C’mon, c’mon!” He tugged at her arm excitedly. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Aquaman slid down the cliffside and disappeared down a back street while Mera led Arthur and the others around the edge of town. After several minutes an old lighthouse came into view, perched on the edge of a much more sizable cliff. A cool breeze blew against them, and Kaldur inhaled the tang of saltwater with pleasure, despite having spent much of the last two weeks on the ocean. ‘You can take the Atlantean out of the sea…’

They skirted well around the lighthouse, picking their way down a much smoother incline far to the right. Mera immediately started setting up, producing a blanket and a set of dishware from her bag. Garth silently joined her, leaving the other three with Arthur, who instantly ran to the water and started splashing. Lorena grinned impishly and darted at Arthur. “I’m gonna get you!” He shrieked and tore off down the beach, Lorena hot on his heels. Kaldur and La’gaan stood together in silence, enjoying the sound of the sea. After a few minutes Aquaman joined them, balancing a large white box in one arm. La’gaan carried it to the picnic blanket for him, dodging an excited Arthur, and leaving Aquaman and Kaldur alone.

“It’s beautiful here.” Kaldur said eventually.

“It is.”

“Does the lighthouse still run?”

“Yes. One of the only lighthouses in the U.S. that’s still manned.” Aquaman looked proud. ”Most are run by machines these days. I guess maybe I could’ve paid to have this one refitted, but…” He shook his head. “This isn’t just any old lighthouse.”

“It is your home.” Kaldur finished.

Aquaman nodded. “And my father’s before me.” He chuckled. “The only time I ever thought my father might love something more than me was when he talked about this old place. He loved it dearly. I just don’t have the heart to make such drastic changes to something he treasured so much, even if it might be cheaper.”

“Cheaper than what?”

“Than paying someone to run it manually. An older gentleman that lives in town, Jeromy Parker. He’s always had a fascination with old buildings, so when I was looking for someone to take over running this place he was more than willing.”

Kaldur smirked. “Does he know he’s being employed by Aquaman?”

“Not a chance.”

“Father, Father!”

“Hey, sport.” Aquaman scooped Arthur up, resting him on his hip and tickling him. “What’s up?”

Arthur giggled. “Mother says we should do games first and then eat.” “Is that so?” Aquaman pulled a face at him and he giggled again. “Well, your mother knows best.” He set him down as Mera and the rest of the teens gathered around. “What do you want to play first?” Arthur considered for a moment, stroking his chin with a very serious expression. “Um, how about…tag!” He smacked Aquaman on the leg. “Tag, Father, you’re it!” He waded into the water as fast as his short legs could carry him. Aquaman’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, is that so?” He unzipped his jacket and tossed it aside, kicking his sandals off on top of it.

“Now might be a good time to run.” Kaldur suggested. “No kidding.” Lorena agreed, backing away. She glanced at La’gaan and smirked. “Bet ya’ he catches you first.” “No way.” La’gaan argued. “I’m a way faster swimmer than you.” “You’re both going to get caught first if you don’t move.” Garth observed, amused, as he followed Arthur deeper into the water. The two vanished beneath the waves. Lorena and La’gaan traded looks and then scattered.

Aquaman watched them go calmly, then turned toward Mera. She took a step back. “Oh, no. Don’t you even think about it. Arthur!” She let out a childish shriek and took off across the sand, Aquaman only a few short steps behind her. Halfway back to the picnic blanket he caught her around the waist and swung her around. There was a great deal more shrieking and laughing as he kissed her neck and then proceeded to tickle her. “Looks like you lose first.” She smacked his shoulder playfully, still laughing. “I’ll get you back for that when it’s my turn.” He kissed her again. “We’ll see about that. In the meantime…” His eyes fell on Kaldur, still standing on the beach. The two stood frozen, staring at each other.

Arthur broke the silence with a squeal. “Run, Kaldur, run!”

The next two hours passed in a flash. La’gaan won his bet with Lorena, managing to outswim Aquaman for another twenty minutes after everyone else had been tagged; until he took a wrong turn and cornered himself against an underwater shelf of rock.

After everyone had taken a turn being “it”, Arthur decided that they should play hide-and-seek. Here La’gaan shone again, and Kaldur as well. Kaldur half suspected it had something to do with the both of them being on the Team. Stealth proficiency was part of the job description. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much, Garth also proved a pro at the game. With his dark hair and clothes he could vanish into the shadows easier than any of them, and he moved more silently in the water than even Aquaman. At last they all gathered on the beach. Over the last half hour Arthur had started wheezing, and while he seemed to be having too much fun to care it had gotten bad enough that Kaldur could tell his parents were starting to get anxious.

“I’m it, I’m it!”

“I think not.” Mera said gently, catching the wheezing boy by the arm. He looked disappointed. “But I-“

“Unless you’d rather keep playing while your mother and I eat all the cake.” His father teased. His eyes immediately lit up. “So it was a cake!” “Arthur!” Mera scolded her husband. He looked sheepish. “It’s not like he didn’t already know.” Arthur tugged on her arm. “I want a piece with tons of frosting.” “Lunch first.” She said firmly. He sighed heavily. “Okay…I get to sit by Kaldur!”

Lunch was finished quickly, largely due to Arthur harassing everyone to eat faster. At last plates were cleared and Aquaman produced the large white box with a flourish. The cake was an explosion of color, decorated with a multitude of sea creatures lovingly rendered in neon frosting. “We had Topo design it.” Aquaman explained. “Arthur loves watching him draw.” Kaldur smiled at a small pink octopus in the corner of the cake. “I thought I recognized the style.”

Once everyone had finished their cake (and Arthur had successfully begged a second piece from his mother) it was time for presents.

“Wow! Thanks, Kaldur! Thanks, Lorena!”

“It’s remote controlled.” Lorena explained as he shredded the box on the toy sub they had both gotten him. “After you open the rest of your presents I’ll help you put it together.” Arthur hugged them both tightly. La’gaan handed him the black bag he had been carrying when he and Kaldur left the Watchtower. Arthur opened it carefully and peered inside, then with a shout of glee turned it upside down and shook out the contents. A dozen or so wooden figurines spilled out into the sand. Arthur snatched one up. “Wow, you really made them!” “All of them.” La’gaan said proudly. “See, here’s Poseidon. And here’s a couple of soldiers.” “Father, look! The chariot even has little reins so the seahorses can pull it!” “Oh, La’gaan.” Mera said softly, turning one of the soldiers over in her hand as Aquaman admired the wooden chariot. “You always make the most amazing things for him.” “Indeed.” Kaldur touched his shoulder. “You are quite skilled, my friend.” La’gaan was practically glowing from all the praise, and it was a few minutes before they drag a fascinated Arthur away from his new toys long enough to open his last present. Aquaman pulled the gift, nearly as long as Arthur was tall, from the bottom of Mera’s bag with incredible care. Arthur took it with some difficulty, pulling the wrapping open carefully. He gasped and looked at his parents in shock. “No way! Is this really for me?” Aquaman pulled the wrapping the rest of the way off, revealing a small gold trident. “You kept saying how much you wanted one like mine.” Arthur was speechless for a minute, then stood up and threw his arms around his father’s neck. “That’s like the coolest gift I’ve ever gotten!” He hugged Mera tightly before dancing around the blanket, whooping. Mera and Aquaman traded pleased looks.

Lorena helped him assemble the remote control sub and put in the batteries, and they entertained themselves for several minutes while Kaldur and Garth helped clean up. After that La’gaan helped him build a sand castle for the figurines. Mera and Aquaman soon joined, and after a few minutes Kaldur quietly pulled the other teens away.

“I think perhaps we ought to let them have some time together just them.” He suggested, and the others all nodded in agreement. One by one they quietly slipped into the water, leaving the happy family to themselves for a while. The water deepened quickly, and they swam with no destination in mind other than away from the lighthouse, simply enjoying the quiet. Kaldur spotted a few swirled shells on the seafloor and scooped them up as he swam by, thinking Beast Boy might like them. La’gaan swam past him, smacking him on the shoulder. “Tag, Kaldur, you’re it!” Kaldur shook his head, stowing the shells in his pocket before chasing him. He caught him easily, and before long they were all playing. Garth even joined in, chasing and catching a giggling Lorena before he seemed to remember that he was giving her the cold shoulder. After that he was his solemn old self again, putting in just enough effort to avoid being caught; but Kaldur felt a flicker of hope anyways.

La’gaan was soon it again, and in his attempt to avoid him Kaldur swam behind a large wall of rock and coral. He peered back around the corner, La’gaan was nowhere to be seen. He ducked back around the wall just in case, his hand brushing the rock. A jolt of apprehension shot through him and he spun around, one hand dropping to his water bearers. Fish scattered around him, but they and the gently waving seaweed were the only living things around besides him.

Something moved behind him. “Found him!” La’gaan called triumphantly, and Kaldur jetted around another bend in the wall, narrowly avoiding being tagged. He stopped almost immediately. In front of him loomed a dead end.  

“Uh oh, looks like you’re trapped, Kaldur.” La’gaan called. Kaldur didn’t answer. That uneasy feeling prickled at the base of his skull again. Something was wrong, something was missing…

“Where is Lorena?”

Garth and La’gaan both looked at him blankly and then La’gaan’s eyes widened. “Kaldur, look-“ The light touch on his shoulder startled him so badly that he reached for his water bearers again, but the high-pitched laugh that followed stopped him. “-out.” La’gaan finished with a sigh. “Found her.” Lorena emerged from the shadows behind Kaldur, giggling. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Her carefree attitude made Kaldur feel uncharacteristically irritated, and he wasn’t sure why.

“There you are. You disappeared on us, where did you go?”

The question came out sharper and more accusing than he intended, and her expression darkened briefly. “I found something.” Her face lit up. “Something cool. You guys gotta see this.” She twisted sharply and dove back into the shadows, vanishing completely. Kaldur and Garth traded confused looks, but followed La’gaan into the shadows after her. Instead of ending immediately as Kaldur has assumed, the wall curved inwards and downwards until the boys found themselves in what appeared to be the beginning of an underwater tunnel. Lorena was already a good several lengths ahead of them. She waved.

“C’mon, they’re just up here.”

La’gaan looked back at them questioningly, but Kaldur simply shrugged. He wouldn’t have even noticed the tunnel if Lorena hadn’t pointed it out; he didn’t have a clue as to what might be inside it. But as his eyes adjusted to the darker confines of the tunnel, he realized it was getting brighter ahead. They rounded the corner and nearly had to shield their eyes. Around the corner the tunnel widened significantly and the walls were spotted with white crystals, most fist-sized, some a good deal larger. All of them were throwing off a strong glow, bright enough that Kaldur could see something on the walls as well.

“What are these drawings?”

Lorena floated closer and peered over his shoulder. “No idea. I wasn’t in here long enough to even notice those.” Garth ran his hand over a portion of the wall, rubbing off the underwater moss clinging to the rock. “These look like people. They look like they’re holding…spears? Swords? Some kind of weapon. And they’re fighting something. Someone.”

“Fish people?” La’gaan suggested. When the other three all stared at him he huffed. “What? Look at the...things on their heads. They look like fins.” He tugged on the fins on either side of his face for emphasis. “Looks more like they’ve got some kind of weird three-way Mohawk going on to me.” Garth said dryly, and Lorena snickered. La’gaan huffed again. “Well, I think they look like fish people.”

The crystals ran all the way down the tunnel and around another corner and the teens followed them, examining the accompanying drawings as they went.

“Looks like the, uh-” Garth snuck an amused glance at the cranky La’gaan. “-fish people killed a lot of the, uh, other people.”

Kaldur stopped a little way ahead of him and rubbed some more moss away.  “They invaded their city. They killed many, and they invaded…that looks like a palace. There they killed the-” Kaldur cut off abruptly, and the other three immediately crowded around him. “What? They killed the what?” La’gaan demanded, trying to see over the shoulders of the older teens. “The child.” Kaldur finished finally. “They killed the king and queen’s child.” They all fell silent for a while, staring at the image of a female bent over a small body stuck full of strange weapons, while a male standing by two thrones raged at the alien-looking invaders. The irony of finding a story about a child prince being murdered, on the same day that they celebrated their own prince’s birth, wasn’t lost on any of them. Finally, Lorena floated to the next set of images and one by one the boys followed.

“You know…” She said suddenly. “I thought all these weird symbols around the pictures were just fancy borders, but…they kinda look like words, don’t they?” Kaldur and La’gaan promptly looked at Garth. “You’ve spent the last couple years learning all sorts of different languages.” La’gaan said. “Any ideas?” Garth studied the looping script for several minutes before shaking his head. “It’s no language I’ve ever studied.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “And I’ve studied a few.”

Lorena meanwhile had already gotten bored waiting and had moved onto the next set of drawings and La’gaan turned and drifted after her. “Another battle.” He observed. Garth squinted at the shadows obscuring the rock above the image. “Nine days.” He said suddenly. Kaldur looked at him questioningly. “There are nine suns above the picture.” Garth explained. “The fish people and the people in the city fought for nine days and then…” He turned to follow the drawings and frowned. “It goes up.” They all traded apprehensive looks before swimming up the tunnel, until they found themselves above water and standing in a small circular room. Here the crystals and the drawings on either side of the tunnel met at the far end of the room, with the largest crystal yet protruding above the final drawing. Lorena crossed the room to it, leaving a trail of puddles behind her. “From the looks of the drawings we swam by on the way up here, the people from the city drove the fish people into the sea-“

“Stupid idea.” La’gaan interrupted with a scoff. He grinned nastily, showing his sharp teeth. “We fish people are stronger in the water.” Kaldur wasn’t quite sure how he felt about La’gaan identifying with the murderous beings in the drawings, but he and Garth both nodded in agreement. Fighting an Atlantean in the water was an incredibly stupid idea. Not that the fish people were Atlanteans, he reminded himself. And not that Atlanteans were fish people. To say that calling them that was rude was a huge understatement. Lorena coughed exaggeratedly, shooting an apologetic-looking La’gaan an annoyed frown.

“Anyways. They drove them into the sea, all the way into a…” She squinted, turning in circles as she attempted to decipher the faded scribbles. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be, honestly. It looks like a spoon. Whoever drew these was not very good.”

“They certainly had their own style.” Kaldur agreed, amused.  

“At any rate that looks like the queen again.” She gestured. “She showed up after her people drove the fish people into the spoon-“ La’gaan snickered in the background and Lorena grinned. “-and then the queen showed up and like, threw off a bunch of lightning or something, or maybe they’re snakes, or noodles, because honestly who even knows anymore.” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Certainly not me. But all that matters is that the fish people were trapped in the spoon forever more. The end.” Garth and Kaldur both clapped sarcastically and she bowed dramatically. “Thanks. I’ll be here all day.” She and La’gaan both wandered away to examine the other images in greater detail and mess with the crystals, while Garth joined Kaldur at the front of the room. Standing there in front of the image of the queen, who was bent oddly in half and surrounded by squiggly lines, and bathed in the weird light of the crystals, Kaldur felt the prickling sensation on the back of his neck again and stronger than ever. Something about the cave felt off, felt wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. Garth stepped up beside him, even quieter than usual. Finally, he said, “They look Atlantean.”

“What do?”

“The words.”

Kaldur frowned at him in confusion. “I thought you said you didn’t recognize them.” “I don’t. At least not completely. They’re a different language, but some of the letters look similar.” He stepped closer to the image of the queen. “See, this word here could be ‘power’, or maybe ‘strength’. But the lines here and here are all wrong.” “I see it.” Kaldur hesitated. “Could they possibly be an offshoot of the Atlantean people?”

“Normally that’s what I would’ve thought, but I can’t imagine Atlanteans living in Amnesty Bay at any point and King Orin not knowing about it-“

“Neptune’s beard!”

“Well, that didn’t work.” Lorena said sarcastically. “Are you two alright?” Kaldur asked in concern. La’gaan wrung his hand, grimacing in pain. “Fine.” “Turns out those crystals don’t budge.” Lorena informed them cheerfully, while La’gaan sucked on his aching finger and glared at the offending rock. “And why exactly did you try?” Garth asked. La’gaan scowled at him. “Thought it would make a nice souvenir for Beast Boy.” He muttered. “Guess it didn’t feel the same.”

At that moment Kaldur’s earpiece crackled. “Kaldur, we’re planning on leaving in about an hour. Are you four doing alright?” He turned away from the group, gesturing for silence. “We are fine, my king. We were…exploring. We will head back now.” Aquaman laughed. “This is a good place for that. We’ll see you soon then.” Kaldur hummed in acknowledgement. “Time to go?” La’gaan asked in disappointment and he nodded. They all wandered towards the exit, Lorena and La’gaan playfully pushing each other aside to get there first. They were right at the water’s edge when Lorena gave him a rather overenthusiastic shove and he stumbled over something sticking out of the floor and tripped.

“NEPTUNE’S BEARD!” He howled, clutching at his foot. Far from being apologetic, Lorena instead looked exasperated. “Do you ever use any expressions other than that one?” La’gaan bared his teeth at her, rolling to a sitting position and rubbing his newest aching limb. Lorena crouched beside him and rubbed some dirt away from the object responsible. “It’s a piece of wood. Didn’t get any splinters, did ya’?” She teased. “I’m fine.” La’gaan growled, even crankier than before. She ignored him, rubbing at the piece of wood a little harder, frowning in concentration. “Hey, it looks like the corner of a box.” “So?” La’gaan grumbled. “Who cares.” But Lorena didn’t seem interested in leaving until she uncovered it completely, so Kaldur formed one of his water bearers into a blade and helped her scrape away the hard dirt. Sure enough, buried beneath the floor of the cave was an ancient-looking chest. A worn, rusted lock just barely held it shut. One blow from Kaldur and it shattered. Lorena pulled it off and lifted the lid. She yelped.

“No way.” La’gaan breathed. Kaldur’s jaw dropped. “Unbelievable.” Even Garth looked amazed. ”Is that…?”

“TREASURE!” La’gaan and Lorena yelled together. She threw the lid wide open. “No way, we found a treasure chest!” “We? I found it.” La’gaan argued. “You said you didn’t care.” She argued back. “Well, I care now.” They glared at each other for a moment and then Lorena started laughing. “Right? I mean, look at all this stuff!” She ran her hand lovingly over the contents. “Perhaps we should take it back to the lighthouse.” Kaldur suggested. “We’ll be able to see better.” “Good plan.” Lorena carefully closed the lid. “I’ll carry it.” La’gaan offered. He took it by the worn handles on either side and heaved. He got it only a few inches off the floor before he dropped it with a grunt. “Oh, you wanna play it that way?” He took a deep breath and started to swell. When he had inflated to twice his normal size he tried again, this time easily lifting the chest. One by one they all stepped back into the water. The trip back was slow, La’gaan’s pace hampered by the awkward, heavy chest and loss of use of his arms. At last they reached the shore. Both Aquaman and Mera were waiting for them, looking anxious, while Arthur amused himself with his remote control sub.

“There you are.” Aquaman said as soon as Kaldur and Lorena emerged from the water. “We were starting to worry.”

Kaldur saluted him briefly. “We apologize for the delay. We got…sidetracked.” La’gaan dropped the chest into the sand with a puff of exertion, slowly deflating back to his normal size. “Check this out.” Lorena said gleefully, throwing open the chest. Mera and Aquaman both gasped. Arthur abandoned his toy to come see what had caught their attention. “No way! You guys found a treasure chest?!” He crossed his arms and pouted. “Aww, man! I wish I had come with you.” “You can pick something out if you would like.” Kaldur offered immediately. “Yeah; after all, it’s your birthday.” Lorena added. With some difficulty she and La’gaan managed to turn the chest on its side. Coins and other items, all seemingly cast in solid gold, cascaded over the sand. Aquaman shook his head in disbelief. “Where did you find this?”

“In an underwater cave.” Kaldur said. “And completely by chance. La’gaan tripped over it.”

“Outrageous.” Aquaman murmured.

“Whoaaa! I want this!” Arthur held up a rather wicked-looking dagger, the gold handle at odds with the worn leather sheath. Mera looked less than thrilled by his choice.

Aquaman, on the other hand, looked pleased; but his caution as a parent quickly won out. “You can have it, but keep it sheathed until I show you how to use it, okay?”

“’Kay!”

“Ooh, I know what I’m taking!” Lorena carefully pulled a long necklace out from under a pile of coins. It was made with a combination of pieces of crystal like the ones in the cave, and what Kaldur realized with a start were fragments of bone. Lorena fingered one. “Creepy.” She sounded far from creeped out, though, and immediately put it on.

Kaldur moved closer to pick out something for himself and saw La’gaan stealthily slide a bracelet much like Lorena’s necklace into his bag. He caught Kaldur staring and flushed. “It’s not for me.” He said defensively. Kaldur didn’t say anything and La’gaan fidgeted. “It’s for M’gaan.” He admitted finally. “I’m sure she will love it.” Kaldur said softly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Garth choose an almost identical bracelet, and while it looked like something he might actually wear Kaldur had a feeling he knew who it was really for. That was none of his business, though, so he busied himself searching through the remaining treasure and eventually found what he had been looking for. La’gaan raised an eyebrow at the small necklace he pulled from the bottom of the chest. “It’s not for me.” Kaldur parroted his early statement, and carefully lay the necklace inside a leather pouch that had also been in the chest.

Aquaman and Mera gathered up Arthur’s presents and the picnic supplies, giving them a little more time to look through the chest’s contents. Eventually, though, Aquaman gently prompted them to wrap it up.

“We’ll take the rest back to Atlantis and you can all divvy it up later.” Carefully they replaced all the treasure into the chest, and Aquaman took one of the handles. “La’gaan, do you mind?” La’gaan took the other, and with some effort they managed to lift it and started the slow walk back to the Zeta portal.

Kaldur was lagging a bit behind the rest of the group, puzzling over the drawings in the cave and the intense feeling of foreboding that emanated from it. He turned a corner and almost ran over Lorena, who was stopped in the middle of the trail holding her head. All thoughts of the cave immediately vanished. “Are you alright?” She teetered a little, bracing herself against a tree. “Yeah, my head just…hurt really bad for a second. I’m okay now.” She took a few wobbly steps and stopped again. He took her arm, half afraid that she was going to faint.

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t answer immediately. She took a few deep breaths and when she started forward again her steps were steadier. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll just take some Advil when I get home and I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” He said worriedly, and she flashed him a strained smile, face slightly pale. “Seriously, Kaldur, I’m fine. You worry too much.” 

The rest of the walk went without incident, but Kaldur stayed by her side nonetheless until they reached the Zeta portal and she teleported to her home town of San Diego while the rest of them returned to Atlantis. As they swam back to the palace, treasure in tow, Kaldur finally managed to convince himself that Lorena’s sudden affliction had nothing to do with the cave. ‘Too much time in the sun, nothing more.’ He told himself. ‘She’s fine; she said so herself.’ He didn’t know why he was so worried about her. Alright, that wasn’t completely true. One reason did come to mind, but he wasn’t ready to admit that yet, even to himself; so he did his best to put it and her out of his mind. ‘Forget about it. Don’t ruin a good day by overthinking things like you always do. She’s fine.’

‘She’s fine.’