#so this line makes me uh. scared mostly but also just vaguely emotional ? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

morphituu · 5 years ago

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Milagro

Chapter 10: “Fight or Flight”

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

Nick was ready to rip the electronic payphone from the ground when the line started ringing, so he angrily exhaled, looking over his shoulder. It had taken a great deal of patience and an even greater summoning of what little spanish he could recall to navigate the prompts before even connecting the call, all of which left him ready to rip something to pieces.

He kept thinking Callie had caught onto his curious questions from that morning after eyeing him curiously and vaguely answering his numerous inquiries. If she caught him like this, she’d likely castrate him-

The line clicked.

“Hello?”

“Matuk?” Nick cautiously regarded.

There was hesitation. “Munguz?”

“Hey kid,”

“What’s with the new number?” Matuk queeried, and Nick could hear the chaos of his younger siblings in the background. Of course I catch him in the middle of shit.

“It’s a long story,” he chose to convey in lieu of fitting 2 chaotic days into one breath. “Listen, I need a favor. A big one,”

“Oookay,” Matuk sounded apprehensive.

“Can you come get Callie from the border? We uh… we got mixed up in some weird shit, and I can’t get into details, but she can’t be here. And she needs to be hidden,” Nick leaned against the phone box’s side, his index and thumb rubbing over his tired eyes.

“What border?”

“Mexico,” Nick cringed.

He heard the beginnings of words from the other end, but Matuk faltered before asking, “Hidden? Like hidden hidden?”

“No, like- she can’t be out in public,”

“What did you two do-” Mauk questioned skeptically.

“I promise I’ll tell you eventually but right now I just need to know if you can come get her. She cannot be here in the condition she’s in,” Nick barked out, impatience lining his tone.

“I mean, yeah, yeah I can come get her, but I don’t think she’s gonna stay put for too long, dude,” Matuk sighed, recalling the numerous times he’d been set to work keeping an eye on her after a pregnancy scare early on in her first trimester. Matuk quickly came to learn that when Callie felt crowded, her attitude would grow faster than her irritation, often spitting sour remarks in hopes of backing people off. “Is she gonna come willingly?”

When there was silence, Matuk sputtered low in Orkish.

“I’m not giving her the choice to stay,”

“How am I gonna get her to stay then?” the younger Orc groaned, pulling the phone away to silence his rambunctious siblings.

“Handcuff her to something if you have to, but Matuk, don’t let her out of your sight. She can’t be left alone,”

The noisiness from Matuk’s end faded, and Nick could hear the faint closing of a door. “Do I need to tell Dorghu about this?”

Nick closed his eyes. That thought had crept to the forefront of his mind the night prior as he laid awake, restless and staring at their door or window, but didn’t know how involving the Fogteeth would affect their situation.

“No. Not yet, at least,” Nick decided. It was mostly because he didn’t deem it fit to have any more bodies involved, but Nick also feared for his own life and the ones around him. Dorghu had shot him once over a wand, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? “I just need you to come get her,”

“Okay. It’s gonna take a few hours,” Matuk agreed.

“Maybe that’ll be enough time for Callie to burn out after I tell her,” he groaned, pulling his hand down his face.

“Have fun with that. Be there soon,” Matuk was already pulling his boots on when he wiggled the phone back into his palm.

“Thanks.” He mumbled before the line went dead, and he placed the phone back onto its holder. Now that he was faced with having to somehow convince Callie to leave without him- after their discussion from the night before, no less- he didn’t know if he had it in his heart to remain resilient when telling her. He already knew there’d be panic, and sadness, even more betrayal.

But how could he watch her leave knowing there might not be another chance to see her? What if this went on and on, and he wasn’t there to see the birth of his son?

Nick could physically feel his heart clench.

What if there was never the time to see her smiling up at him with Leo in her arms?

That alone was almost enough to leave him breathless, but he couldn’t keep thinking like that. Even if he was never able to hold Leo in his arms or look into Callie’s eyes again, then at least they’d have each other. There was no way he could go on bearing the thought alone that they could be ripped from his grasp at any moment.

Nick’s hands ran over his smooth scalp to the back of his neck as he walked, his feet heavy with dread and heart conflicted.

The desire to snap his eyes open and it all just be a fucking nightmare was crushing.

The selfish desire to keep her near him was just as powerful.

Nick stopped beside a curb, hunkering down to squat, holding his face. Where the decision had been obvious that morning, it was not apparent to Nick until that instant just how much willpower this was going to suck out of him.

“Nick?”

He looked up enough to catch Ward walking towards him with a few bags of groceries at his side, but Nick’s head fell back into his hands.

“What’s up?” Daryl asked, the Orcs dismay obvious once he’d stood. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I got ahold of him,” Nick explained. Daryl understood; Nick had filled him in on his plan while they walked to the market for food to take along with them on their journey. “I just-” Nick exhaled, a hand on his chest, turning away. “I didn’t think-”

“Yo, okay, sit down,” Ward turned him back around, ushering him towards the high curb. “Sit your big ass down, c’mon,” he pushed against his wide shoulders until the Orc sat, struggling to slow his ragged breathing.

“Deep breaths,” Ward instructed calmly, leaving a comforting hand upon his back. He waited with patience as his normally composed friend fought to conquer an episode he’d likely experienced little of his entire life, judging by the way he glanced around them in panic, as if something was causing the assault his mind was the direct cause of.

“First panic attack?” Daryl asked, but Nick was still trembling, counting backwards in his head through the rampaging thoughts that together made a swirling storm of anguish. “Get ready for those when you’re a dad,”

“That’s it, though. What if I don’t get that chance?” Nick choked out, but with his face hidden in his hands, Ward couldn’t see the rampant emotions twisting his face. “All this time it took to get where we are and now I don’t even know if I’ll get to see what my son looks like,”

Daryl nodded, looking out to the street packed with ongoing life, oblivious to their turmoil or the danger that could be lurking around any given corner. He placed the groceries between his feet, leaning forward onto his knees as he looked at the eggs in the bag. It could’ve been any morning he was off buying food for his own wife and daughter.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see Sophia again,” Daryl said calmly, hooking Nick’s attention enough that he unburied his face from his palms. “At first I worried about Kandomere harassin’ them, but now I can’t stop thinking that I should’ve just gone to dinner with them. We… we’ve been fighting lately. Shit stirs up sometimes, you know? We have months where we vibin’ and everything is perfect, and then we have weeks where we can barely look at each other and fight over stupid, dumb shit. Now I can’t stop thinking…” Ward paused to motion with his hands, as if trying to pull the words from himself. “I can’t stop thinking that she must think I left. That I gave up,”

Nick sat straighter. “You wouldn’t do that,”

“I wouldn’t, but she came home to an empty house after 2 weeks of endless fighting. I keep thinking my little girl must feel abandoned, and I can’t do anything to comfort her this far away,” Daryl’s tone was bleak, much like the absence in his eyes as he stared before himself. “But that’s why I need to get back, that’s my drive,”

Nick’s eyes met his. “That’s why you need to make it back. Forget that Callie would tear you to pieces if you go and get your ass killed,” he nudged Nick, provoking the smallest grin from him. “You owe it to your kid. He can’t go growin’ up without his dad. He’s half a you, and he’s gonna need you. He’ll grow up with questions even Callie can’t answer which is why you need to fight with all you got,”

“What if I still don’t make it back?” Nick wavered, but Daryl shoved him that time.

“Don’t even think about that. Make it home. That boy’s gonna have your blood and last name, but he still needs his father,”

Nick nodded despite still feeling whichever road he decided to venture down would inevitably bring heartache, but with both ends having no known outcome, all he could do was choose one and get walking.

“Cal’s gonna hate me,” he muttered.

“Let her. But in the end, she’s just gon’ be happy to have y’alls life back how it’s supposed to be,”

Daryl was right. “Either make you or break you,” Nick mumbled, and now his partner nodded avidly. “We should head back,”

“Y’alright?” Daryl held his shoulder before he could rise, wary of his stability, but Nick waved him off.

“Better than I’ll be in ten minutes.” Nick grumbled.

The men walked mostly in silence the small trek back to the house, constantly on alert but otherwise blending well into the life around them. TJ was full of tourists as it is, so they looked like any other foreigner.

They arrived at the house sooner than Nick had anticipated, still not knowing how he was going to present this, or more so, how he was going to get her to the border kicking and screaming, because he knew that was the only way she was going.

Tikka and Fero were bickering at the far end of the inner yard once the officers had walked through the heavy door, but neither cared to even try stopping them. Both would agree that they didn’t want anymore of their issues than had already been dropped in their laps, so they moved inside. By the looks of it at passing glance, it was a particularly sour topic. Fero’s head shook with restraint just as Tikka’s hands motioned here and there.

Don’t want any of that.

Nick didn’t find Callie until he peeked into the room they’d been using, and his decision was solidified as soon as he laid eyes on her gripping the bed frame with one hand and other other holding her stomach, an eye pinched shut in discomfort.

More Braxton Hicks.

“Hey,” she ground out.

“Bad one?” he asked, but she disagreed.

“He kicked right into one,” she motioned around her lower stomach, exhaling slowly when it passed. “If I sit down he protests,” Callie labored, swaying side to side. He almost forgot his motive when the desire to run his hands over her moving belly rushed him, but a quick glance at the window like he’d done countless times the night before brought it back.

Nick swallowed, smoothing his shirt down his front.

“I need to talk to you,” he spoke in such a way that sent alarming chills down her spine immediately, so she turned to him, waiting with big eyes full of uncertainty.

“I called Matuk,”

The shift of emotions on her face was immediate, a stiff step back putting distance between them that Nick immediately wanted to close. “No,”

“He said-”

“No,” she interrupted.

“He’d come get you at the border,”

“You swore-” she jabbed her finger towards him as he approached, stepping from his reach. “You promised-”

“I promised I’d keep you two safe,” Nick pleaded, still reaching.

“How are we safe if we’re not with you?” she boomed.

“You can’t be here! You need to be home-”

“There’s no home to go to, Nick! How do you expect me to go and just wait for you? Not knowing what’s going on?” she demanded, pushing his hands away.

His brows arched into a deeper glare, and he mustered every brittle fiber of courage he had. “You’re going home. You have no say this time,”

Now she walked up on him, glaring just as heatedly as he did down at her. “You can’t make me,” was all she hissed before turning heel, heading towards the door.

“What’ll you do if we’re attacked and you go into labor?”

She stopped at the door to shoot him an unamused look. “Seriously?”

Nick crossed the room in a few wide steps, meeting her steadfast form. “What will you do?”

“Push him out. I can handle it,” she jerked her chin in his direction, on the verge of growling at him as he continued to provoke her.

“You’re going to walk around with Leo in your arms after that? On the run, no doctors? A premature baby?”

Now she faltered, picturing a too small bundle of love in her arms, screaming at the top of his lungs… or maybe gasping for air. “I’ll protect him,” she dithered.

“He’s still too small, he needs doctors,”

“I’ll find one,” she blurted out before comprehending how ridiculous that was, and Nick’s twisted expression showed it.

“He’ll cry. They’ll follow his screams and fire at us- at him,” Nick forced out, his own crude words sinking his heart. When her eyes glossed over and her bottom lip quivered, he struggled to keep his composure. “You’ll be putting him in danger,”

Her eyes narrowed, stepping closer, leaning up on her tip-toes. “Don’t you dare put that on me. This, all of this is your fault,” she ground out, shoving against his chest, but Nick’s solid form was unmoving as he grabbed her wrist.

“And now I’m fixing it,”

She tried to yank her arm back, but his grip was mighty, even as she threw some of her weight into it.

“Let me go!” she hollered, but he snatched her other arm as she thrashed and pushed against him. “Nick let me go-”

“You have to leave! Don’t do this, Callie! If it were you-” he blocked a hit, “If it were you in my shoes would you let me stay with Leo?” he yelled over her protests, catching her shoulders. “Would you let that happen?”

Nick wanted to cry. He wanted to fall apart and hold her as she looked up at him with eyes glazed over in fear, and hurt, and… betrayal. Surely he didn’t think of this as that, but that obviously didn’t stop it from crawling it’s way up her frame to take hold of her heart.

“If there’s no other way I can stop this, then I’m not going to drag you two down with me. I need you two safe and alive,” Nick implored.

“I can’t-” she choked, but he shook his head. “Nick I can’t! I can’t do this without you!”

“I’ll be back, I don’t know when but I’ll always come back to you,”

“How can you guarantee that? We could die at any moment- any turn we take, that’s why you’re sending me away! How do you know you’ll come home?” she demanded, following his head when the questions left him searching blindly.

It was true. There was no guarantee he’d come home, but he couldn’t send her off with that.

“What if you don’t come back?”

The desperation in her eyes was painful, the fear shaking her voice. Nick held her sides, his thumbs stroking as he looked down at her stomach.

His face tightened; he almost couldn’t bare to send her away. “Then you’ll always have part of me with you.” But she was already weeping, her fingers curling into his shirt before he could stop tears springing forth to his own eyes.

“No,” she shoved away from him suddenly, hastily wiping her tears from her cheeks and receding into pure fury. “I’m not fucking leaving. I’m not going to leave and sit and stare out the window waiting for you to come home!” she screamed, swiping his hands away.

“Callie-”

“No! I’m not going to let you do this-”

The explosion knocked them both off their feet, and thankfully Callie flung forward right into his arms before they hit the floor.

It left their ears ringing and dust hovering over them. Nick kept her down until enough cleared that he could see the door she’d been standing before had splintered open, some of the wall crumbling and cracked, but it was nothing compared to the completely obliterated hallway that was now an entrance to the outside.

“Are you okay?” he asked quickly, finally moving from over her to help her stand. She nodded, coughing past the dust and smoke while Nick patted her down.

Another resonating explosion that trembled through the ground beneath their feet prompted him to shield her from the door and wall crumbling before him as the chaos ensued outside. Distant, slurred shouts from both Tikka and Fero could be heard, but upon daring a glance down the hall, only more damage befell him.

Callie looked around his shoulder, her heart plummeting when she laid eyes on the home that was the foundation of her greatest childhood memories, now cracked apart, reduced to it’s bones.

“Nick!”

The couple flinched at the voice beside them, but they moved aside just as Ward ran into their room from his own destroyed one, blood carving a path down his face.

“What the fuck is going on?” Nick hissed, the three sheilding their heads when there was another blast.

“He found us-”

There was only a ringing in his ears left after that one.

A blast strong enough to have scattered them about the room, hidden amongst the broken roof and smoke. He shielded his eyes from the debris falling over him, his limbs heavy and vision patchy.

Get up.

Nick groaned; he didn’t want to. His body protested completely. Had he ever felt so fatigued before?

Callie came skidding into his line of sight after staring at the sky through the broken roof, shaking him violently until he lazily looked at her.

His hairless brows furrowed. Why is she bleeding?

She was screaming, that much was obvious. So panicked, yanking at his big body violently as she continued to scream. He tried to stop her, but his eyes were slowly shutting despite the annoying booms around him vibrating harshly through the wooden floors beneath his body.

The dark when he shut his eyes was comforting; it closed out the noise-

His eyes sprung open after a sharp slap whipped across his cheek, and he met Callie’s panicked face again.

“Get the fuck up!” she screamed, pulling on his shoulders.

With the sound returning to his ears brought throbbing to his head and shoulder, and he growled viciously when she pulled on him again into an upright position. He looked- something had driven itself into his shoulder, probably a splinter from the roof. The blood ran warm down his arm, but he looked back to Callie frantically.

“You’re hurt!” he choked, holding her head. Somewhere there was something open, letting blood run freely down the side of her face and neck.

“Get up, we have to go!” she demanded, standing to lean back into her hoisting until he was standing wobbly, trying to steady himself.

“C’mere,” he called, wincing through the weight of the pain ringing through his head, pulling Callie under his arm as they cautiously crept towards the door. “Where’s Daryl?”

“He took off, I don’t know,”

Nick kept her at arms length as he stepped into the cluttered hall, sweeping over anything visible with blurry eyes. He motioned her over, kept behind him as they made their way down, peering cautiously into rooms that were in shambles.

The living room was turned inside out, a wall caved in and water spewing from broken piping, but behind that small fountain was Daryl crouched behind the split table.

“Daryl-”

“Shh!” he hissed, pointing urgently towards the broken windows lining the living room. Cautiously, Nick peered around the corner to look out into the yard.

Where he hoped to see Tikka or Fero was instead a stranger.

An Orc, bearing injuries that bled freely and an aggravated wand in his grasp. He was calm as he canvassed the area despite the heaving breaths Nick could see him taking, and he flinched back from sight just as the intruder turned to face the windows.

Nick pushed Callie into a room, shielding her behind the door as he pressed himself tight to the wall across from her.

Callie held a hand over her own mouth, pinching her eyes shut.

She fought internally to fight the urge to bolt, digging her nails into her palm where her body shook violently.

A heavy step entered the house, and she looked at Nick with wide, terrified eyes.

He mouthed something to her, but she couldn’t decipher it.

A figure running by the window caused her to flinch, her foot shooting out and hitting the door. Nick pulled her away before he even considered if it was heard above the cracking of the house, and shoved her deep into the closet he was beside, closing the door before she could reach for him.

“Makhel! Stop!” a female voice broke through the silence in the living room. “Stop this-”

“Get off!” Nick heard the booming voice of the stranger, than the telltale drop of a body hitting the floor and sliding across the debris. “You wish to stop me now?”

“They have nothing to do with this!” the female voice cried, and there was more shuffling, the grunts of struggling and a recognizable ringing of a wand.

“They helped her-”

“They’re no one!”

A high-pitched shot cracked through lingering dust around them, and silence filled the air again as Nick knelt down, shielded by the door and glancing at the closet Callie was still concealed in.

Another figure came bolting by the window, but there was familiarity in this one.

“Makhel!” That was Tikka, winded, frantic. “No- what’ve you done!?”

“She fed into your deceit-”

“Mahkel-”

“She…” the male’s voice was shaking, heavier breaths following his slurred words. “What did you do to her?”

A crack of thunder broke the air around them, and Nick jerked from the door when a broad body came flying against the door frame, falling to the floor before him.

Gold eyes met each other, and Nick finally was face to face with the rogue Bright; the Orc who was unbridled.

Nick did not flinch, or run, or move in the slightest as he slowly rose before him, their eye contact never breaking despite the wand glowing ominously in his palm. When he was straightened, Nick almost felt like laughing.

He was so fucking young. It pissed him off; what could have happened to this tike to make him so vicious? To literally hunt them like they were game? Killing, destroying- what?

It pulled his lips back over his teeth, growling lowly and shoulders hunching as Makhel fired back his own growl, flashing his impressive tusks. The fury eating away at him was evident just looking at this individual. It burned in his eyes, came off of him in potent waves. If there hadn’t been an active wand in his hand, Nick would’ve lunged by now, the fierce protectiveness shooting to every limb like pins and needles.

Now, they were in a classic Orkish standoff, calculating, waiting, planning, snarly and growls ripping through them like the Earth cracking, but any sound coming through the breaking house was drowned by the pounding in his ears. He was zeroed in, ready to launch forward, all the while comprehending only two words:

Protect Leo.

Familiar thunder cracking around them didn’t make Nick flinch nearly as bad as Makhel, but just as the younger Orc’s head turned towards the door, Nick swung.

It all happened so quickly that by the time they’d landed in the dry, arid trench of a separate town nestled near some snowy mountains, it took a solid minute for Nick to understand what had happened.

Fero had been the one who Carried in, blocking Nick’s hit under his own arm.

When the Elf twisted him to turn towards the closet Callie was reaching desperately from, Nick caught sight of Mikhel reaching for them, jaw opened in a rageful holler, the wand thrusting all too close by Nick’s head. The world fell out beneath them, and in a flurry of flashes and wild colors, he’d been deposited into the dirt and rocks, the white-hot sun shocking him.

His vision was still shaking, his ribs sore from the deep, ragged breaths he was still choking in. Though his vision was tunneled and red, he found Callie quickly, struggling to sit up some feet from him.

“Cal-” he coughed, the pulses in his vision now a painful throb as he struggled to her.

Check your mate. He might’ve defiled her.

He shook his head clear of the intruding thoughts just as he reached her, carefully lifting her despite his arm seizing from the wound in his shoulder.

The slap across his cheek was almost enough to throw him off his footing, but once he realized it was Callie who had smacked him, he steadied, looking at her in horror.

“What the fuck was that!?” she screamed, coming after him again, but he blocked her blow.

“Callie what the-”

“You try to send me away!? Are you fucking kidding me!?” she continued to holler, shoving against his chest and hitting his arms that raised in defense. “What if you would’ve died in that attack and I wasn’t there!?” her voice started to break from her screaming, her hits weakening quickly.

“That’s exactly why I wanted to send you home!” he yelled back, grabbing thrashing arms. “Callie stop!”

“Fuck you! You could’ve died and I’d never be able to say goodbye!” she sobbed, hitting him in rapid succession a few more times before she stepped back from him, breathlessly. “You can’t-” she gasped, stumbling. “You can’t throw yourself away like that,”

Heat collected across Nick’s cheek, but he pushed that ire down. He’d never seen her so… hysterical.

He exhaled, reaching for her. “Callie-”

His reach was pushed away, her head shaking. “You don’t understand,” she breathed while leaning on her knees, head hung.

Blood dripped from the ends of her hair to the sand below her, her breaths as dry as the landscape around them.

“Is Leo-”

“Nick!”

They both turned, finding Ward some ways away, motioning for them to come towards him quickly.

Nick and Callie looked at one another before she stepped away first, struggling to balance over the rocky terrain. He offered his hand, but she withdrew any chance she got, always a few steps ahead of him.

When they came to where Ward, a strange scene unfolded before them.

“Who’s that?” Callie aked, staring at another woman laid in the shade of a low tree, her back turned to them while Tikka spoke softly to her, Fero scrambling to rip open a backpack.

“She was with him,” Ward said, arms crossed and dirty, some scrapes around his face. “With that fuckin’ Orc,”

They looked back. “What happened?”

“He found us,” Tikka looked up, grabbing some of the supplies from the backpack with bloody hands to rip open the packaging. “He casted a spell and it just,” she exhaled sharply, flattening out squares of gauze. “It took us by surprise,”

“He destroyed my parents house,” Callie mumbled, eyes cutting downwards.

“But why is she here?” Nick pressed.

“He fired at her,” Fero shot back, helping Tikka carefully turn Rania. They muffled her cries with a shirt, pushing her thighs down from her stomach when she tried to curl into a ball. A gruesome, gaping hole was blown into her stomach, blood staining the sand beneath her. Tikka’s eyes cut up to Ward.

“You didn’t help,” she ground out, pressing the gauze into her wound despite her cries heightening. Callie flinched.

Ward stuttered. “How-”

“You could’ve called the wand!” she snapped, lifting her hand to switch gauze. “I told you to!”

He tried to form words, his face tight in anger, but the truth was, he’d been scared, downright terrified looking that wildeyed Orc in the eye with a wand in his hand. “I couldn’t…”

“You could have! You’re lucky she got you out of there!” Tikka exclaimed, moving to gently hush Rania when she protested loudly as they continued to press into the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“But what the fuck happened?” Nick interrupted.

“He attacked us in the yard first before he started firing on the house,” Tikka explained, pressure resolute against her stomach. “We were split from Ward,”

“I was inside, after the roof caved in over you two,” Ward pointed to Nick and Callie. “I was in the living room n’... and he came in but he didn’t see me until she came runnin’ and he attacked her,”

“She Carried him here, and I followed so he couldn’t call my wand,” Tikka huffed, relieved to see the bleeding was slowing. “Fero was the last to find you two,”

“I came face to face with him,” Nick muttered, recalling those tense moments that were colored red.

Fero turned, nodding towards him. “He got your ear,”

Nick’s brows knit together, and when he moved to touch his ear, he was met with warm blood and intense stinging under his touch.

“He cut your ear,” Callie noted, cringing.

“How bad?” he exclaimed, and flinched when a roll of gauze hit his chest that he fumbled to catch.

“It’s half gone,”

“What!?” he yelled, searching frantically for anything reflective. But when he tried to twitch his ear, it was just… absent. Not even numb, just gone. Carefully he pinched along his ear until he was met with the pads of his own fingers instead of the point of an ear.

Constricted yelps from Rania brought them back to the real dilemma, watching her ball the shirt against her face as Tikka and Fero secured bandaging around her waist, doing their best to keep the sand from her bloody skin.

“Can’t you heal it?” Callie asked, but Tikka shook her head, face sorrowing.

“I can’t heal what another wand inflicts,” she rasped, at last finishing and pulling her ripped, stained shirt back down her stomach, reaching to smooth back her thick hair plastered against face. Now that the shirt was moved, they could see the short tusks and sparse coloring across her dark skin.

Rania grasped her hand shakily, nodding in silent thanks as she struggled to slow her breathing.

“We need to find cover,” Fero interjected gently, Tikka agreeing. “Can you stand?”

Rania looked to Fero in exhaustion, but she nodded determinedly, breathing deep before carefully curling forward with immense difficulty. The elves were there to ease her up as she yelped into a sitting position, a jacket thrown over her shoulders to mask some of the damage done to her by the time she made it to her feet, but Fero still pulled her arm behind his neck.

“Are you all okay?” Tikka asked, packing up the remainder of the back-pack. They all nodded despite their own blood and injuries covering them in various spots. Nothing could match up to a hole blown through the abdomen.

“C’mon then,” Fero jerked his head, slowly pulling Rania along, patient as she fought to take every step.

“Stay off the sidewalks until we find somewhere, I’ll go ahead,” Tikka called to him as she jogged onwards, leaving the others to trail behind him at Rania’s pace.

Nick looked on at Callie worriedly, itching to move her hair aside so he could find the source of the blood spilling down her cheek, but one cold glare from her kept his hands at his sides. She didn’t bother walking beside him, and instead stayed before him, glancing back when she’d stumble over a rock or lose balance.

You didn’t protect her.

Nick pinched his eyes shut, his head hanging as he walked after them. Shut up.

Following the barren dirt road lead them to a series of small houses, barely on their last legs and few inhabited, but the one Tikka chose looked to still have some kind of occupant despite being empty. Fresh fruit was on the battered wooden countertop, and a broom sat in the corner with dirt and dust swept across the concrete floors.

“I’ll take care of them if they come back,” she reassured. Neither knew what ‘taking care of’ entitled, but in all honesty, all of them were too shaken and exhausted to really care.

Rania was dragging her feet by the time Fero, with the help of Ward now, found an old, weathered couch to place her across. The wound had started to bleed again, running the length of her leg and turning her carob skin a few shades lighter. Sweat lined her completely, her wild hair drenched and loose shirt clung to her.

The girl was clearly in agony, her condition obviously worse than before. Vicious trembles racked down her form, and when she’d managed to open her eyes, the blood vessels were burst and staining the whites.

“That needs to be stopped,” Callie commented as she looked on at the soaking of Rania’s shirt. Who ever had been there had thankfully left a basket of clean laundry on the table, including a multitude of wash clothes that Callie scooped up before kneeling by the injured halfling.

“Be careful,” Nick reached for her, but Callie’s glare stopped him.

“What can she do like this?” she snapped, but now Nick had just as sour of an expression to lash back with.

“Are you serious?”

“Both of you shut up,” Tikka cut in, going about removing the soaked gauze.

“Stop-” Rania coughed, but it was too late.

Tikka’s hands withdrew, sitting back on her heels. When she looked at Rania’s pained eyes, swelling with tears, it was evident she’d already known her fate was sealed.

Callie had initially reached to apply pressure, but upon seeing the white, stone like flesh cinching around the wound that was already closing, she too withdrew, looking to Tikka.

“What is- what’s…?” she stuttered, but Tikka only moved to hold Rania’s hand.

The two looked at one another, the acceptance unwanted, but this far gone, there was nothing any of them could do. No doctor could reverse the damage already coursing its way through her body, inflicted by the one that had promised to throw his life down in protection.

“I tried to stop him,” Rania wept, but Tikka shook her head. “Ele se foi- sinto muito,”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Fero kneeled down, his hand placed of theirs.

“Eu poderia ter parado ele naquela noite,”

“No, Rania. Makhel was gone long before that. You’re not responsible for this,” Tikka held her face now, wiping away the tears that slipped down her round cheeks, her once vibrant hazel eyes shiting in depth as the cursed spell rampaged throughout her.

Rania nodded, doing her best to take a deep breath in, but coughed on the exhalation, blood pouring over her tusked lips.

Callie handed her the cloth, helping her lift her hand to her mouth.

Rania looked over the human slowly, her eyes lingering on her stomach. “I’m sorry to you, too,”

Callie’s brows furrowed. “He attacked your home. You’re,” Rania’s hand fell to hang off the couch, fingertips barely grazing her stomach as Nick lunged forward to pull Callie back.

“She won’t do anything!” Tikka barked, but Nick’s actions were resolute, unwilling to release Callie even as she pulled against his hold about her shoulders.

“I am sorry,” Rania craned her neck to look at Nick. “I am sorry,” she exhaled, falling back into a slump, her eyes sliding shut.

“You need to rest,” Tikka urged, speaking to her softly as Fero went about finding more cushions to ease her painful body as much as possible.

Callie at last got herself from under Nick’s hold, glancing back at him. He tried to soften his face, but irritation was starting to prick across his skin. She hadn’t given him any indication to her or Leo’s condition, and he assumed if he asked, even now, she’d give him little in her furious state.

He looked to Rania as Callie followed Ward deeper into the house, and he was surprised to see her looking up at him, barely conscious that was.

Though he tried to care less about the woman who’d been at the side of the Orc who nearly ended all of their lives, he couldn’t help but feel some sympathy.

The man she’d trusted turned on her, for what reason he didn’t know, but it wasn’t only that.

Staring her in the eyes struck a deep chord within him.

What’s to say his own halfling wouldn’t meet a similar fate? He knew how pushed they were to the brinks of society, how many times he'd been called to scenes of suicides to halflings that saw it as their only option left in the last days of their lives.

With a low chuff, he moved away, resilient in his efforts to stay near Callie until she brought down the wall she’d built between them.

Rania’s eyes followed him until he’d left the room, leaving her to look back to Tikka who was wiping around her wound carefully, riding the blood splashed across her skin. The marble coloration was spreading, but the bleeding had stopped, unlike the pain that would continue to increase.

“Is he the Orc?” she asked softly, her voice breaking.

Tikka nodded, a grin barely curling the corner of her mouth. “That’s the one,”

“He reminds me of my father,” she breathed, stiffly adjusting her head against the cushion.

Tikka finished, handing Fero the stained gauze and pulling the quilt thrown over the back of the couch over her, even moving her hair behind her pointed ears before grabbing her hand. “Do they know?”

Rania shook her head slowly, eyes still closed. “I haven’t spoken to them since that week before,”

“Rania,” she waited until her eyes cracked open. “You need to go home,”

“What’s the point? I’ll be dead before they can even make it here,” she forced out, hand raising to cover her face as it pinched. “I don’t want them to know what happened,”

Nick rolled his eyes as their conversation was lost in the distance he put between them, following Callie and Ward to the back of the small house where they’d found clothes and rubbing alcohol in a cramped bathroom.

He felt like an awkward bystander as he watched her go about dividing the cloths up and dousing them with alcohol, even helping Ward with the scrapes across his cheek and arms.

“You need to get looked at too,” Nick piped in, and Ward stepped aside to allow her to move to him, but she didn’t even bat an eye.

“Callie,” Nick tried, but she only glanced at him, tipping the bottle onto the rag again.

“Are you really ignoring me?” the Orc snapped, but the purposeful turn of her shoulders so her back was to him said everything he needed.

Heat flushed across his cheeks, and he was sure a few droplets of blood spewed from his ear with the way his heart kicked into high gear.

“Daryl,” he growled, and Ward was swift in maneuvering between them, happy to tend to himself elsewhere.

He leaned in the doorway, an unmoving wall she knew she had no chance of squeezing past. So at last she turned to him, arms crossed as his and provocation rolling off both of them. He knew she was uncomfortable; she would try but could never hide the slight wincing of her eyes when she’d have a particularly gnarly cramp or stop herself from swaying when her back ached too severely.

Throwing in bodily injuries and exhaustion was only aggravating that.

“What’s hurt?” he asked, but she shrugged.

“Haven’t had a minute to look,” she tilted her head, jaw set.

“Leo?”

“Quiet,”

He sighed. “Can you give me more than that?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

His arms unfolded, taking a menacing step towards her. “Don’t act like you’re not bothered by that just because you’re pissed at me,”

“I have every right to be pissed at you,” she piqued, but a wide step into the bathroom sent her stepping back, flinching when the door slammed heatedly behind him.

“Then be fucking angry, but I’m not going to sit and feel bad when I was trying to keep you two safe!” he yelled, even leaning down to get eye level. “You’re always first to tell me how unwilling you are to put up with any shit that could affect you or Leo and now you’re spinning on me and guilting me into doing the same? Are you fucking kidding me Callie?”

“It’s not the same-”

“You’re right, it’s worse! We have roofs falling on our heads and shots firing everywhere and you have the audacity to turn on me and make me the bad guy for doing what I’m supposed to be doing!” he finished, leaving her pressed tight against the wall, staring up at him with a deep frown and angrily arched brows, tears glazing over her eyes.

“This isn’t my fault-”

“I never said it was!” he boomed, throwing his fist into the wall beside her. She cowered away, pulling her arms to her chest.

He was huffing, watching her as he shifted side to side angrily. “You can do whatever you want, hate me all you need, but don’t put Leo in the center of it. You’d never look at me again if I did that to you Callie, and I sure as hell won’t look at you if you pull that shit again.”

It pissed her off to no end that what he said was true; that she couldn’t battle it.

She’d directed all her anger from their situation onto him knowing full well she would’ve thought to send him to safety if Leo were attached to him. He was doing exactly what she was despite being the one who would’ve stayed behind in the middle of it, all to make sure they were safe. Now she’d gone and effectively pushed her rock into a state of rage, leaving her… alone, it now seemed.

By the time she’d come to this realization, he’d already left the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself again to leave her with her fists balled against her eyes in repressed sobs.

Fuck this- fuck everything about it.

Callie bit another choke of cries back, straightening herself, pushing down everything that hurt across her body.

She stared at the door, clicking her teeth together and wiping her cheeks, collecting some sticky blood along the way. A pitiful whine made it past her lips when she waited and he didn’t come back in.

First instinct when she felt like her world was collapsing was to run to Nick. Where was he now that she’d pushed him away?

Find him.

She was across the narrow bathroom in a few shaking steps, yanking hard against the doorknob- of course he slammed it hard enough to jam- to step into the hallway, searching through the small living room that was empty.

She exhaled, fists curling at her sides and eyes jumping frantically.

“Callie,”

A quick spin found Nick leaned just outside the bathroom door, his temper brought down considerably as he looked on at her in shame.

A small whimper came forth as he pushed off the wall to open his arms just as she’d stumbled into them, pressing her face tight against his chest and her body against him, his hands sweeping across her back, his brawny arms finally locking tightly around her.

Soft sniffles compelled him to wiggle his head down to press kisses against her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking,”

Nick nodded, resting his cheek where his kisses once did. “It’s over with,” he moved to rest his chin there, looking over the sparse living room, but then uncurled the arm around her neck when her sticky hair reminded him of more pressing matters. “You gotta get looked at,”

“Couple more seconds,” she pleaded, clasping her hands behind him. “You scared the shit outta me at the house,”

Nick leaned back to look at her quizzically as she slid her cheek up to gaze at him. “You passed out. I didn’t think you were gonna wake up,” she frowned.

“How long was I out for?” his brows knit together.

“Couple minutes,”

He chuffed contritely. “What a great father I’ve been so far,”

“Don’t feel too bad. I tried to convince you I could keep a premature baby alive with no doctors,”

She felt his laugh rumble through his chest, prompting her to look up at him again.

Callie’s eyes fluttered shut when he pressed his lips to hers, leaning deeper into his hold when he held her jaw so he could continue to caress her lips sweetly, the last of his bubbling rage falling to his feet.

“How’re y’all makin’ out with a missing ear and hole blown into your head?”

Callie felt Nick’s displeased sigh before he looked behind her to see Ward trudging towards them, still holding her tight against his chest as his partner came to stand beside the two.

“Glad you two made up so I ain’t caught in the middle’a one of those petty fights again,” he sassed, but Callie stared at him defiantly, burrowing her face tighter against Nick as he held around her shoulders. “You okay mamas?”

She nodded, unwillingly pulling from her Orc when Daryl started handing off various medical instruments and bandaging from the worn backpack Tikka had brought along.

“We’ve had all this the entire time?” Nick asked.

“Nah, this is uh… what’s-her-name’s bag,” he explained, grabbing some gauze and tape for himself.

“Rania,” Callie corrected, meeting Nick’s vexed expression. “What?”

“She’s part of the reason we’re here,”

“Then why else would she save you?” Callie pressed Ward, but he was answerless. “Look at her now,”

“Look at us now.” Ward muttered, walking away. She rolled her eyes, returning to the matter at hand.

“Hold still,” she again said, face lined in concentration as she carefully- despite her hands being more unsteady than usual- used the metal tweezers to delicately pick out the debris left in the stab wound in Nick’s shoulder. The worst, which had been a few jagged pieces of rooftop and a piece of wood splintering off of the biggest fragment into his flesh had passed, but every light brush of gauze or the tweezers shot down his arm, causing a hard recoil or loud growl.

“There’s like a little pebble or something,” she winced, but a hard shudder and shake of his head stopped her. “Reached your limit?”

He nodded, exhaling hard when she dropped the tweezers in the sink beside him. “It’s the poking. Makes me nauseous,”

“I’m sorry,” she patted his cheek gently before tearing open more packets of gauze, preparing a makeshift bandage.

Nick was fighting back a growl when he wiped a doused cloth over his clipped ear, his line of sight moving behind Callie and over Rania, still laid across the couch. She hadn’t made a peep since being laid there, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. Occasionally she’d tilt her head in the direction of a sound, quietly observing the world around her without sight.

Her fragile state didn’t convince Nick, however.

He’d seen a hole blasted through Leila only to rise again and nearly kill him. Bright’s were a race all in their own; underestimating their ability wasn’t something he did lightly.

“Hush,” Callie snapped lowly, smoothing the tape along his skin, silencing his low protests.

“They should have her tied up,”

She glared down at him flatly. “Did you see the hole in her stomach?”

“I’ve seen what Bright’s can bounce back from,” he retorted.

“There’s no bouncing back from a dolo spell,” Tikka walked into the room, carrying with her a few bottles of water and another backpack.

“A what?” Callie asked, changing places with Nick once he’d pulled his shirt back down.

“It’s the deceit spell. It maims, then heals, but the damage is left behind to tear you from the inside out,” she interpreted, glancing at the two. “I can’t believe he used it on her,”

“Can’t be surprised your students use what you teach,” Nick mumbled, grunting when Callie pinched his side. He shrugged, helping her move her sticky hair aside to see the wound across her scalp.

“We don’t teach torture spells. They take time, practice- practice on living subjects,”

Callie hissed when he found the wound, which was actually a small section of her scalp that’d been lifted from her skull. Hesitation stuttered his actions.

“The other Brights,”

The three looked to Rania who’d opened her eyes, still bloodshot and sunken. “I think he practiced on them,” she rasped, shaking her head. “He was as absent as he was involved,”

“That accounts for you too,” Nick commented, enduring a harder smack to his side.

“Knock it off,” Callie ground out.

“No! They’ve been telling us nothing but how dangerous they are and how imperative it is to stop them and now you want me to show mercy? After her little boyfriend tried to kill you? After he killed Pucca?” he grilled, taking turns looking between the girls.

“That was before this,” Tikka tried, but Nick was unshakable as he waved a hand and turned back to Callie.

“How do you know she won’t turn on us?”

For that, Tikka’s silence was his only response.

“What if she leads him to us?” he pressed, and caught Rania arching her neck to glance back at Tikka who’s eyes darted away nervously.

Nick scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not trusting her until she’s dead or in MTF’s hands.”

He pulled Callie off of the table carefully to lead her away, but she still looked at Rania apologetically before they cut deeper into the house. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, or maybe it was the hormones that opened up avenues of empathy she didn’t know she had, but something in her spoke for Rania’s protection.

It could’ve also been because of her own halfling calling for attention every time her stomach growled.

Tikka hesitated before sorting out the remaining items in hand, her movements uncoordinated.

“They think we’ve found you all this time? On our own?”

Rania’s voice troubled her enough to drop something, but Tikka couldn’t find the words after a few tense seconds passed.

“Does Fero even know you’ve been leading us here since the beginning?”

Now she stopped altogether, turning, but didn’t cross the room to face Rania. “No,”

“Why?”

Tikka fidgeted. “He wouldn’t have stayed with me,”

Saying it out loud shed light on how ridiculous that actually was. The same logic she’d once used to convince herself that was of sound reason wasn’t even traceable across the tracks of her mind once her own foolishness set in, and Rania’s silence only burderened that.

Tikka didn’t have the courage to face the twice betrayal in Rania’s eyes as she rushed past her, choosing to dart through the house to find Fero.

��

“If we can just get him into the open we’d have the advantage,” Tikka rubbed her eyes, leaning onto her knees towards the fire.

“We’d still have to disarm him,” Nick grumbled, cheek rested against Callie’s head where she leaned into his side.

“That’s Ward,” Tikka pointed to Daryl who was leaned tiredly into his own palm, lifting either leg to keep his feet warm in the icy night. “I can keep his attention but if you don’t call that wand-”

“I know, I know, won’t happen again,” he assured half-heartedly, still picking at the last of his canned food.

“We still need somewhere that has cover,” Fero prodded the fire, tossing in a few leafy branches to keep it lively.

“Cover around here means going into town,” Callie said through her jaw; she had no desire to lift her head, and could barely keep her eyes open as she stared at the flames, wrapped in found jackets and a blanket for good measure, but even with all of that and Nick’s arm around her, the biting cold still found it’s way in.

“At least it’s a barren town,” Fero cracked, unphased by their glares.

“Is it really just as simple as Daryl calling the wand?” Nick asked. “What if he does that thing to get away?”

“Carry? I mean, there’s a possibility. I could stun him beforehand or at least try so he couldn’t sneak off like that,” Tikka rationalized.

“This whole plan is sittin’ on that then,” Daryl miffed.

“A plan is better than no plan,” she fought back, her line of sight cutting to the somewhat house behind him, then to Fero. “Can we take her with?”

Fero’s brow wrinkled. “You know she doesn’t have that long. I’d give her another 24 hours max,”

“We can’t just leave her here alone,”

Callie adjusted herself so her chin rested in her palm. “What happened to her? How did she end up here?” she asked, ignoring Nick’s low groan.

“I told you she was-”

“Attacked, I know, but how did she end up with him?” she pressed.

Tikka smoothed her hands down her thighs to her knees. “They were lovers. In a compound full of Elves I imagine they found great solace in each other,” she explained earnestly.

“Why didn’t he stop with the ones who attacked her?” Ward asked then.

“By then they’d both been beaten into the dirt by everyone at least once, so everyone became a target. His rage isn’t random, it was dormant,” Tikka tossed another twig into the fire, setting loose a small whisp of sparks that crackled loudly.

“How old are they?” Nick asked.

“They’re both 19,” Tikka spoke surely, the same statement having haunted her thoughts before.

Nick scoffed then. “They’re fucking babies,”

“Long past their adolescence where they’re from,” Fero defended, locking eyes with the Orc who had now come to shrug off anything the curly haired Elf said.

Nick still shook his head. “Like it’s the only place with those conditions. I can’t believe we’re running from a fucking child,”

“Not for long. This plan will work,” Tikka tried to say encouragingly between them, but their hearts were void of any hope just as their stomachs were of any decent food. Instead, they looked on to the fire, collecting its warmth when the world around them felt cold and unfamiliar.

She too looked to the flames once again. “It’ll work this time.”

It was silently that they all started to wander back into the small house after the fire had started to dwindle, spitting into low embers that barely kept their hands warm.

Nick reserved the only bed for Callie, hissing his own curses in return when Fero objected, but both women silenced their lovers and moved to separate ends of the house, leaving Ward to stretch across an old, creaking rocking chair he was longer than.

It was also decided upon that night that around the clock watches needed to be kept, and to Nick’s insistence, in the kitchen where Rania still laid, unable to even sit up pointed out by none other than Callie. Even if Tikka and Daryl hadn’t kept up on his persistence, he still trudged into the kitchen to sit at the windows side once Ward had come to wake him for his turn.

He’d almost forgotten they were holed up in an unknown individuals home somewhere deep in the hills of Mexico when he spun groggily from his slumber to face Daryl, and untangling from Callie once realization had set in made it all the harder to come to terms with their situation, again.

Unwillingly he slipped his arm from under her head, his touch running down her side to linger at her hip as he gazed down upon her, sleeping and for a short while oblivious to the danger closing in on them. Nick almost couldn’t summon the willpower to leave her side, even in the cramped bed, when he pulled her hair from her neck and face, grinning when she curled into a tighter ball, her arm draped over her bulging stomach.

I’m sorry. He pulled his hand back into his lap, looking at her silhouette under the moonlight peaking through the lace curtains as he stood. The patterns dripping over her were foreign, but her curves carved deeper into his memory than his own fingerprints.

Nick walked away before he allowed the stunning urge to pick her up and carry her out into the night, to take her anywhere else but where they were until he found his way home overtook him, but that desire burned to animosity, and it showed in his displeased glower when he walked into the kitchen and his eyes drifted over Rania.

It still shook the occasional growl from his lungs when he’d sigh, staring tiredly out the dirty window and over the pitch black landscape, only a dull house light here and there, sometimes the distant call of a coyote.

Nick yawned wide, leaning back in the small chair that creaked beneath his weight. The longer he struggled to keep his eyes open the more he realized how useless this watch was. There wasn’t much of anything Nick could do himself if Makhel came waltzing up again.

He glanced back at Rania. She could’ve already alerted Makhel; he could’ve been on his way.

He growled, crossing his arms.

“You’re right, you know,”

Nick turned in his chair to find Rania looking at him, and now that he was concentrating on her, he could see the pale marbling starting to discolor her hands and across her jaw. He glanced at the living room, but didn’t know why it made him uneasy to speak to her without Tikka present.

“Excuse me?”

“About what you said earlier, being held accountable for this mess,” she rasped, eyes illuminating in the minimal light when the low beams of a car swung by. “I had opportunities to stop him and I didn’t,”

Nick scoffed, swiveling back to face the window to hide the annoyance flickering across his features.

“I was scared. He was all I had,”

“You could have ran,” he blurted before thinking, turning head just enough to make sure his words made it to her.

“That’s easier said than done. Who would’ve believed me?” she asked, but Nick didn’t acknowledge her. She only had the plain of his back and an ear flicking in annoyance. “I know, not even Orcs like talking to halflings,”

“Don’t put that on me. I may not like you but I’m not that low,” he snapped vehemently below his breath, spinning in his seat. “Plus, you’re a hybrid,”

“And you’re expecting a halfling of your own,” she stated, conjuring enough energy to grin at him, and it only grew when his nose crinkled and brows knit together.

Nick continued to glare until her smile dwindled, but she continued to stare back, clearly not unnerved by an Orcs first line of defense: their looks alone.

“Why did you save Daryl?” he came right out with, at last shaking the adamancy in which she gazed at him with. Momentary guilt flushed him; the girl was literally dying and here he was doing his best to make her feel worse about it.

“I understand why Makhel did what he did in the beginning, because I can say that if I’d been forced to simply ignore the attackers that crippled my lover, I’d have done the same. But with every other Bright killed, it went from revenge to drunk off the satisfaction of killing. Somehow, along the way, I let his hand go and let him wander away, and now I can’t find him,” she confessed lowly, her head rolling to the side to hide the tear that skipped down her cheek.

“None of you deserve to have him trying to tear your lives apart, and when I tried-” her voice broke, hands fumbling weakly over her stomach. “I couldn’t allow him to take another life.They were not his to decide upon,”

“Even if it means giving up your own?” Nick dared, looking to her again.

“If mine ending that night could’ve prevented this, I’d gladly hand it over,”

Nick’s face tensed in unease. “You’re too young to be throwing your life away like that,” he said calmer, an heir of combative nature in his tone.

Her shoulder rose as her chin dipped in what he guessed was a weak shrug. “I’ve lived what my life would’ve always had. I’m not destined for great things. I experienced everything I wanted once, and I’m at peace with that,” Rania declared softly, her eyes sliding shut.

Nick studied those words and let silence pass between them for some time, continuing to look beyond the sparse street outside.

Sometimes he thought he’d see shadows shooting by, and would tense, ready to fight, but they’d melt back into the night, completely untraceable. Just like Makhel had been under Kandomere’s watchful eye.

“How did you keep finding them?”

Rania’s eyes cracked open.

“We knew about you weeks through MTF, but she said you two were trailing them for months. You happened to know exactly where we were going when we left LA,” Nick explained, finally unraveling the confusion that had swam circles in his mind.

“There wasn’t much finding as there was following,” Rania simply stated, and Nick’s stomach flipped.

“She left a trail?”

“Like breadcrumbs,”

Nick’s face twisted in disgust. “He was in my house- he found us at Ward’s,” he exhaled.

“We found you in Mexico when she wanted us to,”

He was looking at her in horror, feeling as if all the shadows about him were suddenly the exact shapes of a rogue Bright, ready to cast the next spell directly into the side of his head, then Callie’s, and everyone else's.

“He’ll find us,” Nick stated, definitely, and she nodded slowly.

“She’ll make sure of it,”

When Nick stood suddenly, Rania raised her hand. “Don’t run. She’s traitorous, but she’s also your protection. Makhel knows your scent, knows your wife’s. I will be forever sorry, but let Tikka fall with him, not you.”

Nick was glanced around frantically a few more times before rushing into the living room where he walked into Tikka stood on the other side of the dividing wall, listening and looking up at him in horror.

He burned to throw her against a wall and strangle the life from her… but what Rania said echoed in his mind. She really was their only protection.

Nick choked down a pained whimper, his face a world of hurt.

“Jakoby-”

She flattened against the wall when he pointed threateningly, snarling lowly down at her with bared teeth. Tikka whimpered when he let his fist slam into the wall beside her head in restraint, stomping past her to the back of the house.

She thought of chasing after him and pleading her case, but truth rang louder than reason, and she could only assume that this had been the incident to break his trust in her completely.

“Is there something you want to tell me too?” Fero’s voice floated to her calmly, and she spun to find him stretched across a thin cushioned couch, peeking at her from under his arm draped over his eyes.

Nick had to stop the door from slamming when he reflexively swung it behind himself, but it was still arduous to do anything quietly when all he wanted was to tear the floorboards up and crack furniture over each other.

He paced, hard breaths flaring through his nostrils. The bone deep chill of the night didn’t even bother him anymore. He could’ve fueled a locomotive with the insane measure of fury coming off of him, but there was nowhere to channel it. He had to push it down, contain it. There was no option other than to sit, and wait, and do what he could to keep Callie and Leo safe, and that was the worst of it.

There was absolutely nothing he could do to keep the danger from them that wasn’t the strength he had in his own hands, or the fierce protectiveness in his own heart.

He leaned against his knees, fighting to catch his breath when the thoughts in his head melted together into a screaming tornado.

It was some time before taking a breath felt fulfilling again; like his lungs were capable of holding it in before gasping it out, and soon he found himself sat beside the warped window that distorted everything outside, but he knew he wouldn’t gain even a minutes worth of sleep. Even if he, a mere Orc who was no match against a Bright, could slow Makhel down long enough to give Callie a running start, he’d remain awake to make sure she had that chance.

That in itself plagued him greatly. There was no second thoughts about throwing his life down to spare hers, but to think there was never a chance to see her walk down a church’s isle and claim his last name as her own, or to see how much of himself was in Leo almost brought him to his knees.

He ran his hands from his face to the back of his head, his knee bouncing wildly.

“My bad habits rubbing off on you?”

Callie’s voice washed over him like a warm blanket on a cold night. He found her big eyes next, heavy with sleep and blinking the last of it away as she looked at him.

He could only muster a weak grin, looking down at his hands.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, but before he shrugged, there was a long pause, long enough for her to see the torment swimming across his features, even in the darkness of the room. “Tell me,”

He wanted to tell her, he really did, but the cautionary glance he took towards the door prompted her to rise, suppressing a groan as she moved to sit before him on the dresser under the window.

“Tell me baby,” she urged gently, holding his hands.

The devastation in his eyes frightened her.

“Tikka’s been leading him to us all along. Since the beginning… she’s made sure they always knew where they were, and now where we were,” he croaked, dropping his eyes from hers. “He’ll come for us again and he’ll know exactly where because she’ll make sure of it,”

It rose goosebumps along Callie’s arms and neck. “How do you know?”

“Rania,”

“What if she’s-”

“Tikka heard it all. She didn’t deny any of it,” he finalized, and Callie looked down at their hands as he did.

Her thumbs traced the patterns splashed across knuckles.

“I didn’t think it was a coincidence that he kept finding us,” Callie admitted, and Nick nodded.

“I didn’t want to think it was true,” he sighed, looking up as she did. He could see the gravity of realization setting deeper into her mind, but Callie surprisingly remained composed, far better than he had. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Confused flickered across her features.

“If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I ever would’ve smiled again, or laughed,”

She tilted her head. “Nick,”

“I owe you everything. Before I met you I was okay with… I was okay dying at work. The thought of leaving it all behind didn’t bother me much, but you gave me a reason to make it home everyday just as much as one to get up every morning,” he confessed, squeezing her hands when his words clearly unsettled her. “You gave my world color again,”

A gentle push against his chest furrowed his thoughts. “You gotta give yourself more credit than that. I mean I know I’m pretty awesome,” she paused to catch his smirk. “But you were the one who wandered into the store. You walked into my life at just the right time,” she spoke sincerely, stilling his head when he shook in disagreement. “But I expect years and years with you, Nick. I don’t want anything less than forever,”

He fought the tremble in his bottom lip and chin, his eyes pinching shut, falling into her chest when she wound her arms around his neck.

Nick clung to her desperately, his fingers curling into her clothing as he squeezed around her.

“I love him,” he wavered, dropping his cheek to her stomach, his arms sliding down her frame. “I wanted to meet him so badly-” he barely stopped that sob, pressing his face there.

“No, Nick stop, look at me,” she demanded, barely able to hoist him back up to hold his misty cheeks. “Don’t you dare give up yet. I want to meet the son we fought 3 years to make together and I need you there. He needs to know how strong his father is,” she pleaded, smoothing her thumbs over a stray tear across his cheek. “We need you, baby,”

It was weak, and unsure, but Nick nodded, closing his eyes to rest his forehead against hers as she softly calmed him, chasing away the dark clouds raining over him.

“I love you,” she kissed into his lips. “I love you so, so much,”

He cradled her face now, leaving no minute space between their mouths as fell into her spell, moaning softly as she whispered sweet words to him only; ones that he’d come to recognize as a secret only for him, always leading him further into her bounding love.

So when her tongue tentatively poked into his mouth, it didn’t strike him as dangerous or irresponsible to take advantage of what could be their last night together as a couple, or as a family.

His big hands dragged over her curves, her own smoothing down his sides, holding his hips as she sighed into his kisses.

Her starved whimpers shot heat down to every nerve ending of his body when she arched towards his palm that slid down her chest, his open, gasping mouth soon following to lav his tongue over the skin of her throat that craned back.

Callie cried softly into the night when he pulled her by the hair aside to sink his teeth under her jaw, only daring to prick her skin this time knowing no matter what happened, she’d be his forever. Her blood coated his tongue, and she felt the guttural growl rumble through both of them.

Her fingers digging into his arms told him to keep going, as did the urgency of her kisses when she caught his mouth again, ignoring her own coppery blood and pressing as tight as she could against him with her belly in the way.

She didn’t protest when he pulled her from the dresser and spun her, but instead leaned back into his chest, pushing down her own jeans and panties as he buried his face in her hair, her breasts nearly flattening in his tight hold.

Nick groused noisily, a hand skipping down her body to cup her sex, his middle fingers pressing into her soft lips. He drank in that soft sigh, and for a few moments turned her jaw to watch how her plump lips parted in breathless moans as he circled her clit slowly, blessing her hot mouth with featherlight kisses.

She started to loosen in his hold, her hand over his as he touched her only how he knew she adored, almost content with watching her fall apart in his arms.

He pressed his face into her cheek to inhale and taste her skin while he made quick work of pushing down his own jeans until he sprung free.

Callie always knew how to arch her body so she could remain close, and with a hand around her throat and another guiding himself, he pushed into her slick center, both of them moaning as the inches passed until he was seated tight against her cheeks.

Nick chuffed loudly, unable to open his eyes or control the louder moans as he rocked into her, committed to remembering- no, living these last moments like they were their last.

He soaked in her walls tight around him, her soft pleas and whimpers in his name, her chest heaving under his touch as he caressed her entirely.

She worshipped his brawny body against hers, always steadfast and protective, his heavy arm around her ensuring she’d never fall from his grasp.

His hand fell over her mouth when she sobbed, smiling, her cries heightening with his face pressed down against her shoulder and his hips slapping against her ass forcefully, barely muffled by the small room they were in or the thin door that hid their meeting. He growled in her ear, speaking to her in soft Orkish prayers, her name slipping in here and there, whispering her own words of admiration once his hand lifted from her mouth to kiss her firmly.

If he wasn’t staring out the window, he was looking at his fingers making curls with her hair cascaded over her shoulder, sometimes peering down at her when she’d shift at his side. Her cheek slid around his chest when he kissed the top of her head, pressing that much closer to him.

They basked in their afterglow silently, only the soft brushes of their fingertips across the backs of their hands or stolen kisses being the words they needn’t speak.

Nick moved to feel every one of Leo’s kicks, eventually changing place with Callie to rest his head below her bust so he could speak softly to his son and tell him for every kick counted would be a kiss upon his cheek when he finally got to hold him.

He promised him safety in his arms for the entirety of his life, and love to match that, and swore he’d always be the home and comfort he needed in a world not made for them.

When the sun started to cast blue across the horizon, neither had slept, but neither had feel exhaustion.

Callie had returned to Nick’s chest, his arm curled safely behind her as they rested against the headboard, soaking in their last moments of silence, and peace. Neither bothered moving when they started to hear the others move about the rickety home, some light talking between Ward and Tikka.

Nick only squeezed Callie, watching the sun rise quicker than it ever had before.

“It’ll end today,” he spoke, confident in what he said, but not of an outcome either were certain of. “We’re going home today.”

Callie nodded against his chest.

Dead, or alive?

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queenburd · 5 years ago

Text

and in the end; chapter 6

Final chapter before epilogue. I ended up reading a trillion Good Omens fics before writing this one, as it was written after I finally watched the show. As such it gets super sappy and I realized about 3/4 through that my romantic orientation, while complicated, actually exists, so I think it comes through here. Because I’m a sap.

chapter 6: I think you're my best friend

callbacks and references: April 2016, Getting Better All The Time, February 2018 (Jumanji Aftermath), and like I said before, all agents are just straight up have Good Omens references

[TRANSMISSION RECONNECTED. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

There were moments, Kass thought through the comings and goings of consciousness in the following hours, where reality seemed turned on its head. Reality and dreams were interchangeable and confusing. Perhaps the hours where he'd felt pumping adrenaline and near exhilaration were little more than fantasies playing out in his sleep. Perhaps nothing had actually changed.

It was this thought that kept him from opening his eyes, focusing instead on his other senses as if to try to prepare himself for the harshness of reality.

There were voices around him, he noted vaguely. He was in a bed, softer than the cot in his cell, with a gentle weight draped across him. His upper half was not horizontal, but it was in a position that didn't ache or force him upright. Faintly, Kass recalled the medical ward beds used in the site to examine D-Class personnel after a tricky SCP encounter, and agents sneaking pain medication from the cabinets.

He figured, then, that perhaps a scip had done things to his mind, playing on wishful thinking. That would make sense. It would not, however, account for the gentle warm weight pressed up against his left side distinctly familiar. It was the same feeling one would feel when smelling their grandmother's cooking after years away from it, and it immediately relaxed him.

May was curled up beside him, her head on his upper arm. He could feel the rumble of her chest as she spoke meaningless words to meaningless people.

She served as his single anchor to what was real and what was not. So long as he could feel her pressed against him like a second pillow, he knew what was true.

He was safe.

Eased, Kass would fall back into dreamless sleep.

When Dib stepped into the med bay of the lab, his fingers digging into the worn fabric of dark clothing that wasn't his, he had to pause at the sight that met him there

The med bay was mostly dark and empty, save for a single bed at the end of the row. It was a clean, organized space, and so the motley pair that was curled on the mattress stuck out like two sore thumbs.

It was, at least, a relief to see May getting some well-earned sleep. She'd hardly taken the time to eat or rest, despite desperate promptings from all parties, in her hyper-fixation to her task. It was scary to watch, and so the image of her, quiet and peaceful at last, was a small weight off Dib's mind.

No, it was not May that had Dib pausing several feet away, although he was wary to wake her. It was the figure she had curled herself around, who seemed dreadfully small and frail in his current state.

Kass, with his hair barely more than lilac fuzz and his frame dwarfed by deep ugly orange, looked frail. His scar was more visible without any method to hide it, and with his glasses lost, the bags under his eyes were deep and prominent, the lines of his face emphasizing that he was pushing into his forties, and that it had been likely for most of his life that forty was about the end of the line.

It was difficult, like this, to compare the weathered middle-aged man on the bed to the man who had threatened him, insulted him, disgusted him for almost half his life. More difficult, still, to find that deeply ingrained dislike that Kass had placed in both of them.

Dib had not hated Kass for a long time now. He had stopped bothering to hate the man who was more a nuisance than a threat sometime while said nuisance lived in his garage. Certainly, he had never bothered to trust Kass, and that likely was unchanged even now, but with time they had been able to talk like two civilized people would in passing.

But it registered to Dib, standing at the end of the bed with Kass's clothes still in his hands, that he had never really considered Kass as just a person. It had been far easier to regard him as a simple concept, like a sour taste in one's mouth or an annoying cat, because then, when it was gone, he just didn't think about it.

Kass was a person, and it had never really sunk in. He was a person, just like Dib—tired, small, and only capable of taking and doing so much.

Could he really blame the guy for spending twenty or more years thinking about how the world was rotten and stupid, when he, Dib, had done the same for only ten, before people had forced him to see otherwise? Could he really hold himself above Kass for finding hope long before Kass ever could?

He supposed not.

As he stood there, contemplating how bizarre it all was, May began to stir. She stretched her neck, rolled her shoulders, and looked up at Dib. For the first time in a week, she smiled like she had before—genuinely and softly.

“Hi, hon. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“It's not a problem,” he said, placing the clothes on the end of the bed. He glanced from them back to Kass's face.

He should get Kass a beanie. It was only fair.

“Did everything go okay?” Dib asked, his fingers interlacing awkwardly. “When you didn't check in before portal hopping, I got kinda worried.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, laying her head back against the mattress and Kass's shoulder. “There was a window there where I was worried about getting stuck in a lock down, but we managed to get out just in time, and everything went smoothly after that.”

“Good. I, I'm really glad you're okay.”

He looked down at the pilly fabric, teeth digging into his lower lip. He should apologize, he thought, for doubting her, or questioning her decisions. He should--

“Hey, Dib? I'm really sorry.”

“What?”

When he looked up, May's face was twisted in genuine guilt. “I'm really, really sorry, hon. I know that, when I got back that first night, I was freaking out a lot, and I lashed out, and it wasn't okay.”

“May, no,” he began, shaking his head, but she shook hers right back.

“I scared you. You just wanted me to think rationally, and I wasn't in the place to do that. I thought you were just totally fine letting Kass get hurt, because--” her voice cracked “--because I was so ready to view anything, everything, as an obstacle to get over. I know you're not like that, and I still--”

“May.” Dib moved to her side of the medical bed, taking her hand. “Hey, slow down. It's okay.”

“It's not, though. I let myself get overwhelmed and angry, and I hate letting that part of me out.”

He sighed. “Look. I don't blame you. I misspoke really badly in the moment, because I was scared for you. And you know I don't have the best track record thinking kind thoughts when it comes to, well. Him.”

She smiled again, weakly. “I know.”

“It's okay to be mad. You were scared, who can blame you for seeing enemies all around during an adrenaline rush? I'm not gonna hold it against you.”

“Okay,” May whispered. She sounded so young sometimes, and this was one of those moments. It was nice to have a friend so open to being vulnerable, but it also made him worry, sometimes, what went on in that head of hers.

Such a thoughtful person. He hoped that she believed him when he said it was okay. He hoped she forgave herself.

Dib looked between her and the man she was curled around again, wondering. He'd been doing it a lot, lately, in the moments between helping her plan the rescue. Really, he'd been wondering it since she had told them that Kass had tried to lead the Foundation away from her with no regard for himself. Maybe he had wondered it for longer, but not consciously. That would have taken more awareness, something Dib was not the best at when it came to other people's emotions and thoughts.

“Hey.”

He blinked, forcing himself to focus on May's face once more. She was giving him a curious look.

“You've got something on your mind. What's up?”

Dib chewed on his bottom lip, caught. She was a little too good at that. Sometimes, he wished she didn't passively tune in on people so well, but she wouldn't be May if she didn't. Besides, it wasn't like she had much of a choice on the matter.

“It's not important,” he started. “I'm just thinking.”

“Nah, it's okay. Go ahead, hon.”

He mulled it over for a few moments longer, if only to get his thoughts in order. Talking about this stuff was hard.

Finally, he asked her the question he'd been asking himself for quite possibly months.

“What, um. Sorry, don't take this the wrong way, I don't wanna assume. Are you and Kass, uh, a thing?”

He pinched the little crease between his brows hard, grimacing. “Sorry, that's not the best wording. Let me try again.”

“Okay.”

Her voice was even as ever. Dib inhaled and tried again. “You guys have a kind of hard to pin down relationship. I know you guys are friends, and I'm not trying to question that. It's just.”

He made a little gesture with his hands, then let them drop. “You were so messed up about the whole thing. And, I mean, I get that, if it was Simon, I'd be freaking out too, and I definitely would have made a plan to go get him. But, because it's the Foundation, I'd be so careful from the get go. I wouldn't just...”

May was watching him quietly. He groaned internally. Why was this so hard?

“You didn't care about any of that. You didn't even think about how dangerous it was, you didn't care how many people were in your way. You seemed ready to dive in, kick the doors open, and grab Kass by the collar, like there was nothing else to it. I don't think there's anyone I'd feel like that, for. Just, ignoring consequences like that.”

She looked away from him, instead staring at the blanket. Dib watched as she pressed herself deeper into the crevice she had made beside Kass, as though hoping to sink into the mattress or the body beside her.

When she spoke, it didn't seem very sure, but it was deeply contemplative.

“Maybe, because I have the privilege of never being threatened by the Foundation firsthand, or because I know I have the upper hand for nobody knowing my weaknesses. Hell, maybe it's just me being reckless and stupid. But, honest to god, Dib, I was ready to kick the doors open. I was ready to tear the roof off the building, release every monster contained inside, cause a massive breach, if it meant I could bring Kass home. You saw my bird form outside? I can be so much bigger, Dib. I was ready to be the size of a mountain, I could have let everyone inside see my true form, and I wouldn't have cared.”

He could feel his mouth hanging open. Forcefully, Dib closed it. “That is the worst idea I've ever heard.”

May laughed, near breathlessly. “That is what Kass said when I told him.”

“Good! That's terrible!”

“But efficient,” she quipped, snorting laughter. “And it would have worked too, the place would have been too busy dealing with scips to deal with me, and--”

“May--”

“--And nobody lines their walls with pure gold, Dib. Nobody! Nobody even knows!”

Dib paused, biting on his inner cheek. “Okay, fair, I'll give you that, but it's still the worst idea in the world.”

“Noted,” May said, giggling childishly. She was smiling, still lost in thought. Her hand was in Kass's larger, wiry one, thumb idly running small circles on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed incredibly intimate, private, like Dib was intruding on something enormous. When May spoke again, her voice was back to that quiet thoughtful place.

“I don't really know what Kass and I are. I don't really know how to define our relationship in a way that encompasses it correctly. He's my best friend, I know that much. He's not my other half, nothing as simple and silly as that. We're two whole people, we just... fit.”

She looked for the first time at their hands intertwined, continuing.

“We've both got a lot of rough edges, but we're really good for each other. He makes me better. I like to hope I make him want to be better for himself. He seems better, at least.”

Dib watched May's eyes trace upward, following Kass's exposed neck and unshaven jaw.

“But maybe there's more to it? I don't know, Dib, I really don't. I don't know what makes relationships different and definable. I just—what I do know,” she said, forcefully, trying to find an answer, “is that I want him to be okay. I want Kass to be better than okay, I want him to be happy. I want him to feel joy, because when he's happy, Dib? I feel at peace. I love him a lot. I love him exactly as he is, and I always have.”

“Always?”

“Always,” May repeated. “Even when he was an angry, depressed shithead. Even when he was at his worst, I loved him. He didn't exactly make it easy, but I loved him anyway, because I could always see that he didn't know what else to be. He didn't know how. Nobody had ever showed him how. I wanted to do that, I wanted to give him that. I wanted him to have the chance to be himself, without all those layers of angry, paranoid, scared. I loved him so much, because—because.”

She bit into her lip. “I don't know why. It never really occurred to me to not. That first moment that I saw him sitting on the front step in the snow, hands shaking, I felt something in me ache, and all I wanted was to make him smile.”

The way May looked at Kass's sleeping form, in a mix of self-assurance (that he was even there) and consideration (that he was alright, that he was sleeping in peace) was an act of devotion that Dib had no real way of understanding. There was something to it that he couldn't quite grasp; the need to be sure that the other person was alright, but never feeling burdened by the need. Needing to know that the other person was at peace, simply because it brought her comfort, nothing more.

No, he couldn't grasp it. He understood wanting to be sure his friends were alright, but this level, of needing it to feel comforted, and yet not feeling tied down, but instead feeling uplifted--

(“I think,” she began again softly, her lips quirked into a little smile as she looked at her bed-mate with utter fondness, “the only word that can kind of. Encompass this relationship. I think the only word for it is, partners. Kass is my partner. He's my partner in crime, in life. We're a team.”)

--Well, it was love. Plain and simple.

“Dib made these for you,” May said, while Kass was pulling his shirt on after his shower. She was holding a small box out to him, and after some wrestling the shirt down his torso (clean, for the first time since his return, it felt almost unnatural to be stripped of the layer of grime he had felt on him for days), he took it.

He opened it, and was careful with the contents as he popped them onto the bridge of his nose. The glasses, free of 20 years of scratches, put the world back into clarity. They fit like a charm. “Christ, I can actually see properly again.”

He nudged them up his nose a smidge, then looked at the girl blinking up at him.

“You look like shit.”

May snorted hard, shoving his chest a bit. “Asshole,” she drawled, exuding fondness.

It hadn't exactly been a witty comment, not entirely. May looked very tired around the eyes, but saying so would have been indelicate. So Kass merely smiled in a cheeky manner as she continued.

“These ones won't break or scratch. I was going to ask him to make a pair for your Christmas present, but...” Her shoulders rose and fell halfheartedly. “Timing.”

It had been two days since they returned from Site-17. Kass had spent most of those 48 hours sleeping, but on the second day, Bonnibel had given him one last once-over and told them to quit squatting in her lab. She had allowed him the opportunity to shower, and offered him some kind of solution to grow his hair out. Kass had declined with probably more venom than was necessary, considering the help she'd been so far.

Now, he pulled a black and gray hoodie onto his scalp, yanking it low enough to conceal the pale lash on his forehead. “Ready,” he said simply, sitting on the edge of the med bay bed as May looked him over.

She leaned over him. Even now, sitting as he was, she barely had to look down to meet his eyes. She pressed her hands to his cheeks, feeling the hollowness of them. “You need a shave,” she said. “So fuzzy.” Her hands were warm.

He allowed her a few moments to play with the coat of stubble that had formed on his jaw, then nipped at her fingers. “C'mon. Let's get out of here before Juicy Fruit decides to “run a few more tests” on me.”

When May opened the door to 3, Tesla Drive and led him in, Kass felt something akin to a wave of vertigo pass through him. The familiarity of it all was a stark contrast to the past two weeks—the couch was clean, the coffee mugs still on the coffee table, where he had left his, the night of the mission.

None of it had changed, and he suddenly felt so out of place and time—disjointed—that it was a struggle to stay upright. His knees had gone wobbly.

May turned to him, concern clear on her face. “Hey, hey. Do you need to sit down?”

Kass began to shake his head, but his vision had gone a touch unsteady, and so he changed his mind, nodding weakly. May's hand held him up by the waist, leading him to the couch to drop like a stone. Her hands framed his face for a moment, unsure.

“Need anything? Water?”

When he finally found his voice, it was a touch hoarse, and he didn't know why. “No. Just need to... reacquaint myself.”

“That's alright.” Her tone was gentle. “Take your time. You want me to sit with you?”

“Don't have to.”

“Okay. I'm going to go shower.”

Belatedly, head still swimming, Kass realized that in the past three days, he had never been without her. She had always been in the same room as him. She, too, was in desperate need of a shower. So he nodded wordlessly, and watched her back as she climbed up the stairs with a weariness that she seemed to have concealed from him until now.

There was a vague concern tucked in the back of his mind. He put a pin in it, and chose instead to try to get his head on right. Kass closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch cushion, attempting to ground himself back into the reality that was this; simple, home.

Home. He was home.

Kass had never considered any place home, not really. They were temporary spaces; never his to worry about or take care of. They had never lasted. Yet here, this house, with belongings that were his and routines that were theirs and countless moments that left him feeling exposed and safe all at once, he knew this was home.

May had brought him home.

His palms pushed into the cushion of his seat, repetitive kneading into familiar fabric that placed him in the moment. He needed the grounding, because there was a sensation in his chest that bubbled upwards and outwards into the rest of his body.

Kass was by no means an emotional man; he was not driven to tears easily, but now, in this moment, he felt overwhelmed, like his heart was trying to grow and pound out of his chest. This place, in the near two years he'd lived in it, had always been a stable one. It, and its resident, were unwavering in its dependability to give him safety and comfort.

Dependability had been a commodity for too many years—people had limits. They had catches, they wanted things, there were lines crossed and broken until everyone had chosen to focus inward, on themselves, on saving their own skin and providing their own happiness. Save yourself, you have to save yourself, nobody else was going to help you.

(And then, an oddity, a peculiarity, standing in the middle of a crowd, had grabbed him by the wrist, led him to a quiet place, and said hello. I'm here. I'll give you anything you need. Let me help. And he hadn't asked, but he had been drowning in his own head, and she was a buoy, and he had latched on and not let go.

And she, stubborn, stupid, soft, had let him. She'd put her own arms around him, held him out of the water, showed him how to tread it, and led him to shore.)

“Save yourself, because no one else will,” but she had gone to hell and back to save him. She had placed herself into harm's way, as May had countless times, with no hesitation, just to keep him near her. She loved him so sincerely, it had never even occurred to her that the dangers were more real for her than for him. It had never played into her decision. Not once.

She loved him, he had thought there for barely a moment, but now he couldn't let go of it. It was looping in his head, in the same way it had looped I can't get away but she can, she can, she can in a factory two weeks ago. That stupid, strange, four letter word that had never fit in his mouth right.

And then he thought (and the thought, despite being entirely unfamiliar, seemed like it had been in his bones for months now) I love her too.

There was nothing so shocking about it, because if he thought about it rationally—well, Kass had already known that he loved May. It had become as normal and unnoticeable as breathing. It had shown itself in small ways, like intertwined fingers and cruel nicknames turned fond. It had overtaken him in a small dark room with a vent and a desk, like it had pushed her to ignore dangers if only she could be with him a second more.

In barely a heartbeat Kass had decided she had mattered too much to him, for him to let anyone become a threat to her.

Love was not what Kass expected it might be. He had always thought it made people weak, complacent to cruelty and easily irrational, and there had even been times where he thought it, love, was unnecessary to happiness. He was surprised to find that love was a hard punch to his gut, in a way that was not at all violent, but completely soft and warm, and yet still fully capable of knocking the wind right out of him.

He pressed his hands over his mouth, trying to control his breathing.

She loved him, she loved him, she loved him. It didn't echo so much as ebb and flow, like there was an ocean of love in his chest, the waves pushing over his heart, before receding, and then again, overwhelming him, leaving him equally aching and overstimulated all at once.

He tried very hard to breathe normally, and if his eyes were wet it was because he was exerting so much effort in the task and nothing more. Distantly, he tried to remember the faint thought that he had set aside, and when it came crashing back, the lovely ache in his ribs intensified.

It was the exhaustion that had leaked out of May's body in the moments she had stepped away from him. It was the way the coffee mugs were still on the table, untouched. It was all these small things he finally began to absorb, that left him wondering if she had taken care of herself at all in the time without him there.

Had she remembered to eat, he wondered. Had she slept at all? Had Dib and Simon convinced her to do these things she needed to do? Because Kass knew May, and he knew what she was like when she hyper-fixated on something. It was like nothing else in the world mattered until the task was done.

With shaky steps, Kass got to his feet and clambered up the stairs. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing until he had made it into his room, picked up his phone, and unlocked it.

In all honesty, Kass should have recognized he loved May when he had saved her favorite Chinese restaurant's phone number. Why else would he have done such a silly, simple thing?

He had finished the phone call by the time the water stopped running in the shower, and was leaning in his bedroom door frame when May finally stepped out of the bathroom. In the moments before she saw him, he looked over the clean, relaxed, clearly bone-tired figure. Yet, when she finally saw him, the fond crinkle in her eyelids was instantaneous. She smiled, and Kass watched a drop of water slide from behind her ear down the length of her neck, almost enraptured in it.

God, she was--

She was opening her mouth to speak, probably to greet him, but before she could get the words out Kass was wrapping his long arms around her and pulling May into his chest. He could feel the way it caught her off guard, before she relaxed against him.

They had held each other before, in couch cuddles and relaxed naps. She'd always been more than happy to touch and hold him, to give him the physical sensation he had been severely lacking for most of his life. This wasn't like those, not really. Kass held May against him in the kind of embrace he felt would, could, and should last for hours. His hands felt right where they were, not scrambling awkwardly to set themselves on her. He pressed his cheek against her temple, uncaring of the fact that her hair was damp and his new glasses were already smudged.

Like this, with one arm looped around her waist and his other hand pressed to the space between her shoulders, Kass could feel her breathing. Her own arms were slow to wrap around his torso, but when she held on, she held on, pulling him as flush to her as she could get him.

He realized, after a few long minutes, that she was shaking. May had begun to cry.

“I was so fucking scared,” she finally whispered, her face pressed into the side of his neck. Something in his chest cracked at the state of her voice. “I was so, so fucking scared, I thought I would get there and you'd be gone, I thought maybe I wouldn't feel it, I kept thinking is it too late, is he even still alive, god, god, Kass--”

Kass tightened his grip on her as she cried. His heart felt like it was in his knees, twisted and aching like hers had the moment the door to the office had slammed between them. He let her get all the words out of her system, let her get out the terror that had laced through her whole body for days with no outlet, because she couldn't cry, she had to focus, she had to save him first.

Her fingers had curled tight into the front of his shirt at some point. He looked at her snotty tear streaked face, the features all knotted up like someone had crumpled up and tossed aside a tissue, and his heart swelled and broke all over again.

“Don't,” May began in a weak, breathless voice, before starting again. “Don't you ever do that to me again,” she begged. “Please, don't go somewhere I can't get you, don't do that to me, please, promise--”

“Never again,” Kass promised, stroking her hair soothingly.

“Never,” she repeated, pushing back for just a moment so she could cup his face in her hands, trying to remind himself that he was here, real, whole. “Never ever, Kass.”

He sighed. Closed the distance between their faces, and pressed his forehead to hers. Their noses brushed each other's. “Never ever,” he repeated. “Never again.”

The promise filled the space between and around them, heavy. There was no certainty in what was to come, the world was flux, wild, full of ridiculous things like monsters and fae and rainbows and stars. It was an unpredictable place, where a person could be alone for years and years and suddenly of all things a bird could take them by the hand and give them a chance to live.

It was a strange place.

In this moment, and in many moments to come, they would stay. Constant, unceasing, and maybe shaky, they, the two of them, would stay.

Somewhere, several hundred miles away and several miles underground, Security Officer Jefferson Tyler was staring at his screen with the intensity of a person who believed that, if he blinked, even for a moment, the thing would vanish forever. It certainly could not be good for his eyes, especially in the darkness of the security footage room in which he and his senior officer Sable were currently combing through hours of film.

“Sir,” he said, then swallowed when he discovered his mouth was dry. “Sir.”

Sable pushed his chair away from the screen he had previously been only inches from, to roll it towards Tyler. “What, Tyler. What the fuck do you need, have you forgotten which button is the rewind key again?”

“Sir. Look.”

Sable looked. Then he rubbed one of his eyes hard with the heel of his palm, and looked again.

“Who the fuck is that.”

Tyler began to flip through camera recordings at a rapid pace, following the time stamps to a fraction of a second, tracking the two individuals caught on the tapes as they made their way to the northern waiting room. “Sir, I... I have a thought, but it might be, one of those very very stupid thoughts you hate.”

“No such thing as a stupid thought,” Sable said hoarsely, his voice empty with horror. “Out with it, Tyler.”

Tyler fidgeted. He was not exactly a new employee at the Foundation, but he had been in tech repair before, where voicing ideas to higher ups had far less consequences. Here, however, there were higher stakes than a malignant virus. One could probably understand his concern.

“I think, someone might have set up this entire breach, just to get a D-Class out.”

Sable looked at him, eyes red, bags deep.

“You're right,” he said. “That is a stupid thought.”

There was no venom in his voice in the slightest, and the silence that filled the space between the pair of SCP security officers was a deafening one, as the audacity of the absolutely correct concept sunk in.

Tyler swallowed. “Should we report this to the O-5, sir?”

His superior officer let out a choked laugh that held no humor. “Yes, sure, let's tell the O-5 we let someone just walk in and out of Site-17 with a D-Class. I think that will go very well, don't you, officer Tyler? Here, you write the report up and I'll sign it, and while I'm at it I'll sign both our resignation papers.”

“Um,” Tyler said. When he had gotten this promotion, three weeks back, he had expected to have it longer. “Or, uh, sir? We could, maybe, erase the tape, and argue it was corrupted.”

Sable was rubbing the bags under his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, as though attempting to force the bags back into his skin. When he looked up at Tyler, he smiled rather grimly. “What tape, security officer Tyler?”

A watery smile found its way onto Tyler's face as he turned back to the screen. “Very.... very good, sir. I'm certain everything will sort itself out, afterwards. I mean,” he continued, trying to sound cheery, “it's just a D-Class. Nobody worth worrying about.”

He realized, as he collected all the footage from the multiple tapes, that Sable was standing behind him, watching him work. It unsettled him deeply for reasons he couldn't imagine, but he dutifully continued to do his job.

“He was probably due for a mind wipe, in any ca—wait,” Sable said. “Stop. Stop. Go back. Pull in.”

Tyler pulled the camera tighter onto the intruder, and his superior swore. “No, you idiot, on the D-class!”

Hastily, he corrected the error, but if anything, it brought Sable more distress. He shoved Tyler's chair away from the screen, examining, and then swore again.

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME.”

“Sir?!” Panic laced through Tyler, and he clung tightly to his lanyard.

Sable looked back at him, eyes wide, pupils small pinpricks from the screen. His expression was that of a man who looked death in the face, lived, and wished he had not.

“She took Ex-agent Kass.”

Everything in Tyler's vision went very sharp, and his face felt very cold.

He had met the man in question all of twice for computer repairs. Those two meetings were two too many. He himself had bet Kass would last to day 12, when the betting pool went up.

He pulled his chair back in towards Sable with caution, to take a closer look. Sable was still swearing, hands pressed to his rapidly receding hairline.

“She took the fucking—we spent three years looking for that fucker and she walked out with him!”

“Oh my god,” Tyler confirmed. Whatever color had still been in his face drained as he looked over the man in the orange D-Class clothing on the screen. “I thought—sir, I'm sorry, I thought it was just a random--”

Sable made an angry vicious gesture at the screen, as though ready to slap it for the sheer audacity of displaying the footage it had recorded.

“This is exactly why I said it was a mistake to get rid of his hair!”

[TRANSMISSION ENDED. REPLAY? Y/N]

#may writes #may loves teslaverse #And In the End

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thetravelerwrites · 6 years ago

Text

Salvatore (Cambion Incubus)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Human Female Reader x Male Incubus (Cambion) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Incubus, Cambion, Incubus Boyfriend, Monster Boyfriend, Asexual Monster, Asexual Incubus, Asexual Reader Content Warnings: Prostitution, Mention of Alcoholism, Strong Language, Use of a Slur, Open Discussion of Sex and Sexuality Words: 5270

Here it is! This story just poured out of me yesterday, and I hope you guys like Sal. I love him. He needs all the love he can get, the poor dear. Please leave feedback!

*Note: A Cambion is a half-human, half-Incubus/Succubus, originating in medieval European folklore.

The Traveler's Masterlist

How did you get talked into this? You hated bars. The smoke, the noise, the drunk girls falling all over themselves, the guys trying to get the drunk girls to go home with them. It was all tedious and you hated it.

It was supposed to be a celebration. You had just graduated from school with a business degree, and a bunch of friends suggested dinner. You didn’t realize dinner would be alcohol. You groaned as soon as you set foot into the place and just ordered a water. You sat in the corner and watched your friends get properly sloshed, grimacing into your glass and wishing you were somewhere else.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” A seductive voice asked. You looked up to see a man smirking down at you. He was dressed in a suit with no tie, his collar rakishly ruffled around his neck in what you guessed was supposed to be a fetching manner. He had reddish-brown hair and clear skin with a strong chin and straight eyebrows. His face was symmetrical, despite his lopsided grin, and he was leaning slightly over you.

“Avoiding people,” You muttered irritably.

“Does that include me?” He asked, winking.

You felt your face sneer. “Yes, that includes you.”

His head rocked back as if stunned. He seemed genuinely surprised at your answer. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Look, I’m sure your used to drunk chicks flinging themselves at you, but I’m not drunk and I’m not into you, so walk on, dude.”

He frowned and continued to stare at you. “You’re serious. You’re not attracted to me at all?”

You shook your head impatiently.

His frown deepened. “Strange. I’m normally pretty good at reading who’s gay and who’s not.”

“Ugh!” You exclaimed, setting your glass down so hard that you sloshed him with water and he took a half-step back. “Fucking typical! I’m not throwing myself at you, so I must be a dyke, right? I don’t have to be a lesbian to not want to fuck a random guy in a bar. Fuck you, asshole!”

You picked up your purse and coat and stormed out of the bar and into the empty parking lot, preparing to call a cab.

He followed you out. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“Leave me alone!” You yelled at him.

“Wait!”

“What?!” You screeched at him, and he stumbled to a stop behind you, a absolutely baffled look on his face.

“What are you?” He asked, staring at you hard.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked him, reaching into your bag for your taser.

“Are you… like me?” He asked earnestly. “Is that why you can see through me?”

“Dude, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific, because right now, you’re talking nonsense.”

“You’re a Cambion, right? Or are you full-blooded?”

“Full blooded what?”

“Succubus.”

You stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face. “Ohhh,” You said slowly. “Okay, I get it now.”

“You do?” He said, his face hopeful.

“Yeah,” You said. “You’re fucking nuts.”

He growled and rolled his eyes. “No, look, I--” He started forward toward you and stopped when you pulled out the taser gun. “Alright, calm down.”

“You calm down, weirdo,” You said, your aim at him steady.

“I’m just trying to figure out why it’s not working!” He said. “It always worked before. I just trying to figure it out.”

“Why what’s not working?” You asked.

“This… whatever it is I do…” He gestured to himself in a vague annoyed way. “Charm, I guess you’d call it, but it’s more than that. It always works. I don’t even know what it is or why it works, but it always does.” He grunted in frustration. “I don’t know why it’s not working now.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but either you start making sense or you leave me the fuck alone.”

“Look.” He snarled.

Then his face began to change. His eyes went completely black and his mouth widened, revealing sharp teeth beyond his thin lips. Horns sprouted from his forehead and he seemed to grow taller, looming over you.

You jumped, and your finger accidentally pressed the trigger to the taser. He shouted when the barbs struck him and he hit the ground.

“Shit!” You said, dropping the taser and pulled the lines from him.

“You fucking tased me!” He shouted from the ground, his face and body returning to normal.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You said defensively, helping him back to his feet. You propped him up against the wall of the bar. He rubbed his shoulder, where the barbs had hit him. You just stared at him as he breathed hard. “What did you say you were?”

“A Cambion,” He said. “I’m half-human, half-succubus. Or is it incubus because I’m male?” His face as scrunched up, almost angry. “I dunno. Who cares?”

“So your mother was…”

“Obviously,” He said. “Succubi and incubi need to feed on people’s sexual energy to survive. Whatever it is that makes succubi attractive to people, I inherited some of it, but I also inherited the… hunger, I guess you’d say. I’m mostly human so I eat regular food, but every few days I get this… craving. I can ignore it for a while, but if it goes on too long, I get sick and weak. That’s when I go… well, hunting.”

“So you tried to prey on me, is that it?” You asked him.

“Tried and failed, it seems,” He said, fixing you with a confused stare.

“Why didn’t you go after any number of the other people in there?”

“I don’t hunt drunks. I may be a monster, but I’m not a monster, if you catch my drift. You were the only person in there who didn’t smell like booze. I’ve never failed before.”

“Ah, I think I understand now,” You said. “I’m asexual. I’m not attracted to you because I’m not attracted to anyone.”

He blinked, then blinked again. “You’re what?”

“Asexual,” You said again. “I don’t feel sexual attraction.”

“Like… at all?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever had sex?” He asked

“Oh, yeah,” You replied. “It’s fine, but I can take it or leave it. It’s not as important to me as it seems to be to everyone else. College was rife with it. I don’t tell people I’m asexual because they either think it’s not a real thing or they think I’ll be ‘cured’ if I get fucked one good time. It’s exhausting. I tell most of my friends that I’m too busy with schoolwork for a boyfriend, which was fine during school, but now that I’ve graduated, it won’t be a good enough excuse.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed and he looked at it, seemingly both annoyed and relieved.

“What?”

“It’s a client,” He said.

“It’s nearly one in the morning. What kind of client calls at this hour?”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“Oh,” You said, catching on.

“Hey, it’s good money,” He shrugged “And it keeps me fed and healthy, as long as I’m careful and use protection.”

“I’m not judging, man; do what you gotta do,” You said.

“I’d kind of like to talk about this whole… thing more, if you wouldn’t mind,” He said. “I have questions.”

“What would a person who lives on sex want to know about asexuals?” You asked.

“Well, mostly, I want to figure out if I am one,” He said seriously.

You were shocked at that answer. “Uh… okay. Well, I can meet you tomorrow, if you like. You know that diner on Fifth and Lowell?”

“Yeah, the one that has the really good pie?”

“Yeah. Meet me there at seven, if you’re not otherwise occupied. We can talk about it then.”

“Sure.” He smiled in a way that would have been flirtatious to anyone else, but perhaps that was just the way he smiled. “I’m Sal, by the way. See you.”

He got into a nice car at the end of the parking lot and drove off as you stepped under the awning of the bar to call a cab.

You arrived at the diner to see he was already there sitting at the bar, and he greeted you with a smile.

“Hey,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied, sitting on the stool next to him. “I’m glad you came.”

His smile widened. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would. This is all a little weird to me.”

“Well, I’m happy to answer any questions you have,” You said, ordering a cup of coffee and a pie. He did the same. “Why do you think you might be asexual?”

“Well,” He started, “First, explain it to me. Like, what do asexual people do or feel? Is it just no attraction or what?”

“Okay, well, there’s all kinds of different asexuals,” I began. “The term ‘asexuality’ simply means that you don’t experience sexual attraction for other people, but that doesn’t necessarily exclude sex or relationships altogether. Some are what you might call sex-repulsed, as in the very idea of sex is disgusting to them. Then there’s people like me, who are indifferent. Like, I like sex, but I don’t need to have it and don’t actively seek it out, but there are asexuals who have sex-drives, ones who do seek out sex because they enjoy it.”

“Okay,” He said slowly, trying to process it.

“Now,” You continued as the coffee and pie were placed in front of the both of you. “Just because you don’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean you don’t feel romantic attraction. I myself am bi-romantic. I can have romantic feelings and be in relationships with either men or women.”

“What’s the difference between a sexual relationship and a romantic relationship?”

“A romantic relationship is emotional, not physical.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t based entirely around sex?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, that might be a little hard to explain, then. It’s like being in love with your best friend in more than a friends way. Does that make sense?”

“No. All my friends have wanted to sleep with me.”

“Oh.” You took a bite of pie and backpedaled a bit. “So, explain to me what you feel about sex and I’ll try and help you figure it out.”

“I don’t… I don’t really feel attracted to the people I have sex with. Guy, girl, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s the sex I need, and even then, I don’t really like it. I just do it because my body compels me to. If I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have sex at all.”

“So, maybe you’re sex-repulsed?”

“No, that’s not it exactly. Like, it doesn’t gross me out, but…” He pointed at his pie. “Take this, right? It’s really good pie, and while you’re eating it, you think ‘I could eat this all the time,’ right? But then say this was the only thing you could eat for an entire year. Eventually, you’d get sick of it. Right now it tastes great, but after your fiftieth piece, or your hundredth, it would start to taste like ashes, and the idea of putting another bite in your mouth would make you wish you could eat literally anything else. But it’s all you have and you have to eat it or you’d starve otherwise.”

He put his fork down and looked at the pie as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s what sex feels like for me. I don’t hate it, I just don’t enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” You mused. “Maybe sex-neutral, then. But I’d definitely classify you as asexual, just from what you’ve told me.”

“An asexual incubus, huh?” He laughed. “Cosmic irony at its finest.”

“Do you think you’re the only one like you?” You asked him.

“I have no idea,” He said. “I’ve never met another… creature like me. I only know of my mother, and I’ve only heard expletives to describe her, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“You don’t know your mother?” You asked.

He frowned. “No. I was raised by my human dad. Begrudgingly.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “My dad was seduced by my mother at a very vulnerable time in his life. He was up for a big promotion at his job and about to get married to the love of his life. And then my mom came along and did what her kind do… what my kind do…” He gestured to himself and scowled.

“Someone caught them at it and told the woman he was supposed to marry. She broke it off, after which my dad started drinking and lost his job. And then I turned up on his doorstep a few months later, a reminder of the worst mistake he ever made.” Sal’s eyes were distant and cold. “He blamed her, and me, for ruining his life. I think the only thing that kept him from throwing me out was that when I was that young, I couldn’t control my form very well and he knew I’d be studied or killed. It was the only kindness he could muster for me.”

You were shocked to silence. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “He drank himself to death before I started college. By then, the hunger had kicked in. I started escorting to pay for classes, fucking my way through school blindly. I probably only graduated because the dean was a regular.”

You laid your hand on his in an effort to comfort him, only for him to snatch his hand away immediately.

“What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” You said, startled. “I… was just trying to be reassuring. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You said you were indifferent to sex,” He said, his eyes still narrowed.

“I am,” You shot back. “I wasn’t trying to--”

“People only touch me when they want to have sex with me,” He said.

“I was just showing you affection!” You retorted. “You seemed sad. I wanted to comfort you. That’s all it was, I swear.” You looked around you and saw two women in a booth. “Look. Look at them.”

He swiveled in his seat to peer at the two young women. One of them was clearly upset, though not actually crying, and the other hand her arm around her shoulders and was talking to her in a low, consoling tone.

“That girl, the one that’s upset, she’s not thinking about sex right now, I guarantee you that. And the girl with her arm around her is trying to comfort her friend. She’s not trying to seduce her.” You turned back to look at him. “That’s what people do when they care about each other. They comfort them. They’re affectionate. Touch isn’t inherently sexual, Sal. Holding a person’s hand doesn’t always mean that you want to sleep with them. Hasn’t anyone ever just held your hand because they wanted to be close and not because they were trying to fuck you?”

He looked at the two women with a deeply troubled look in his eyes. Abruptly, he stood and threw some money on the counter.

“I should go,” He said, turning and making a quick escape to the exit.

“Sal!” You got up and rushed after him.

“This was a mistake,” He said, opening his car door. “I know what I am. I don’t need this.”

“Sal, wait!”

“I don’t think it would be good for us to see each other again,” He said, slamming his door.

“Wait!” You cried as he started his car and sped off. You put a hand to your forehead and sighed heavily, confused and upset.

You didn’t see him again, either at the diner or the bar. Perhaps those weren’t normal haunts for him. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, though. The look on his face when he saw the two women stuck in your brain and you couldn’t get it out. He looked like he was in pain. It looked like agony.

A month later, you got a job at a casino hotel as an overnight concierge, because this is what a business degree got you, apparently. It wasn’t a bad job, just slow, and you had a lot of time to watch people coming and going, which was fairly interesting.

You’d been working there a while when you finally saw him again, exiting the elevator with another man. The man gave Sal an envelope, and Sal smiled seductively. The man came over to the desk to check out, and you saw Sal behind him, his face draining of color as he realized who you were.

You stayed professional as you checked out the man, who turned and smiled at Sal before walking off. Sal’s returning smile was a bit brittle, and he waited for the man to walk away before approaching you, looking a little embarrassed.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied.

“I, uh… I didn’t know you worked here,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I started a few weeks ago, and I just got transferred to nights.”

“Ah.” He stood there awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable. “Listen,” He said finally, not meeting your eye. “I’m sorry about what happened the last time we saw each other. I was just really confused and I thought, when you touched me, that you were coming on to me. I thought the whole asexual thing was a con to get me to open up to you, get my defenses down, and then sleep with you. Like you were trying to get a freebie, or something.”

“I wasn’t,” You insisted.

“No, I know,” He said. “I researched it a little after I stopped being weirded out. I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know how to reach you. I realized I didn’t even ask you your name.”

You laughed and told him your name. “It’s okay,” You said. “I get it. It was a lot to process all at once. Look, I think you’ve been missing out on a lot because of this… hunger, as you call it. I mean, have you ever been on a date that you weren’t paid to go on or didn’t end in sex?”

He thought about it, and shook his head. “Nope, I can’t say I ever have.”

“Well, let me treat you, then,” You said. “How about dinner and a movie? And I promise not to fondle you at any point during the date. And you’re not getting a tip.”

He laughed. “Sounds nice. Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” He said, sounding suddenly nervous. “Okay. Uh… here.” He wrote down his number on some hotel stationary. “Call me when you get out of here and we’ll work it out.”

“I will,” You said, smiling at him.

He seemed weirdly shy then, putting his hands in his pockets and backing away with a sweet smile on his face.

You called him as soon as you clocked out and agreed to meet him at six that evening, after you’d had some sleep. You met him at the theater, dressed for the first date you’d had since eleventh grade. He smiled when he saw you, dressed much like he had when you first met him, only he was wearing a tie this time.

“You look really nice,” He said.

“Thanks,” You said. “I like that tie.”

He chuckled nervously and petted it down. “Thanks. I haven’t worn a tie in a while.”

“What do you want to see?” You asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said, looking at the marquee. “To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve never gone to the theater and seen a movie all the way through. It usually ends up with someone getting a blowjob.”

You snorted. “Well, I can assure you that won’t happen in this case.”

He laughed again, looking relieved. “What about that one?”

“Oh, yeah, although to be honest, the actor in that one is wasted in this franchise. He could do so much better.”

“Right?” He said enthusiastically. “He needs more serious work. He’s going to get pigeonholed if he keeps doing these kinds of films.”

“Oh, my god, exactly,” You agreed. You bought the tickets and some snacks and took your seats. It was nice just sitting next to him. Throughout the movie, he kept looking over at you, as if to check if you were going to make a move or if you expected him to do so. Twice, his phone buzzed, likely from clients, and he ignored them both.

When the movie was over, you went to dinner, and he offered to pay since you had bought the movie tickets and snacks. He wanted the date to be equal, since it wasn’t a job. You said you were fine with that.

While sitting and talking about the movie, you noticed he was staring at your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said,” He replied thoughtfully. “About how not all touch is sexual. Sometimes people touch each other because they want to comfort them or offer them affection. I didn’t think much of it, but during the movie, they touched each other a lot, even though they didn’t have sex at the end. And I thought about it some more, and I’ve seen other people in real life do things like that, like hold hands and hug and things.”

“Right…” You said slowly.

“I was wondering…” He said, clenching his hands. “Can I try? With you? Just holding your hand, I mean.”

“Yeah, if you want to,” You said. You reached out across the table and linked your fingers with his lightly, not squeezing too hard in case he felt the need to pull away, stroking his thumb with yours. He stared at your linked hands with an indecipherable expression.

“Is this okay?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He replied softly. “It… feels nice.”

“It’s supposed to,” You said. “Things can feel good without being sexual.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” He said. After a moment or two, he withdrew his hand and continued eating.

He drove you home and walked you to the door.

“Every movie I’ve ever seen suggests this is either where we kiss or fuck. I’m not sure I want to do either of those things,” He laughed.

“That’s perfectly fine,” You said. “What about a hug instead?”

He smiled. “A hug sounds nice.”

You slipped your arms around his waist and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on the top of your head. He held you for several moments.

“I like this a lot,” He said softly into your hair.

“How about a second date, then? You can pick what we do next time,” You said, turning your face up to look at him.

He smiled, but it slipped from his face slowly and he frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Does it bother you?” He asked with a worried expression. “The fact that I’m, for want of a better word, a prostitute? That I’m… not all human?”

“The not-quite-human thing is a little weird, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t bother me. If we were planning to have sex, I might feel a little uncomfortable about your job, but as long as you’re using protection and getting yourself checked and doing what you need to do to be safe and healthy, I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” He said, unsure if he believed you.

“Of course,” You said. You squeezed his waist tightly and he grinned at you.

“That’s a relief.”

For the next date, he took you swimming. For the next, you took him dancing. The next, he surprised you with a three day trip out of town.

The second day there, he became surly and taciturn, not his normal sweet, unintentionally flirty self.

“What’s wrong,” you asked him.

He sighed angrily. “I’m… hungry.” He said. “I haven’t had a client in a week. It’s the slow season. Normally I’d go out and just find someone to supplement it, but that feels like cheating now that I’m with you.”

“Oh,” You replied. “Do you… want me to…

“No!” He said. “Not here. Not with you.”

Your head rocked back and you must have made a face, because he looked apologetic and said, “No, I don’t mean it like that. You’re very important to me. I don’t want to see you like I see my clients, like food. That’s not what you are.”

“Well, I want to help,” You said. “What can I do?”

He sighed when he felt your touch. “Just touch me, okay?”

“Sal,” You began, putting your hand on his back and rubbing it slowly. “Hasn’t anyone ever done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Touched you just to touch you?”

“No,” He said, his head in his hands. “People usually have ulterior motives.”

You thought about it. “Lean back.”

He lifted his head and peered at you, confused, but complied. You moved to straddle his waist.

“What are you…” He started suspiciously, but you stopped him.

“Do you trust me?” You asked him.

“Yes…” He said slowly, still eyeing you.

You took your hands and very slowly began to map the contours of his face with your fingertips, starting with his cheekbones, brushing your hands around his ears and running your fingers through his hair. His eyes closed and he inhaled as though he’d never breathed real air before. You drew your index finger over his brow and down his jaw and pressed your forehead against his.

“Sal,” You asked him softly. “Has anyone ever loved you before? Anyone?”

His eyes opened wide and he looked at you, completely at a loss for words. He seemed to be searching for an answer and coming up empty. His face crumpled and a tear leaked from one of his eyes. You pulled him into a tight hug as he began to weep into your shoulder, your hand in his hair. He gripped you as though falling, gulping air into his lungs.

He seemed so taken by surprise at the question, and the reaction could only have been a genuine one. You wondered if he even realized it before you pointed it out.

“Shh, honey,” You whispered in his ear. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here with you.”

He looked up at you with wide, wet eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” You answered honestly. “But… I think I’m starting to. I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy with you,” He said. “Even when I’m hungry, I feel better when I’m with you. It doesn’t hurt so bad when you’re with me. I don’t know why.”

You stood up and took him by the hand.

“It’s late,” you said. “Why don’t we get to bed? Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He sighed and got to his feet. You went into the bedroom and changed into your night clothes. You didn’t mind letting him see you naked, trusting that he wouldn’t need to control any impulses around you. You were the same with him, and he was comfortable letting you see him change, too.

Although, he was still hesitant to show you his true form. You had convinced him to show it to you once, the full experience and not just the sample on the night you first met, but he seemed to worry that you’d eventually grow frightened of him. You told him you just wanted him to trust you enough that he felt being comfortable in his own skin around you. He said that would take time, and you understood.

You got into bed, and instead of putting space between the two of you, like you had been doing, you pulled him close and pressed your cheek to his. He touched your breast hesitantly, as if to test you, and you shook your head with a wry smile. He breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled into your body.

And you touched him. You petted up and down his back. You played with his hair. You traced his smile. All of it was loving, none of it was sexual. When you pressed a kiss to his lips, the first time you had ever done so, it was a soft, sweet kiss, lip on lip, slight pressure, no expectation for more. When you pulled back, he had tears in his eyes again. You kissed his eyelids and he breathed a soft laugh against your cheek.

You were gentle and tender and made it clear you didn’t expect him to reciprocate unless it’s what he wanted to do. It took some time, but eventually, he began to touch you tentatively, trying to learn. He stroked your shoulder and caressed your face. He planted a kiss on your lips, mirroring the one you gave him, if a bit longer.

Eventually, he fell asleep with his nose in your hair and his arms clutching you to him tightly, breathing deeply and contentedly.

He woke in the morning with a bright smile on his face.

You laughed. “See? I told you you’d feel better.”

“I feel wonderful,” He said. “I don’t feel hungry at all. Quite the opposite, actually, I feel like I’ve been on a binge.”

“Maybe sex isn’t what you needed all along,” You said, holding him close. “Maybe you just thought it was because you hadn’t experienced anything else.”

He pulled back so that he could look at you, frowning. “Could I have been doing this wrong the whole time?”

“Maybe,” You said. “I suppose we’ll find out, my love.”

A slow smile split his face. “Say that again.”

“My love.”

His smile cracked his cheeks. “Good. Now say it all the time forever.”

You laughed and kissed him.

“Hmm,” He said, looking passed you in thought. “I wonder if I should still be an escort. If sex isn’t what I need to survive, there’s no reason for me to keep doing it. I do have a degree in medieval literature.”

“Yeah, good luck getting a job with that degree that’s not prostitution,” You said, laughing.

He hit you with a pillow. “Really, though. I think I should quit. It feels kind of weird now that I have a girlfriend. And if I don’t have to have sex, I don’t want to have sex.”

“Well, whatever you do, I will support you, honey,” You said.

“I appreciate that.” He sank back into your arms and looked at you seriously. “If I do quit, what’ll happen if I do need sex again?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it,” You assured him. “But to be honest, I don’t think that’s what you need to be healthy. I think you need what we all need. You need love. You’ve just never had it before.”

“I’m glad I have it now,” He said, pressing his head against your shoulder, dotting chaste kisses along your skin. “I’m sorry I tried to prey on you, and I’m still a little mad that you shot me with a taser, but it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt this good before. I want to feel like this forever.”

“I won’t be around forever,” You told him. “And we may not love each other forever. But I can promise you that, at the very least, you will always have a friend who will never expect you to have sex with them.”

He barked a loud laugh. “I can live with that,” He said happily, cuddling you close.

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marlahey · 6 years ago

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we stumbled in the dark; i knew we’d be alright (part five)

a shawn mendes rpf fic rating/warnings: standard teen language; prepare for some feels. misc notes: if you suspect that ellie’s lanyard and dress are things that I personally own, you would not be wrong. ignore the weird timeline anyone who doesn’t think shawn is at least fifty percent hufflepuff can fight me. fun fact: I could see basically all of cophenhagen from the moment I started this fic. please reblog and/or drop me an ask if you enjoy this; it’s one of my favourite parts :) (previously; start at part one here)

copenhagen; now “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–” “El?”

You jerk your head up so quickly that you nearly bang your head on the underside of the bed. Shawn seems so much taller than usual from your half-sprawled position on the floor. You didn’t think that was possible.

You should be a little mortified probably: there are clothes and towels and bedsheets everywhere. But Shawn has seen you first thing in the morning, with gunk still in your eyes. He’s seen you crampy and irritated; he’s also seen you so ill that the tour had to leave you behind. There’s something acutely liberating about being around someone who has seen you at almost all of your lowest moments. In theory, you can only go up. You’re also almost crying, so the mess is secondary. “Av wanted me to...” Shawn trails off, tilting his head down at you. You pull yourself into a sitting position. “What’s wrong?” You muster yourself up to tell a lie, but he catches it before the words can leave your mouth. “Tell me.” “My mom’s ring.” You worry the fingers of your naked left hand. “I just noticed it was gone, and I–” The tornado of the room is overwhelming, suddenly. “I can’t find it anywhere. I have no idea where it might have fallen off, like, what if–” It feels like you might be sick. “What if I left it in Berlin?” Shawn’s crouched down in front of you now. “No way. Have you asked Ava?” You shake your head. Shame crawls up your throat, hot and tight. “I can’t tell her I’ve lost it.” You stare at his boots. “We’re supposed to go out tonight to celebrate–” You can’t finish your sentence. Your breath shakes on the way out. Shawn’s hands curl around your elbows. “C’mon El,” he murmurs, and you let him pull you gently to your feet so he can push you equally softly to sit on Ava’s bed. “Just hang on a second, okay?” You’re too focused on breathing properly to refute him. The bed dips as Shawn drops down beside you, so close you’re pressed together from hip to shoulder. He leans into you, just a little; the pressure is grounding. Concentrating on him is pulling you out of your hysteria. “Hey Mike. You’re still at the arena right? Can you do me a huge favour?” Ava’s still there too, working. You should have called her. You should get Shawn to stop; sound and engineering should not be hunting around for something that will be impossible to find in fifteen thousand seats. The crew doesn’t even know what it looks like. When you look up to inform Shawn of this, he’s still speaking. “–gold, with little pearls? Three. Yeah. Probably? Pablo was being weird so she...yeah. Yeah dude, call me back. You’re the best.” He hangs up. “You were wearing it this morning. It must still be there.” Shawn finally glances down at you. “You okay?” “How...” It takes a conscious effort not to gape like an idiot. “How do you know what my mom’s ring looks like?” Shawn makes a face, as though he can’t decide between smiling or being offended. He picks up your left hand and pulls it towards him; old calluses are rough on your skin as he thumbs over the tan line on your first finger. “It’s the only one you never take off.” It strikes you then, like it has alarmingly often in the past two and half weeks, that there could be something different here. You can feel it in the way your heart lurches in your chest, in the arguably absent sweep of Shawn’s fingers over yours that leave tiny sparks jumping beneath your skin. There’s that little voice in your head again. You’ve been hearing it a lot lately. Careful. When you decided forever ago that it would be near impossible to ‘catch feelings’ for Shawn in the fleeting moments between and within tour stops, as you slowly but surely amassed what feels like an enormous secret box of knowledge about him, a somewhat foolish part of you had never accounted on him knowing you, too. Or what that would mean, if anything. So much for the break between albums making everything go back to normal. Although, the first single drop didn’t help. We agreed that night goes under the heading ‘Never Talk About Again’ When you look at Shawn, it’s mostly to prove that you still can. “It’s gonna be fine,” he says, and you’re weirdly grateful at your current crisis that likely masks how newly anxious you feel. His expression is of a familiar soft certainty; faced with it, you can feel yourself almost instinctively comforted. “They’re gonna find it.” Buried somewhere on the other side of the room, your phone pings with an Instagram notification; the noise is so startling that you jump and grip at Shawn’s hand. His amusement is familiar too, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, he squeezes back. “Shut up,” you mutter, taking the universe’s exit. You rise to dig your phone out from beneath your backpack and some makeup. When you find it, Shawn’s still sitting where you left him, not quite laughing. But he wants to. You can tell. “I didn’t say anything.” You make a face at him. Your phone is another welcome distraction, although you still can’t stop rubbing at your hand where your ring should sit. Hannah’s posted a video. Your throat goes tight for another reason altogether as a wave of navy gowns crosses the football field. The traditional graduation processional song is tinny, but still audible through your speaker. You can make out Hannah; her huge curls are impossible to miss. As a half-hearted effort, you sweep your bag and make up off the floor and attempt to straighten out the contents. You can feel Shawn’s eyes on you. He looks at though he wants to say something, but is interrupted by his own phone. You don’t dare hope. But you can see the emotion in his face, there and gone like he wants to hide it from you. “Mike, hey. You did? Fuck, that’s amazing.” Shawn’s grin and thumbs up sweep relief through you, a flash flood that leaves you a little weak in the knees. “Yeah, I’ll get her to– yeah. Mhmm. Yeah, see you soon. Thank you. You’re a rock star.” You have to sit down in the armchair on the far side of the room. His footfalls are muffled on the carpeted floor. “Cam found it in the green room. You must have shaken it off when you were getting Pablo to work earlier.” Shawn crouches down again. Sometimes, you think, it seems impossible that he can fold himself in half so easily. “Hey.” His swallow on your knee. That grounding little bit of pressure. He could probably wrap his fingers all the way around, if he wanted. You look up at him through your lashes. “It’s okay, El. They found it.” You can feel your lip wobbling; you have to clench your jaw to get it to stop. Shawn looks torn, like he wants to hug you, but if he does that now you’re definitely going to cry. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry today. As if he can sense your resolve, he doesn’t move. “Paul’s here to get me,” Shawn says. His thumb traces a half circle just above the bend of your leg and it weirdly tickles a little. You’re not sure when you got so comfortable with him touching you, or how you never noticed how much he does it till now, or how both of those things can be true at once. It’s a thought you have to put away for later. “I’ll make up some excuse to get Ava to come down to the arena before you guys go out. We’ll get you the ring back before she can even notice it’s gone. Okay?” You just nod. Even though there’s now momentarily less than a year between you, you feel very young, inexplicably, with Shawn hovering over you; it’s like there’s an invisible safe place extending through the lines of his body bent close to yours, as though all you have to do is fold yourself into the spaces of him and everything will be alright. Resisting the desire to give into it is becoming harder the longer you sit like this. Again, as though he knows, Shawn pulls away from you and stands up. He flexes his right hand a little, like it hurts, glancing at his phone as it pings. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” “Shawn.” You jump to your feet when he reaches the door. It’s just Shawn, you think, berating yourself. You’re not scared of him. “Thank you. I uh, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The vaguely odd look on his face from Spain returns. You flush a little. You want to bend beneath it but you refuse to. Shawn smiles. “You too, El.”

tour prep; before “Uh oh,” Ava says. Shawn pulls his earbuds out to find you standing over him and the couch, fuming. “You’re in for it now.” Your sister barely looks up from her book. “That’s her offended face.” He looks like he’s about to laugh. It only stokes the flame. You hold out your phone, paused on Shawn’s Hot Ones interview. He looks from it to you, before a dawning comprehension lights his eyes. “Hang on–” “I’m so appalled at you, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes.” Shawn visibly winces; Ava actually barks a laugh and he shoots her a murderous glare before looking at you again. “Don’t start El,” he says, a little pleading. It doesn’t work. “I can’t believe you would disgrace Harry Potter like this.” You stab at your phone and everyone listens as Shawn’s voice says, “They just like mean nothing. Sorry to all the Harry Potter fans who are offended by that, but I could I care less about Hufflepuff.” “Cedric Diggory did not die for you to slander his house,” you say, pointing accusingly at him. You crack a smile, just so Shawn knows you’re not actually mortally wounded. He sits up from his horizontal lounge. “Neither did Tonks.” Shawn reaches forward and yanks your lanyard from where it dangles out of your pocket. Your house, school gym locker, and arena office keys you keep for Ava jangle against the tiny clay mint chocolate chip ice cream cone that Hannah bought you last year. The burgundy fabric and gold house letters and stars swivel as he holds it up. “Says the Gryffindor.” “I’ve sat through the full sorting quiz at least four times.” You go to take your keys back. Your fingers tangle beneath Shawn’s and there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, as though he might actually play tug of war with you. But he doesn’t. “I’m only like ten percent more Gryffindor than Hufflepuff. But it still wins out, every time.” “I’m leaving,” Ava announces, and strides to the green room door. “You two dorks can battle it out. Just no duelling, okay?” “Way to abandon me!” Shawn calls after her. He fixes you with an amused grin. “Did you actually sit through a thirty minute video of me when we were sitting like four feet apart?” You’re almost immune to the blush now. “Hannah sent it. And don’t change the subject! You’re at least half a Hufflepuff and you don’t even know it.” He raises an eyebrow. You start ticking things off your fingers. “You’d rather hug people than fight, you tried to help James up after he was the worst skater I’ve ever seen–” Shawn snorts. His ears are slowly turning red, but you won’t stop. “You shake the hand of every person working every new arena we go to. You’re so loyal to your fans that you’re almost late to rehearsal all the time because you can’t stop taking pictures with them.” “You don’t think I’m brave?” He asks then, a challenge and a genuine question at the same time. This is probably one of the most ridiculous conversations you’ve ever had, but your battered copy of Deathly Hallows in your bag compels you try and get him to understand. Hannah and Ava indulge you, more than anything. But they don’t get it. Shawn’s Carpool Karaoke had made you laugh so hard you cried. But you know that if he was willing to do the skit, if he was willing to show that to the world, then his love for these kids’ stories is just as big as yours. It’s stupid probably, that this is still such an important part of your life. But it is. “I’ve honestly never met anyone as brave as you.” The admission is out before you can temper it with a joke. His open surprise almost dries up the rest of your words inside your mouth. “I could never do what you do and put myself and my art out there. But that’s not...” You flick your eyes away, and then back. “Not what?” There’s so much more weight here now than you thought. “That’s not what I admire most about you.” It’s crazy what eight weeks of non-stop touring and almost nine months of intermittent covert contact with someone will do to your understanding of them. Shawn’s looking at you like it’s hard for him for the first time, as though he’s afraid of what you might say. Fondness twists inside you. Well, this is happening. “You have a good heart, Shawn. It’s amazing how much you care about other people.” You’re definitely not immune to the blush anymore. “And that’s the most Hufflepuff anyone can be.”

You’ve never seen Shawn speechless before. It’s oddly satisfying. “El...” “Also,” you say in a rush, because this is all getting a little much, “I didn’t know you made such a great Dumbledore.” His laugh is so loud that Ava pokes her head back inside the room. Shawn looks at you and shakes his head a little, like he can’t quite believe you’re a real person. You should probably be embarrassed. But you feel warm instead. “You’re ridiculous.” You shrug. “As long as you don’t go around bad mouthing Hufflepuffs anymore. Badgers are vicious, you know.” Another head shake. “Whatever you say.”

copenhagen; now “Hey I’m back,” Ava says just as you nearly burn yourself with your flat iron. “You getting ready?” “Almost done,” you call from the bathroom. Wrangling your normally quite flat hair into something resembling a curl is normally a challenge you could do without, but this is a special occasion. Your sister meets your eyes in the mirror. You drop your left hand beneath the countertop. “What?” “Is that what you’re wearing?” You look down at yourself. “What, you don’t like this dress? Did you buy it for me?” Ava rolls her eyes. “Well yeah, but it hardly says, ‘I graduated from high school with honours with distinction and a half-point away from valedictorian.” “I didn’t pack it,” you tell her. You’ve been holding onto this secret for weeks. It’s a bit of a relief to confess to it. “The dress from Nashville. I didn’t want to just remind you of what we’re missing on this tour. It seemed silly to bring a dress we got for an event we’re not even going to.” Your sister makes a face, an almost annoyed affection. “You’re the weirdest kid ever.” Before you can reply, she disappears back into your room. You turn off your flat iron and contemplate your only three lipsticks. “This one,” Ava says, picking up the mauve rose. “And put this on while I shower, will you?” She’s holding an armful of cream lace. Your ‘don’t cry’ mandate wavers for a second. “But–” “Remember the night before we left? I went through your closet looking for my sweater.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I told you I didn’t have it!” Your sister waves your objection away. “I saw you left this.” Ava reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Just because we’re not there doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, Lenny. You still accomplished something amazing. And this is what you should wear when we celebrate.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You have to take four deep breaths in a row. Your mascara holds. * “I’m sorry about this,” she says as you step carefully out of the car in your heels. You shake your fingers a little through your hair; your wrist clinks and jangles. Despite your birthday ring on your right hand, Ava still hasn’t noticed what’s missing. “Sometimes I swear all these boys would be lost without me.” “It’s fine,” you assure her. “I want to see the final set up anyway. I never get to see the whole thing.” Because Shawn insists on using real flowers as much as possible, final touches are never made until the last minute, by which time you’re either sequestered in the green room or back at the hotel. Though, you like to set out the signs and green bags for compost as crowds leave the venue yourself. Andrew will take no chances; you care too much about the success of Shawn’s third world tour to even want to argue. You and Ava show your crew badges to a woman at the very back entrance, weaving your way through long concrete halls. It’s hard to decide if the fact that all these backstage spaces look the same is disturbing or comforting. Your sister waves at Paul, who has his walkie talkie to his mouth as he nods at you. “Hey Paul, I got a message about some kind of emergency? Where’s Shawn?” “He’s down on the floor,” Paul says, pointing down the hall to the huge set of double doors. Her heels echo on the concrete. He turns to you. “Hello there, little one. I’m told a celebration’s in order?” You tuck hair back behind your ears. “I was supposed to graduate today. We’re just gonna go out instead.” Paul’s eyes are warm. You think about his own daughter, a twenty-one year old college student whose photos make the security agent smile more widely than you’ve ever seen. “Congratulations.” Your chest twinges through your smile, though you’re suddenly not even sure why. But then you remember why you’re here. Even with Ava safely out of earshot, you lower your voice a little. “Do you know where Cam is, Paul? He has something of mine that I really need back.” The man nods. “He’s up helping onstage. Here come on, I’ll walk you.” You glance down the hall where your sister has disappeared. “Don’t worry Ellie. We’ll make sure you two find each other.” So you follow. Hall, doorway, hall, doorway. You can see the stairs leading up onto the stage. You don’t know why you’re hesitating. It’s suddenly occurred to you that while the crew and the band have seen you at your worst, they’ve never seen you like this; waves in your hair, heels that stretch your legs, a dress that bares skin you’ve never shown anyone. It doesn’t matter, exactly. And yet... Shawn’s never seen you like this either. You don’t know why the thought makes you so nervous. “You look beautiful, by the way.” Paul says, as though he can read your mind. “I wouldn’t worry.” You flush. “Thank you. But I might need help on those stairs,” He just chuckles. “Please.” “Alright then.” From inside the arena you hear a distant shout. Light pours onto the stage. Paul holds out his hand; you squeeze a little harder than is probably necessary but he doesn’t seem to mind. The smell of roses invades everything else. You have to blink against the brightness, until tall figures take shape across the stage floor and you can finally see it. “Wow.” Garlands of roses dangle from the steel ring electric above the stage; white forget-me-nots and vines twist around the speakers; the entire back panel that reaches up towards the screens is covered in blossoms and dotted with lights; petals – pink, white, red – are strewn all over the floor. The piano on B stage is open and exploding with even more flowers. “Wow is right.” Brian, leaning a little on his mic stand, nods at you. Geoff is grinning. “I told you we were underdressed.” Your face heats immediately. “Underdressed for what?” Acoustic guitar reaches your ears. “Is that–” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Is that Pomp and Circumstance?” Something lands on your head and dangles in your field of vision. You tug; a blue graduation cap falls into your stunned hands. “Welcome everyone,” says a voice. Mike stands at the top centre of the stage. A single rose snakes to the top of Shawn’s stand. “to a very special pre-show.” Now that you’re actually onstage looking out, almost the entire technical crew is assembled on the floor. Ava leans against the barrier. She looks just as surprised as you. A spotlight bursts to life; you stare down at the circle edge at your feet. It’s so warm beneath the glare; you look up towards the hotspot and shield your eyes. “Is this really necessary, Kristen?” you shout. “Put the cap on, graduate!” calls the voice of the lighting tech from somewhere above. Someone else hoots from the floor; applause fills the arena and suddenly your knees are shaking. Paul reappears at your shoulder, plucking the cap from your hands. He places it very gently on your head again, winding the tassel so it swings in and out of view of your right eye. Paul steers you further downstage, closer to the edge. Mike is holding a scroll of paper tied with a blue ribbon, and on the far side, you finally see Shawn, plucking away at the processional song on his guitar. You could be misreading the look on his face, one that catches your breath in your throat, but there is no mistaking the awkward twang as his hand slips. Geoff and Brian laugh. Shawn doesn’t seem to notice. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” says Mike with a grin once the bad final note fades, “Please welcome the Shawn Mendes Tour class of 2019, Eleanor May Sinclair.” You haven’t heard your full name in so long. You’re frozen, until heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Go on, little one.” Paul leans his head close to yours. “If you don’t make it all the way across, all the kid’s planning’ll have been for nothing.” A certain, secret wall in your heart caves in. The magnet of Shawn’s gaze pulls you forward. Emotion you don’t even fully understand stirs in your chest, which becomes a genuine pain when you reach Mike and he hands you the scroll of paper. “I know that your parents would have loved to see you take this walk, Ellie. But we just want you to know that you are very much part of our family.” You chance a look out to the floor. Ava is crying; you have to turn back to the sound engineer. His gaze is so tender and you remember abruptly that he has kids, too. “We love you. And we’re so proud of you.” Mike’s hands squeeze yours. Your mom’s ring presses into your palm. You can’t speak so your mouth forms a silent thank you. He nods. “Congratulations.” Wrapping both hands around the underside of your fake diploma, you slide it onto your finger. Only when it’s back can you find the courage to look across the stage again. You think about how this moment, this rite of passage, has scared you for almost as long as you’ve been working towards it, because even though Ava is the best sister you could ever ask for, she knows that there is a hole in your heart that will never be filled. You look at Shawn now and it’s like he knows too, still. You flash back to earlier in the hotel room, to how you’d dangled on the edges of a safe place with him. Just get to Shawn. But before you can take more than two steps away from Mike, he’s shaking his head at you. You stop. Shawn mimes a motion across his forehead and you suddenly remember the cap. He gestures outwards, at a view that’s normally only his. You look out towards the floor. You turn your tassel with a trembling hand and the crew erupts with cheers. Shawn claps in your direction, grinning. You stare at his smile until it blurs in a prism of too-bright light; it’s more than five steps to the other side of the stage but you only get that far before he’s there. You might fall into him a little but it doesn’t matter, because Shawn just pulls you in. In your heels, you can actually wrap your arms around his neck. The cap falls. Shawn’s hands land on your bare shoulder and your back, calluses on skin. You shiver. His nose presses into your temple as Shawn speaks softly into your hair, just above your ear. “I know you’ve been trying to keep it together.” You're shaking again. His arms tighten around you. “I know I’m not who you want right now. But I wanted you to have this, okay, El? You deserve it.” You press your eyes shut a little harder, but tears slide down nonetheless. “I’m here, if you need me.” You find a grip on the soft cotton of his shirt. “I’ve got you.” Shawn’s fingers trail up and down the length of your spine, which only makes you shiver more; he pulls you, almost impossibly, closer. “Andrew’s gonna kill me,” he says, and you laugh before you can stop yourself. “His Skype meeting is almost over.” It’s enough that you can step back and wipe your face with a weak laugh. “God, I’m a mess.”

Shawn smiles with just one side of his mouth. “No,” he says, and you’re too overwhelmed to move when he reaches up and brushes at a tear with the heel of his hand. “Not at all.” There it is again: that look. “Okay okay, give me my sister back.” Ava’s eyes are red. She squeezes so tight it aches, before holding you by the shoulders and nodding firmly. “Where’s that cap? We need photos.” “No,” you protest, but your sister’s already found it and Shawn’s already pulled out his phone. “This is happening.” Ava drags you back to centre stage. “You guys too,” she calls. Brian, Geoff, Paul, and Mike lope forward. “And you.” Ava grabs at Shawn’s wrist before he can jump off the stage. “I can’t believe you pulled this off right under my nose.” His grin is cheeky and proud. “Learned to plan from the best.” You line up in a row. As Cam struggles with Shawn’s fancy new phone, the boys hoot and holler. You end up sandwiched between your sister and Paul; from behind Ava’s back, something brushes your hand. Shawn glances over Ava’s head, and then away. He hooks his pinky into yours. “Ready?” Cam calls. You drag your eyes forward. “One, two, three!” The flash bursts colour across your vision. For once, you don’t mind. (part six)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes writing #mine: fic #wsitd #enjoy what I think is the longest part to date!#feedback is love #especially cause shawn's secret session is so close and yet I can't go #I'm so gutted about it

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